Hospitals, Hard Concrete Floors, and Healthy Newborns

     One weekend last month, Rachel, Hannah, and I headed out to visit Mark Beachy’s family in Ny’gia.  Rachel is one of the girls here in the compound and Hannah is her cousin who was visiting at the time. 

     Saturday morning, after a delicious breakfast, we headed to the hospital in Siaya.  Hannah had worked at the clinic in Paraguay, so she was interested in watching them draw blood.  We were allowed into the room and watched them draw blood from several patients.  

     We then spent time in several wards, passing out Bible Story books, suckers, and balloons with the patients and sharing Bibles with the doctors and other staff.  We also sang several songs for some of the people there. 

     There are many burn victims here.  Young children fall into cooking fires or hot oil.  Seeing some of these children about made me cry.  Excruciating pain.  

     The highlight of my day was also definitely the most painful.  Slamming into hard concrete floors is not necessarily recommended.  Somehow . . . maybe because we are white, or because Hannah had experience with delivering babies, or because Mary Ellen is brave enough to ask, or maybe just because this is Kenya . . . we were given permission to go back to the delivery room.  One mother had a brand new little baby that was being cleaned up and taken care of, and another lady was in the final stages of delivery.  After a bit, I began to feel rather sick, but I was determined NOT to walk out.  I could be strong.  Plus, I had never fainted before, so surely I wouldn’t now.  I started to feel really lightheaded, so I leaned back against the counter, positively certain that I would be just fine.  Things were going well and I was going to be ok, right?  Then, there was a thud.  And darkness.  Lots of it.  Voices.  Many of them.  People.  People who were concerned.  People who wanted me to “wake up.”  People who wondered if I was ok.  People who were worried about me.  Cool, concrete floor.  Very dirty.  Full of bacteria I am sure.  Hot, stuffy air.  A hospital room.  In just a bit, I was truly fine again, but I decided to remain seated on the floor rather than stand again and cause more drama than necessary.  Before too much longer, the sweet little African baby was born.  What an incredible, miraculous experience!!  I hoped that I would be fine, but didn’t feel too remarkable.  Knowing how worried the nurses had been when I fell, I decided it would be wise to join Rachel out in the fresh air and sunshine in the open courtyard just down the hall.  She had sensibly chosen to stay out of the room and Hannah was given the privilege of helping out with clean-up and other procedures!!  Other than a pretty serious knot on my head, a few brushburns and sore spots, and some bruises on my legs and arms, it all turned out quite well.  

     Afterwards, we went to a small shack to eat lunch.  Somehow, I wasn't hungry and knew what would happen if I did try to eat.  I did recover and drink coke.  You can see the beginning of the knot here on my forehead.  :) Thankfully I didn't break my nose, or slice my head open on the edge of the counter. 

We had a fun, but long drive home.  It felt so good to get HOME!! :)