The moments, hours, even days, of waiting are too familiar. Of course, the CT scan was done on Friday morning, which means results were not interpreted until late Monday. The weekend of waiting seems like years. After multiple phone calls to IHK, I learn this girl has been suffering from increased ICP and cerebral edema secondary to multiple abscesses in multiple lobes of her brain. I held her CT scan into the light before she was rolled off into the operating room; these 4 large abscesses overtook most of her frontal lobe and part of her right temporal lobe. I was surprised that this dear friend was still fully oriented and could hold normal conversations (aside from my inability to speak fluent Lusoga).
A few days later, I would see her lying in the ICU after her second surgery to drain the abscesses. It turns out that the abscesses were filled with fluid soon after the first operation, and they went in again to repeat the same procedure. We are still waiting on the pathology report and the doctors are unsure of the source of the abscesses or have much reasoning behind the diagnosis. The last few weeks have been filled with familiar days of waiting in a hospital, knowing bad news is coming our way. I have had more moments of frustration and helplessness, wishing I could trade places yet again. The outcome for this 11 year-old girl is not looking so good, but she remains a strong fighter, unwilling to give up so easily. Her case is rather unusual, and on top of that, she is here in a 3rd world country where I was even surprised to see a neurosurgeon on staff at IHK. I wonder whether I am helping by trying to talk to the doctors and family, or just getting in the way. We had another boy with nephroblastoma from a few weeks back who failed to show up to the clinic for his ride to Kampala for further care. I spoke to his father a few days later and he said they did not come because he is getting treatment at another place. I was hesitant to give up so easily or trust the care he was getting if it was near his rural village. As I learned the other day, this 3 1/2 year-old boy died 7 days ago; his family was bringing him to a witch doctor instead of coming to Mulago Hospital in Kampala.
Maybe IHK or Mulago would not have had much else to offer this young boy; however, it is hard not to wonder if the outcome would be any different. Here in East Africa, there are still plenty of Ugandans who would choose the witch doctor over any health center or hospital. People still believe sleeping with a virgin can cure someone of HIV. I suppose it does not help if the South African president tells his people they cannot contract HIV if they shower after every time they have sex; he then fired the South African health minister for disagreeing with him. It is a scary world we live in, and hard to know my own boundaries of whether I am helping or just invading traditional practices.
