A Bit Fine: Part 2

There's nothing like a new day to bring a fresh perspective and I awoke on Thursday morning with a more hopeful heart and a gentle reminder that God's compassions never fail, they are new every morning; great is His faithfulness. 

Mama Lilly knocked on my door and shared that Milton had survived the night and some of the swelling in his face had subsided.  God's compassions are new every morning.  However, because of the severity of his accident the nurses recommended that he travel to Uganda to see a doctor.  I'd offered to travel with Milton and there was an extra seat on the charter flight so I quickly showered and packed a bag for the unanticipated trip.  As I walked to the front gate to meet the car I heard a commotion and found all of the Harvesters kids gathered around Milton.  He was able to walk, slowly and with lots of help, and his face was still incredibly swollen but he could mumble a soft “hello” to his friends and held the hands of his older brother, Alex, who wept over Milton’s healing. 

Milton, Josephine and I soon left for our 11:30am flight only to arrive at the airstrip to find that our plane was delayed.  Milton was hungry so we bought crackers (the only option) then broke them into small pieces then soaked them in the cap of a water bottle so they would be soft enough for Milton to chew, and then he promptly fell asleep because of the pain.  Our plane was continually delayed by “just 30 minutes, not long.  Only 25 minutes, very soon,” and during the four. long. hours. that we waited I became increasingly impatient and frustrated at the situation. 

eating a few soggy crackers in the car

 I thought of life in the parallel universe of America and how things would have been different for Milton if he’d fallen from an American elm instead of a mango tree in South Sudan.  Two seconds through the air.  Three minutes to call 911 and request an ambulance.  Less than 20 minutes for an ambulance to arrive with a team of trained paramedics on board to check vitals and put on a neck brace.  An ambulance with sterile equipment, IVs, medicine, shock paddles.  Delivery to an emergency room with clean beds and caring nurses and skilled doctors and specialists - people with a sense of urgency who wear latex gloves.  Modern, advanced X-ray and CT scan machines and adequate medicine.  Instead we were in a town with not one doctor and a single x-ray machine, having to charter a flight to take us to the neighboring country for treatment.

Johnson (who drove us to the airport), Josephine, and Milton wait for the plane.

 As the plane finally arrived at 2:30pm Milton watched with curiosity and astonishment.  I knew this would be his first flight and wondered if he’d ever been so close to a plane before?  Gingerly he stepped onto the ladder and slid into a window seat.  I watched as he figured out how to buckle the seatbelt and as his eyes widened as the plane sped down the dirt runway and lifted into the air. As we passed the tree tops and the landscape widened below I wondered if Milton had ever expected to see such a view when he had climbed to the top of a tree to explore and get a glimpse of the land beyond the orphanage.

sleeping on the plane

At 5:00pm we landed at the airport in Entebbe, Uganda and went through customs then got in a taxi to take us to the hospital in Kampala.  It was rush hour and the hour-long ride was one of the most frightening I’ve taken in… um… ever,  but we made it safely to the hospital by 6:45, more than 24 hours after Milton had fallen out of the tree.

 

narrow Kampala roads (and power lines!  haven't seen those in awhile.)

 Two nurses brought out a wheelchair and took him to a trauma room and relief washed over me.  Fiiiinaaaallyyyyyyyy.  Great is His faithfulness.  Within 30 minutes a doctor was in the room listening to Milton’s heartbeat and gently probing his face and chest.  We told her about the fall and she asked in a skeptical tone, “he fell 30 feet?  Are you sure?  That’s 10 meters.  And he can walk and talk and he hasn’t lost consciousness?”  This would not be the last time a doctor asked these questions.  After examining the head x-rays we’d brought she said that he would need additional x-rays of his chest and knees and a CT scan of his head, however, the CT scan at the hospital was out of service so he’d have to be taken by ambulance to another hospital.  Of course it was.  

Josephine accompanied Milton to the other hospital and I hoarded an area of the waiting room with all our bags.  It was after 9:00 when the ambulance returned and we checked into a private room with a full bathroom, two beds, small sofa and flat-screen t.v.  Since none of us had eaten a substantial meal since breakfast Josephine ventured out to find a local café.  An hour later we sat on Milton’s bed and ate chicken and chips (french fries) out of “take-away” bags and drank tea, too tired to generate conversation, before finally going to bed. 

