July 2, 3, & 4: On Thursday, a film crew from Kampala came to Mbarara, with the purposes of capturing the progress that has been made in the cancer ward over the past month. The previous night, I had dinner with them and went over the "filming" schedule, which included a music session, patient education talk, interview with parents, patients, and nurses. We drove over to the oncology clinic early the next morning in their big truck (a rare sight in Uganda), to make sure we set up before patients began to arrive. I found it neat to see how creative this Ugandan media group was. Considering how literal and book-oriented the classrooms are here, it was a breath of fresh air to see these young adults, whose brains function and see life in a more artistic way.
Not wanting to waste any time, we began filming the session. Julio took out the instruments and handed them to the kids who had arrived when the clinic opened its doors. The camera crew had wanted seven patients in the session, but unfortunately, not enough patients had arrived yet (there were six). We sent Noortje out in search of a random kid wandering in the hospital. Within minutes, she arrived with a smiling, wide-eyed girl, who was eager to be on film. The girl came around and gave all of the mzungas hugs and then went over to the film crew and gaped her mouth open when she saw all of the high-tech equipment. Our "pediatric oncologist patient actress" was not the only person who was interested in the film crew's set up; throughout the session, people passing by peered through the windows, asking what the cameras were for. The patients' eyes were fixated on the screens and microphones. It was slightly difficult to draw their attention away from the film group, but eventually, the film crew was content in that they were able to successfully record the therapy session.
Immediately after the music session, we tracked down a nurse to run the patient education talk. Although this program will be implemented more-so over the next month, the crew thought it would be a strong addition to have on the video. Earlier this week, Noortje deconstructed a doll (did a little doll surgery), and created what I now call, "Carrie the Chemo Doll." Yes, I was creeped out by the idea and am still skeptical by the doll whose hair falls off and has an IV wedged into her arm, but the patients were entertained with Carrie, and it led to quite a bit of discussion among the nurse, parents, and patients. I urged Noortje to start a side business of making chemo dolls (I have given her a hard time with this doll). The education talk was actually the first one that the ward has ever had, and honestly, I was impressed with the amount of questions that arose throughout the talk. Who would have thought that something this simple and basic could relieve so many "grey clouds" from parents' minds?
After the education talk, Allen and a man from the camera crew interviewed parents and patients, while I went out in search of a nurse to talk to, as well as a random passerby that could act as a parent. The film crew thought it would be a wonderful idea to have me interacting with nurses and parents as transition moment; I, however, was not so into the idea of having more screen time. If you had asked the little-kid-me to be in a film, I would have died of happiness, but now, a great awkward bubble appears when I have to track down and talk with random people who do not speak my language. None-the-less, I found both a nurse and parent (the parent was completely puzzled throughout the entire interaction) to join me on film. Both were confused because here is this crazy white girl with exaggerated hand gestures flagging you down to be on a video. At least they did a great job acting like they were having a good time!
Back at Little Woods (a hotel and restaurant across the street from the guesthouse), Julio and I both had our individual interviews about the program and our experiences in Uganda. Between having to deal with the constantly moving clouds, the construction happening to our right, and the lawn-mower to our left, finding periods of time to record the interviews was difficult. It was a never-ending session of asking everyone to be quiet, but once we called it a wrap, I was really glad that we had filmed all of what is happening in the oncology ward because it will be a wonderful tool to use in the future and a momento to fondly look back on.
Not wanting to waste any time, we began filming the session. Julio took out the instruments and handed them to the kids who had arrived when the clinic opened its doors. The camera crew had wanted seven patients in the session, but unfortunately, not enough patients had arrived yet (there were six). We sent Noortje out in search of a random kid wandering in the hospital. Within minutes, she arrived with a smiling, wide-eyed girl, who was eager to be on film. The girl came around and gave all of the mzungas hugs and then went over to the film crew and gaped her mouth open when she saw all of the high-tech equipment. Our "pediatric oncologist patient actress" was not the only person who was interested in the film crew's set up; throughout the session, people passing by peered through the windows, asking what the cameras were for. The patients' eyes were fixated on the screens and microphones. It was slightly difficult to draw their attention away from the film group, but eventually, the film crew was content in that they were able to successfully record the therapy session.
