Patricia

I finally made it to church. It had been a couple of weeks….and I was doing my best to focus on being there, not worrying about so many other things…. I was breathing deep; trying my best to allow my fears and worries to melt away as I prepared my heart for worship.

It was the beginning of service. People were starting to sing. And then my phone rang….

It was, Mamma Fatuma, our Sunday worker. She sounded worried. Which in turn made me worried. She said “Auntie maybe you come home. There is a baby here, and maybe she is dead.”. My heart stopped. I grabbed my bag, gathered the girls I had come with, and we jumped in the car. Homebound. Fast.

When we arrived, I found a man and woman anxiously sitting on our veranda. Fear filled their eyes. The woman was holding a small bundle, and a little swollen hand stuck out of the blanket. The baby in her arms was so still. And when I pulled the covering back my eyes widened. For under the blanket lay a small, but very, very swollen, pale baby girl. Her breaths were frighteningly slow. No wonder I was told she might be dead; the raise and fall of her chest was almost invisible.

I immediately ushered them into the clinic. I hooked the baby up to oxygen and got to work... As I took her temperature, started an IV, checked her blood sugar, tested for malaria, and looked at her HB count, they began to tell me her story…. A story that I feel I have heard many times before. But even though I’ve heard countless similar stories, my heart still breaks every time!

The baby’s name is, Patricia. She is 9 months old. She had fallen sick 3 weeks ago. Her Mom had taken her to a health center, but there was no improvement. She continued to get worse, despite any treatment that was given. One of their relatives told them about a “hospital” in Masese with a “White Doctor”. So that Sunday morning they left their home early and journeyed to Jinja-in hope of finding someone, anyone who could help their daughter.

While I was listening, I was attempting to diagnose the many problems that could potentially be at hand…. Got it. Malaria: positive. HB: 3.2. Both are a big problem. And together they create an even bigger [most likely fatal] problem for such a small child.

She needed a blood transfusion. And fast. After doing a search for blood around Jinja town, we found her type and it was a match! We started the transfusion. Praying with every drip. About 30 minutes into her transfusion she started to show signs of having an anaphylactic reaction. Not good. Not good at all. Her neck and face started swelling. A lot. I’m talking about a ton of swelling. Within 15 minutes her breathing went from bad to worse. Her throat was beginning to close. We gave her an antihistamine and off to Kampala we went…

We arrived at one of the best hospitals in Kampala by about 8pm. And then sat in the ER for over 3 hours waiting to see a Doctor. It was a very long night to say the least. But surprisingly, she made it to see the morning!

The next few days seem like a blur…. They consisted of daily drives to and from Kampala, nights of very little sleep, many tears, and lots and lots of prayer.

Everyday when I would arrive at the hospital she would be about the same-still on oxygen, still running tests, still no change. Until one day I walked into her little curtained off room, and oh my, she looked terrible. Her Mom sat by her bed, crying. Shortly after I got there the Doctor came to give me an update….. I was informed that Patricia’s blood levels had dropped to a dangerous level again and she needed blood. Again. BUT, the problem was that the hospital didn’t have her blood type. So therefore she couldn't be transfused. In Uganda there is always a shortage of blood. So frustrating. The Dr. asked if I would be willing to donate my blood, and if I knew my type. Of course I was willing, but didn’t know my type….I was quickly sent to the lab to be typed. I was B+. Patricia was B+. It was a match. Glory to God!

I caught a boda (motorcycle) across town to the blood bank. They drew my blood, gave me a soda and I headed back to the hospital.

The next day Patricia was transfused. It’s an odd feeling thinking that your blood is being put into someone else's body. Someone that you know, that you love; that you are paying life over. I was praying that my blood would be to her as the blood of Christ is to me! A promise.

We continued to pray....

After the transfusion my hope was that she would begin to show some signs of improvement. Not the case. The next morning when I arrived, she had again worsened. She was continuing to swell from inadequate nutrients. Her eyes were even swollen shut. And there was a wound forming, just appearing on the side of her face...none of the Doctors seemed to mention anything about it...

But later that morning I was told that they wanted to refer Patricia back to our center because they could no longer manage her severe state of malnutrition. So we packed up her things, transferred her to our portable oxygen tank, and started driving back to Jinja.

Patricia all hook up in the SHC clinic

The next week was rough. Within the first few days of having Patricia back, she continued to be in a comatose state. Her appearance seemed to be getting worse. Things were not looking good at all. I remember sitting in the clinic for so many nights, holding her little fragile body, crying, begging God to heal her. I felt an odd attachment to this little person who now had my blood running through her veins.

I spent so many nights praying, just praying that God would work a miracle. Praying that He would reach down and heal this little girl that most people said couldn’t be healed. Praying that He would give me wisdom, or that maybe He would send someone who was already wise.

And then. God did. He sent a miracle. In the form of a short term missions team from Alabama; in the form of 2 ladies named, Vivian and Melody…

A few days after Patricia was brought back to the center a medical missions team flew into Uganda to spend a week working with SHC and a clinic about 3 hours north-east of here. And wow, does God have perfect timing or what? They really were the miracle we were all paying for!

They allowed myself and the rest of our team to get some much needed sleep, not to mention they provided me with so much encouragement. They were not only the hands and feet of Christ to Patricia, but also to all of us who were caring for her!

Between all of us, we were able to help treat the mysterious and ever growing wound on Patricia’s face-the wound that appeared after her transfusion at the hospital. The wound that at first just a small opening on her face and then later turned into a huge gapping wound that was starting to make its way down her neck. But God truly provided and we were able to get the proper medication to stop the spreading. Her swelling started to go down and she was becoming more alert!

Now, I could go on and on about the next week… But, the most important thing about the days that came is that we saw God move. In huge ways! He literally preformed a miracle before our eyes.

Recently our Assistant Director, Danielle took Patricia and her Mom home for a visit. Patricia's family hadn't seen her since she first left to come to Jinja, so the last they had seen of her was when she was at her worst. Very close to death. When Patricia and her mom arrived at their village everyone was in awe. Patricia's great Aunt and Uncle (who she lives with) were so astonished to see that Patricia was even alive; they were overjoyed! They were both under the impression that she had died in Kampala because they got word from Patricia's father that she was transferred there from Jinja.

As they were there friends and family began to slowly trickle up to the house to see Patricia. Her mom was so proud, I don't think she stopped smiling the entire time they were there! Some of the neighbors didn't even believe that she was the same little girl. A lot was said in reaction to seeing Patricia, but mostly Patricia's great Aunt and Uncle repeatedly praised Jesus for His mercy, and thanked both Christ and SHC so much for helping. It was so amazing to hear how each person who looked at Patricia then looked up to the sky and just shook their heads in astonishment, thanking Jesus. Thanking their God.

I was told that Patricia would not live. Today, she is alive. I saw her little body begin to give out. At her weakest, I was scared. But I kept praising Jesus! I kept praising the one who created us both. The one who has the power to give and take away. The one who can perform miracles beyond all of our understanding. Today, Patricia is alive. She can sit up tall, even feed herself. She is one of our messiest kids at meal time. Ha. She laughs, smiles [crookedly], plays with toys and lives just as any other girl her age.

All glory and honor and praise to Jesus!!!

This is by fair my favorite picture of all time! Even though Patricia was all bandaged up and breathing thorough a tube, Selah still loved. Unconditionally. Just how the Father loves.

Thank you to all of you who spent countless hours in prayer for Baby Patricia! Thank you to all who stayed up long nights, holding a fussy baby. Thank you to all of you who loved her like Jesus!