Two weeks ago at the medical brigade in Duyure, two women had bugs deep in their ears that had been there 8 and 13 days. Talk about a headache! The doctors removed both of them but the women had to go through a lot of pain. Who knows how they got there and I wouldn't want to know what would become of them if our brigade wasnt there that week.
Molly
Thursday, July 19, 2007
This summer has been quite the experience, everyday in Honduras has the possibilty of being a real adventure. I have seen all sorts of things. One of the interesting parts of being around the clinic is seeing how inuries of past become big problems when they are not treated properly. The lady at the medical brigade in Duyure is a good example of this, she had a slightly displaced fracture of her wrist. It had been broken for two weeks already when she was seen. There was nothing that could be done for her, except make a homemade sling and cast to support her arm, and give her some pain medicine. It the U.S. that patient would have probably been seen the day it happened and gone in to surgery and had it repaired, and would have gone on to a full recovery. Here in Honduras, she will probably never have full use of her arm again, because the bones will not heal aligned in the proper orientation. There are numerous other examples of cases like this from machete wounds to burns that make awful scars because the best treatment known is not available to them. These are the cases that motivate me to want to be involved in medical missions.
Drew
Drew
A night at Javier's
Earlier this week Javier, invited the interns over to have a time of food and fun. The menu was pork, mashed potatoes, rice, salad, guacamole, plus chips and dip for appetizers. He also cooked these pork rind type of things for us to try. While the food was being prepared, Paul and I started throwing football with a few boys from the neighborhood, who had wondered up. It started with two boys and the multiplied, they just kind of appeared. I think at one point there were ten or twelve boys playing their own game of ball in the street. It looked like football, mixed rugby and soccer, I think they were kind of figuring it out as they went. They weere just boys being boys, playing barefoot in the street.
The fun was great, the whole afternoon was really fun. It was a great chance to see how a good homemade meal comes together Honduran Style.
Drew
The fun was great, the whole afternoon was really fun. It was a great chance to see how a good homemade meal comes together Honduran Style.
Drew
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Just for the taste of it
People in the States have learned not to accept things they don't like. Some people don't like the idea of God, and there are many schools of thought that are easy to convince oneself are legit that placate the atheistic desire. Others want expensive things and use credit cards and loans to buy what they can't afford. People get sick and expect not to die. It is a twisted thing that the allure of medicine should remove so much peace about death and other irreversible changes. Why is it that something that could be so good can cause so much pain? Well, that is a classically immature question. Of course when there is more that can be gained there is more risk of the feeling of loss. I have not spoken with a Honduran about losing a member of their family too soon, I don't know how a Honduran grieves or their cultural attitudes about death and medicine. This thought, actually, is only related to Honduras in that the contrast between Honduran and American medicine inspired it. Is it easier to accept death when you don't have the notion that everything is treatable? Is it to accept things as they are when you are not obsessed with making the world in your own image? Is it always right to keep someone alive?
OK this is getting a little heavy. Really, I just think it's funny how stressed I can get because things are not as I want them. Even here in the poorest nation in Central America I hold on to the notion that not getting my way is some blow to my wellbeing. I hope this experience can help me to grow up a little and mellow out about my life. Matthew 6:25; Hopefully I can learn to let go of the notion that I am in control and learn to simply make decisions as I believe God would have me make them.
Thanks for being patient enough to read through my intelligunk. I leave you with a funny image: Hippos on bikes licking drippy ice cream cones.
Pab
OK this is getting a little heavy. Really, I just think it's funny how stressed I can get because things are not as I want them. Even here in the poorest nation in Central America I hold on to the notion that not getting my way is some blow to my wellbeing. I hope this experience can help me to grow up a little and mellow out about my life. Matthew 6:25; Hopefully I can learn to let go of the notion that I am in control and learn to simply make decisions as I believe God would have me make them.
Thanks for being patient enough to read through my intelligunk. I leave you with a funny image: Hippos on bikes licking drippy ice cream cones.
Pab
Glasses Anyone?
I wanted to write a blog to put under the medical section for blogging, but I haven’t had the opportunity to go to the medical clinic yet, so I decided to write about the medical brigade that I did get to help out with in the little town of Duyure. When I got to work at the medical brigade my job was to test and fit people for glasses. It was an interesting procedure because I know only a little Spanishand I was working with one of the Honduran people who only knew a few words in English, but between the two of us we got the job done and got glasses handed out to so many of the people who needed them in Duyure. Many of the people just needed simple reading glasses for tasks such as sewing, but it was amazing how much a pair of glasses seemed to excite many of them. One specific time I remember a little old man who was so happy to be able to see clearly that he kept hugging me saying “God Bless You” in Spanish. Not all of the people were near as elated as he was, but I think most of them were very appreciative of their glasses, and it felt good to be able to do something to serve their immediate care.
---Kenz
---Kenz
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Mufasa
Home visits, as mentioned in Rebekah's blog, can take you ANYWHERE. Up dirt 'roads', through the mountains, into the jungle, across lakes, rivers, seas, and even oceans (we have a land cruiser, don't worry). As a part of these exotic travels on clinic days, animal sightings come frequently and sometimes with great excitement. There are the animals that are most common on the side (or even in the middle) of the roads, these include donkeys, cows, mules, horses, dogs, dogs, more dogs, chickens, and sheep. Less common though still seen are snakes, lizards, iguanas, and even monkeys. Well...just a few days ago as we were driving I had a hallucination that I saw Mufasa himself, and his wife on the side of the highway as we zoomed by. Rebekah was kind enough to inform me that this was NOT a hallucination, but was reality, LIONS in southern honduras. We were too excited to take pictures so you may never believe me, just be on the lookout when driving down the PanAmerican, you never know if a giraffe, a sea otter, or even a dinosaur will come into your line of vision.
Seth
Seth
Kevin
My digestive system has been slightly affected by Blastocystis Hominis, more commonly known around our house as, Kevin, the parasite. If you have had this parasite and no longer have it, or if you just feel like you might know the cure, please feel free to leave some tips as to how I can get rid of him. Kevin and I do not get along, and it is about time he gets out of my life. Leave a comment if you have any ideas.
Seth
Seth
Practice makes perfect
The clinic is about exposing us to patients so we can meet, see, and interact with them. Javier is our teacher, he is great about letting us practice and learn from doing and feeling ourselves. Just the other day Javier walked in with four syringes, and I said "what are those for," and he said "you all," I was like ok. It was time for us to learn how to draw blood, on one another of course. I really appreciate the way Javier teaches us. He often asks us what do you think, like the other day before clinic started he asked us to tell him what was wrong with people at the clinic just by visualy observing them from a distance. I feel like I have learned several practical things this summer that will help me tremendously.
Drew
Drew
I found a new bug
Bugs are a part of life in Honduras, it is just about impossible to keep them out of our house. So I take all the different kinds of bugs in stride from the tarantulas to the shiny beetles to the i don't know what they are's. One day earlier this summer I got to see a bug I had never seen before, only thing was it was in the back of a patient at the clinic. Javier looked at it and began to tell me that it was called a torsolo, and it was caused by a fly that lays it larvae in living to tissue, and after a while worms begin to grow. This normally happens in cows, not people. The only treatment for this is to get the worm out along with the infected tissue. So Javier opened up the place and begin to squeeze and dig. A huge burst of pus sprang forth from the abcess. After several minutes of digging and squeezing the worm was located, in fact three worms were located. I have seen this two more times since then, both times located on the head of little girls. This is a very interested thing to see, and enjoyed getting to learn about something I would probably not get to see at home.
