Injections!

Today I learned that the last antibiotic I was on (and bemoaning the three doses) is an amped-up version of erythromycin (sp).  I learned this because while better, I'm still not well, and I returned to the lovely people at the clinic.  They must be tired of seeing me, but are always so cheerful.  It's an incredibly African trait that I hope to export to the US.


Today I also learned that when you receive injections, they're given on top of the hand, not the crook of the elbow.  That solves that pesky rolling-vein problem I have.  And the fact that the veins in my left arm refuse to be used, but they have no choice on my hand.  I learned this because the decision today was for an injectable antibiotic and antihistamine.  Apparently, I'll have two doses six hours apart, and therefore will return at 4:30 for a check up (for side effects, I suppose) and the second dose.


It is ridiculously hot, which I'm sure isn't helping matters.  Please pray for rain - much of the Ugandan population are subsistence-level farmers, and this extended drought is hurting many.  The ministry of the interior has been sending text messages about preparing for the drought to last until May, and to prepare.  That would have been much more helpful before the drought began, but Africans tend to not fare so well with long-term planning, so I don't know how helpful that would have really been.  But please join me in praying - the heat is too much.

International Women's Day

I'd never heard of International Women's Day until last year, as it's not really observed in the US.  I suppose that makes sense, since it originated as a Socialist political event.  Whatever the origin, it's a national holiday in Uganda, for which I am thankful.  


I'm not sure whether this appeared as the American Google doodle for the day, so in case it didn't, this is what we were treated to today:

The google.co.ug (where I'm automatically directed, boo) page doesn't always get the Google doodles, so this tickles me to no end.  Plus, it's a lovely drawing.

You want Ugandan coffee... you want Ugandan coffee...

Since I live in the dorm, I must imbibe instant coffee for my caffeine; I forgot my French press.  I mean, I live in a country that grows some of the best coffee on the planet, and I'm drinking instant.  I will say, however, that it is WAY better than instant in the US.


And you too, can enjoy some of the best coffee on the planet without asking your favorite seminarian to schlep it across three continents and an ocean!  Check out Ugandan Gold Premium Coffee.  Grown in the Bunyoro-Kitara region of Uganda and distributed in the US, the proceeds go to help the residents in Bunyoro-Kitara (where several of my friends are from).  And if you buy three bags, shipping is free!

Eureka!

Yesterday I had a minor epiphany... the semesters in which I had the largest deliverables, my proposal (which had huge influence/impact on my dissertation), and my dissertation, I've been sick when working on them, with malaria and pneumonia, respectively.


God brought me through the proposal (and the malaria, for that matter) rather well.


So, I reckon that He's trying to teach this tired, senioritis-affected, protein-deprived seminarian that He's the one in charge, not her, no matter what her delusion may be about that on any given day.


And exams are coming... [deep breath]

Final diagnosis

Wow - I never thought I'd be happy to hear the word "pneumonia," but here I am, happy, yet dismayed.  Happy to finally have a diagnosis and treatment that will finally clear this up, dismayed that three doses of Azithromycin (I reckon it's a type of erythromycin (sp); manufactured in India) will make it all better.  But we have hope.


Last week my classmate was leading intercessions during one of the chapel services, and she prayed for me.  By name.  It was touching, sweet, and somehow mortifying.  She also hadn't realized I was sick the other week, and  said that she would have come and done my wash.  That is incredibly humbling... she's got an active 18 month old, and stays off-campus.  For the record, the wash situation is under control, though I'm washing my alb and cincture tomorrow so the latter can dry by Sunday.  


The dissertation situation is progressing, albeit slowly.  

I am indebted to the searchable Calvin and Hobbes archive at http://michaelyingling.com/random/calvin_and_hobbes/, as well as the complete archive at http://marcel-oehler.marcellosendos.ch/comics/ch/.  God bless both of these Watterson fans.

Further down the road to health!

