Aida's Adoption - Leap Day with Aida (and in which Aida becomes Aidah), part II

I took off at a jog away from the banged-up cars, away from the crowd that had appeared out of nowhere. There were at least 40 people gathered around talking and making their opinion be known on whose fault this accident was.

I kept Jurjanne updated on where I was - I’m passing the huge trash truck, and the outdoor waiting room, the laundry, now I’m going under a big yellow bridge. “Wait!” said Jurjanne, “the bridge with the blue car under it?” “Yup!” I said. Finally we connected and headed together toward the heart ward. We passed waiting room after waiting room of Ugandan men, women & children, all packed up like they were prepared to wait for a month if need be. Jurjanne explained that they are prepared for that. The system for appointments is such that you need to pay to be seen immediately, and if you don’t have the money to pay, you just go to the hospital and wait and wait and wait. Sometimes all day every day for a several weeks if needing a specialized doctor, like cancer or heart.

We passed an open bathroom with stalls made out of plastic shower liners and toilets overflowing into the hallway. The stench was unbelievable, but still people lined up to use them, wearing sandals and long skirts.

Jurjanne expertly navigated the hallways. The hospital complex is larger than any hospital I have ever seen in the US, miles of packed corridors, people waiting and waiting and waiting to be seen. The vaccination area was the fullest, Jurjanne explaining that some women give birth and then are sent over to have their baby vaccinated, and given the tight vaccination schedule of the first few months, they just stay, camped out on the floor waiting for the next shot. In a month or so, they go home. Not everyone does this, but those who can’t afford to make the $4 appointment.

We finally made our way through the maze and found Aida on bench with Evalyn, and I was introduced to Elisa, one of the Dutch ladies working with Kaja Foundation. Aida was wearing clothes that we sent her in the care package and had a huge smile on her face when she saw me come around the corner. She raised her face up for a hug and kiss and then immediately pulled her lips in and dropped her eyes. We can see for just an instant the girl inside pop out and then the cultural desire not to show emotion rides over her. I had brought my computer so I could try to Skype with Doug, so we tried that (didn’t work) and then I brought up PhotoBooth. Aida really prefers the “normal” pictures, either color or black and white, but as soon as I started playing with the funnier lenses - nose swirl, frog face and more, she would burst out laughing and immediately start touching her face to make sure nothing had happened to it in that instant. The nose swirl was the most disturbing to her, and she had to turn away until I changed it.

Aida was quite withdrawn, though, and I asked Elisa if she was ok. “She knows what’s about to happen,” she said. Since I was blissfully unaware of what we were about to head into, I continued to play with Aida and suddenly a rather-severe-looking nurse came to the waiting room and shouted loudly, “Aida, come get your shot.” Aida looked like she wanted to run, poor girl but stood up and headed slowly to the door. We found ourselves in a large open bay, with no curtains but lots of gurneys. They told Aida to take off her pants and underwear, and I started to loudly protest, the obnoxious American that I am. “She cannot be naked in front of all these people!” The room was packed with men! Old men, young men, baby men....all men. I have no idea why there were all men, or maybe it’s all I saw because I wanted my little girl protected, but Elisa said, “No! Take her into a room!‘ The nurse looked at me like I was a little crazy, but I said, “You cannot have a 10 year old girl be naked in front of all these people! She needs privacy.” So, they finally brought us down another long hallway and said, “You can use this dr’s office.” In we walked....right in on a young male doctor having a consultation with another male patient. They motioned for Aida to lay down on the couch and take off her pants. I asked where the shot would be and they motioned to her buttock. I said, “Can’t she just pull down that little area? Why take off everything?” The nurse shrugged, and as she prepared the shot, I got out my computer and turned on the video of our family that Aida liked to watch so much. Elisa warned me that we may have to hold Aida’s feet and she would hold her hands while the shot was given. It was a penicillin shot (benzathine) and is a thick sludgy liquid that takes a long time to administer. She will continue to have this shot one time per month for at least 5 years, even when coming home, as it keeps the strep infection (and now rheumatic fever) from attacking her heart. So, I gave Aida a kiss and a hug and told her that these shots are making her feel better, and she has to do them. I loosely held her feet and as the nurse prepared the area for the shot, Aida started to scream and kick. Her foot flew up in the air and knocked the nurse’s in the face. So the nurse started to talk to her - “Aida, you are not a brave girl. You are not strong. This shot will not hurt. Why are you such a baby?” Aida continued to cry and her kicking grew stronger, so I held her legs down stronger. “Aida, if you do this, I will break the needle off in your bottom and it will stay and hurt you forever,” continued the nurse. Aida started wailing at the top of her lungs as Elisa held her arms and spoke to her softly. The needle went in and then began the long seconds of pushing the sludge into her body. The needle kept getting clogged and the nurse would tap on it to get it to move. With each tap, Aida screamed and the nurse continued her diatribe on how weak she was. Finally, I looked at the nurse and said, “Could you please stop talking to her? It does not help her to be told how weak she is, and plus, it’s not true.” The nurse shut her mouth and pulled the needle out, leaving me to press down with a cotton ball on the wound. We gave Aida a few minutes to compose herself, while Elisa and I turned our backs and talked for a bit, and in a little bit she was sitting up, and holding the computer on her lap, watching her video again.