Drew
Drew
God's Company
I pull the curtains apart to our creatively constructed corner clinical office to find two North American nurses staring with fixed interest at the bloodless left foot posessing, in all of its glory, one of the largest ulcers I've seen on this side of the Atlantic. The waving skinny arms that first caught my attenntion belonged to a cute old man in his mid-80s, whos blood pressure soared through the roof at a flying 195/120. He wore an old cowboy hat, and spoke in a way that so concealed his lack of teeth, and at the speed of a TICA bus zooming down the PanAmerican highway. I asked him how he hurt his foot. I ducked as his arm barely missed the rim of my mission lazarus hat. With great excitement, expression and enthusiam the old man counted the horrific tale of the barbaric, terrible, little old women that wouldn't leave him be and who maliciously "prodded" his foot with sticks. At the finale of his tale he stared at me waiting for a response, and scrunched his face into a funny little smile. I expressed my deepest sympathies and addressed the importance of keeping his blood pressure down and keeping his foot clean.
As the nurses and Natosha cleaned and wrapped the ulcer, I listened smiling as the man energetically told me both how thankful he was to God for the medical care he was receiving and how cursed the old women should be for hurting his foot. We gave him supplies to clean his foot again a couple of days later and when asked the question, do you have anyone to help you clean your foot again?, he answered, no, "crazy, the call me".
So many things about this old man, his rope strapped sandals, his skinny, bearded smiling face, his enthusiam in story telling, his thankful spirit, it all touched my heart. This lonely man of about 85 years showed more energy than any of the 25 year old men or women that came into the clinic with their entire families alongside them. I watched thoughtfully as the man went on his way to wait patiently in line for his medication. I stared perplexed at this man's happiness and my curiosity dragged me to the pharmacy line. I asked him how he was so energetic and smiling all the time. "It is thanks to the grace of God, He is with me", he replied.
Seth
As the nurses and Natosha cleaned and wrapped the ulcer, I listened smiling as the man energetically told me both how thankful he was to God for the medical care he was receiving and how cursed the old women should be for hurting his foot. We gave him supplies to clean his foot again a couple of days later and when asked the question, do you have anyone to help you clean your foot again?, he answered, no, "crazy, the call me".
So many things about this old man, his rope strapped sandals, his skinny, bearded smiling face, his enthusiam in story telling, his thankful spirit, it all touched my heart. This lonely man of about 85 years showed more energy than any of the 25 year old men or women that came into the clinic with their entire families alongside them. I watched thoughtfully as the man went on his way to wait patiently in line for his medication. I stared perplexed at this man's happiness and my curiosity dragged me to the pharmacy line. I asked him how he was so energetic and smiling all the time. "It is thanks to the grace of God, He is with me", he replied.
Seth
This one's for you, Javi
So maybe we missed it, but we seriously don't think anyone has done an article on Javier yet. That is ridiculous. Therefore, we dedicate this to Javi.
Javier is a 27 year old Honduran who went to medical school in Cuba. He has an awesome (and beautiful) wife named Gilian, spends his weeks working with Mission Lazarus in Choluteca and surrounding areas, and spends his weekends working at a clinic in Tegucigalpa and seeing movies (which he loves). His English is excellent (which is incredibly helpful for us slow kids who are still working on their Spanish). He is a great doctor and amazing with the interns. Under Javier, we've learned how to draw blood, give injections, take off nails, do a few minor surgeries, perform abdominal checks, and diagnose a lot of different diseases. Could we have asked for a better clinical experience? Probably not. So, thanks, Javier. We salute you. (And he's making dinner for us tonight. That's awesome, too.)
-Tristan McPherson & Natosha Correro
Javier is a 27 year old Honduran who went to medical school in Cuba. He has an awesome (and beautiful) wife named Gilian, spends his weeks working with Mission Lazarus in Choluteca and surrounding areas, and spends his weekends working at a clinic in Tegucigalpa and seeing movies (which he loves). His English is excellent (which is incredibly helpful for us slow kids who are still working on their Spanish). He is a great doctor and amazing with the interns. Under Javier, we've learned how to draw blood, give injections, take off nails, do a few minor surgeries, perform abdominal checks, and diagnose a lot of different diseases. Could we have asked for a better clinical experience? Probably not. So, thanks, Javier. We salute you. (And he's making dinner for us tonight. That's awesome, too.)
-Tristan McPherson & Natosha Correro
Traveling Honduras
A few weeks ago, the interns went on a little excursion to the northern part of the country, as has been said in many other articles around here. Copan was an excellent place to go for a vacation. It has great restaurants, lots of souvenirs, and, of course, Mayan ruins (I really sound like a travel agent right now). However, contrary to most of the other interns, my favorite part of the trip was the travel. We took buses and taxis (which really start to add up) everywhere we went. The thing about the buses, though, is that they’re highly unpredictable. For instance, our first morning in Tegucigalpa, we woke up at about 4 AM to get to the station to get our tickets for the early bus. It happened to be sold out, so we got the 10 AM bus and went to Dunkin’ Donuts for about 2 and a half hours. We got back to the station, and the bus was over an hour late, but we finally got on. We were on this particular vehicle until San Pedro, where we of course were too late to take the correct bus, so we got some food, and waited for the later one. We finally got to Copan fairly late at night, found 2 Americans who happened to be from the same place as Paul, one of the other interns, who showed us where our hotel was. The next day, we hung out in Copan. We left the following day, with a transportation situation quite similar to the first. So, after all the trouble, getting up early for what seemed like no reason, and complete loss of sleep, why would I enjoy the travel so much? Because it’s real. It is what people all over the world have to deal with (only on a much larger scale) to go somewhere. It made me incredibly appreciative of being able to jump in a car and go wherever in the States. This was just a little reminder to me, that not everyone gets to do that. That’s part of the reason I’m here: to remember that I’ve been blessed in every possible way and to be extremely grateful for it.
Yes, I know that this doesn’t belong in the clinic section, but where else am I supposed to put it?
Side note: those bus movies were pretty sweet. I mean, Bruce Lee cannot be beat.
-Tristan McPherson
Yes, I know that this doesn’t belong in the clinic section, but where else am I supposed to put it?
Side note: those bus movies were pretty sweet. I mean, Bruce Lee cannot be beat.
-Tristan McPherson
Monday, July 16, 2007
the clinic highway
my first day up to the clinic was over a month ago, but it left an impression that remains with me. on our bumpy ride up the mountain in our trusty land cruiser, our right rear wheel slipped into one of the many large crevices in the road, suspending our front left wheel well above the ground... i was prepared for a long wait. however! our driver and doctor, along with the wench (a device used to pull crazy americans and their SUVs out of large ditches) got us out in no time and we were on our way again. it was unbelievable... amazing people i tell you, they are amazing.
natosha
natosha
Take a right at the mango tree...
As we were leaving the office to head to the clinic last wednesday, the doctor remembered that he needed a signiture from someone for a visa document. The clinic team is trying to get a patient to the states for surgery and needed her parental guardian's permission to apply for a visa. So off we went trekking thorough the backwoods to find this man and get his signature.
First we picked up a cousin of the patient. She was going to get us to their house, since it was quite off the beaten trail. "Take a right at the mango tree," she told the driver as we said good-bye to the pavement and made our way through the low-hanging trees and vines that enclosed this little long-forgotten "road". We inched our way through the brush and crossed a stream or two until we met the end of the road. From there we walked and finally found the house we were looking for. Our guide embraced her cousin and told her why we were there. Unfortunately, her parents weren't currently living in that house. bummer...
