Three weeks after we arrived in Uganda, I washing dishes while Mark was tucking the kids in bed. I heard a thud, followed by a loud, shrill scream from Titus. As I began to wonder if it was something serious, I heard Mark groan and then yell, "it's broken, oh my, his arm is broken!"
When Mark was tucking the kids in bed, Titus realized that he had forgotten to take off his glasses so he began to climb off the bunk bed. Trying to be quick as it was a late night, he lost his balance and fell, landing on his right hand. It was so obvious that he broke both bones in his forearm.
When we called someone for help, we found out that neither the doctor nor the xray technician would be available that night so we did what we could to rest for a few hours. We put ice on it, gave him ibuprofen and some night time cold medicine to help him sleep, wrapped the arm in such a way that he would be more comfortable, prayed with him, sang to him and eventually he got a few hours of sleep. We received a text message from the doctor in the night telling us to be at the clinic at 8:30 in the morning.
The clinic in town (Jinja) is rustic, but their practices and treatments were sanitary. Upon unwrapping Titus' arm in the x-ray room (which we can't even describe adequately in words), the technician exclaimed, "Oh my! Oh my goodness!" Yes, the break was that bad - his arm was significantly disfigured and gross to look at, though the bone did not break the skin.
We had quite an ordeal to get a sedative and pain medicine injected into Titus, but finally it was all over and his arm was set in a cast. He is still wearing the cast and he runs around like any other 6-year-old boy. As if a blond haired, white kid with glasses was a spectacle enough here in Africa, you should see the looks and comments we get now that Titus is toting a cast as well!
God has been gracious through the whole ordeal.
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