There are always adjustments when you return to a country. One of the first is health issues; you meet up with a whole new set of germs, and it can take time for your body to get used to them. Ben has had a bad cough for a week and diarrhea for almost as long. He has been amazingly patient through it all, getting up six or seven times a night, walking into the bathroom, unzipping his feetie pajamas (it’s COLD here at night) doing the deed and then calling `I need a wipe, please.’ After said wipe, he says `I love you; see you in the morning.’ And repeats six or seven times.

I knew this had gone on too long when he called out the other night, and I responded to the call. It was three am, and I was out of practice in getting up at night. Ben looked at me and asked `Daddy, why are you wiping my head?’

So, when JT complained of stomach pains, we suspected more of the same. It got progressively worse, and on Tuesday he could barely walk to class. He went to student health and asked for something to help him get through the day. He lasted one class, and then he gave up and came home.

He wasn’t doing any better the next day, and Nancy called student health to report he wouldn’t be in any classes on Wednesday. We have a pretty superior staff over there, and after quizzing Nancy, the nurse on duty insisted that JT come to the clinic. After examining JT he said it looked like appendicitis, and that we needed to go down to the hospital.

Twenty minutes later, the surgeon had confirmed that the appendix should come out and he was put in a wheelchair. While we were waiting, the power went off twice, which will NEVER give you a warm fuzzy before surgery. But the doctor is a first class surgeon who has given up so much to come to serve the poor in Africa, so we weren’t worried. We knew he was used to it.

The surgery was successful, and we got to see our son. He was in a room with many beds, and the old equipment that was monitoring his vitals was attached to a battery backup, which tended to give one pause. But there is always that Kenyan moment and it came when JT asked the doctor if he could see the appendix.

At RVA, we save old bottles and containers for the hospital. When asked to donate a sample, you might be given an old shampoo bottle, or a vitamin can, or any number of different things. Dr. Byrd went through a number of bottles on his desk labeled such things as you don’t want to know, and then an orderly came into the room carrying something in a Flintstones vitamin bottle.

Dr. Byrd: Is that the appendix?
Orderly: No, it is a prostate.

JT did get to see his appendix finally, and he then went to the recovery ward. At one point, it looked liked he would get to spend the night in the maternity ward, but a new wing, which is not officially opened,  was made available, and he even got to have a private room. He was hurting, but Ben and Kate, who love JT more than life itself, had to call to talk to Big Brother:

Kate: JT, are you still big?
JT: Yes Kate.
Ben: JT, sometimes when you are sick they give you medicine that does not taste nice.
JT: Thanks Ben.

The nurse came in the next day and the three of us had an illuminating conversation:

Nurse: Have you passed gas, JT?
JT: Yes.
Nurse: That is a very good thing.
Me: You are the first person to ever say that to my son.
Nurse: It is very healthy to pass gas after surgery.
Me: Then he is the healthiest person on the planet.
Nurse: (Long pause; many eye blinks) You are saying that he passes much gas!
JT: (Ultimate teen eye roll)

JT said that besides the above conversation, the worst part of the ordeal was the ride home. The roads are so bad that they are always bumpy, and he was in lots of pain on a ride that should take two minutes (it took ten because we were going so slow) He is home and resting and we are grateful for a great staff that caught it early. He is a little stressed about all the work he will miss, but he is getting stronger by the hour, and should be able to get back to classes by early next week.

And we are very grateful that wasn’t HIS prostrate in that bottle.

Your pal,

Steve