Back to the car with the cousin and the patient to continue our hunt for the signature. We made our way back to the highway and then off again on a different dirt road. When we finally arrived at the correct house we hopped out to greet the family. We couldn't just demand the signature and leave. We had to visit for a while, right? So as we waited and chatted they grilled us some corn on the cob. It was great! Just off the stalk. We also played with their bird, Maria. After all that trouble we went to finding him, this man should have felt like a celebrity!Finally after about an hour later we had our signatures and we were back on our way.
I don't know about you, but i don't know any doctor in the states who would make a house call like this.
"Why not email him a copy? Why not fax him the document? Why not just call him and have him meet you in the office to sign the necessary papers?" you might ask.
Because this is Honduras my friend, where almost nothing happens efficiently and yet almost everything seems more enjoyable.
So sit back, enjoy your corn, and soak in the third-world-country atmosphere of it all.
- rebekah
First we picked up a cousin of the patient. She was going to get us to their house, since it was quite off the beaten trail. "Take a right at the mango tree," she told the driver as we said good-bye to the pavement and made our way through the low-hanging trees and vines that enclosed this little long-forgotten "road". We inched our way through the brush and crossed a stream or two until we met the end of the road. From there we walked and finally found the house we were looking for. Our guide embraced her cousin and told her why we were there. Unfortunately, her parents weren't currently living in that house. bummer...
Back to the car with the cousin and the patient to continue our hunt for the signature. We made our way back to the highway and then off again on a different dirt road. When we finally arrived at the correct house we hopped out to greet the family. We couldn't just demand the signature and leave. We had to visit for a while, right? So as we waited and chatted they grilled us some corn on the cob. It was great! Just off the stalk. We also played with their bird, Maria. After all that trouble we went to finding him, this man should have felt like a celebrity!Finally after about an hour later we had our signatures and we were back on our way.
I don't know about you, but i don't know any doctor in the states who would make a house call like this.
"Why not email him a copy? Why not fax him the document? Why not just call him and have him meet you in the office to sign the necessary papers?" you might ask.
Because this is Honduras my friend, where almost nothing happens efficiently and yet almost everything seems more enjoyable.
So sit back, enjoy your corn, and soak in the third-world-country atmosphere of it all.
- rebekah
Autonomy
What is it to be an independent individual? Does it mean we don’t need people? Or that we just do it better without people? I value my individuality and independence. But maybe I only value it because it I’ve been taught to. Ever since kindergarten teachers tell you how special and unique you are and have kids make lists of all their individual talents and characteristics. Do I value my independence because I’m told that when I’m sixteen I deserve a car, when I’m eighteen I don’t need my parents consent, and that when I graduate I can go as far and wide as I please?
This week in the clinic in Las Pitas “we” (meaning the doctor) found a large mass in a woman’s stomach. It could be a cyst on her ovary or a tumor in her abdomen. The doctor can’t know without further tests. The doctor turned to us after his discovery and said in English, “We can’t tell her”.
[WHAT? Can’t tell her?! You have to tell her! She could have cancer. She deserves the right to know. It’s her body. That completely violates her personal rights. You can’t keep information like that from a patient!]
These are the thoughts that were streaming through my head as I tried to sit there without emotion and listen to the doctor. He explained that in this culture it is better to have her come back in a few months with a family member. You can’t actually tell a person directly that they suffer from a serious disease. You have to tell someone close to them.
[Well, if I had a tumor I’d want to know. I’d want to choose who knew and who didn’t that I was sick. I’d want to decide what treatment plan I followed and when and where I go to the doctor and who I see.]
Once again thoughts that my independent self fell back on. The patient left and I immediately confronted the doctor with my questions of medical ethics and how he could allow that patient to leave thinking she was perfectly healthy. He told me, “Rebekah you want to know because you can do something about it. We’re in Honduras. The people here have nothing except their families. Better to live another few months happy and healthy than to live that same time knowing you will die and without the means to fix it”.
[Oh…]
How is it that we as Americans have such an independence that we don’t even need each other any more? The people here contact family members with serious problems because they know that the family unit is the best support and the best chance a patient has for getting through a serious disease with peace. Who am I to question their practices or culture? Who am I to say that I would do it better on my own, bearing a burden in solitude? I can’t imagine living with the knowledge that you are seriously or terminally ill. But I do know that I don’t want to be so independent in this world that I find myself alone. Sometimes it’s good to be dependent.
- Rebekah
This week in the clinic in Las Pitas “we” (meaning the doctor) found a large mass in a woman’s stomach. It could be a cyst on her ovary or a tumor in her abdomen. The doctor can’t know without further tests. The doctor turned to us after his discovery and said in English, “We can’t tell her”.
[WHAT? Can’t tell her?! You have to tell her! She could have cancer. She deserves the right to know. It’s her body. That completely violates her personal rights. You can’t keep information like that from a patient!]
These are the thoughts that were streaming through my head as I tried to sit there without emotion and listen to the doctor. He explained that in this culture it is better to have her come back in a few months with a family member. You can’t actually tell a person directly that they suffer from a serious disease. You have to tell someone close to them.
[Well, if I had a tumor I’d want to know. I’d want to choose who knew and who didn’t that I was sick. I’d want to decide what treatment plan I followed and when and where I go to the doctor and who I see.]
Once again thoughts that my independent self fell back on. The patient left and I immediately confronted the doctor with my questions of medical ethics and how he could allow that patient to leave thinking she was perfectly healthy. He told me, “Rebekah you want to know because you can do something about it. We’re in Honduras. The people here have nothing except their families. Better to live another few months happy and healthy than to live that same time knowing you will die and without the means to fix it”.
[Oh…]
How is it that we as Americans have such an independence that we don’t even need each other any more? The people here contact family members with serious problems because they know that the family unit is the best support and the best chance a patient has for getting through a serious disease with peace. Who am I to question their practices or culture? Who am I to say that I would do it better on my own, bearing a burden in solitude? I can’t imagine living with the knowledge that you are seriously or terminally ill. But I do know that I don’t want to be so independent in this world that I find myself alone. Sometimes it’s good to be dependent.
- Rebekah
Cosmetic Surgery in the Corner of a Civic Center
Most of the medical brigade was vitamins, pain killers, and parasite medicines. And that’s great. They live hard lives hiking up and down the mountains from the time they can walk until the time they are wrinkled and leathery and would have been long put away in a lazy chair somewhere were they in the states. They eat basically the same thing all their life. And they have parasites. People here need vitamins, pain killers, and parasite medicines.
But there was one day at the brigade where I felt God really brought a patient and care giver together. A twenty-year old girl came into the clinic and got directed to the doctor I was translating for. She sat down and complained of basic problems. She wanted some antacid for heartburn and parasite medicine for stomach pain. What she didn’t ask for treatment for w
as the very large mole on her face.And of course she wouldn’t. I mean, here, if it’s not life-threatening, you’re not going to have a minor or even major surgery for cosmetic reasons. And this case could have been considered a health risk. The mole did look like it could be pre-cancerous. But she was not complaining of it. So the doctor looked her over and listened to her heart and lungs and prescribed the medicine of her chief complaints.
As she was heading through the curtains that made up our make-shift office, the doctor turned and asked me, “Do you think she’d like that removed?” Neither of us had mentioned the mole and as I stated, she hadn’t said anything either. I told him, “I’m a twenty-one year old girl, and I can tell you for sure that I would much rather prefer a scar on my face than a mole”. We talked for a little bit and the doctor became a little unsure. We were at the end of the day and the procedure to take it off would take about 45 minutes or so. He didn’t know how deep it was or whether or not she would be able to keep it clean until the stitches came off. But I assured him that it would mean so much to here if he took the time to take off the mole. So I stopped the girl and asked her if she would like the mole removed. She said yes and we were in business.
