My friend Paul, from South Sudan, has recently been commenting that his eyes are bothering him, especially when he’s working on his computer. He thought he had an eye infection, so he went to the campus clinic. The clinic couldn’t help him, and referred him to the eye place in Kampala. I encouraged him to go, telling him that it may be time for specs.
This morning, I asked Paul how it went at the eye doctor. Turns out that Paul is indeed short-sighted (which I like much better than nearsighted), and is getting specs in two weeks. I was appalled that the poor guy has to suffer for so long, and when I asked why, he gently reminded me that we’re in a Third World country, and that the materials aren’t readily available; they have to be imported from Kenya. I thought that when my friend Amos got specs last year he didn’t have to wait that long, but perhaps Paul’s prescription is more specialized.
Then Paul proceeded to tell me about the doctor’s visit, as they don’t have such equipment in Sudan. He described the different tests and apparatuses he was experienced as the doctors decided what was going on with his eyes.
Now, I’ve been subjected to said tests and evaluations (and I consider the field of vision tests I now undergo to be a minor violation of the Geneva Convention, and may have muttered something about waterboarding after the first one – it’s wretched, and nearly drove me batty) for the better part of 28 years, and consider it a routine part of life. Listening to him describe everything was amazing, as was his wonder at all that the doctor did, from shining the light in his eyes at different angles, to the apparatus with the different lenses to find the right prescription, and being taken into different rooms for different tests.
Obviously, listening to him reminded me of how blessed I am to think of such a doctor’s visit to be something that must be done every year, rather than like him, being so grateful to have the opportunity to have his vision corrected now, while he’s 1. young and 2. in school.
I need to be a lot more like Paul, in any number of ways.
Speaking of the clinic, I returned for yet another check-up. The doctor was amazed yesterday that I kept time and arrived at exactly 4:45 for my follow up injection. And those nurses were amazing – usually I bruise like a banana (or tomato or something else that bruises really easily), but I just have faint bruises. The doctor has deemed me fairly healthy, saying that the remaining cough “will go away.” I actually agree with her; today I went down to town to go to the supermarket, though I took a boda back up the hill, and actually had energy left over. She did give me a steroid (I think). This is Dexa, and yesterday’s injections were x-pen, a crystalline penicillin.
My medical knowledge has been growing by the day. I think I’ll take a break for a bit.
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