life and death situations

My nose would not stop bleeding. It was the middle of the night, I was 10 years old, my nose started bleeding and I could not get it to stop. I didn't want to wake my mom up because I thought she would be upset for waking her up for a silly nose bleed. And so the hours passed and it kept bleeding. 6am rolled around, I heard my sister get up and get ready to go babysit some missionary kids down the road, my nose was still bleeding. A few hours before that I had noticed large red spots in my eyes just below my pupils. I decided that it was stupid to tell Renee my nose had been bleeding for about 4 hours so I sat in my room and waited to hear my mom or dad get up. 8am rolled around...still bleeding...and I hear the bathroom door shut. They are awake! I give them a few minutes...my mom is either in the living room or kitchen and I walk up to her. 'Mom, my nose won't stop bleeding...it's been bleeding since the middle of the night...what am I supposed to do?!' I don't quite remember what she said but I know she whipped out her 'Where There Is No Doctor' book, made a few phone calls to some other missionaries, gave me a trash can and told me to bend over it and let my nose drip into it so she could measure it, made me bite down on this plastic thing while bending over the trash can. I remember getting dizzy. I remember my parents deciding to take me to a hospital. I remember sitting down at the table and feeling very hot. I remember my dad got a fan and put it right in front of my face. I remember my head falling backwards and my mom saying my name over and over, I remember my parents helping me walk to our car. I remember my dad driving very fast and the air blowing all on me because I was so hot.

luanshya hospital...

We got to the hospital and I don't remember much. I do know they took me into this room...it had an operating table in it...and they stuffed my nose with gauze...I mean they shoved that stuff up there so hard, it hurt SO bad! Then they put a huge bandage over the bottom and admitted me. I was 10 and probably 5'9"...most kids when they are 10 are like 5'...most Zambian kids when they are 10 are like tiny...so the children's ward at the hospital where I was admitted had cribs at beds. A 5'9" little American girl was not going to fit in a crib, so I was admitted to the women's ward. The head nurse was not happy that my mom was camped out at my side. There were no private rooms...just one big room with multiple beds. There was a lady dying of AIDS across the room, two ladies with malaria and me...the girl with the nose bleed! 

IT WHAT?...

I was diagnosed with ITP...a blood disorder where your white blood cells attack and diminish your platelets causing your blood not to clot and so therefore you start bleeding. In addition to my nose bleeding for hours and hours, blood has started to pool in the whites of my eyes and just under my skin. The doctor came to my bed and said something about having 5 platelets. My mom asked a nurse or someone what that meant and they said it meant that I had 5,000 platelets per unit of blood in my body, which was low but not DRASTICALLY low. It turns out that I in fact had 5 platelets per unit of blood in my body but I think the nurses mistake was a gift from God to my mom...so she wouldn't panic more than she probably already was.

the decision to stay...

my Aunt was an RN and in addition to being in contact with her, my parents stayed in contact with some other doctors in the US that confirmed what they were doing in Zambia is what they would be doing in the States and so we stayed.

my lovely stay in the best hospital in Zambia...

I needed a blood transfusion and my dad, being the wonderful father he is, decided the blood I would get would come from him. The nurse that put the thing in to get his blood apparently was crazy and hit his muscle...the whole top of his arm was black and blue and it scared me half to death. I think that scared me more than anything...apparently I didn't know I was two steps away from deaths door!! The tube in the IV I was given was just long enough to reach my hand...which meant I couldn't really move my hand much. It was SO annoying. The nurse that had the day shift was a horrible taker of blood...I would cry when I saw her coming. My dad came one day to stay with me while my mom when home to take a shower, he sat on my bed. The head doctor came in the room about that time and was not very happy to see him sitting on my bed. I've never seen my dad get up that fast! I was so hot that I sang Christmas songs to try and cool myself off. I wasn't that scared...because my mom didn't seem scared...and for that I am thankful.

going home...

I was in the hospital for three days and I got to go home. I had to take steroids for over a year and had to go and get my blood drawn and a platelet count every week or so for a while. The hospital I was in and had to have my follow up visits at was a government hospital...when you went in you got a number. You waited in the waiting room for your number to be called. I remember waiting forever sometimes for my name to be called...not fun times.

