Mulago Hospital

On Thursday, Kerrie and I went to one of the larger (and well-known as one of the worst) hospitals here in Kampala, Mulago Hospital, where we prayed over patients.  I wanted to blog about this on Thursday, but I could not find the words.  I was too heartbroken.

Immediately upon walking into Mulago, I knew that it would be something that I would never forget.  Kerrie filled me in on how things operate here: patients are not given ANYTHING by the hospital.  It is up to the families of the patients to provide all of the medicines, food, baths, and bed sheets.  If a patient has no one, then the patient goes completely without.

Kerrie wanted to visit the Emergency Room (and the word “emergency” is a complete misnomer), so we headed to the second floor with Peace and Edith, two Ugandan women accompanying us.  I was shocked as we walked the halls, because patients were scattered everywhere: lying on gurneys in the hallways, lying on cardboard on the floors, and sitting haphazardly in chairs.  As we entered the Emergency Room, I gasped. 

The room was just that: a large room with beds lined up side-by-side so closely that people could barely stand between them.  Many of the patients clearly had no one, as they had no bedsheets and they lay alone with no medicines or food.  The smell was overpowering: a mix between human sweat, urine, and filth. 

As we approached the first patient, I smiled in thankfulness because gathered around the older gentleman was a swarm of loving family members.  I cannot remember what he was there for, but I can remember that he was very thankful for our prayers.  The next patient was just awful.  He was a boda boda driver who had been mugged by thieves, and they had slashed his face with a knife.  He was lying in the bed with a blanket pulled all the way up over his face, and at first I thought that he had died and the hospital staff had neglected to remove him; however, when they uncovered his face I quickly understood why it had been covered in the first place.  It didn’t even look human, because his eyes were so swollen and blood was dried all over his face.  Luckily, he was sleeping.

Several patients later, we encountered a man who had been in some kind of boda boda accident (it was a clear and persistent theme).  The man had arrived at around 7:30 the night before (it was now just before 3:00 pm) and had yet to receive treatment.  His legs had been immobilized on metal bars, but he was lying in the bed, fingers grasping his niece’s hand, writhing around in pain with his eyes closed.  We were told that he had broken both legs and had a head injury, but that the family didn’t have enough money for a CAT scan, so they would have to wait.  We prayed over him, and minutes later a woman came with money for the CAT scan (she had gone out in search for it prior to our arrival).  The woman informed the family that she was going to go down and pay for the CAT scan, and she left.  When she returned, she delivered the news that the CAT scan was closed for the day (at 3:00 in the AFTERNOON), so he would have to wait until the next day.  BRAIN INJURY.  It means nothing here if you don’t have the money to pay during their ridiculously inconvenient hours of operation!

After praying over patient after patient, I lost feeling.  My brain and heart just went numb.  I had been overloaded with emotion, and my soul and heart were both in excruciating pain.  The sadness, the hopelessness, the injustice, the gross lack of dignity, the pain, and the need surrounded me and completely saturated my senses.  The expression “you can’t save them all” had never been truer, and as we left the hospital, I was stunned beyond words.

It was a fairly silent car ride home.  I could not bring myself to talk.  What do you say? What words can truly express the pain and heartache of the people? What words can communicate my sorrow at my own helplessness? Loving people is a blessing and a curse, and compassion is a painful thing.  Literally, at Mulago Hospital, there is NOTHING that one can do but pray.  God is the only hope that the patients have, and though it is AMAZING to think that one day we will all be whole, healed, and filled with unending love and joy when we arrive into His Kingdom, that amazingness doesn’t end their present suffering. 

Please pray for the patients at Mulago Hospital.  Pray that they find Him amidst their suffering and lean on Him to get them through.  Pray for my heart as I process the realities of life here.  Pray for God to lead me to serve in ways I have not yet considered.