As we prepped the area and the doctor got his tools together and gloves on, the doctor leaned over to me and said, “You know, I had begun to think that I wasn’t really going to do anything special this week, that I wasn’t going to make a difference. But I’d like to think that God brought this girl in here to me to help.” It was great to hear him say that, because this was his first mission trip and first time to work with Mission Lazarus.
All said and done, the mole came off fine. The doctor did a great job and the scar was minor. She walked away smiling and said, “No one will recognize me”. The doctor walked away smiling knowing he had used his talents to help someone else. And I am smiling still because I am amazed at the way Mission Lazarus is serving and connecting people and showing both the “giver” and “receiver” the glory of God.
- Rebekah
Thursday, July 12, 2007
they call me robot
Maybe the coolest thing to do is to play with the swarms of little kids. A lot of people think that when you go to a third world country with food and toys you make people happy. This is a very sad abbreviation of what could be. It's like giving antidepressants to a lonely person. Attention is far more important than medicine, or food and toys. People here may be poor, but they have managed to survive without the food we gringos bring.
Small children are so easy to pick up and take on an airplane ride! They love it when you shake their hand and the rest of their arm with it. It's cheesy and not super creative, but it makes an impression. They think gringos are cool, which is, of course, an egregious misconception. Gringos are just people, like them. But they flock to someone who wants to take their hand and da vueltas (swing them around in circles). It is also the most fun thing to do in Honduras, besides going to bed at nine because we get up with el sol.
Pab
Small children are so easy to pick up and take on an airplane ride! They love it when you shake their hand and the rest of their arm with it. It's cheesy and not super creative, but it makes an impression. They think gringos are cool, which is, of course, an egregious misconception. Gringos are just people, like them. But they flock to someone who wants to take their hand and da vueltas (swing them around in circles). It is also the most fun thing to do in Honduras, besides going to bed at nine because we get up with el sol.
Pab
Who's seeing the patients...I am
Last Friday, the interns got to see the patients...by themselves. Javier needed to see the sick patients, so the nutrition program check ups that happen on the first Friday of every month, were delegated to the interns. So we paired up, Paul and I teamed up, and Natosha and Tristan teamed together. The kids in the program recieve food on a monthly basis, which is given out at the clinic after they are evaluated. This was a little scary, considering, I don't speak much Spanish, and thay are young children, so nearly every one of them cried.
Drew
Drew
Medical Brigade
Organized Chaos, that is the best way I can think to describe last week's Medical Brigade at Duyure. I had a good working with the group, especially the two American Doctors, who gave me their insights about getting into medical school. I think we saw between 900-1000 patients in four days. I got to spend time with both doctors, the dentist, and got to help triage. I appreciate the chance to work in these different capacities. I saw some pretty cool stuff from burns, to removing skin growths, to getting make a cast and sling out of cardboard and gauze for a lady's broken arm.
Drew
Drew
Flat tire...again
It makes perfect sense when you spend more time off paved roads then on them, you will get flats. On one special day, we got two in the same day. The first one came on the way down the mountain from Tegus, and the second came on our way home later that night. The first one was a "gringo spectacle", you know a group of Americans on the side of the road changing a flat, is probably at least a little funny to the locals. The second one was more fun, because it was in the dark, and we had already used the spare tire. Honduras has a way of always making things interesting.
Drew
Drew
The Ranch
Let's take it easy today, Dylan. Just what I was thinking, Paul.
The following three hours of my life were spent in mild concern that the fates were tickling my string with their morbid scissors. Dylan took Natosha and me straight up the side of one of the mountains on the ranch, the easiest path he could find to the ridge with the view. I spent the first fifteen minutes offering my hand to Natosha, more in gesture of politeness than any need of hers to be helped up the hill. Before long I learned that she was the last person I would be of any use to in that situation. Aside from the terrific view once we reached the ridge, the highlight of the ascent was finding a yellow and black spider at least half the size of my face. Years of fear and loathing of spiders has turned them into a romantic, however twisted obsession, so a picture was a must. I will try to include one later. When we finally reached the top I felt immense relief at the sign of grazing land and a barb wire fence. Maybe there was a road leading up here afterall!
Fabulous view, yada yada yada, we pretty much went down the only way that could have been more difficult and still possible without climbing equipment. I lagged and Dylan and Natosha were patient with me, really patient. They had to coach me through a few hairy spots, so deemed by Dylan, and waited while I slid, millimeter by precious millimeter, down the hill to my next ostensibly solid foothold. When we finally reached the bottom and I was fairly sure the mountain could have no revenge upon me I turned around and made a private and dirty gesture, defiant in my victory over a large heap of rock, dirt, plants, and bugs. Needless to say, I am not about to give the mountain another chance.
Pab
The following three hours of my life were spent in mild concern that the fates were tickling my string with their morbid scissors. Dylan took Natosha and me straight up the side of one of the mountains on the ranch, the easiest path he could find to the ridge with the view. I spent the first fifteen minutes offering my hand to Natosha, more in gesture of politeness than any need of hers to be helped up the hill. Before long I learned that she was the last person I would be of any use to in that situation. Aside from the terrific view once we reached the ridge, the highlight of the ascent was finding a yellow and black spider at least half the size of my face. Years of fear and loathing of spiders has turned them into a romantic, however twisted obsession, so a picture was a must. I will try to include one later. When we finally reached the top I felt immense relief at the sign of grazing land and a barb wire fence. Maybe there was a road leading up here afterall!
Fabulous view, yada yada yada, we pretty much went down the only way that could have been more difficult and still possible without climbing equipment. I lagged and Dylan and Natosha were patient with me, really patient. They had to coach me through a few hairy spots, so deemed by Dylan, and waited while I slid, millimeter by precious millimeter, down the hill to my next ostensibly solid foothold. When we finally reached the bottom and I was fairly sure the mountain could have no revenge upon me I turned around and made a private and dirty gesture, defiant in my victory over a large heap of rock, dirt, plants, and bugs. Needless to say, I am not about to give the mountain another chance.
Pab
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Brain Droppings: my attitudes about mission in Honduras
It did not take me long to get frustrated with what I see in the clinic and the medical brigade in Duyure. There are so many people with so little! The campesinos come into the clinic with problems that would be avoided by bathing semi-regularly, and are hungry because they have too many children. The average agricultural worker (typical Honduran) makes two and a half to three an a half dollars a day. To put that in perspective, I have over seven dollars per day to feed myself and I often run out before the week ends!
So, I am really only involved with the medical portion of the mission. In rural Honduras, it is the custom for women to bear children as often as they can, and men in their sixties and seventies routinely sire little babies. These people, in the rural areas, generally cannot feed or care for their children because they are so poor. One girl came with her father who was two years old and had maybe never bathed in her life. She had a worm in her head and Dr. Javier would not cut it out because she was too dirty to safely operate on her. We gave her a bath and told her father to bathe her every day for the next five days, and then bring her back for her surgery. We didn't see her again.