I'll never forget the doctor that was in charge of my case...Dr. Mumba. He saved my life...with the help of God, of course. 

the phone call you never want to get

"Aunt Denise is gone." WHAT?! There is no way that my aunt has died? This is crazy. That wasn't supposed to happen. I'm not really sure how my mom felt when she learned that her sister had died in an accident...but I can only imagine it was heart-wrenching. We were gone just two years when we got that call I think from my Uncle Mark or Aunt Debbie. She left behind two daughters. My parents decided to go to the US without us and we stayed with some missionaries that lived in the same town as us. I remember my mom was more sad than I had ever seen her before, looking back on it and knowing how broken I would be if I lost my sister, I can't imagine how hard it must have been for her to be so far away from her family.

We got several phone calls over the years...not telling us people had died but with bad news all the same. One was that my Grandma was probably going to die soon. My parents had to decide if we would go to the US or not...we did and she did die. That was a sad call. Another call came unexpectedly. We came from church one night and the phone was ringing. I answered it and my Aunt Arlene was on the other line. She asked for my dad and a short while later he came out of his office to tell us he had two half-brother's he had no idea about. That was a shocking but good phone call. 

Whenever the phone rang in the middle of the night...or whenever the person on the other end was family...you knew it probably wasn't great news.

Merry Christmas!

My most memorable Christmas was the one the year before we went to Zambia. I came home from school and found our house decorated beautifully and a REAL TREE!

the story of our Christmas tree...

We moved to Springfield, Missouri from New Castle, Indiana when I was two. My parents had surrendered to be missionaries and they enrolled in Baptist Bible College. They moved us all 500 miles away from home to an unknown place and so began the story of their missionary life. We were poor but I never knew that. My dad got a job as a mechanic at a trash company called BFI and every once in a while he would bring things home that stores like Wal-Mart or K-Mart would throw out. I don't really know if they just threw these things out in their dumpsters and the workers would go through it or if there was like a place they brought all this stuff to, but he would bring home things like gum or teddy grams or a baby stroller (I'm praying it was an actual place he got these things from!!!). Anyway, Christmas rolled around and my parents asked my sister's (I was much too young to have an opinion) if they would rather get a Christmas tree and presents for Christmas or go back to Indiana to spend Christmas with our family...they chose Indiana. My mom, being the resourceful and amazing woman that she is, cut out a cardboard Christmas tree and made the best of this no Christmas tree situation. My dad just happened to find a Christmas tree in the trash at his work...well, actually it was parts of two different Christmas tree's but it worked and God completely gave our family a want that I'm sure answered my parents prayers!

what does that have to do with anything?...

So, this tree was like 4 ft tall and not the most glamorous but it worked and we kept it. My dad got this tree in 1989 or 1990 and we used it every year...we even packed it on our container and shipped it to Zambia. We used it until my next to last Christmas at my parents house in 2003 and then my parents bought a nice and tall tree from some missionaries that were resigning. BUT in 1995, our last Christmas in the US, my parents got a real tree. It was AMAZING!!! It was so exciting. That Christmas was awesome! I'm not sure, but I think my parents thought we might never have a Christmas again!!!

1st Christmas in zambia...

It was just about three months after we arrived. We were starting to feel at home. It was the last Christmas that my sister, Dawn would live with us. There were so many things about that Christmas I remember. We had gotten a puppy...the first dog we had ever had that I can remember. We named her Colby...she was the best dog ever! I remember her being there. I remember my parents bought this gold and red MERRY CHRISTMAS sign (more memories about this sign to come!). I remember that we each got a 6-pack of soda as a present...Dawn got pepsi, Renee got 7-up and I got orange crush!!! I remember I got a huge baby doll. I remember I was sad because for the first time I wanted to go back to the US...just for the day...and go to my Aunt Sharon's house and see my Grandma and Grandpa and my uncle Phillip and all the rest of my family. It was a sad but joyous day celebrating Jesus' birth!

more Christmas stories...

