Mzungu Down! – Part 2

So, has my laziness really hyped up the tension of this cliff hanger moment? 🙂  Sorry for the delay everyone…Having pulled up at the lodge, we were told to wait…because, of course, TIA, and the doctor was nowhere to be found.  After about 5 minutes, to our absolute amazement, the van of doctors, and the van of all our wonderful friends pulled up at the lodge.  No one was willing to continue the safari without us.  So the boys helped Tom off to the clinic room, and the doctors started raiding the medical supplies cupboard.

All I can say, is thank heavens for Sam and Robert – the best and kindest doctors on the planet.  The “doctor” turned up, a young Kenyan lady, who clearly had never seen a dislocated joint before and had absolutely no idea what to do.  It was debatable as to whether she had actually ever seen a patient.  Never mind a white one.  It also turned out eventually, that she was a nurse, not a doctor… so once again, Sam and Robert really were God-sends.

So there we were, in the “clinic”.  A room large enough to fit a 5 foot bed, and a desk.  No standing room at all.  Tom was once again passed out on the bed, with his head hanging way off the top, given the lush size of the bed 😉  I was stood there, having been entrusted by a barely conscious Tom to make sure no one did anything wacky.  Rachel the nurse whipped out a vial, and started preparing to inject him.  At what point is it okay to question a medical professional? 🙂

Anyway, the doctors dived at her just in time – “You can’t inject that pure intravenously!!!”  “Oh, okay”.  I don’t think I need to comment.

Then, when the correct cocktail of drugs had been mixed and were being injected, one of the doctors murmured to the other: “Is that air in the tube?”  I have to admit, at this point my own nerves were starting to leave me in the lurch.  I should also mention, that the supplies cupboard at the field clinic had absolutely no drugs whatsoever, and basically kept its coverage to plasters and motilium.  Tom was being given a muscle relaxant, and had been fed all the panadol and ibuprofen that the women united could dig out of our bags.

Robert then hopped up on the table, foot in Tom’s armpit, and pulled…

Many times, to no avail.  And I have to give credit to Tom here, for at no point did anyone hear a peep out of him, despite this torture.  And he also kind of maintained his sense of humour.  He entertained us, that’s for sure.  “We don’t have enough painkillers to do this, we need to relax him.  Gabi, come and kiss your boyfriend.”  Suddenly Tom is conscious:  “Don’t do that- THAT won’t relax me!!!”  A bit later, I joked to the docs: “I guess this means I have to be nice to him for a while.  How many days free pass does he get?”  Docs: “Give him 3 days”.  Tom, slurring: “But I won’t be able to get anything sexual, coz  right now, I can’t even feel my body.”  Oh the tongue-loosening power of pain and muscle relaxants 🙂

The re-locating of the arm was really not happening.  Apparently when something is too painful, the muscles cramp, and make it impossible to pull the joint back into position.  “We need more painkillers”, said the doctors.  “Let’s give him whisky”.  So, the manager makes a call to the bar, for whisky to be delivered, fast.  “Tom, what kind of whisky do you want?” (Yes, manager, that’s really important right now).  Tom: “The most expensive one!”

After a while, Tom was turned onto his belly, with a bottle of water tied to his hand to try and stretch out his arm.  The doctors finally left, as did all our friends (we were getting quite furious at everyone’s VERY KIND insistence to miss their whole safari weekend).  There he lay, in this ridiculous field clinic, being fed whisky, and having the nurse lighting the cigarette in his mouth (my hands were failing in the being controlled enough to light a match test- so the nurse whipped them out of my hands, and lit the patient’s cigarette for him – TIA, again.)

I wandered off to get myself some Tusker, leaving Tom in the capable hands of the nurse.  I came back to find him sitting up in a chair, smoking.  Typical man.  Take your eyes off him for a second and he does the one thing he’s been told not to do.  The manager had booked him and me onto a flight to Nairobi – he needed a hospital (“The plane leaves at 4.45, so leave here at 4.30.  Pay cash to the pilot.”)  Seeing as Tom was being so active, we decided to go and take the manager up on his offer of a free lunch in his luxury lodge.  Tom was famous by this point, with random tourists wishing him well.  Lunch was lovely, along with beers on the terrace.  If this was Tom’s plan of how to take me on a cheap but decent date…. I guess it sort of worked…?!  Slightly complex plan though Tom 🙂

Anyway, at some point during our “date”, Tom says: “I think my shoulder’s ok now.”  I go to look at it, the shoulder on his chest had certainly gone… and he could feel his arm again.  Just at that moment Sam called us, and gave him exercises to do over our phone consultation.  Tom could do them all.   Bizarrely, Tom’s arm appeared to have migrated back into the joint over lunch.  So, we cancelled our flights, called the safari van… and back our group came to collect us.

We managed to spend a nice evening at camp, getting suitably drunk.

Our guides joined us, and there was much guffawing over Tom’s attempts to sell me to the locals.  Jackson, one of our Masai friends offered him 10 cows.  I took offence at this low offer, and said I needed 150 cows.  James, our guide, jumped in at this point to offer 60.  However, only half needs to be paid, as “Tom, you and I will be sharing use of Gabi, so I only need to pay half the dowry.”  Cheers guys.

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