We give food to these people every week, which initially frustrated me because it allows them to have more babies, so that a house of twelve that was already starving becomes a house of thirteen that is starving even more! This is ridiculous! It took me a while to realize that Mission Lazarus is working on the population problem too, in an indirect way. Not only do we feed and medicate the poor, we also educate the children and teach the adults better farming practices. The children will grow up with a better understanding of cause and effect and more options to explore than the tradition of marrying young and having dozens of children (I exaggerate not). Also, the farmers will have more to feed their families with because of the work of the agricultural department of the mission, which includes education about drip irrigation and rotating crops so as not to desertify the land.
As far as my own thoughts, I have really come to believe in what Mission Lazarus is doing. Instead of just changing one aspect of life for the poor in Honduras, they are helping to change their entire lives so that fewer children starve and more grow up to have multiple viable options, like vocational school or college as well as the more traditional life of agriculture and staying close to family.
Pab
So, I am really only involved with the medical portion of the mission. In rural Honduras, it is the custom for women to bear children as often as they can, and men in their sixties and seventies routinely sire little babies. These people, in the rural areas, generally cannot feed or care for their children because they are so poor. One girl came with her father who was two years old and had maybe never bathed in her life. She had a worm in her head and Dr. Javier would not cut it out because she was too dirty to safely operate on her. We gave her a bath and told her father to bathe her every day for the next five days, and then bring her back for her surgery. We didn't see her again.
We give food to these people every week, which initially frustrated me because it allows them to have more babies, so that a house of twelve that was already starving becomes a house of thirteen that is starving even more! This is ridiculous! It took me a while to realize that Mission Lazarus is working on the population problem too, in an indirect way. Not only do we feed and medicate the poor, we also educate the children and teach the adults better farming practices. The children will grow up with a better understanding of cause and effect and more options to explore than the tradition of marrying young and having dozens of children (I exaggerate not). Also, the farmers will have more to feed their families with because of the work of the agricultural department of the mission, which includes education about drip irrigation and rotating crops so as not to desertify the land.
As far as my own thoughts, I have really come to believe in what Mission Lazarus is doing. Instead of just changing one aspect of life for the poor in Honduras, they are helping to change their entire lives so that fewer children starve and more grow up to have multiple viable options, like vocational school or college as well as the more traditional life of agriculture and staying close to family.
Pab
Actual work
Finally, after two days of being useless (the weekend) I got to go to the clinic and be useless some more, but also learn a few things. Dr. Javier's pretty chill. He taught me to take blood pressure within the first hour after we got to the clinic. We say 31 patients that day and I witnessed two minor surgeries, after which I wiped a lot of sweat off my face and drank some water. I have never seen a surgery before.
So the road to Las Pitas, where lies the clinic, well, road is a generous term. It's more like a ritted dirt path that got in a fight with a giant wielding a fifty foot samurai sword. The Land Cruiser takes an hour to travel the 5 km from the bottom of the mountain to the clinic. I have the opportunity to improve my Spanish during those rides with Tomas, the clinic evangelista. He is really patient with me (which is good, because he doesn't speak English, so Spanish is all we've got) and supplies the extra words I need when I pontificate on theology and psychology. I'm sure he things I am completely arrogant, but extends me plenty of grace.
At the clinic, Javier gives me quite an education. He knows that I want to learn about medicine, so when I ask a small question he gives me a lot of details. I have learned a lot about the heart, vascular system, digestive system, diseases, medical politics, etc. I am actually getting a lot more medical experience and knowledge than I was expecting before I came to Honduras.
Pab
So the road to Las Pitas, where lies the clinic, well, road is a generous term. It's more like a ritted dirt path that got in a fight with a giant wielding a fifty foot samurai sword. The Land Cruiser takes an hour to travel the 5 km from the bottom of the mountain to the clinic. I have the opportunity to improve my Spanish during those rides with Tomas, the clinic evangelista. He is really patient with me (which is good, because he doesn't speak English, so Spanish is all we've got) and supplies the extra words I need when I pontificate on theology and psychology. I'm sure he things I am completely arrogant, but extends me plenty of grace.
At the clinic, Javier gives me quite an education. He knows that I want to learn about medicine, so when I ask a small question he gives me a lot of details. I have learned a lot about the heart, vascular system, digestive system, diseases, medical politics, etc. I am actually getting a lot more medical experience and knowledge than I was expecting before I came to Honduras.
Pab
TIH baby
So, I was expecting something more from the airport in Tegus, and was a pleasantly surprised that I only had to haul my four bags across a convenience store sized parking lot to get off airport grounds and to the rental company when the Brown's truck was parked. Directly across the street from Honduras's international port is a gigantic Burger King and the rest of a city block packed with insane Honduran traffic.
Holy moly, I was pretty sure I was going to die with Jarrod started driving his Fordbeast through the capital. Dude is nuts. After getting used to it, though, I realized he is probably one of the safest drivers in Honduras. Aggresive driving is the best way to ensure you won't be rear ended.
First meal was at a TGI Fridays where my suspicions were confirmed; I am indeed expected to be on good behavior. This, of course, in understandable, being missionaries, and probably the only gringos most of the Hondurans we meet are ever going to get to know. There are some strict customs here and ideas regarding how a christian ought to act. Interesting to feel so scrutinized in a nation that I thought did not know much about christianity besides roman catholicism, which I had always regarded as being far less strict than other christian strains.
Anyhow, it wasn't long before I learned the phrase "TIH," this is Honduras. Actually, it is tributary to the movie "Blood Diamond," and used to explain the trappings of the third world that we encounter. Electricity fails again, TIH. No water, TIH. Four o'clock bus come's at six thirty, TIH. Honduras takes a lot of getting used to for an impatient chap like me.
Pab
Holy moly, I was pretty sure I was going to die with Jarrod started driving his Fordbeast through the capital. Dude is nuts. After getting used to it, though, I realized he is probably one of the safest drivers in Honduras. Aggresive driving is the best way to ensure you won't be rear ended.
First meal was at a TGI Fridays where my suspicions were confirmed; I am indeed expected to be on good behavior. This, of course, in understandable, being missionaries, and probably the only gringos most of the Hondurans we meet are ever going to get to know. There are some strict customs here and ideas regarding how a christian ought to act. Interesting to feel so scrutinized in a nation that I thought did not know much about christianity besides roman catholicism, which I had always regarded as being far less strict than other christian strains.
Anyhow, it wasn't long before I learned the phrase "TIH," this is Honduras. Actually, it is tributary to the movie "Blood Diamond," and used to explain the trappings of the third world that we encounter. Electricity fails again, TIH. No water, TIH. Four o'clock bus come's at six thirty, TIH. Honduras takes a lot of getting used to for an impatient chap like me.
Pab
Kudos To Medical Missionaries
There have only been three days this summer that I've been able to help out at the clinics that Mission Lazarus operates. And by "help out", I mean observing more than I actually helping. The first day that I helped out was at the very beginning of the summer, and I got to tag along with Tristan, Drew, and Javier (the doctor), up to the clinic at Las Pitas. Surviving the drive up the mountain was quite the feat by itself! But I got to learn (or try to learn) how to take blood pressures, and listen to people's hearts and lungs through Javier's stethescope. Man, talk about a whole different world in there! Javier and all of the medical interns are amazing, how they can step into an environment like that full of crying and pain and disease, and yet do what needs to be done for the health, the lives, and the souls of the people they treat. Last week, I went up to Las Pitas again with Drew, Tristan, Paul, and Natosha, and helped them distribute food to the families in the Family Nutrition Program up there. While we were doing that, a little girl came in with her father and she had a worm in her scalp. Javier promptly proceeded to give here a shot, cut open her scalp, and dig the worm out with some tweezers. I've never seen anything like it! Tristan and Natosha watched the whole thing, while Javier performed the operation without hesitation. I watched for a little while but, to my dismay, had to take a step back for fear of hurling everywhere. When I looked again, it was all over and the worm was out and on a tray, and the girl was fine. Needless to say, it was a big deal for me to see that for the first time, but for "the pros", it was simply what needed to be done to help this poor little girl. It is amazing how intense the problems are here, particularly health problems. But it is so encouraging to see and be around people who are so hardcore and dedicated to what they are doing here, knowing that it's ultimately for the glory of Christ. It's a hard form of love, but it's showing love nonetheless. And I'm glad that there are people like Javier and all of the medical interns here who are willing to step up to the challenge, face the overwhelming need, and step into what God has called them to do for people. God's love is amazing, and it is amazing to see all of the different ways that it is manifested: in the clinic, in the school, in the churches, on the streets, on the ranch, wherever. It is everywhere and it can saturate any situation with any individual. Praise the Lord!
