Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

6. Testing

Of course, they ran blood tests first of all.
I didn’t have a picture of how seriously jaundiced Little Lion was, or how sick he was until we got the results back.

There are different rating scales to read bilirubin (the stuff in our blood that the liver and bile ducts are supposed to filter out). There is conjugated and unconjugated bilirubin.
The hospital explained it to me like this: their estimated ‘normal’ bilirubin level for a baby of his age was 20.
Little Lion’s was over 500.

They said it was “hyper-conjugated bilirubinemia”. But that’s just the name of the symptom, it doesn’t give a diagnosis for the cause: a disease? a failing liver? severe hepatitis? tumor? milk intolerance? hormonal disorder?
I was told there were at least 100 causes for hyper-conjugated bilirubinemia, and they needed to go through them one by one to find the reason.

Except, problem: blood tests.
We soon were told one of the reasons WHY it was so hard to get Little Lion’s blood is because he was anemic, and he had a blood transfusion a few days later.
He definitely looked better, still ill, still weak, but so much stronger after the blood transfusion.
Some tests could not be run because of the blood transfusion, but the doctors assured me they would continue running all the tests they could to find an answer.

Even after the blood transfusion, getting blood to run tests still remained a problem. Every day, morning and evening someone would come and try to get blood. To see if his red blood cell count was okay, to see his liver function levels – and then extra to run more tests towards a diagnosis.

It was excruciating, watching as the experts tried to get blood, unsuccessfully. It seemed like such torture because they weren’t getting enough to run tests and Little Lion was not improving and they just kept poking his little arms, and feet, and even his head with needles.

As a last resort, we agreed to have a line put through his jugular vein in order to get enough blood to run important tests.
He was going into day surgery, and would be put under anesthesia.

If you want to make time stand still for a parent, send their infant into surgery.
I gasped half-breaths for the full 2 hours I sat in the waiting room. Exactly remembering how his eyes looked as the anesthesia made him fall asleep. Staring at the clock on the wall, but not registering the time it was reading.
I didn’t relax my shoulders or fully exhale until the nurse called me softly and, seeing the anxiety across my face, said “He’s okay.”

When we received Little Lion’s final diagnosis weeks later, we were told part of his condition is a lack of cortisol/stress hormone.
It is incredibly dangerous for him to go under anesthesia without a significant dose of cortisol.

Little Lion is lucky to be alive.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2

4. Travel Documents

The next few days were a whirlwind of praying, packing, reading and making loads and loads of photocopies.
I went ahead and purchased flights for me and the baby, on the whim that we might be legal to travel in the next four days.

We spent a full day at the Tanzanian immigration office, getting Little Lion an emergency travel document – which also included a full hour of trying to get an appropriate photo to use.
It had to be a blue background, he had to have his eyes open and his face had to be turned toward the camera.
Pretty difficult to do with a young baby.
In the end, an immigration officer wearing a blue shirt held him on his lap as the ‘blue background’ and we caught Little Lion lifting his head, opening his eyes just before he started crying.
Not an attractive photo, but it will do.

I tried in vain to call the US Embassy in Tanzania. The office hours were off due to the holiday season. To reach a human being, I called the US Center for Citizens Living Abroad in Washington DC, and they connected me to the private phone number of the deputy of the US Embassy in Tanzania – who was on safari somewhere in Selous Game Reserve, I think.

—Can we take a moment to respect that international triangulation?—

Since he was out of the office he couldn’t actually do much to help me, but gave me an email address and said they would get back to me after New Years.
We couldn’t wait til then.

I called the US Embassy in Nairobi Kenya, just before they closed for the day. They answered the phone!
And I spoke with a human, not an automated machine. The officer said if it was urgent, just show up at the office and bring whatever paperwork I had.
Bless them.

We woke up at 3 o’clock in the morning and drove to the Tanzania/Kenya border. Passed into Kenya with Little Lion’s emergency travel document and the doctor’s letter.
Then, we boarded a local transport bus, crammed in the back and headed to Nairobi by bus. We arrived at the US Embassy just as it opened, and already a long line of people with scheduled interviews and appointments had formed.

In all my life, I have never been prouder to be an American.
The US Embassy Nairobi was fantastic.

I walked up to the gate, flashed my US passport to the guard and he waved us in, skipping the 20+ persons in line. No questions asked.

At the security checkpoint, we were asked for our appointment, again I waved my US passport, they smiled and let us pass the long line.

At the waiting area they told me it was a standard 20 minute wait. I said it was an emergency and they nodded and instructed me to press a bright red doorbell. In 30 seconds the door opened and we walked in.

The officer read the doctor’s letter, asked me a few questions and to fill out of a stack of forms. Twenty minutes later, they said “Don’t worry about the forms, you can do them another time.”
I’m not used to this people-first bureaucracy! What is this?
Instead, we had a quick interview where I verified where I was born, the school and college I attended and showed my school records and transcripts as proof.
(Thanks, Mom for saving every paper from ever! The officer especially loved my middle school ID badge).

“When is your flight?”
Tomorrow, noonish.
“Okay. We will have your passport ready in 2 hours.”
Wow. Amazing.
“No. Sorry, you don’t need to wait that long. We will have your passport ready in 30 minutes.”
And. They. Did.

We were at the US Embassy for a total of 3 hours, and left with an official (if temporary) passport for Little Lion.
I believe in miracles.

5. Brave

But, we still had a long journey ahead of us.
The next day I traveled alone with Little Lion to Europe, and Mr Mechanic returned to Tanzania and the rest of our kids.

I recall a sweet lady on the airplane encouraging me as we boarded our flight; “Wow! you’re brave, traveling alone with an 8-week old.”
I definitely did not feel very brave. There was no “Eye of the Tiger” playing in the background. I was barely holding back tears, and not walking with any sort of confidence.
I couldn’t NOT travel: we had to seek advanced medical treatment. But perhaps that is a type of courage, too; moving forward out of sheer necessity. Fear, worry, doubt could avalanche me after, there was no time for such frivolities at the moment: I had to go.

When our flight landed in the bitter cold I was met by a family member and we drove directly to the hospital.

We waited in a primary examination room, behind one of those dark curtains and watched the squeaky shoes of nurses and doctors pass around us. At last, a pair of shoes paused in front of us and a doctor poked her head in.

She initially greeted us, then she looked at Little Lion and exclaimed “That baby is yellow! WHY IS THAT BABY YELLOW!?!?”
Well… we were hoping you could tell us…

Chapter 4