Because I don’t get enough attention

After careful thought ad consideration, I decided that being yelled at “Muzungu” or “Jan-IE” every single time I leave the house wasn’t enough for me anymore. What could I do to really make a splash? Yes everyone stares at me wherever I go, but do they stare for 5 seconds? Ten? How could I ramp this up?

The short answer: Trip on a rock

                           photo credit-Inga Storen

The long answer: Fall walking of my house and manage to sprain both ankles quite badly. My friend Susan was with me and once we stopped laughing and I tried to get up, we realized that walking was a skill I no longer possessed. one ankle was quickly approaching baseball size while the other hovered around golf ball. Of course the neighborhood was out in full force to watch my gracefulness so Bizmani put me on his back and started to the hospital. We managed to find a kid with a bike who took me while Bizmani and Robert walked with Susan. We arrived at the hospital, which resembles a concrete shell more than any hospital in the US. The doctor asked my name and few basic questions and then grabs my ankles with no warning and twists. Tears literally burst from my eyes, cartoon style.  ‘Yes, hurts hurts” I wept.  Same on the other side, by this time, pain has set in and I am sobbing. “You need to go to radiology” the Doctor says and leaves the room. How was I supposed to get there? fly? Bizmani and Susan became my human crutches and dragged me to radiology.

Again, the man grabbed my ankle no warning to position it, I was holding Susan’s hand and I think she still has all her fingers.  And doesn’t appear to have permanent hearing damage from the screams. In the x-ray room, no one asked me if I was pregnant (Relax! I am not, but all women of child bearing age need to be asked that because its bad for the baby)  no one covered my chest with that heavy protective device and no one asked Susan to leave the room. After the X-Ray, the guy comes out with the x-ray he just developed and gives to Susan “Can you please go outside for 5-8 minutes into the sun and dry this”  She had been in contact with our field director Kelly Jo who had offered to rent a car and come get us but I had said to wait…I mean fixing ankles isn’t brain surgery.  I turned to one of men who are there, not in scrubs or recognizable medical outfits but appeared to be working there, and inquire about crutches. Yes, crutches aren’t ideal but at this point, but alas crawling and scooting on my bottom are the only options for unassisted movement. “Oh no, we don’t have those, you would have to go to Butare or Kigali”

Now its time to call my mommy in pieces. “Mom, sorry I woke you but I didn’t know Aaron’s new cell or Daddy’s and I don’t want to worry you………blah and they don’t have crutches and ……blah, sob, blah sob and its really really hurts.” Debbie Doo is excellent in a crisis and has an uncanny ability to stay calm when I am not.  In the calmest voice ever managed by woman who has been woken up at 2:45 AM by a hysterical 28 year old daughter she managed to make the world seem infinitely better. “Jane, of course you call me. I am your mother, you are supposed to call me. Don’t ever worry about that. You need to RICE if they aren’t broken. And crutches would be hard if you don't have one good foot. We can find you some sticks…”

“Mom, they don’t even have an ace bandage sob sob”

“Okay, you will find some cloth and have someone wrap it really tightly”

After the prescribed time, Susan comes back and hands the x-ray to the “guy” (job unclear) and he says we have to wait for “the” Doctor. Apparently there is only one at this hospital and he is in surgery. “How long” Susan asks. “Oh, I don’t know” is the answer. At this point I scream “OYA” (no) and text Kelly Jo “please come.” We left the hospital without ever being offered ice for the tennis ball sized swellings where my ankles used to be, no ace bandage or wrapping.

Two hours later, we are in a car with Kelly Jo and Fiancée Camble (KJamble is their nickname). They took me to King Fiesel hospital in Kigali where the doctor spoke the King’s English. He looked gently at my ankles before ordering morphine (bless his soul now and forever), 2 new x-rays (yes, Susan left the room and all my organs were properly covered) and plaster of Paris casts.  Post morphine quote “I don’t even have cankles, I have really nice ankles.”

                      ice cream heals

So now I am ensconced in the hostel where my friend Susan lives, only a few doors away. . I do have crutches but until one ankles gets a little better walking is still challenging. But, if there was a fire or say I had to pee and had no one around, I am not forced to crawl. They don’t have air casts here so even though I look like a gigantic loser with double plaster casts, they really do help keep my ankles straight and less painful. Although they look quite dramatic, they keep my ankles safe and secure.  Its quite a chore to move but yesterday I managed the hallway 3 times.

 pathetic sums it up

Susan has been an absolute rock, piling junk food and care on me, leaving only to work.  I also have other nurses, and last night while Susan worked, Joco came in from her little town and made me laugh and smile until I passed out in front of Gossip Girl.  The bigger problem when these casts come off is I may be spoiled rotten. Really really rotten. 

“But I want an oompa loompa NOW”

My family has always been the type that are beyond amazing in a crisis. There just are not people on the planet who could be better when the chips are down. But I am totally struck by how amazing peeps I have know for 9 months have come through! Even for a silly ankle/Jane can’t walk injury, my WorldTeach group has been so awesome and I appreciate every text, FB message and general love sent this direction.  As hard as this year can be, maybe the core “lesson” is about generosity of spirit and love. Let me assure you, Africa has not turned me into a granola freegan earth mother. I miss shopping, facials and being clean. But, I have learned about true community spirit.

Disclaimer: This was written 2 codeine deep