The People of Hope / La Gente de Esperanza

 The last four days I’ve felt a whirl of emotions, some even that I’m experiencing for the first time. But as I reflect and write this blog post I feel an immense amount of gratitude. Gratitude towards the medical team for teaching and allowing me to be a part of this project, to my peers that have shared in my experiences, to all the donors that make this project possible, and to all the people of Coban for being so loving, patient, and for letting us take care of them. 

       When people would come into the clinic, some of them had a sense of hopelessness to them. Prepared to be told the same things, to be unheard, ignored, rushed, and to be left confused and still in pain. Typically this is not at the fault of the physics they saw, but due to the limited healthcare workers, high volume of people needing to be seen, and the very inadequate resources. 

      Nonetheless, after being looked over for so long, it’s hard to have hope. Kimberly, an 11 month old baby came in with Syndactyly, a condition where some of the fingers are fused together. Her mother wanted Kimberly to get a corrective surgery so that she can start doing things that a typical 11 month old should be able to do. Dr. Lauri explained to the mom that Kimberly is fully capable of living life and doing things without needing to get surgery. Kimberly isn’t disabled, she’s uniquely abled. It isn’t that she is unable to do things, she just hasn’t had the opportunity to because her mom thinks she’s incapable. After seeing Dr. Lauri and learning some physical therapy exercises with Dr. Deb their family left the clinic educated and with hope that baby Kimberly can and will live a life capable of doing things for herself. 

       Genesis, a 5 day old baby, who has a cleft palate, Trisomy 21, and Low Muscle Tone or “floppy infant syndrome”.  One of the first things that Dr. Deb asked the family was if they were told anything about her condition at the hospital when she was born and the father responded with “No, but I know that something is wrong and I don’t know how I can help her”. Dr. Deb then explained what it means to have low muscle tone and what that looks like for baby Genesis moving forward. She will take longer to develop motor skills but if she’s supported and encouraged by her family she eventually will be able to. The idea that if you expect me to do great things, I can. Although we weren’t able to give a cure or give exercises since she was only 5 days old, we were able to listen and see the family, to educate on their baby’s condition, to give them a sense of hope that their baby will be okay. 

        After the last day of clinic, we had a Shabbat Dinner at La Ciudad de la Esperanza, during the end of the celebration one of the directors of the community gave a few words in which she said, “This isn’t the city of hope because of the buildings, it’s the people that benefit from La Ciudad de la Esperanza”  

A la gente de Coban,

     Gracias por todo lo que hacen. Gracias por ser amable y paciente, gracias por ser increíblemente fuerte y por confiar en nosotros, gracias por ser vulnerable. Gracias por compartir su amor y cultura, gracias por mostrarme su belleza, y gracias por ser La Ciudad de La Esperanza. Aunque puede que no me recuerden, nunca los olvidaré.

To the people of Coban, 

      Thank you for all that you do. Thank you for being kind and patient, thank you for being incredibly strong and for trusting in us, thank you for being vulnerable. Thank you for sharing your love and culture, thank you for showing me your beauty, and thank you for being the City of Hope. Although you may not remember me, I will never forget you.  

The Power of Prayer

 In preparation for this trip, my fellow classmates and I would practice reading different prayers in Spanish every week. Each week, I would simply read the prayer, not think much of it, and move on. At the time, I didn’t know how meaningful praying would be not only to the people of Coban, but to me as well. 

Today, I had the opportunity to pray with a mom, dad, and their daughter, Laura, who has hypothyroidism. Laura is 13 and didn’t get diagnosed with hypothyroidism until she was 3. Since she was diagnosed late, she unfortunately will never be able to talk, walk, or live a normal life. I brought Laura her medications and before leaving, I asked the parents if wanted to pray with me. The parents only spoke kekchi, so they began to pray in their native language. The mom began crying out to God, squeezing my hand, with tears streaming down her face. She was begging for Gods help. Before I knew it, tears started to stream down my face too. I didn’t know how meaningful a prayer could be to someone and how powerful it can make a certain moment. As we gathered together, language barriers dissolved, I felt a sense of connection. It was a reminder of how faith can unite us all, no matter our language or background.

This moment will stick with me because I learned that even though I had rarely anything in common with this family, faith is a universal language that can unite us during the good and bad times. 

-Jillian Skurcenski

The Indomitable Human Spirit

 Reflecting on my time so far in Cobán, Guatemala, I have been blessed to feel the soft beating heart of this community. This beating heart that pulsed with each step and echoed throughout the walls of the clinic—I could feel the warmth and gentle rhythm of this community beating steadily. This community that I encountered was very much alive and thriving. 

