Lessons on Healing

So I just realized that exactly one year ago from today, I shattered my little right humerus. Not funny. At all. (Though the pun itself got a LOT of mileage with me and almost anybody who asked “what is wrong with your arm” for many months). I have probably felt more mortal and vulnerable this past year than any previous period in my life. In more ways than broken bones. In this post I want to focus on the lessons learned from my very tangible, physical healing from broken bones to illustrate lessons that can be extrapolated to situations much deeper and that we tend to keep much more hidden.

But first, let me really quick chronicle the arm story:

It all began on a slick winter day, Feb 18^th, when I took my friend Rita Fan snowboarding at Sundance. It was her first time, and after a few trial runs, she was really getting the hang of it. We took a lunch break to warm the inerds, and then went back to the slopes. That first post-lunch run Rita was doing excellent, so I thought I’d take a little diversion through the more powdery unpaved trails through the trees for a few minutes. It turned out to be more icy than expected, and carving was a bit rough. I am sure I have done snowboard stunts 10 times more daring and 20 times more stupid, but I just went on a simple (but slick!) jump that just shot me back. I landed on a straight right arm… and felt a snap. Luckily (for my rescue) and unluckily (for my pride) it happened just under the lifts, so some passengers yelled down to me “Are you ok?” I answered “I’m not sure.” I laid there for a few minutes and then tried to get up. And felt upper humerus bone slide past lower humerus bone. And so I yelled up to the people passing on the lift, “Hey, I think I broke my arm. Could you ask someone to come get me when you get to the top?” My body was in shock, so I didn’t feel a lot of pain at this point. But the pain grew as I laid there for a good 20 minutes for someone to arrive. The EMT did a little assessment, and then said “We’re going to have to cut through your shirts.” I had been so brave up to this point, but that’s when the floodgates opened. I was wearing my favorite sweatshirt and under-armour (they were way cute). Then I got hefted onto a toboggan, and was pulled by a skier down to the bottom. Always had wanted to do that. Wasn’t as awesome as I had imagined!

Here is my great EMT team (who allowed me to stay warm in the ambulance, but I refused to let them take me to the hospital with the ridiculous expense). We were able to locate poor confused Rita about an hour later to transport me down.

 Here are a couple views of my shattered little thing.

My hand wasn’t hurt at all, but all the liquid drained down into it, so I had sort of a “memory foam” hand (pitting edema to the extreme). A few of my closest friends (Dani Shurtleff is the most poignant in my mind) died laughing (like, fell on the floor) the first time they saw it- that reaction made my day (seriously).

And then I moved to Africa. 

Arm brace and all. 

I wore that trusty nasty brace for a couple of months in that hot hot sun and got a hot hot farmers tan. Wore it up until about the last week of June… Two blissful carefree weeks until… the doomed foot break (detailed 2 posts ago).

Here are some snippets from my journal, dated 14 July 2012 (the REAL meat of this

post):

“Its coming up on a week of having a broken foot in Africa. Honestly, I am really glad that I first had my broken arm experience- because in comparison, this break is a cakewalk. My shattered arm was absolutely debilitating physically, mentally, emotionally for about 6 weeks. This little metatarsal break isn’t too painful- inconvenient, yes- but I can still brush my teeth and bathe myself! Pit latrines are tricky, but whatever.

“I think that during my arm break, I was just too overwhelmed with the exertion of daily tasks to really reflect on what I was experiencing (and Percoset sure didn’t help with the cognition). However, in this second go-around within 5 months of the first, I’ve been able to reflect a little more. Here are a few thoughts I have been having:

Lesson Learned on Healing:

•            Unlike many other attainments in life, hard work and extra exertion do not accelerate, but rather impede in many cases, the healing process. Healing IS a process. Time, proper care, and rest are often the best advocates for healing.
•      The only damage to my arm was the broken bone, and yet automatically, my joint stiffened and my muscles were completely unresponsive for a good few weeks (as in, it was like having a paralyzed arm, I would carry my right arm with my left arm as if it was an inanimate object attached to my body- so weird). It seems that the body’s natural process of healing itself draws on all of the faculties of the body and mind to sort of focus all resources on getting that part back and running. I hope that I remember to be more lenient on those people who are not whole. Even in tasks that seem unrelated to whatever the illness is, the suffering can be exhaustive in and of itself, leaving less energy and brain-power to accomplish other things. Just accomplishing basic daily tasks may be all one can do in a day. 
•       Dealing with these sorts of injuries has forced me to not just let people help, but also to ask people to help and be ok with it. People LOVE helping. Allowing someone to help you brings a special closeness.