Yesterday I returned to class, and though we didn’t have our morning lecture, we had two back-to-back lectures in the afternoon – four straight hours of lecture, then almost right into dinner.  I went seven straight hours without blowing my nose, which since last Wednesday, hadn’t happened.  Not because I didn’t need to, but because I’ve not adopted the handkerchief practice, and nor was I about to carry around a roll of toilet paper, and a bag for the detritus. 

And praise the Lord, I actually slept last night!  It was glorious.  I’m not convinced that the infection has been sufficiently vanquished by the antibiotics, so I returned to the clinic.  The doctor was very nice, gave me some cold and cough medicine, and told me to finish the antibiotics.  The nurse who dispenses meds didn’t give me any more.  I don’t know whether this was a miscommunication, as I finished the antibiotics last night, or intentional, but I took the doctor’s words to heart and went across the street to the drug store (literally – it’s the place where I get my malaria prophylactic, and it's a tiny closet, and all they sell is drugs) and got another five day supply.

The funny thing was that my with my public reappearance today, the theologians who aren’t in my class didn’t know I was sick; many of them thought I was on the mission that went out this weekend.  So when people asked how I was, and in my raspy voice, I replied that I was sick, they’d in turn ask if it was malaria.  I realize that sick is a euphemism for malaria, but aren’t there other sicknesses here?  Perhaps I’ve just got the lingo wrong, and sick is truly reserved for malaria.  But everyone told me I'd be better, and wished me a quick recovery.  I love that so much  more than "get well" or "feel better!"

My guess on Sunday was accurate:  when I went to the cathedral, the provost heard me say hello and asked why I came.  That stumped me.  Then, sweet man that he is, he lamented that I didn’t have his phone number and couldn’t call to tell him I was sick.  True enough, but I literally haven’t seen the man in a month of Sundays – he’s been at other churches.  If anything, I would have called my supervisor, but that was lovely of him to think that I could/should have taken a bye week.  The vicar asked me what I wanted to do in the service, and while I was struggling to find a way to say that I’d prefer to not torture the congregation with my voice, the provost intervened and said I’d just sit there.  The vicar agreed, and told me to be free with them about my preferences.

I shall atone for my silence on March 13^th, as I am preaching on the first Sunday of Lent.  The sermon may well be recorded, as the USPs won’t be around, and they want to see the sermon.  I’ll let you know if it does get recorded, though I doubt it will be posted anywhere – I don’t have that kind of bandwidth.

Yet another election, yet another public holiday?

You know how in the US, we have an Election Day, and we vote for everything all at once?  It’s nice in my district, because we’ve been using a computerized system for several years now, and the program walks me through all the ballots and the options.  None of those silly hanging chads for us in Virginia, no sirree.  I wonder whether Florida ditched the chads, and if so, how long it took them.

In Uganda, ballots for elections have both the photo of the contestant, as well as their name, presumably to allow the less than literate to vote as well.  The presidential ballot, with nine candidates, was rather long.  It turns out that 18 Feb, Election Day, was just for the presidential ballot, and members of parliament at the national level.  The following Wednesday were the elections for LC5, and no, I’ve not yet asked what that means, but it’s a local seat of government.

We all knew the elections for LC5 would be that Wednesday; I even knew it.  Tuesday evening it was announced (by whom, I have no idea) that Wednesday would be a public holiday.  Seriously?  You know it’s going to be a day of voting, and you declare a public holiday the night (NIGHT, not day) prior?  Even better, the faculty announced that we wouldn’t be having classes that day to allow the locals to go vote, but all my lecturers came.  Naturally.

I’m bringing this up because in conversation today, someone mentioned that it would be a public holiday on Wednesday.  Since no one tells me when the public holidays are (and therefore when there will be no class), I asked Mr. Google what they were, and put all of them on my calendar.  Mr. Google, obviously, doesn’t know about random election days.  As it happens, this Wednesday is elections for LC3.  I don't know whether it will be a public holiday, and even if it is, I'm certain we'll have lectures.  But this is Africa, and that's how things go.  One never knows if something will change, and if it does change, whether it applies to you.