I have several Christmases that stand out in my mind. I'm not sure which Christmas it was but one of them I remember my dad preached a funeral or two on Christmas day. That was sad! Our family tradition has always been that you can open one gift on Christmas eve...one Christmas my sister Renee chose her gift and was super proud of it...my mom kept telling her she didn't want to open that one but she was confident that she did. It was blue lamp oil!! haha...my mom laughed and laughed...Renee did not think it was very funny. The next morning she opened the other half of that gift...an oil lamp! Maybe it was the same Christmas or the next one but I remember I counted the gifts under the tree and I had significantly less than Renee. I was kind of a brat and was not happy about that...so I was in a pretty bad mood. We all got our presents and started opening them one at a time until there was this one left under the tree. It had a tag that said it was for my dad. I begrudgingly got the gift and started to take it to him when my mom flipped over the tag and showed me that it was actually for me!!! It was a cassette player! It was maroon and it had two tape decks. It was so awesome! I really learned my lesson about having such a bad attitude...my mom is a smart one! Another Christmas my mom wrapped random boxes with random items in them...like a toaster box full of old socks. I was so confused but then she would pull out the real gift from somewhere...it's like she was Mary Poppins!!! She's a crazy lady!!! So, back to the gold and red MERRY CHRISTMAS sign...it was made out of shiny paper and probably was only meant for one use...but my mom is super thrifty and used it over and over again. We moved from Luanshya to Ndola in 2000 and the sign came with us. Every year she would try to put it up and I would tell her it looked horrible and she needed to throw it away. What is so crazy is that every year, for probably three years, the day we would decorate for Christmas my friend would happen to come by. My mom would be trying to hang this hideous sign up and she would not listen that it looked so bad! I would recruit my friend and make him tell her it looked horrible. My friend's name was Dennis...now he's my husband....and he still teases my mom about that sign to this day!!!

it's the most wonderful time of the year...

I love Christmas...I always have! But Christmas is different when it's hot outside. It's different when your mom can't find celery to put into her dressing. It's different when you can't see your whole family like you are used to. It's different when your sister's live half way around the world from you. Christmas was the only time I ever didn't want to be in Zambia each year.

our first Christmas in Zambia

saying goodbye...

I remember we went to the airport, some family came with us. I was so excited and really scared. I had been waiting for this day my whole life. I'd never ridden on a plan before and I was about to embark on my biggest adventure yet. I was sad to be leaving my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins but I knew we didn't belong with them and it made my heart happy that I knew that.

the adventure begins...

I don't remember really much of the plane ride but I do remember it felt it took forever! We got to London and had to go through a HUGE customs line. My oldest sister threw up and we got expedited through the line (go DAWN!) We switched airports and had to go on a big bus. I was a little 9 year old girl that was born in a small town, I had never seen such a huge bus. I heard the bus worker ask people about going 'under' and I assumed there were seats under the bus!! I was wrong, he was talking about putting the luggage in the storage compartments...my family laughed and made fun of me (and still do, to this day!). My sister threw up again on the bus...but thankfully it had a bathroom!!! We got to the other airport and for some reason, didn't go in to the departure lounge. We hung out right outside a bathroom (maybe because of the sick sister?!) in these SUPER uncomfortable chairs. We met some other missionaries we knew...which is really random and I don't remember who they were. We finally went into the departure lounge and I'm pretty sure my dad was kicking himself for not doing this earlier...I remember I wanted to kick him...the chairs were WAY more comfy! Finally we got onto the last plane we would be on for our journey and the next stop was Harare, Zimbabwe. We didn't get off the plane, but others did and some people got on. I remember this lady got on and her clothes were totally see through...weird that I remember that! A few minutes after take off, we landed again.

lusaka, zambia...

I remember walking out of the plane right on to the runway. I remember looking around and feeling really excited! I remember walking into this tunnel thing and it said 'Welcome to Lusaka, Zambia'. What I most remember, though, is that I didn't feel scared or weird or sad that I was gone from America...I remember I felt like I was home. We went into the airport and my sisters and I decided we needed to go to the bathroom. We hadn't even gone through customs yet!! We saw a sign off to the side for the bathrooms so off we went. We walked in, looked around and walked right back out!!! There was no toilet, only a hole in the floor!!! Mind you, this was an INTERNATIONAL ariport...to say we were shocked is an understatement. We went through customs, got our luggage and went to meet the people that were going to pick us up. They weren't there!!! We all sat in some plastic chairs and waited. Out of no where, some person yells, 'Hey, Riggs!!!' and we turned to see a somewhat familiar face of another missionary. He was leaving the same day we got there and I think the people that picked us up brought him to the airport. Finally, we weren't alone. We all piled into the car and SUV-ish vehicle of Robert and Patricia Horn...more missionaries that we had never met.

the trip from lusaka to ndola and my first traumatic experience...