I’m pretty sure I’ve learned everything I need to learn, and 2013 will be nothing but hearts and roses… I think that is how life works. Yeah, pretty sure.

Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven

“A religion that does not require the sacrifice of all things never has power sufficient to produce the faith necessary unto life and salvation” (Lectures on Faith, pg. 58).

I have possibly never seen this principle demonstrated more than today. Today in my little Lugazi, Uganda town, years of individual dedication and sacrifice from 2 families came to fruition- the Lugazi branch of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints was established.

The Adungu family has lived in Lugazi for about 5 years. During that time, Brother Charles Adungu was finishing his 5-year position as Branch President in Jinja, which is about 1 hour away. I would often see the Adungu’s on the public taxi to church. He and his wife would rotate going to church, and would rotate which of their 4 children would come accompany them. It was just too expensive to take the entire family. Today, Brother Adungu was again called as Branch President (an unpaid position as the pastor/leader of the congregation), and his wife Sister Beatrice was called as both the Primary President (over the children's program) and Young Women’s President (teenage girls).

In her testimony, Sister Beatrice chronicled the difficulties of making it to church over the past 5 years, but repeatedly commented, “It has been hard, be we knew with the Lord it would be possible.”

Brother Charles emphasized that this day was a miracle.

Grace and Geoffrey, with their daughter Helen, have been making the journey in the opposite direction to a congregation in Mukono for 10 years. They talked about how each month they would set aside their transport money for church without question. This made up more than half of their monthly income. This had caused paying for the school fees for Helen difficult, and she currently is not in school because of it. Sister Grace was called as the Relief Society President (the largest women's organization in the world), and Geoffrey as both the Elder’s Quorum (adult men) and Young Men’s President (teenage boys).

In his remarks, Brother Geoffrey said “The gospel has blessed my home. Not with money, but with the Spirit of the Lord.”

Sister Grace painted powerful imagery as she said of the years of sacrifice leading up to finally having a branch in Lugazi, “We have climbed the mountain, and are finally at the top. But now we see that there is an even higher mountain to climb above us [to now build this branch]. Let us ascend the climb with faith, together!”

What a gift to look in on this beautiful event that came after years of sacrifice from such humble, dedicated people.

Grace and Geoffrey on the left front row (with Helen behind), Adungu family on the right front row. There are 2 young male missionaries that just moved to Lugazi, and the others are missionary couples are stationed around Uganda (and Ethiopia) who came for support this first Sunday. Next to me is my friend Opera who is visiting me from Kenya, and our friend Guy behind me, from Australia.

Sticks and stones can't break my bones. But dancing can.

So... this morning I skyped with my parents and found out that my secret had leaked to the one it was supposed to not leak to until I got home. Mom. Earlier this week I had sent an email to my dad about getting checked out when I get home to make sure my bones are ok, as this year I have had a shattered humerus, root canal from a broken molar on the airplane ride here from a piece of bread, and... yes, mother, a broken foot in Africa. I only told my dad a couple of months ago too (several weeks after the fact when I was back to running again), and purposely was waiting to tell mom until I got home and she could visually see that I am whole. She is a very caring worrier, as most moms are (and still asks about my arm, so I just couldn't find it in me to pile this one on!). Anyways, she saw the email I sent my dad and and was confused... so dad had to fill her in. She is so cute- she asked "Why didn't you tell me?" And I answered "Well, I think you know why." And then she agreed.

So the break had absolutely nothing to do with Africa, and everything to do with me. I was technically on American soil, I think, when it happened. On July 7th the American Embassy held a 4th of July Celebration in Kampala. After a delicious dinner (to us) of hot dogs and corn on the cob and fireworks, our clean-cut, stone-cold-sober group got down on the dance floor. We had such comments as "Wow, how many drinks have you guys had" (none) and "Are you professional dancers" (THEY were definitely drunk ;). I think it was during the song "Tonight's gonna be a good night" (only because the next time I heard it, I cringed), and I jumped up into some crazy pose and landed on the outside of my foot. I immediately knew something was abnormally wrong, and let the guys carry me out to the van.

And for the remainder of the story, I'm going to borrow from my friend Lane's perspective on how the rest went down (http://youmatteruganda.blogspot.com/2012/07/every-day-adventure.html).