-- Dylan Wann
There have only been three days this summer that I've been able to help out at the clinics that Mission Lazarus operates. And by "help out", I mean observing more than I actually helping. The first day that I helped out was at the very beginning of the summer, and I got to tag along with Tristan, Drew, and Javier (the doctor), up to the clinic at Las Pitas. Surviving the drive up the mountain was quite the feat by itself! But I got to learn (or try to learn) how to take blood pressures, and listen to people's hearts and lungs through Javier's stethescope. Man, talk about a whole different world in there! Javier and all of the medical interns are amazing, how they can step into an environment like that full of crying and pain and disease, and yet do what needs to be done for the health, the lives, and the souls of the people they treat. Last week, I went up to Las Pitas again with Drew, Tristan, Paul, and Natosha, and helped them distribute food to the families in the Family Nutrition Program up there. While we were doing that, a little girl came in with her father and she had a worm in her scalp. Javier promptly proceeded to give here a shot, cut open her scalp, and dig the worm out with some tweezers. I've never seen anything like it! Tristan and Natosha watched the whole thing, while Javier performed the operation without hesitation. I watched for a little while but, to my dismay, had to take a step back for fear of hurling everywhere. When I looked again, it was all over and the worm was out and on a tray, and the girl was fine. Needless to say, it was a big deal for me to see that for the first time, but for "the pros", it was simply what needed to be done to help this poor little girl. It is amazing how intense the problems are here, particularly health problems. But it is so encouraging to see and be around people who are so hardcore and dedicated to what they are doing here, knowing that it's ultimately for the glory of Christ. It's a hard form of love, but it's showing love nonetheless. And I'm glad that there are people like Javier and all of the medical interns here who are willing to step up to the challenge, face the overwhelming need, and step into what God has called them to do for people. God's love is amazing, and it is amazing to see all of the different ways that it is manifested: in the clinic, in the school, in the churches, on the streets, on the ranch, wherever. It is everywhere and it can saturate any situation with any individual. Praise the Lord!
-- Dylan Wann
The Joy of the Clinic
Las Pitas is quite an interesting place. It's about an hour and half drive from the Mission office in Choluteca in the upwards direction (as in on a mountain). It is here that I go twice a week to learn all about clinic organization, procedures, and a variety of other things that I don't often expect to encounter. I'm amazed with Javier, our doctor, and how he handles patients. He is always straightforward and let's them know when things need to change. I also find it interesting to see how much he really does care about the people of the area and that he's taken this job in order to make sure that they get medical attention. There are over 2,000 patients on file at the clinic, and it is wonderful to think that so many have been helped by this small clinic in a mountain village. Most importantly, the clinic brings attention to the church. Every Wednesday, worship services are held at the clinic, and there are always morning devotionals with the patients. It just makes me happy to see my two favorite interests, evangelism and medicine, working in conjuction to truly bring glory to God.
-Tristan McPherson
-Tristan McPherson
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Unprepared
Well, I haven't updated.....at all this summer, so I'll begin my entries with a trip I took my second week here. Alli was kind enough to invite two of the medical interns to go with her to Danli. This day was filled with unpreparedness (if I will be allowed to create such a word). It is much faster to drive through Nicaragua to get to Danli than it is to go through Tegucigalpa, so Alli reminded Rebekah and me to take our passports with us that day. Unfortunately, Alli forgot hers in Choluteca and we had the joy of driving through the capital city anyway. That was our first fun incident. The next was all my own. Being in a different country often messes with the digestive tract just a little. On our way, I decided it was going to be necessary to make a side stop in order to remedy such a problem. That was the good decision. The bad decision was not taking any or checking for any toilet paper in this wonderfully disgusting bathroom. What a predicament I was in. I had no choice but to resort to my socks, which wasn't necessarily a terrible option considering the situation, but I did have to trash the socks. So, that was incident number two. Finally we get to Danli, and I am once again unprepared for what I encountered. Ronnie is a 15 year old guy that Alli has taken on as a special patient. He has a colostomy and has basically had non-stop surgeries on his intestines since he was born. At birth, Ronnie had Hirschsprung's Disease, which involves a portion of the colon in which the normal enteric nerves are absent creating a bowel obstruction. The doctor did a biopsy, lost the results, wouldn't do another, so proceeded with an ineffective surgery which, after several other attempts to fix the problem, ended with Ronnie's greatly scarred abdomen and his final colostomy 15 years later. Alli is trying to cure the infection around Ronnie's stoma and send him to the States for laproscopic surgery that will correct the problem, which is unavailable in Honduras. Why was I unprepared for this? I just couldn't stop thinking about all the surgeries, all the pain, all problems that Ronnie has had to go through due to one careless healthcare professional. To me, this a constant reminder of why those that are privileged in certain ways have responsibilities to help those who aren't. We are capable of providing so much for people all over the world, but sometimes we just don't do it. That saddens me quite a bit. However, it also makes me so thankful for the people that are trying to do it. While I've been here, I also have begun to realize how unprepared I am to begin such a task. It is a huge endeavor, but I know it's definitely a worthwhile one. Therefore, I end this entry by saying, I refuse to be unprepared anymore.
-Tristan McPherson
-Tristan McPherson
for the glory of...
you know what feels good? helping other people feel better. it feels especially good when other people notice that i am helping people. i like the idea of being able to tell people i spent the summer helping people in honduras... flushing moths out of infected ears and feeding malnourished children with swollen bellies. i have to stop every now and then and ask myself, why do you want to help people, natosha... why really?
an ESL student of mine from mexico once asked me what i wanted to do with my life, why i wanted to be a nurse. i told him i wanted to serve in underserved communities around the world. his next question to me was jarring. ¨why is it that people from the united states feel sorry for our countries and think we need their help? you have poor people in the U.S., why not help them?¨ he wasn´t being argumentative. he was honestly curious. he didn´t understand the status that comes with being well traveled or the admiration that accompanies great humanitarians. he was asking me something that maybe we should all ask ourselves. why do you really do what you do?
since then, i often ask myself this question. do i want to serve in a struggling community because i sincerely want to help? or is it for my own glory? do i tell the stories of the people so that they will be served, or so i will be served? maybe, at times, i really am moved by genuine compassion and love. and more often, maybe people will think i am a brave human being with an inexhaustibly compassionate heart. but maybe only God´s opinion matters, and maybe he sees what the people can´t see... beyond what i do or what i say.
the bible tells us that no matter what we do or how much we struggle and sacrifice to help others, if we do not have love, our actions are meaningless. no matter how much sweat i put into helping mothers take care of their children better, if i don´t have love, i don´t have anything. it´s easy to think i help people for all the right reasons, but really, if i look for the glory myself, i am the resounding gong.
