Third World Medical Care

            I feel as though I should start this post off with a warning.  I am living in Africa – most medical problems involve poop.  I am not one for modesty, so I do not plan on leaving anything out.  However, if you do not like talking about poop, then we probably are not very good friends anyway – so I will not be offended if you stop reading.  Otherwise, enjoy the post, but I cannot be held responsible for any gagging.  You were warned.

            A little over a week ago, I started to have black poop.  I figured that was not normal, so I decided to consult Google.  In my opinion, Google is as good as any doctor – just type in your symptoms and thousands of possible diagnoses come up.  Not only is it free, but it also saves Peace Corps Volunteers a long trip to Kampala.  After some extensive reading, I decided that either I had blood in my poop or it was caused by something I was eating.  I came to the final conclusion that it was the latter and I would give it a few days.  Four days later, my poop was still black and tarry.  Google said this was no good, so I gave Peace Corps Medical a call.  In an effort to save me from an unnecessary trip to Kampala, medical referred me to Mt. Elgon Hospital in Mbale to get a poop test.  They told me that if my poop tested positive for blood, then I would have to come into Kampala.  At first, I thought that this was a great idea because I was not up for a four-hour bus ride, especially if it turned out nothing was wrong.  Silly me.  Mt. Elgon Hospital was quite the experience that I hope I never have to relive. 

            I arrived at the hospital first thing the next morning in order to get the test over with.  Since I am white, the hospital awkwardly let me cut the queue of patients to see the doctor.  I probably should have felt a little guilty and insisted that I go to the back of the line, but I decided to be selfish and take advantage of my celebrity status.  (I can see my mother pursing her lips and shaking her head right now).  I walked in to see the doctor and here is how my “evaluation” proceeded:

The doctor greeted me, “Ah hello, you are welcome!” 

I replied, “Thanks.”

“Are you from the U.S.?  Or U.K.”

“I am from the U.S.  But I live in Uganda”

“U.S. Very nice place.  I want to reach that place.  You take me there when you go back.”

I laughed awkwardly and replied, “Uh I am not going back for a while.  Anyway, I am here to give a stool sample and get blood drawn for a CBC.  I have been having black, tarry poop for four days.”

“Ah ok.  So you are sick.  Are you fearing?”

“Um no, just want the test done.”

“Good, good.  Do not be fearing.  When you fear, you get more sick.”

“I am not fearing.”

“Ok good.  So you live in Uganda? 

“Yes, I live in Budaka.  I have been there for over a year and a half.” 

“Eh! When will you be in Mbale next?”

I immediately knew where this was going, but I responded, “I am not sure.  Usually I come here every other weekend.”

He smiled and replied, “Ah! Next time we meet.  Maybe get lunch and we chat.”

“Umm, well, I am usually here to do work.  I am pretty busy.”

“There is no problem.  We just eat and chat.  I want to know more about U.S.  I want to work there and I want to know you.”

“Uh, ok.  So where do I go for that stool sample?”

“Are you on Facebook?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, good!  I will find you.  I have your name here on the chart.”

“Right. So, stool sample?”

“Ah, yes, just go next door to the lab.”

I got up to leave and say goodbye, but he stopped me and said, “Oh, can I have your contact?  I want to call you and we just chat.  And maybe make a program to meet.”

“Uhhhhhhhh”

“Oh, never mind!  Your contact is in your check-in record.  I will just call you later.

“Um ok.  Bye.” 

Well, the doctor has yet to call me, but I did receive his friend request on Facebook.  Can you imagine this happening in the U.S.?  I mean, if it was Dr. Ross (a.k.a. George Clooney) from E.R. or Dr. McDreamy from Grey’s, maybe I would have been more inclined to accept the date and friend request on Facebook. 

I walked next door to the lab to get my blood drawn and get my cup for the stool sample.  The guy drawing my blood could not get over my freckles – he kept rubbing them and asking, “So they do not come off?  Ah! You are becoming black like me.”  He finished drawing my blood, gave me cup, and pointed me to the bathroom.  Time for the real fun to begin.

The bathroom was dirty and disgusting.  Also, lucky me, it was a squat toilet.  I realized there was no toilet paper either.  Could my life get any worse?  I rummaged through my backpack and thankfully found some toilet paper.  (I have learned to always keep some on hand!).  I did my business while simultaneously dry heaving in the disgusting bathroom.  After I finished up, I realized, to my horror, there was no soap at the sink.  I kept thinking to myself, “Seriously, what kind of hospital is this?  It is private – they must have money for soap and T.P.”  Thankfully, I always carry Purell. 