We made our way back through the maze of corridors to the waiting area and let the cardiologist know that we were ready to see him. We walked into a tiny room with a huge brand new Phillips EKG machine. Aida jumped onto the bed, knowing that this part wasn’t going to hurt at all. She peeled off her shirt and stuck all the nodes in the right spots, while this nurse praised her for knowing her stuff. Why oh why could this nurse not be the one giving the shot?

The cardiologist began to ask me questions about where Aida was going and when I handed him Dr Fiore’s email address and asked that they be able to communicate to prepare for Aida’s arrival to the states, he was very excited knowing that she would be cared for. He said, “I see her every two weeks and each time her heart is worse. She does not believe that soon she will feel better and will be able to walk and run and play like normal children.” He is so eager to see Aida feeling better!

The EKG revealed consistent episodes of tachycardia, which she is already receiving medicine for. The mitral valve is in desperate need of replacement, and the dr believes the tricuspid and aortic valves can be salvaged for now.

At some point during the EKG, the dr asked if I would like to take a disc to our doctor. Of course! He gave us directions to “the business centre” which was “quite some distance away” so Elisa and I started walking. Each turn of the corridor and each step on the path brought new sites and sounds. We passed a huge open field, about half the size of a football field, where women did the laundry and laid it all out on the grass to dry. Elisa explained that when a child goes into the hospital here, there is no food service, laundry service, or help given. Someone must stay to prepare food for the patient, or the patient does not eat. Someone must change the bedpans or they will overflow. The nurses are much to busy to tend to these caring tasks, and after seeing the waiting areas, I can understand!

At each turn, we would ask an employee to point us to the business centre, and eventually one said, “This is it.” We stood still and glanced around at the shops of practical items - toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, bags...but no business centre. Finally Elisa burst out laughing....”OH! This shopping area IS the business centre!” We browsed through the shops until we found a burnable DVD, and then started the long walk back to the doctor.

The most heartbreaking part of this walk was going through the waiting areas. Elisa stopped to talk to the children - this is just how she and Jurjanne are...talking to everyone, caring for everyone, and I ended up sitting on the floor next to a little girl with a large tumor on her neck, face and chest. It must have been partially obstructing her windpipe because her breathing was shallow and raspy. I suddenly remembered that in my bag I had brought some pipe cleaners to give to Aida to play with, so I pulled them out and watched her eyes grow big. I made a pair of glasses for her, a tiara, a heart and a bracelet. She began to smile and her mother woke up from where she was sleeping on the floor and began to play with them too. Soon there were many children, all of them that I could see with visible tumors, gathered around asking for things to be made. I quickly ran out of pipe cleaners and Elisa finished her talk, so we said goodbye and continued our walk back to the heart ward.

