Well after my extensive sabbatical from writing on blogger, this will no doubt come as a shock to you that I am taking time today to update you, my dear readers on a little of my life.
Of course I had started out with very good intentions of routinely updating you all on all my African adventures, but one thing led to another and its very easy to find myself feeling too busy or too tired to write. Its not as if this is the only form of communication I use and by the time I am done updating facebook and instagram pictures, writing an email to my Mom or sisters, writing in the diary, prayer journalling, and keeping up on all my facebook messages from friends about the only writing I want to do is post a silly anecdote to twitter and call it a day. Somehow 140 characters seems much more manageable than an entire blog post.
Anyway, I am here today, so aside from the obvious apology which I've just made (and yes, it did sound more like excuses, oh well), let me just say that I have missed writing for you all, maybe as much as you have missed reading.
At present my heart and mind are too full to narrow down many stories for this page though, so let me just tell you a little about my nursing experience of late.
I have been working, as an orientation period for my nursing license, in the National Referral Hospital here in Kampala, called Mulago. I have worked on Medical and just finished Surgical rotations this last week. I have been so surprised by the tremendously warm welcome I received from the nurses on the wards (and the doctors, interns, and pharmacists for that matter) and their attitude towards me. Its truly been a blessing to get to know and work alongside these valuable health care professionals.
My first day I managed to faint during rounds, but they immediately came to my rescue and looked after me ever since. (I guess it was the closed room and standing too long... i don't know)
My favorite moment was when this last week one of the nurses said of me, "But Joanna, she fits in everywhere. She eats our food, doesn't complain about the work, she even has our accent; she just fits in. I think she's actually African."
Now people tell me that I am "actually African" all the time. I have my hair braided, and I got an nurses uniform that looks like theirs. My general philosophy is: "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." The thing that I loved about this is that this sounds so close to what I picture Jesus would look like working on a hospital ward in Africa. He would just be Emmanuel, God with us. He would eat our food, talk like we talk, work hard, and shine light wherever He went.
Now I hope what she said is true and yet humbly admit that there are days I am nothing like Jesus on that ward. There are days all I want to do is sit down and there are days when I complain about the other nurses leaving me with too much work when I'm not even paid. But there are days when I get to smile or pat the hand of a patient, have them actually thank me for giving them an injection, or whisper a prayer as I go about my work and I feel that I really am being a light on that ward.
Those are the good days. Those are the days I want to remember. Those are the days I want to replicate. Those are the days I want to live.