I don't remember much of this trip. I remember stopping somewhere and getting my first taste of the best coke in the entire world. It was in glass bottles and Bro. Horn popped the lid off on the side of his vehicle. I must have thought that was pretty cool because I remember it so vividly. I'm not exactly sure when this next part happened, if it was at the very beginning of our journey or some time in the middle, but my mom, two sisters and myself were in a car with Mrs. Horn and we pulled up to our very first police check ever. There were a few police men and maybe some military men in the middle of the road and they held their hands up for us to stop. They also happened to have AK-47's hanging around their bodies. I had never seen any kind of gun other than my dad's shot gun and probably wouldn't have thought anything about these AK's except Mrs. Horn absolutely freaked out! Sometime in her past she and her family had been missionaries in Zaire and they had to evacuate and went through some scary times...apparently involving police or military or guns...not entirely sure of the story but I remember I was scared. My mom was scared...I'm sure my sister's were, too. I was convinced we were going to be shot on the spot if we made sudden movements or something!!! Anyway...turns out it was a normal police check and we passed just fine. PHEW...I still get scared just thinking about that time!!!

the copperbelt...

we finally arrived at the Horn's house where we would stay for the next few days. They lived in Ndola, which is about 30 minutes away from Luanshya, where we were going to live. When we were leaving, I think our sending church had given us all some money. As kids, we got $75. My dad got this converted for us and I remember the stacks of money he brought us were huge!!! The exchange rate was so high and the biggest note they had was so small. I thought I was rich for sure. Our container had not arrived yet so we really had nothing except clothes but after a few days we moved from Ndola to Luanshya into the home of some missionaries that were on furlough. They had a pool so it was awesome!!! I remember they had two dogs, one was nice and the other was mean. They did not have a shower, only a bath. Their washer didn't work so my mom hand washed our clothes. Their pool was freezing...all.the.time! My mom made grilled cheese sandwiches with some weird cheese and they were the most disgusting grilled cheese sandwiches I've ever eaten. They had tons of lizards in their house and we thought the baby ones were so cute! 

my first birthday in zambia...

We moved to Zambia in October and the first major holiday in our family in Zambia happened to be my birthday! November 12th rolled around and I remember just knowing I wasn't going to get any presents. There was not even a grocery store in the town we were living in, let alone a toy store so I remember being sad when I woke up. My mom surprised me BIG TIME when she handed me two gifts and I opened them to find she has brought two barbies from the US for me! They were a black girl barbie and a black ken doll! haha...apparently she thought I needed some black people representation in my barbie collection since we lived in Africa now!!!

church...

My dad had previously visited Zambia for a survey trip and when he came back to the US, I remember two things. He brought me a purse and he talked about a man named Webby. We thought his name was funny and asked if his son was named Spider!! haha (if you know who Webby is to me now and more importantly who is son is to me now...you would be laughing!...hint: he is my father-in-law and his son is not named Spider, but Dennis and he is my husband!). We got to meet this Webby when we went to church and I think our connection to Zambia was real when that happened. Church was very different to what we were used to, for sure! I remember singing the hymn 'Dwelling in Beulah Land' and cracking up with my family for no other reason than how it sounded when everyone sang 'PRAISE GOD'. Good times...

our own home...

Sometime in November our container arrived and we got to move into our house. I remember when we got the container, getting it into our yard was a feat. I also remember it had some random lock on it that we didn't have a key for. I'm not sure how my dad got it off...he wasn't happy about it...but he got it off somehow - which is par for him, because he can do anything! The moving in commenced and again, I don't remember much. We had some dogs, none of which were ours, they were all for some missionaries that were in the US. There was this one, named Tera. She was SO MEAN to outsiders. I remember the vet came one time and she was going after him! We had a guy that worked in our yard named Honson Kabeshi and he calmed her down by calmly saying 'Tera, no.' It amazed me that she stopped. Honson was awesome! Our house was pretty big. It technically had six rooms but only one bathroom. The kitchen had hardly any cabinets. It had a huge pantry. One of the door frames was completely gone because of termites. The rooms had weird tile in them, the middle was gray and they outside of the room was orange or brown. My parents room had two doors in it. My sister's and I had inter-connecting rooms where you had to walk through Dawn's room to get to mine and through mine to get to Renee's. Later, when Dawn left we changed this up and my parents got these three rooms as their 'suite'. It was a lovely house on Butungwa Avenue. And so our life in Zambia began.