an ESL student of mine from mexico once asked me what i wanted to do with my life, why i wanted to be a nurse. i told him i wanted to serve in underserved communities around the world. his next question to me was jarring. ¨why is it that people from the united states feel sorry for our countries and think we need their help? you have poor people in the U.S., why not help them?¨ he wasn´t being argumentative. he was honestly curious. he didn´t understand the status that comes with being well traveled or the admiration that accompanies great humanitarians. he was asking me something that maybe we should all ask ourselves. why do you really do what you do?
since then, i often ask myself this question. do i want to serve in a struggling community because i sincerely want to help? or is it for my own glory? do i tell the stories of the people so that they will be served, or so i will be served? maybe, at times, i really am moved by genuine compassion and love. and more often, maybe people will think i am a brave human being with an inexhaustibly compassionate heart. but maybe only God´s opinion matters, and maybe he sees what the people can´t see... beyond what i do or what i say.
the bible tells us that no matter what we do or how much we struggle and sacrifice to help others, if we do not have love, our actions are meaningless. no matter how much sweat i put into helping mothers take care of their children better, if i don´t have love, i don´t have anything. it´s easy to think i help people for all the right reasons, but really, if i look for the glory myself, i am the resounding gong.
natosha
Monday, July 9, 2007
Becoming the Patient
Last week I spent two days translating for Dr. Matt Tincher in the ¨clinic¨ run by the Lifelighters medical brigade in the small village of Duyure. I am not a medical person so I was strictly there to translate and do whatever else I could to help. The translating went well, Dr. Tincher knew a lot of medical terms in spanish from previous years and that was great since I can speak Spanish but do not know medical terms. We were a great team. We saw many patients with ailments ranging from frequent headaches, to arthritis, to heart murmurs, and lots of ear infections. I had a good time translating and learning more Spanish and meeting new people at the clinic, but did not expect to take that work home with me. Two days after the translating was done and the brigade was going back to the States, I noticed several small red bumps on my forearm that were rapidly spreading. One thing you need to know about me, is I am not o.k. with having skin rashes. I have had several encounters with poison ivy and poison oak and simply having those rashes caused a great deal of stress for me. So, I was not happy to find these bumps on my arm. I was even more unhappy when I talked to Alli and she ended up giving me medicine for scabies. For those of you that do not know what scabies is, it is like having lice in your skin. Anyways, Rebekah, my wonderful friend, has helped me apply the medicine to the lice, and has been so supportive (I cant thank you enough). The other interns have also been very interested to track the progress of the scabies and all of us girls have to use a special soap (sorry about that). I guess this is just one of those things that you know might happen when you live in Honduras for two months.
Shanna Crossland
Last week I spent two days translating for Dr. Matt Tincher in the ¨clinic¨ run by the Lifelighters medical brigade in the small village of Duyure. I am not a medical person so I was strictly there to translate and do whatever else I could to help. The translating went well, Dr. Tincher knew a lot of medical terms in spanish from previous years and that was great since I can speak Spanish but do not know medical terms. We were a great team. We saw many patients with ailments ranging from frequent headaches, to arthritis, to heart murmurs, and lots of ear infections. I had a good time translating and learning more Spanish and meeting new people at the clinic, but did not expect to take that work home with me. Two days after the translating was done and the brigade was going back to the States, I noticed several small red bumps on my forearm that were rapidly spreading. One thing you need to know about me, is I am not o.k. with having skin rashes. I have had several encounters with poison ivy and poison oak and simply having those rashes caused a great deal of stress for me. So, I was not happy to find these bumps on my arm. I was even more unhappy when I talked to Alli and she ended up giving me medicine for scabies. For those of you that do not know what scabies is, it is like having lice in your skin. Anyways, Rebekah, my wonderful friend, has helped me apply the medicine to the lice, and has been so supportive (I cant thank you enough). The other interns have also been very interested to track the progress of the scabies and all of us girls have to use a special soap (sorry about that). I guess this is just one of those things that you know might happen when you live in Honduras for two months.
Shanna Crossland
kids should not have worms in their head.
this seems like a simple fact of life, right? any child in the states that even came close to an issue such as this would be given immediate top notch medical attention and should there be a bite or cut or something that would warrant a worm or parasite concern, it would be taken care of.
but we are not in the states. and kids here have parasites and worms. and kids here don't get immediate medical care. the simple fact of life here is not that they shouldn't have worms and parasites, but that they do and they live with it. and just the other week we met a little girl in this very situation.
we were up at the clinic in las pitas having a normal day seeing patients. i noticed a litte girl sitting outside with her brother and went to say hello. immediately i noticed that there was somthing very abnormal about her. she had a huge bump on the top of her head. it was hard to see what it was because she was very dirty and her hair was matted with nits of lice and scabs from where she had scratched her head till it bled. she was three years old and badly malnourished. i asked her brother if she was waiting to be seen and he said no, that his father was on the list to be seen and they were simply waiting for him. i ran and told the doctor that there was one more patient he needed to look at when he was done with the appointed list. at the end of the day we brought her in and had a look.
the doctor was apalled. the poor little girl did in fact have a worm in her head, living in the space between her skin and her skull. the father of the girl was in his late sixties and the doctor explained that this might be part of the reason she was so poorly taken care of. the worm in actually due to a bite from a fly. the fly lands and lays larvae in the skin and then when the larvae hatches it is a worm. eventually the worm crawls out of the skin, but it is a very painful process and the incubation period while the worm is growing stretches out the skin in places that don't need to be stretched...such as the head! the poor little girl was so dirty that the doctor didn't want to cut the worm out that day because the incison would become easily infected. so he washed her off and cleaned the area best he could and made two small holes with a syringe in hopes that it was encourage the worm to crawl out on its own. he told the father to bring her back wednesday to the clinic.
that day while we drove down the mountain back to the offices i got really upset. tristan, another intern that was there with us kept asking me if i was alright. clearly i wasn't but i didnt want to talk about it. how do you make sense of that? kids shouldnt have worms in their head. it wasn't just this one little girl that bothered me. in fact, if it was just her, i would have been alright. we were going to help her and the doctor was going to make sure she was alright. it wasn't the one we saw, but the other kids suffering from the same thing that we didn't see, that we won't see, that will live, even just two or three weeks with something so disgusting in my mind. i just couldnt reconcile that.
finally on the way home, tristan cornered me and made me talk about how i was feeling. at the end of our discussion and a few tears later neither one of us really had an answer. why do some kids live lives with parasites and worms and hunger and others with video games and happy meals? we couldn't seem to come up with a reason that those lives coexist with the good and gracious God we serve. But one thing we did walk away with was more motivation and inspiration to heal those in pain around us. Especially little girls like this one. Days at the clinic are not always full of "clinical experience" to write on medical application and "observation hours" to note on transcripts. Days like these are ones that can not be accounted for in simple terms.
