Monday, June 24, 2013

On Orphans, Burn Units, and Other Things

Today I ate crusty bread, observed some head lice, and jump roped. 

It was a typical day at Zapatitos, a boys orphanage located about 40 minutes walking distance from the hospital. The compound houses 46 boys between the ages of 2 and 16. It is also home to about eight dogs as well.





Kristen and I spent the first couple hours of our visit doing routine physical exams on every kid. It made for busy work, as we saw a lot of dirty cuts, respiratory infections, and head lice. The worst health problem by far was the tooth decay. Nearly every child had very progressed cavities, some with whole crowns rotted away. They looked extremely painful; I have never seen anything like it. 



 


Two of the children also had severe vision impairment. One consequently suffered from chronic headaches, and the other could only see out of his peripherals. We got them both eye exams at the hospital, and now they’re sportin’ their new lenses:

Okay, these are my sunglasses, but I never got a chance to catch a picture of the new lenses!
The exams and glasses were paid for by a friend who felt God’s leading in providing specifically for these two kids.

The rest of the afternoon was spent teaching Bible songs, playing with and just loving on these kids. And man, do these kids love. I was blown away by their uninhibited affection. They run up to you and hold your hand and crawl into your lap and ask to be spun around. They will jump and throw and play patty-cake with you all day long if you let them.






 
 

That evening on the way home, I cried. Never in my life have I lacked affection, and these kids craved it. My parents told me everyday that they loved me, and these boys clung to every sign of love. I used to have closets full of toys, and these kids’ faces lit up when given a toothbrush.

I don’t know why God blesses some so abundantly and not others, and I don’t pretend to. I don’t know why I was born into a loving family in the wealthiest nation in the world, while Joshue is raised in an orphanage in South America’s poorest country.

I just have to trust that God didn’t bless me for no reason, that it all led to this moment when I can share the love that I have so abundantly with kids that need it so desperately.
I love the way Joshue’s face lights up when the tickle monster attacks. And that Bryon can now play futbol with his new corrective lenses. Or these boys can brush their teeth with their favorite color toothbrush.
 
To whom much is given, much is expected.
 Luke 12:48


 
 
An intense game of marbles.
 
Chores. It's these kids' turn in the kitchen.
 
  
This is little Joshue when we first
met him during a physical examination.
 
 This is him warming up to some playtime!
 
 
These are tennis shoes. Or at least, they were.
 
 
 
 


 


Saturday, March 23, 2013

Bolivia or Bust!



Cochabamba, Bolivia

Hello all, and SO SORRY for not blogging this entire month! My time so far in Bolivia has absolutely flown by, and in combination with a terrible and most often non-existent internet connection, I have not been able to update.

But thank you so much for your love, patience, curiosity & support… and I hope my upcoming posts don’t disappoint!

So to give some backdrop: I am serving two months in the rural outskirts of Cochabamba, Bolivia, the third biggest city in the country.

The sights and sounds are similar to those described in my Ecuador posts, except that things tend to feel more…raw here. Bolivia is the poorest country in South America, whose bumpy roads and street-working children can attest to. But every concrete building, every tin roof and adobe pueblo is back dropped by this gorgeous, mountainous view, complete with an eternal mid-summer’s perfect day kind of weather.

 

I arrived late on a Tuesday last February, disheveled and sleep-deprived after 33 hours of car, bus, and plane travel. I was greeted by the friendly Neco and Rosemary, my volunteer guesthouse hosts for the next two months. I met my roomie Kristen, a fourth-year med student from Reno. I got the tour, the low-down on how to use the gas oven, and tips on keeping the shower water hot. (That’s right… hot showers!! Oh, the glory).

My Home Away from Home 
 Photo courtesy of my buddy, Cass. She likes to Instagram things. :)
 

As you can see, I am hardly roughing it here. The familiar bed-bugs and bath buckets of Ecuador feel a thousand light-years away as I learn a new transportation system, (trufees instead of buses), new foods, (Bolivia is known for its peaches and peanuts), and a whole new culture.

Peach Juice (Not to be confused with small brains)

 A Cholita in her traditional everyday dress at the market.


My first few days with Hospitals of Hope (the organization that I’m serving with while here), consisted mainly of shadowing the doctors and learning how to get around town. The guesthouse is located about 30 yards from the hospital, which is very nice. I assisted a couple EKGs with the cardio doc and sat in on a laparoscopic gall-bladder removal surgery. It was all very good and interesting, but I was starting to wonder how God was going to use me here. I prayed for opportunities to serve and to be His loving hands and feet in this place.

Well…be careful what you pray for because one morning Neco asked Kristen and I if we would be willing to help organize the storeroom. He explained that the hospital had a lot of donated equipment, but wasn’t really utilizing any of it due to lack of organization and inventory in Spanish. “Sure!” we said.

Well, check out this beast:

Yeah...


After several days of sweat, dust, and Google translator, we conquered the storeroom attic.

 
 
 Victory!
 
 
Later in the week, Neco and I were having a conversation over breakfast about culture differences when he mentioned that there are a lot of accidents here, (burns, trufee accidents, poisonings), but nobody knows how to respond to them. Moreover, nothing is changed to prevent them. Bolivians are quick to blame the child for drinking the caustic substance, rather than the fact that kerosene shouldn’t have been stored in a Coke-a-Cola bottle to begin with.

He asked if I would be willing to teach basic first-aid and prevention to patients waiting in the hospital lobby, and if Kristen would teach about nutrition. I was excited to serve in this way and quickly got to planning good topics when I realized: this would all have to be done in Spanish. …Weh-heh-ell, talk about a curveball! I had barely mastered conversational Spanish last month in Ecuador, let alone medical terminology. (How do you say cardiopulmonary resuscitation in Spanish, again??) I knew God intended to grow me as I stepped outside of my comfort zone and taught some thirty Bolivians how to do the Heimlich. Spanish and all.

"Cual tiene mas fiber, una manzana o brocoli?"

 Little did I know that this was just the beginning of God’s leading me far beyond my comfort’s borders…

…and straight into the pediatric burn unit of a downtown Bolivian hospital.


---to be continued---