The doctor burned the DVD of Aida’s EKG and as he wrote Aida’s name on the disc with a big marker, Aida spelled it out loud. A-I-D-A.....”H” said Aida. He looked up and said, “H what?” Aida said, “A-I-D-A-H.” Elisa said, “I thought it was just A-I-D-A.” “No”, said Aida(h?), “I have H”. She carefully wrote her name for us “Aidah Kwagala”. So, there it is. Aidah. Which somehow looks more foreign than Aida, but also more feminine. Elisa said, “Ah, so now you will be one of those parents who must spell their child’s name and everyone thinks ‘Why would you spell it like that?’”

I will spare you all the painful details of the wait for medicine, but needless to say the system is not efficient. Elisa waited in three lines, once to deliver the script, then walking down another long corridor to pay, and then back to the first office and another line to receive the medicine. Aidah and I played with the computer some more and then the appointment was done for another 2 weeks. As we left the building, I could see the burden coming off Aidah’s shoulders. She walked cheerfully and purposefully, stopping a few times to catch her breath as we made our way to Elisa’s car. I called my driver to tell him to meet me at the main gate, and miraculously, he was already there. We stood near Elisa’s car discussing the details of the afternoon, and it was only then that I learned they expected me to take Aidah for the remainder of the day and deliver that night to Bulamu. I asked how I needed to do this as it was already 2PM, it is an hour drive out to Bulamu and an hour back and I needed to be home before dark. So, we agreed that Evalyn would stay with us, go out for ice cream with Aidah and myself and shop for shoes, and then I would pay the driver to take them to Bulamu while I returned to the guesthouse. When we met up with our driver, he proudly showed me his “good as new” car, complete with a long deep scratch down the driver’s side.

We drove to a Muzungu Mall where Aidah would receive the ice cream we had promised her. Evalyn explained that she had no money for lunch or dessert and I told her that I would happily pay. So we sat down at one of the most expensive restaurants in Kampala. (Probably not, but it seemed that way, as I realized I only had the equivalent of $45 in my bag.) Aidah ordered a three scoop strawberry sundae and Irish chips (french fries). I waited to see what Evalyn would order before I decided, and as I saw her glancing at the supper menu, complete with steak and lobster, I decided to look at the appetizers. The final decision for Evalyn was a $22 steak plate, so I did some quick math and ordered a hamburger and fries. When everything came, Aidah’s eyes grew large at the sight of her sundae. She gasped and said something to Evalyn that made her start laughing hysterically. Aidah thought 3 scoops meant 3 spoonfuls. Never in her wildest imagination did she think that a humongous bowl of ice cream would appear in front of her! After about, well, 3 spoonfuls, she pushed the ice cream aside and reached for her Irish crisps. Evalyn’s steak showed up, looking so much like a hamburger that I thought they had accidentally switched our meals. She said, “This is a steak? I always imagined something different,” which endeared me to her immediately, as this is something that has happened to me many times before....except not with steak!

As we ate, we tried repeatedly to Skype with Doug, but little did I know he was huddled in the laundry room at home with the kids, undergoing a tornado warning! We Facetimed with my dad and Aidah beamed as she told him that we were going shopping for shoes.

Her disappointment was great, however, just a little while later when we made our way to Bata Shoes and she was told that her feet, size 7, are much too big for pretty shoes, and the clerk hauled out some white clunky tennis shoes. All three of us, Evalyn, Aidah and myself all made the same disgusted sound, turned around and left the store. I asked Aidah if there was anything else she needed and she said sadly, “No, only pretty shoes.” I put my arm around her, gave her a squeeze and said, “We will find you pretty shoes. They just aren’t here.” The afternoon with Aidah passed too quickly, and the time came to put her in a car and send her back to Bulamu for the night. I laid down to cry a little bit in my room at the guesthouse, ended up falling asleep and waking up about an hour before it was time to go get my mom.

This was definitely not my finest of days. I saw my arrogant attitude popping out much more than I ever would have liked (which is not at all!) and I am beginning to miss the constantness of my children. Don’t get me wrong - I love Africa, but the abruptness of coming from 5 children to 1 (well, really half of one, given the little time I have with her) makes me miss the busyness I have at home.

I am, again, so grateful by the love you continue to show for me here!