IN THIS ISSUE: "LE DIOS QUIERE"
WISDOM: "For it is in giving that we receive." St. Francis Asissi - but you know that already.
COACH'S CHALLENGE: Have you ever considered participating in a medical mission? You don't have to be a doctor or a nurse.
SOUL TRAVEL: MEDICAL MISSION TO USPANTAN, GUATAMALA - PART I
LE DIOS QUIERE
"Le Dios quiere" means literally "It is what God wants". You may be more familiar with the Spanish expression "Que Sera, Sera!" ("What will be, will be!"), which is the title of a popular song probably only us old-timers remember. Acceptance of life's trials as "Le Dios Quiere" is how the spirit of many very poor people of the world survives. It is the acquiescence of the powerless. So it was in Uspantan, Guatamala, where the poverty is grating and a few ibeprofen are received with overwhelming appreciation. A few ibeprofen provide the small miracle of temporary relief for chronic aches and pains from backs worn and bent from picking coffee beans day in and day out, legs that walk miles each day and feet that are often shoeless. STILL THEY SMILE. The aches and pains, after all, are a fact of life. There are no options. Le Dios quiere.
Not so for most of us. We usually find it hard to accept our aches, pains and misfortunes because we are conditioned to being able to manipulate life. In general, our personal resources and the country we live in provide us with opportunities for change and wellness. Rather than acceptance, we often ask "Why me?" That question is a luxury. It implies an alternative. If we question the why, then we can question the result. We can choose or fight for a different result. We usually have options. That is a fact of life for most of us. We are so blessed!
Why is it we don't seem to smile as much as they do in Uspantan? Le Dios quiere!
SOUL TRAVEL: MEDICAL MISSION TO USPANTAN, GUATAMALA - PART I
Four small, modern buses, filled with 55 volunteers, pounds of supplies and medical equipment, leaves Guatamala City, escorted by local police, for the long, winding drive up into the mountains to Uspantan. Until the last leg, the roads are surprisingly good. Returning volunteers joke about having previously made this trip in "chicken buses" on narrow and pot-holed roads.
My friend, Di and I, signed up for this trip as a result of my having met a doctor and his wife in a B & B in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. He captured my imagination with stories of such missions.*
Uspantan is beautifully situated in the mountains. A sign says there are 17,000 inhabitants. We arrive late afternoon at the hospital. It is a large compound built by the United States when we had a military presence in Guatamala. It is surrounded by a very high chain link fence topped with barbed wire. A small contingent of Cuban doctors are there but have left for the rural areas for the week.
As tired as we are, we all work to unload, get ourselves situated and then scrub and wash all the surfaces in the clinic area in preparation for the hundreds of people who will be waiting for us outside the gate in the morning. Word of our arrival has spread throughout the countryside.
Di and I are in a room with four other women. We have brought sleeping bags and there are cots. We have one overhead light bulb. Luckily, there is a small bathroom attached to the room. The toilet was functional but the shower turned out to leak too badly to use and there was no sink. No problem. We just had to shower and use a sink down the hall. The two "McGuyvers", (volunteers who are the all-around fixers), are sleeping in the morgue. We, at least, have a window.
The next morning a huge crowd waits at the gate. People are processed and each assigned to a doctor. The medical team includes a dentist, a gynecologist, a young doctor just out of medical school, pediatrician, osteopath, surgeons, anesthesiologists and several nurses. The pediatrician is a joy to watch with the children. He has a variety of funny hats and entertains the children as he examines them. He takes his time with each one, even though there are several more waiting.
My original job was to be an interpreter. I had spent several months studying medical terminology in Spanish. Although I could make myself understood, I had a very hard time understanding. Many of the people speak an Indian tongue called Quiche and the dialect made translating very stressful for me-not to mention its probable lack of accuracy. I find my best spot at the admissions table with another volunteer who speaks Spanish but has some difficulty with English. Between the two of us, we make a good team. Occasionally, I also serve as a people mover and "drug-runner".
Every one of the patients complain of aches and pains; many have flu-like symptoms, there is a variety of infections and tumors and almost all have worms. There are serious problems, dramatic results and those who must be turned away to go home to die. Many have walked miles barefoot; a few cart their ill relatives long distances in wheelbarrows. The doctors see some bizarre medical conditions uncommon in the U.S. Three surgeons are working full time in the operating rooms.
Early each morning, before the hospital gate is opened at 8:00 a.m., Di and I walk to town to look around. People are very friendly. They know we are there to help. I buy flowers at the market for the hospital-armloads of lilies for a few dollars. Di and I discover the school and visit with the children in the school yard. They are fascinated by my camera and giggle delightedly when they look through it. I have brought several dozen ball point pens and will return to the school to present them to the teacher later in the week. It costs money to attend school and many children cannot afford to go.
I have also brought lots of polaroid film. At the hospital, I spend some time each afternoon taking polaroid photos while people wait, often for hours, to see the doctor. They become giddy and are mesmerized by their photos. It is a joyful exchange. A group of four teenage girls leaves and returns all dressed up. There is not enough film to give each a separate photo, but you can bet they will share the one they have. Rumor has it that the children are running through the town proudly showing their photographs to everyone.
Among the sadness, the sickness, the tragedy and the healing, there is overwhelming appreciation and even sometimes a glimpse of gaiety. We are simultaneously a blessing and a diversion.
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NEXT MONTH: PART II - MIRACLES, THE O.R. AND R & R IN ANTIGUA
*The sponsoring organization is HELPS INTERNATIONAL. They work exclusively in Guatamala. Their website is www.helpsintl.org I cannot endorse this organization enough. This mission was a logistically amazing undertaking and the people who participated were incredible human beings. Although this is a Christian based organization, there is no effort to proselytize to volunteers or patients. HELPS also sponsors construction missions. Each volunteer pays his/her own way. There is a place for you if you want it.
THOUGHT FOR THE MONTH: "Where there is poverty and joy, there is neither greed nor avarice." St. Francis
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I WANT TO THANK THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE TAKEN THE TIME TO LET ME KNOW HOW MUCH YOU ARE ENJOYING THE MUSELETTER AND THANKS ALSO TO THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE GIVEN ME E MAILS OF OTHERS YOU THINK MIGHT ENJOY IT. IT GIVES ME GREAT PLEASURE TO HEAR FROM YOU. YOUR COMMENTS ARE WELCOMED!
I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE A MAILING LIST OF AT LEAST 1000 BY THE END OF THE YEAR SO PLEASE KEEP THE REFERRALS COMING.
EXPLORE MY WEBSITE AND PHOTO GALLERY AT WWW.DANCEWITHEAGLES.COM
EMAIL: allison@dancewitheagles.com
Feel free to forward this on to anyone you believe might enjoy it and encourage them to subscribe for themselves. Comments, submissions and suggestions are welcome. My email is allison@dancewitheagles.com Although this material is subject to copyright, you may reprint this publication in whole or in part or use it in any way you feel it might be of benefit. Please state the following: Reprinted with permission from Allison Quattrocchi of Dance with Eagles, www.dancewitheagles.com All past museletters are posted on my website.
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WINGS Vol. II, No. 2, February, 2003
