living in the city, we have the luxury of good, close medical care. and for that we are grateful. after a weekend of stomach issues, i decided i ought to make sure it wasn't anything serious.
i didn't need to go to the hospital. but it is close, and they have an outpatient clinic. and i needed a good story for this post :)
so what does going to see a doctor look like for us here?
first you stop and allow the security guards to check your car, open your doors, check your glove box, etc. then you approach the reception desk. upon finding the entire desk front lined with people, you hang back a bit, until there is a space for you. but of course the concept of an orderly line escapes africans. so as soon as there is the slightest gap, another person slips right into the front. waiting in line, is very similar to sitting in traffic. the bigger and more aggressive one wins. so i put my driving attitude on, and make my presence known at the front desk. explain that your card will be filed under H for Hallahan, not K for Kelly. then you go to the cashier to pay the consultation fee. and back to the reception desk. and then to the waiting room. and you wait. see triage nurse, find out how much you weigh in kilograms. and you wait. and see the doctor. and then to the lab. and to the cashiers to pay for said labwork. and then back to the lab for the bloodwork. and then back to the waiting room. and you wait for your lab results. notice the mama nursing her baby. see someone much more ill than you sitting nearby. write a sermon in the meantime. friendly cashier walks by notices your Bible, and asks, "You're born again? Me too?". woman covered from head to toe (muslim??) moves to another section of the waiting room. finally results are back. see the doctor. quick jot of prescription anti-biotics for some bacteria. then to the cashier to pay for said prescription. then to pharmacy to pick up prescriptions. and just a mere 3 1/2 hours later you are on your way home to have some lunch. a day in the life of a Kampala missionary.
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