Getting Sick in Gulu: Get Me Home?

“Ok, get me home.” I groaned to myself. I was lying on the floor in my hotel bathroom in the middle of the night, running a 101-degree fever, tired and achey to the point that I couldn’t move back to my bed. The power was out in our hotel (a frequent occurrence in Gulu), so our fan was not working and the stagnant air seemed to be pressing down onto me. I hadn’t felt such an extreme level of discomfort in a long time and I longed for my couch in Knoxville. I mulled over what exactly makes being sick in Uganda so different from being sick at home.

The types of disease in Uganda make the prospect of getting ill in some ways slightly scarier, but primarily frustrating. In northern Uganda, deadly illnesses such as “Nodding Disease” wreak havoc on communities with no known cure. Even though I didn’t exhibit any of the symptoms of Nodding Disease (namely, seizures) I certainly had a brief “tell my mother I love her – here I die in Uganda” dark moment. The moment passed and was followed by a realization that Malaria was most likely. My symptoms matched this disease. I was lucky that for me it would not be a death sentence, but I knew the treatment process can be incredibly strenuous. The existence of easily eradicable diseases like Malaria made the whole situation depressing. I was frustrated for the many Ugandans who could not afford antimalarial prophylaxis and bed nets to protect them from this disease.

Oddly enough this was the first time I had so much attention paid to me when I was sick.  Dr. Hackett pointed out to me the major cultural difference between Africa and America in how we treat the illness of a peer. In America, the attitude is to push away sickness as far as possible. In contrast, she told me a story about when she was sick in Nigeria and several students prayed for her in her home. I did not experience such an extreme example of kindness, but I did notice a less fearful approach by the hotel employees who helped clean my room and assist in bringing me to the local clinic. No one was afraid that I would contaminate them with whatever disease I had contracted, but simply seemed eager to ensure my recovery. Since my illness, I have had most of the hotel staff inquire into my wellbeing and Grace, the receptionist, happily comments on how much stronger I look on a daily basis.

Finally, this was easily the least painful experience I had ever had at a clinic. Now, I would not say that my experience was relevant to the typical experience of a Ugandan. Not many can afford to go to the clinic that I went to. That being said, the Fitzmann clinic was incredibly efficient. I saw a doctor, a lab tech, and had three tests in under an hour. I quickly was informed I did not have malaria, but a severe bacterial infection. The whole experience cost 24,000 Ugandan shillings. Which converts to 10 USD. Clearly, the price of Ugandan health care has not been touched by the private sector like in America.

So, all in all, I am not sure if being home would have made for a more comfortable experience. Perhaps, air conditioning and Netflix would have offered some temporary comfort, but I don’t think they can replace the care of my peers and staff on the program. Plus, the public health nerd inside me is happy to have experienced some of the health care in Gulu.