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| Nurse with Carrie the Cancer Doll |
After the education talk, Allen and a man from the camera crew interviewed parents and patients, while I went out in search of a nurse to talk to, as well as a random passerby that could act as a parent. The film crew thought it would be a wonderful idea to have me interacting with nurses and parents as transition moment; I, however, was not so into the idea of having more screen time. If you had asked the little-kid-me to be in a film, I would have died of happiness, but now, a great awkward bubble appears when I have to track down and talk with random people who do not speak my language. None-the-less, I found both a nurse and parent (the parent was completely puzzled throughout the entire interaction) to join me on film. Both were confused because here is this crazy white girl with exaggerated hand gestures flagging you down to be on a video. At least they did a great job acting like they were having a good time!
Back at Little Woods (a hotel and restaurant across the street from the guesthouse), Julio and I both had our individual interviews about the program and our experiences in Uganda. Between having to deal with the constantly moving clouds, the construction happening to our right, and the lawn-mower to our left, finding periods of time to record the interviews was difficult. It was a never-ending session of asking everyone to be quiet, but once we called it a wrap, I was really glad that we had filmed all of what is happening in the oncology ward because it will be a wonderful tool to use in the future and a momento to fondly look back on.
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Yesterday, Julio left to return to the States. I cannot express my gratitude towards him, for he really kicked off the psycho-social support program, and he was able to do so in such a short time frame. If it were just me setting up the program, who knows where it would have ended up. . .probably no where close to where it stands now!
Besides saying goodbye, not too much happened yesterday. The internet was down for the majority of the day (a usual occurrence in Uganda), so blog writing and sending emails was out of the picture. Trying to make myself useful, I decided to go into town and print the inventory and the patient education brochures. After downloading the material on the USB, I made the trek into town, in search of a printing store. It took me twenty minutes of walking around until I saw a sign for the store that Noortje recommended. Once inside, I gave a man my USB stick, only to find that the computer could not read the USB. With no luck, I tried the six other computers in the office. Tired and frustrated, I left the shop, realizing that the only way for the stick to be read is to delete all the existing files. . .I am not about to delete the "existing files." Disappointed in my uneventful outing, I went back to the guesthouse to find the internet still off (going out into town is fun, but it zaps the energy out of you quickly).
I am one of those people who is a little snappy *cough, cough, very much so* when upset (trust me, I am working on it, but it surely is not easy!). I retreated to my room to buzz off some steam and the little homesickness I felt. After having some alone-moments reading my book, I acknowledged how stupid I was to get upset over something so trivial as the USB. . .I could easily borrow someone else's (Maggie's mental growing moment. . .I sound like one of those kindergarten problem solvers).
For the rest of the day, the power decided to take a slumber and shut off, so I devoted a couple hours to reading and the gym.
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Happy 4th of July! I do not think I have ever been overly excited for this holiday, but today I am feeling the red, white, and blue (I do not know whether it is physically not being in the U.S., or if I have overnight become ten times more patriotic). I began the morning with the expat morning run ritual, in hopes of creating some space in my stomach for all of the eating that was to be done later in the day. I made the mistake of eating breakfast before the run and I definitely did not receive the "runners high" on the run (it was more like "if we don't stop soon, I am going to hurl"). I made it back to the guesthouse without getting sick. . .hallelujah!
After a catch-up FaceTime call with my parents and brother, I headed out into the city center with Noortje, Sarah, and Ryan to grocery shop for our American-themed dinner. The girls were in charge of making the apple pie (I made the dough) and salad, while Ryan took on the meat. Inside Nakumat (the supermarket for the times when we do not feel like going into the Central Market), we went over to the meat counter to discover that there was literally no meat. There was no frozen meat, no fresh meat, nada. Ryan asked a store employee what happened to all of the meat, and the employee responded, "The meat people and products did not meet the standards." I thought 'Oh gosh, to not meet standards in Uganda means something must have gone really wrong.'
With the pie supplies, but no meat, we went to the expat complex, while Ryan went to a local chicken farmer to pick up chicken and bacon (must have been a pig farmer too). We whipped up an extremely good-looking apple pie. I tested to make sure all of our ingredients were edible along the way (a.k.a. excuse for dough and crumble eating). When we were finished, we brought the pie up to Ryan's house and played corn haul with the other expats. We were able to find a 4th of July Pandora station to play throughout the duration of the evening. I was horrified by my corn haul skills. The bean bags were flying all over the place and hitting people, and I think over the course of the game, I placed two bean bags on the actual board and none went through the three-point hole.
When it came time for dinner, I held nothing back. As Sarah says, "This is 'Merica day, the uncontrollable fat eating feast". . .isn't that Thanksgiving? Oh well, in Sarah's world of eating, there are multiple "stuffing yourself" occasions (I am starting to like this world). I left the compound feeling full and content with my American meal resting in my belly. All I needed was the fireworks and it would be complete!
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