Hospital in Kampala
After a seven-hour ride on a taxi-bus (mini van transport) Michie seeks a diagnosis.
Suburbs of Kampala
“Orthopedics always try to sell the surgical option,” Michie thinks to herself. Clutching her MRI images, X-rays, and ultrasound report, she walks to the doctor’s consultation room. “I will not accept the first surgical recommendation… where would I get a second opinion?.... Durban, Denver…" her thoughts racing from one alternative to the next. Calmness is not Michie’s nature.
The doctor looks up from his desk; his office window faces the wide tree-lined boulevard framing the hospital. “Have a seat.” She remains standing. “Well, you see, it hurts to sit, I mean,” Michie arches her eyebrows. “I can sit.” She slowly lowers herself into the very clean decades-old chair. “But after two minutes I will be in a great deal of pain.” Michie immediately jumps out of the chair, “see I can squat,” she does a couple of deep sumo squats. “I can kick my legs from side to side,” she begins side leg kicks in the office. Doctor T quietly looks at her performing calisthenics in front of him.
“But sitting is the one activity that I cannot do without pain,” Michie explains as she lowers herself once again into the patient’s chair.
He pushes aside his notes and begins his examination. He looks at the MRI images a second time as Michie stands in front of him. “Come have a look,” Doctor T patiently describes what the images illustrate, to Michie’s surprise. “There isn’t permanent damage then?” Michie asks. “No, but I am afraid I am going to have to prescribe exercise,” says Doctor T.
Michie breaks out into a grin, nods her head, encouraging him to continue. “You should go to physiotherapy and begin swimming.” “OK!, this will work,” Michie thanks Doctor T profusely and leaves with her prescription card.