Friday morning began at 6:00am when the day nurse came to give Milton his dosage of painkillers and antibiotics to prevent infection.  The CT scans and new x-rays were also delivered and Dr. Joel, the neurosurgeon, came to read the results.  Amazingly Milton suffered only minor injuries: a small fracture in the frontal bone of his skull between his eyebrows and a small fracture at the base of his skull.  No broken ribs, no punctured organs, no shattered knee caps, no broken teeth, no splintered jaw, and no brain damage.  None.  Dr. Joel asked me, for the second time, if I was certain that Milton fell 30 feet, and then looked again at the CT scans.  “A fall that severe would surely create more damage, this is a very lucky boy if what you tell me is true,” he said.  Indeed.  He told us that Milton's fractures would heal completely with time and that we would need to stay in the hospital to monitor his swelling and the brain fluid and blood that was still leaking from his ears. 

Josephine left the hospital to run errands in Kampala and I stayed with Milton as he slept through the morning.  When he woke at lunch time I realized he hadn’t showered in nearly two days and gave him a tour of the bathroom.  He was clearly in pain but was enthralled with everything.  He spent more than a minute turning on and off the lights, seemingly amazed that when he pushed the button on the left the light over the sink would turn on, immediately.  When he pushed the button on the right the shower was instantly illuminated, push again and it was dark.  On and off, light to dark to light to dark, in a split second.  A smile crept to his face.  He watched as the toilet flushed, the paper disappearing down a hole and clean water filling the bowl.  A whole new world in the bathroom of a hospital.

 

watching 80s music videos, a kid after my own heart

Dr. Joel returned that night and encouragingly told us that Milton’s condition had not worsened, which was a positive sign, so Josephine decided to leave the next morning to return to Sudan.

The next four days in the hospital with Milton were blessedly uneventful and were punctuated by meals and afternoon walks.  Since Milton felt a lot of pain in his face and legs, despite the painkillers, he was mostly immobile and spent the majority of the time sleeping or watching t.v.  I offered to change the channel when news programs began, but he would get out of bed and flip through the slim selection of channels, mostly so he could push the buttons I think.  I learned that he most liked watching soccer games, if the picture wasn’t fuzzy, and then chose any channel with music.  Nurses came every eight hours to give him medication and I think he became a favorite for his gentle nature; the nurse would wake him at 6:00am or from his afternoon nap and he never complained or cried, even though the liquid antibiotic was painful when administered.  Every afternoon we walked down to the café and I’d let Milton choose a Coke or Fanta to drink and he’d slowly sip it through a straw and people-watch, fascinated by people buying food, kids playing on the grass, or cleaners mopping the floors.  Sometimes he’d say, “yes Mary, may I please walk to the bottom?” which meant that he wanted to walk to the café by himself so I’d stand at the top of the outdoor ramp and watch him shuffle down like an old man on his hurting knees.  A few times we practiced addition and subtraction using Uganda Shillings and I bought him a soccer magazine, which he thumbed through several times a day.  After dinner at 7:00 he’d shower and then I’d read him a few chapters of The Horse and His Boy, part of the Chronicles of Narnia, then said some prayers before he fell asleep at 8:00. 

reading his magazine at the cafe

Every day Milton healed a bit more, the swelling in his face decreased as did the fluid leaking from his ears, and he walked more upright as the pain in his knees lessened. Whenever the doctors or nurses came in to check him they'd ask, "Milton, how are you?" and he'd always answer, "a bit fine."  I realized this was quite an accurate description: he was fine, but only a bit.  

receiving his afternoon medication while keep his eyes on the t.v.

He became less shy towards me and when I joked that he was going to get fat from all the good hospital food (and it actually was good) he snorted a laugh and puffed out his belly.  Milton’s in my English class and I knew him as one of the more curious students, with a big smile and a playful demeanor, after class he’d come up and flip through Narnia to look at the pictures and would occasionally carry my books to my next class for me.  The time with him in the hospital was actually enjoyable, aside from my constant worry about his condition and the heavy responsibility I felt for him.  I began to know him beyond being merely one of my English students and I learned that he is introspective and quiet, decisive about food and t.v. choices, and quick to learn.

      

an icepack for his swollen eye and the hint of a smile

On Sunday there was only a drop of fluid on Milton’s pillowcase and Dr. Joel said that if there was no fluid from his ears on Monday morning he could be released on Tuesday.  After Joel left the room Milton, the astute listener, said, “yes Mary, let us pray,” and succinctly prayed, “Dear God, please heal my wounds so we can leave this place.”  Apparently he wasn’t the only one who was experiencing a bit of cabin fever, despite the flat screen t.v. and afternoon Fanta.