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MEETING THE FAMILY
Last Updated:
2026-01-28 00:57:25
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THE MEET UP THE RESULT
[SCENE: Mulago Hospital, pediatric oncology ward. Day twenty-eight of induction chemotherapy. One week after Amara’s birth. AYANA sits on her hospital bed, legs dangling, wearing a colorful headscarf that MIRIAM brought to cover her bald head. She looks thinner, frailer, but her eyes are alert. SARAH sits beside her, AMARA is sleeping in a carrier strapped to her chest—she’s learned to nurse, change diapers, and comfort a newborn while sitting in a hospital room. AMON stands by the window, unable to sit still, waiting. DR. ASIIMWE enters with a folder—the bone marrow biopsy results from two days ago. His expression is carefully neutral, giving nothing away.]DR. ASIIMWE: “Good morning, Kato family. Ayana, how are you feeling today?”AYANA: “Okay. Tired. When can I go home?”DR. ASIIMWE: “That depends on these results. Your parents and I need to talk about what we found in your bone marrow test. Do you
THE MEET UP TWO BIRTHS, TWO LIVES
[SCENE: Mulago Hospital. Three weeks after the diagnosis, 3:47 AM, SARAH woke up in the reclining chair beside AYANA’s bed, sharp pain radiating from her lower back around to her abdomen. She gasps, grips the armrest. The pain builds, peaks, then slowly releases. She knows immediately—contractions. The baby is coming. AMON sleeps in another chair, exhausted from two weeks of dividing time between hospital and home. AYANA sleeps fitfully, her bald head visible now—all her beautiful hair gone. The chemotherapy port in her chest rises and falls with her breathing. SARAH has another contraction, stronger this time. She needs to wake Amon but doesn’t want to wake Ayana.]SARAH: (whispered urgently) “Amon. Amon, wake up.”[AMON jolts awake, immediately alert—hospital life has trained him to wake quickly.]AMON: “What’s wrong? Is it Ayana?”SARAH: “No. It’s the baby. I have contractions. Real ones. Five minutes apart
THE MEET UP THE FIRST BATTLE
[SCENE: Mulago Hospital, pediatric oncology ward. Two weeks after diagnosis. The ward is a specialized unit—colorful murals on the walls trying to make cancer treatment less terrifying for children, but the medical equipment and IV poles tell the real story. AYANA’s room is semi-private, shared with another child whose family sits quietly on the other side of a curtain. AYANA lies in bed, the central port visible on her chest, IV tubes running to a chemotherapy bag. She’s pale, thinner already, dark circles under her eyes. She she’s awake, alert, watching a tablet that MIRIAM brought her. SARAH sits in a reclining chair beside the bed, her pregnant belly enormous now—due any day. She looks exhausted, hasn’t left the hospital except for quick showers at home. AMON arrives with breakfast for both of them, having spent the night at home with DAVID.]AMON: (entering quietly) “Good morning, my loves. How was the ni
THE MEET UP THE DIAGNOSIS
[SCENE: Mulago Hospital, oncology consultation room. The next afternoon. A small, sterile office with medical posters on the walls showing blood cells and treatment protocols. DR. ASIIMWE sits behind a desk with test results spread before him. Across from him, SARAH and are on in plastic chairs, holding hands, so tightly their knuckles are white. SARAH is eight months pregnant, exhausted from a sleepless night in the hospital. AMON looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. AYANA is in her hospital room with MAMA GRACE, who arrived at dawn to help. The air in the room feels thin, hard to breathe.]DR. ASIIMWE: “Thank you for meeting with me. I know waiting for results is difficult. I wish I had better news.”[SARAH’s grip on AMON’s hand tightens. He doesn’t flinch, just holds her equally tight.]SARAH: “Just tell us. Please. The waiting is torture.”DR. ASIIMWE: (looking at them with genuine compassion) “Ayana has acute lympho
THE MEET UP THE FIRST SIGNS
[SCENE: SARAH and AMON’s house, Kololo. Six months after the Christmas revelation. Late June, early evening. SARAH is visibly pregnant—eight months along with their third child. The house buzzes with the evening routine. AYANA (8) does homework at the dining table. DAVID (5, almost 6) plays quietly with his toy medical kit, bandaging his stuffed animals with serious concentration. AMON cooks dinner in the kitchen. SARAH sits on the couch, feet elevated, one hand on her belly, the other holding her phone as she talks to a contractor about a housing project. Everything appears normal, domestic, peaceful.]SARAH: (into phone) “Yes, the materials need to arrive by Monday. No exceptions. We have a tight deadline— Okay, thank you.”[She hangs up, winces slightly, adjusts her position. AMON emerges from the kitchen with a glass of water.]AMON: “How’s Baby Kato number three doing today?”SARAH: “Active. Very active. I
THE MEET UP FULL CIRCLE
Three years later.I’m standing in Java House. The same café where is a’ll started. Same corner. Same table.Bu’t everything’s different now.Ayana’s three. Running around the café like she owns it. Amon’s chasing her. Both laughing. Both paint-stained because they spent the morning in his studio making “art.”I have a cappuccino. Not wearing white. Learned that lesson.My phone buzzes. Email from the Ministry. The national housing initiative—my program—just got approved for expansion across East Africa.Everything I dreamed about when I was a broken divorcee was sitting in this exact spot. It’s happening. All of it.A woman walk’s in. Early twenties. Crisp blouse. Tight posture. Eyes that say she’s holding everything together by force of will.I see myself. Four years ago. Trying so hard to control everything. Drowning and pretending to swim.She orders coffee. Sits at a nearby table. Opens her laptop. He
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