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1. Priced and Pursued | 2. Trapped within the System | 3. The Shape of Equality Across Cultural Divides [Trigger warning: I will be retelling the case of a 15-year-old rape patient we had at our hospital.] It kills me to tell these stories. It kills me to not tell these stories. If I lose either way, I might as well write them down, lest they be lost to my memory, lost to time, and lost to history. I have been avoiding writing in my blog about feminism for weeks. Who should l

More posts to follow, but for now, a brief update from Switzerland and link to the Albertine Hospital website A beautiful view on my drive from Kisiita to Kampala. I was trying to zoom into a class during this drive. As you may have guessed, it did not go very well. This is a phrase that we’ve started saying at the hospital a lot. I first learned how to ask patients “Obuzibu nki?” Which means “What is the problem?” But now, whenever the power goes out for the 10th time, or we

If you had to decide to pay for a patient's medications, patient's testing, or a patient's operation, which one would you pick? Or would you instead pay for equipment at the hospital that benefits ALL patients indirectly, but none individually? What do you do when you cannot pay for everything, and so every decision to fund one thing is a decision not to fund another? The last few days have made it clear that I am flying blind. I do not know if I am making the best decisions,

A note for all of the patients that go home untreated There is a price attached to almost every decision in medicine here, and it is rarely abstract. It is counted in cash, in livestock, in phone calls to relatives, and sometimes in the quiet act of walking away. Lately, money has felt like the invisible vital sign in every room—always present, always shaping outcomes. Over the past weeks, we have seen patient after patient whose care hinged not on diagnosis or skill, but on

Case Notes #1 : 31F HIV+ patient and her newborn baby Life is moving sweetly—but sometimes it moves fast enough to force hard decisions. We have been treating a 31-year-old woman who gave birth by caesarean section at 3:00am on January 26th. When we tested her blood later that morning, we discovered that she is HIV positive. When we shared this result with her, she told us she already knew. But she also told us something else—that her husband doesn’t know, that no one in her

Life is moving sweetly. Every day feels like a new mountain to climb—in the best way. There are so many things happening all the time, and I am constantly surprised by how quickly days turn and rearrange themselves. Even on Sunday, the day I took off, I felt extraordinarily busy. I went to a 3 hour church service, did laundry (and caused a flood because I did laundry), went to the hospital a few times, and most importantly, laid on my bed and let things slow down, knowing tha

I watched my first surgery this week—a cesarean section—and it stopped me in a way I didn’t expect. Dr. Phillip and I right before heading into the surgery. We both didn't like this photo and plan on taking another one at our next surgery this Sunday. From the first incision to the baby’s birth took only a few minutes. The baby was born at 9:46 a.m., and the entire operation was finished in about forty-five minutes. What caught me off guard wasn’t the speed, but the force. Th

Settling into life here has been both simple and difficult at the same time. Some things have not changed at all — for example, spending time with kids is universal. Henry’s oldest child, Liam Luke (5), is my first friend. We play soccer and gymnastics outside, he tries to download GTA and Mortal Combat on my phone when I am not looking, and he draws with my pens while I work or study. He is easy to be with, endlessly curious, and unintentionally one of my best Runyoro teache

Eventually, Patrick arrived. And then the 4ish hour drive began. I was no longer suspended in Entebbe but moving westward, toward Kakumiiro, over roads that stretched longer than I expected. We pulled over on the side of the road and were swarmed by people selling plantains and goat meat. We bought some. They were mostly young kids and one girl drew a heart from the red dirt on my window. I drew one back :) Most of the boys were screaming "mzungu!", which is the Swahili word

A woman walking on the road on my way to Kakumiiro. She looked so beautiful in this dress; I felt bad that our car was going to throw red dust in the air. I learned why the internet was shut down in Uganda during the election from a conversation with the hotel manager where I was staying. What he shared with me was not an official explanation, nor something I can independently verify. It was his opinion, offered quietly and with caution. He asked that I not share his name, ex

Jan 17th. 9 a.m. GMT+3. Lake Point Villa Hotel, Entebbe, Uganda. I am sitting at a table waiting for my driver to arrive. I hope he can find me. I hope he shows up at all. His name is Patrick, apparently. I am bored. Over the past few months, I have become very good at avoiding sitting alone with my thoughts. This was not particularly difficult, thanks to a great modern invention called the internet. In any lull of my American life, I would turn on Netflix, sometimes in the b

Jan 16th, 8 a.m. Brussels Time. GMT+1. My brain was absolutely convinced it was 8 p.m. when I woke up from a nap in the Brussels Airport. Not in a vague, jet-lagged way. Not in a “maybe I should nap” way. My body was releasing all the chemical signals that mean night. Melatonin. GABA. The whole physiological chorus telling me to wind down, to sleep, to prepare for darkness. Except there was no darkness. I was watching the sun rise. For a moment, I truly thought I had lost tra

I wasn’t brave. I just jumped anyway. I’ve had multiple encouraging texts from friends who mention my bravery. They ask me about being scared and do not shy away from sharing all of their concerns, everything from militias to bugs. They deem my move to Uganda as courageous. I have never thought about it like that. It is not out of bravery that I chose to come to Uganda. If anything, there were just as many factors pushing me out of the United States as there were factors pull