- rebekah
this seems like a simple fact of life, right? any child in the states that even came close to an issue such as this would be given immediate top notch medical attention and should there be a bite or cut or something that would warrant a worm or parasite concern, it would be taken care of.
but we are not in the states. and kids here have parasites and worms. and kids here don't get immediate medical care. the simple fact of life here is not that they shouldn't have worms and parasites, but that they do and they live with it. and just the other week we met a little girl in this very situation.
we were up at the clinic in las pitas having a normal day seeing patients. i noticed a litte girl sitting outside with her brother and went to say hello. immediately i noticed that there was somthing very abnormal about her. she had a huge bump on the top of her head. it was hard to see what it was because she was very dirty and her hair was matted with nits of lice and scabs from where she had scratched her head till it bled. she was three years old and badly malnourished. i asked her brother if she was waiting to be seen and he said no, that his father was on the list to be seen and they were simply waiting for him. i ran and told the doctor that there was one more patient he needed to look at when he was done with the appointed list. at the end of the day we brought her in and had a look.
the doctor was apalled. the poor little girl did in fact have a worm in her head, living in the space between her skin and her skull. the father of the girl was in his late sixties and the doctor explained that this might be part of the reason she was so poorly taken care of. the worm in actually due to a bite from a fly. the fly lands and lays larvae in the skin and then when the larvae hatches it is a worm. eventually the worm crawls out of the skin, but it is a very painful process and the incubation period while the worm is growing stretches out the skin in places that don't need to be stretched...such as the head! the poor little girl was so dirty that the doctor didn't want to cut the worm out that day because the incison would become easily infected. so he washed her off and cleaned the area best he could and made two small holes with a syringe in hopes that it was encourage the worm to crawl out on its own. he told the father to bring her back wednesday to the clinic.
that day while we drove down the mountain back to the offices i got really upset. tristan, another intern that was there with us kept asking me if i was alright. clearly i wasn't but i didnt want to talk about it. how do you make sense of that? kids shouldnt have worms in their head. it wasn't just this one little girl that bothered me. in fact, if it was just her, i would have been alright. we were going to help her and the doctor was going to make sure she was alright. it wasn't the one we saw, but the other kids suffering from the same thing that we didn't see, that we won't see, that will live, even just two or three weeks with something so disgusting in my mind. i just couldnt reconcile that.
finally on the way home, tristan cornered me and made me talk about how i was feeling. at the end of our discussion and a few tears later neither one of us really had an answer. why do some kids live lives with parasites and worms and hunger and others with video games and happy meals? we couldn't seem to come up with a reason that those lives coexist with the good and gracious God we serve. But one thing we did walk away with was more motivation and inspiration to heal those in pain around us. Especially little girls like this one. Days at the clinic are not always full of "clinical experience" to write on medical application and "observation hours" to note on transcripts. Days like these are ones that can not be accounted for in simple terms.
- rebekah
this isn't necessarily a clinic post...but it's a thought from the week.
The mall
Going to the mall is different for everyone. Some people go to the mall when they need something. They grew out of their jeans or wore down their tennis shoes for example. So, they go based on necessity. Others go to the mall to browse. They window shop and enjoy spending time trying on clothes, putting outfits together, maybe they buy something for fun if it’s on sale or a good buy. And there are others that go because they just love to shop. They would rather spend their money on clothes and being in style than they would on entertainment or food or whatever else it is we seem to spend all of our money on. These people bother me. Yesterday a few of the interns had some free time while we were in Tegucigalpa, the capital city here. So we went to the mall to grab some lunch. It’s been several weeks since we have been in that type of setting, considering the town where we spend most of our time shuts down around 8 o’clock. The mall here rivals any at home. It’s very nice and very busy with a movie theater and lots of trendy stores, families shopping together, the typical teenagers that always seem to hang out at malls. It is a very “normal” picture. So, as girls, we wanted to walk around and check out some of the stores. A couple of the girls tried some things on and one of us made some purchases. But as we walked around, I began to feel not so “normal”. I felt sick to my stomach. Something inside of me could not justify being in that environment when everyone around me was spending all this money after seeing and experiencing the things I have seen and felt these last few weeks. What really got to me though is the fact that at any other time, especially in the states, I would have no problem waltzing around casually in the mall, buying a few things here and there, and going home with absolutely no guilty conscience or a second thought about it. I have been, am, and could be, any one of those people that I saw in there. And I often am at home. Why is it that only here to I feel this pull to analyze it all? Should I have a guilty conscience over things like that at all? Or should I just find some kind of peace with the fact that I have “more” and always will. I don’t think I can find that mysterious and elusive peace and I don’t think I’m supposed to. Maybe that peace doesn’t exist at all. It doesn’t seem like God would grant a peace that would let you forget about the blessing you have and the need that others have. I don’t know. I guess what’s bothering me is that it doesn’t necessarily matter what we are spending our money on when we spend it. Because whether it’s the newest fashion, the latest c.d. releases, adventurous vacations, some great concert or a new movie, as long as we are spending it on ourselves it’s all the same. It’s easy to justify in my mind what I spend my money on, because it is important to me. But when does spending money actually make a difference? When does spending money actually make a difference to God? I think it might be when we spend it on others. And I think that’s why I got so sick to my stomach in the mall yesterday. This post isn’t one about a magnificent revelation I’ve had on how to balance living among poverty, because I am far from achieving some kind of understanding or balance in that area. It’s just an example of some of the thoughts that go through our minds here as we are trying to serve a people that we may never truly or equally relate to.
- Rebekah Slagle
The mall
Going to the mall is different for everyone. Some people go to the mall when they need something. They grew out of their jeans or wore down their tennis shoes for example. So, they go based on necessity. Others go to the mall to browse. They window shop and enjoy spending time trying on clothes, putting outfits together, maybe they buy something for fun if it’s on sale or a good buy. And there are others that go because they just love to shop. They would rather spend their money on clothes and being in style than they would on entertainment or food or whatever else it is we seem to spend all of our money on. These people bother me. Yesterday a few of the interns had some free time while we were in Tegucigalpa, the capital city here. So we went to the mall to grab some lunch. It’s been several weeks since we have been in that type of setting, considering the town where we spend most of our time shuts down around 8 o’clock. The mall here rivals any at home. It’s very nice and very busy with a movie theater and lots of trendy stores, families shopping together, the typical teenagers that always seem to hang out at malls. It is a very “normal” picture. So, as girls, we wanted to walk around and check out some of the stores. A couple of the girls tried some things on and one of us made some purchases. But as we walked around, I began to feel not so “normal”. I felt sick to my stomach. Something inside of me could not justify being in that environment when everyone around me was spending all this money after seeing and experiencing the things I have seen and felt these last few weeks. What really got to me though is the fact that at any other time, especially in the states, I would have no problem waltzing around casually in the mall, buying a few things here and there, and going home with absolutely no guilty conscience or a second thought about it. I have been, am, and could be, any one of those people that I saw in there. And I often am at home. Why is it that only here to I feel this pull to analyze it all? Should I have a guilty conscience over things like that at all? Or should I just find some kind of peace with the fact that I have “more” and always will. I don’t think I can find that mysterious and elusive peace and I don’t think I’m supposed to. Maybe that peace doesn’t exist at all. It doesn’t seem like God would grant a peace that would let you forget about the blessing you have and the need that others have. I don’t know. I guess what’s bothering me is that it doesn’t necessarily matter what we are spending our money on when we spend it. Because whether it’s the newest fashion, the latest c.d. releases, adventurous vacations, some great concert or a new movie, as long as we are spending it on ourselves it’s all the same. It’s easy to justify in my mind what I spend my money on, because it is important to me. But when does spending money actually make a difference? When does spending money actually make a difference to God? I think it might be when we spend it on others. And I think that’s why I got so sick to my stomach in the mall yesterday. This post isn’t one about a magnificent revelation I’ve had on how to balance living among poverty, because I am far from achieving some kind of understanding or balance in that area. It’s just an example of some of the thoughts that go through our minds here as we are trying to serve a people that we may never truly or equally relate to.
- Rebekah Slagle
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