I waited around the hospital for an hour to get my test results.  At least I had my Kindle with me.  My CBC was normal, but my poop tested positive for blood.  So, I had to set out for Kampala to see Peace Corps Medical.  I was a little relieved to go to a medical office that was clean and has a staff that would not hit on me.  Plus, hot showers and access to western food is always a good thing.  However, a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer, Max, texted me, “According to Google, a colonoscopy is in your future.”  I considered telling medical that I was fine and my poop was in fact negative for blood. 

I headed to Kampala the next day to see medical.  Max was also at the office and he said, “It’s a good thing you showered this morning.  You are definitely getting a finger up the butt.”  I was horrified and I said there was no way that was happening.  I went in and got a real examination/evaluation.  I got more blood drawn, had blood pressure taken, etc.  Then, to my horror, the nurse said she would have to do a rectal exam.  All I could think was, “I hate you Max.”  I walked out of the office with an appalled look on my face.  Max took one look at me, laughed, and asked, “So, finger up the butt?”  Ugh, jerk. 

I spent the next three days in Kampala because Medical wanted to monitor my poop and me.  I talked with my mom the last night I was in Kampala and she was a little concerned about the situation.  She was hoping that they would reach a diagnosis and that it was nothing too serious.  She said she actually hoped it was just a parasite.  We hung up and I went to bed…only to have the most mortifying moment of my life happen.  (No, I did not poop my pants!)

My mom decided to call my doctor back home to consult about my black poop.  My doctor was very concerned and she said if I was still pooping blood, then it was potentially serious and something needed to be done.  My mom called my dad and she told him he needed to get ahold of me.  Well, we all know my dad does was my mom says – he was probably a little scared not to follow through.  At this point, it is 11PM my time and I am happily asleep in bed.

I woke up at around 11PM to hear the hotel phone ringing.  I was half asleep and by the time I realized the phone was ringing, I missed the call.  I thought that was a little weird that the phone would ring so late and figured it must be my parents trying to call.  I checked my cell phone and had no missed calls, texts, or emails.  I shrugged it off and went back to sleep.  I was awoken again by a knock at the door.  I thought that was a little strange and I groggily got out of bed.  By the time I reached the door, though, no one was there.  I started to think I was going a little crazy and went back to bed.  I checked my cell, again, and there was nothing.  I crawled back into bed and tried to fall asleep.  All of a sudden, there is a loud knock at the door.  Then, I hear, “Ms. Marsh.  If you do not open the door, then we are going to have to open it and come in.”  I immediately sat up and was thinking, “WTF is going on right now?!” 

I opened the door to see the hotel manager and three security guards.  My eyes kept darting back and forth between them and my mind was racing with possible scenarios of what was going on.  The manager handed me a phone and said, “You have an urgent call from America.”

I took the phone and shakily said, “Hello?”

My dad was on the other end and said, “Hi! I have been trying to get ahold of you!”

“What is wrong? Why are you calling so late?”

“Mom talked to Dr. Mandel.  She is very concerned.  Mom is going to send you an email with what she said.”

“Are you serious right now? You are calling me to tell me mom is going to send me an email.”

“Yes, mom said to get ahold of you.”

“It’s 11 o’clock! Why didn’t you call my cell?”

“I did.”

“Ok. I am going back to bed.”

“Bye dear. Love you.  Sorry for waking you.”

“Ya, ok. Bye.”

I sheepishly handed the phone back to the manager and said, “Thanks.  Sorry about that.” 

The manager looked at me and said, “Do you need medical attention?  Your father said there was a medical emergency.” 

I turned bright red and said, “Um, no.  I am fine.” 

She tilted her head and said, “Are you sure?”

I replied, “Yes, I am fine.  My family is just crazy.  Don’t worry about it.”

She said goodnight and I closed the door.  At that point, I was fuming and basically wanted to kill my dad.  I was beyond mortified.  I also kept thinking to myself, “What if I had not woken up?   And I woke up to the hotel staff in my bedroom?”  I am pretty sure the hotel thought I was dying or something.  Needless to say, I called my mother to tell her that my dad and her were in trouble. 

On Friday, I got the all clear from medical.  All of my stool samples came back negative for blood and my blood tests came back normal.  Not quite sure what I had, but since I was not feeling sick at all, it was probably nothing serious.  My doctor back home assured my mom that sometimes you can get a false positive for blood in the poop.  So, maybe, I never even had blood in the poop.  Nevertheless, that makes the situation at the hotel all the more embarrassing! 

I am back at site and I am happy to be home (although, I miss hot showers!).  My neighbors are happy that I am back too, so I am going to enjoy the benefits of free dinner for the next few days.  I love not having to cook or to do dishes. 

I am so glad that I could dedicate a whole post about my poop.  I wish I could top it all off and say I earned my brown badge, but that did not happen.  Maybe next time…  Once again, though, I think this post has forever sealed my fate of being single.