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Sunday 08 July 2012


Like I mentioned in the previous post, we kind of sort of really got down "with our bad selves" on Saturday night. Melissa Sevy, (who is pictured in several of the last post's pictures) hurt her foot while dancing.

On Sunday morning, I gave her a piggy back ride to find a motorcycle taxi which she took and met Jace and I at the taxi park on our way to Jinja to attend church. Having arived in Jinja, we helped her to the church building.

After the second hour of church, I was walking to the third and final hour when a woman approached me with her cell phone saying "it's for you"

Confused, I answered and found Melissa on the other end. She proceeded to tell me that she was in a health clinic. She had just gotten an X ray and they were about to put a cast on her foot. Her dancing the previous night resulted in a broken meta tarsal (or something like that... a foot bone basically... give me a break, I'm studying public administration not anatomy)

This is the face of someone who leaves church by herself, (with a broken foot) hops to the road, flags down a motorcycle taxi and   rides it several blocks before hopping to check herself into a health clinic in Africa without telling anybody. Melissa Sevy..... you're a wildwoman.

Melissa getting her cast

Melissa, Jace, and the docs

Me playing on Melissa's new crutches. While we waited initially for the doctor, they had already measured Melissa and a wood worker was busy making custom crutches for her. Pretty cool. 

Easy does it

"hey Melissa, who is the most awesome dude in the whole world? Go ahead and point with your crutches. "

Time to go home

Riding back home to Lugazi with her foot out the window of the taxi van

Back in Lugazi, walkin home

Lane , Gimpy, and Jace

Neighborhood friend coming to show sympathy for Melissa. Hugs from cute grubby little neighborhood children make all the broken bones feel better. 

Almost home.

From all of us Americans and wild dancers..... Melissa Sevy...We salute you.

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Thanks for the great documentation, Lane! 

And let's hope for a safer 2013.

Today our children will drink milk!

I posted this a couple of months ago on the Musana blog, but thought I would double-dip as I have been less-than-awesome at keeping up my own, and this is pretty much my life here. Za post:

It has been an exciting end to the summer, as we have finished a large order for Plan International that was comprised of 10,000 products made by Musana. We have worked our hearts out in order to produce such a quantity and coordinate the thousand logistical details in a short amount of time. We have been able to expand our artisan community to bring on 40 additional women from Lugazi to work on the order. And we have learned a LOT.

I want to highlight our new female artisans. Lugazi is sort of a “pass-through” town from the capital of Kampala, to a popular tourist destination and industrial town of Jinja. The majority of available work is more male-focused. And whereas there are many single mothers and widows, this leaves very little employment opportunity for the women who are often the sole providers in their homes.

We coordinated with 4 local women’s groups who were already organized and functioning. They came into our workshop for training, and then were given materials to take home, to then bring them back and receive payment.

I wish I could amply describe the mood that was present the day these ladies received their first payment. We had envelopes for each lady with her payment and receipt inside. We started calling each name and presenting them with their payment for the week. Women would open their envelopes and start beaming. And then turn to the person next to them in excited chatter. Laughter and cheering started to erupt from the group. They were yelling something repeatedly in Luganda, so I asked one woman what they were saying.

“Today, our children will drink milk!”

We are currently in the process of coordinating additional large contracts to keep the opportunity for employment alive for our now 50 strong Musana women artisans.

Daily Funnies

My Saturday started off with a gorgeous run through the Lugazi sugar cane fields, over the Namengo hill, and out to a pristine village set in a fishbowl arena of luscious green. Funny things happen every morning I run, as I am one of a handful of foreigners in the surrounding area, and people don’t generally run for fun here (though the Olympic gold medalist in the marathon this year was Stephen Kiprotich, a Ugandan!)- thus, I’m rather a spectacle.

-       A person I passed said “Mzungu! (“foreigner/white person”) Thank you for the exercise!” This is not uncommon for people to “thank” me for running. So cute.

-       Children often will join me on my run for a while. Laughing all the way- they think it is hilarious! Today these 3 girls who were about 10 years old joined me for about a quarter mile- barefoot, and carrying machetes. Yeah! They were on their way to gather firewood, and thus the tool. They were following me a few steps, and I laughed to myself thinking what this might look like to an onlooker.

-       I came to a muddy area, and nearly slipped a little. The onlooking kids giggled quietly. I recovered easily and kept on going. And then almost slipped in a big way- arms flailing and everything. The kids fell apart with laughter. As they should have. 

;l