With each patient I came across, I was reminded about the fragility of life. For example, how important the delicate passage of oxygen throughout the body is during the development of a human—and all the ramifications it has on a person’s life. Too little oxygen and a person could develop Cerebral Palsy and the way they can move becomes limited, while too much exposure to oxygen could lead a person to develop Retinopathy of Prematurity and lose their sight. It seemed that the body was constantly fighting against the entropy of the world. 

Yet, in this battle for life, the resiliency of the human spirit is revealed. I have no words to truly describe how powerful this spirit becomes against such an uncompromising universe. The lives that I have encountered thus far, have shown me how compelling the human spirit becomes in the light of community. Alone we can do nothing, but with those around us, we are able transform the very world around us. It was through this community that Romero is able to raise his arms and hands again. It was through this community that Etty is able to walk again. It is through this community that Genesis will able to grow up with a strong system of support. 

It is still incomprehensible to me how the world works. Sebastian, a boy who is blind, was able to sense me quietly leave the room while he was getting ready for his tooth extraction. He called for me to be there with him in that moment. It was a small instance that made me realize how God was guiding each moment. We are all here for a reason, and the lives we come across are always calling for us. It is up to us to come up to the occasion and give it all we got.

-Thomas Nguyen

Speaking with No Words

 Coming into this trip I was really worried about my Spanish speaking abilities. I worried that when in triage, I would struggle with giving patients instruction, knowing the numbers for birth years, and spelling names I had never heard before. Now though, after nailing down my triage script, I realize that communication isn’t just a simple exchange of information: “cual es tu nombre” … “mi nombre es ____”, it’s so much more. It’s a way to find a common ground of similar language when there may be so many differences between two people: race, religion, socioeconomic status, and health. Language is how we relate to one another.

Today, in clinic I really struggled with feeling incapable of making these kind of connections. School kids would come up to me with a wide smile on their face and ask me a question and when I replied with “un momento” in search of a translator I was met with a face of disappointment. 

Rabi Spike is someone I’ve come to love a lot, and often find my self in very deep conversations with. Today I learned a lot from him. Working with “Dora the Explorer level Spanish”, his speaking skills were much less than mine. Despite this, however, he finds ways to make the most beautiful connections with these children. Giving gifts, fist bumps, and playing games with the children, I learned there’s more than one way to learn about them and make them laugh. Now obviously what we learn is different from what you would get out of a conversation; we don’t know what they had for breakfast, or what their home life is like but what we get is their raw expression of their personalities - their sense of humor, their confidence, their curiosity - things you don’t need words to see. There’s something so beautiful about what comes of this sort of “silent communication”. You don’t get caught up in the questions of what they had for lunch, or what their favorite subject is. 

Today, when in the dentist office with Dr Christian I was tasked with “hand-holding” duty for a tooth extraction- just to make sure they didn’t try to swat any needles away. I found myself holding 7 year old Brenda’s hands and we just stared and smiled at each other for a little while. She knew I didn’t speak Spanish from me messing up saying “I like your shirt” (which had frozen on it- my favorite) and I knew she didn’t speak English, and so the silence wasn’t awkward, it spoke volumes.We just sat, smiled, and stared. It was beautiful.

Through gestures, smiles, and shared moments, I discovered the power of nonverbal communication to bridge divides and cultivate meaningful connections, reminding me that sometimes the most profound conversations are the ones spoken with no words at all.

-Mattie Gretzinger

Feel The Ground

 Being in Guatemala is such a Blessing, I have learned not only about the medical team but also about the stories of these patients. Often times when working in a healthcare setting, we forget to feel the ground, not only to be present in the moment as we are helping others but also bringing in the body and spirit as one.

During my time with Dr. Lauri, I got the opportunity to encounter different types of situations that families are in. My heart breaks as I hear what these families go through but at the same time my heart fills with up with hope that they will get better and each day they get to feel the ground and continue moving forward.

One of the patients was a six-year-old, she came in with a stomach virus and was complaining of vomit and diarrhea. As we continued asking questions, we found that she was a twin sister. Her mom had to choose between having the children and her life due to high blood pressure complications. Unfortunately, one of the twins passed away in her womb before being born.

This was a very difficult moment as I remember that my mom went through a similar situation. my mom was going to pass away as she had me and my twin brother. In that moment I saw my mom in her eyes. I didn’t know how to help or feel. I just know that this mother is trying to feel the ground as she moves forward.

I then remembered the wise words of Dr. Stephanie, when we don’t know how to feel or even why we are here, just stop and listen. Open your heart and everything will come to you. Most importantly feel the ground and be present.

-Alexa Prado

Perspective or Privilege

One hour, the next town over, maybe two hours? These seem like fairly reasonable amounts of time to travel to see a doctor, and maybe trips that you have completed throughout your life, but would you travel eight hours? While this may seem outrageous to you, for Roberto and his sister (both patients at the clinic), this choice was a no-brainer. Roberto awoke in the early hours of the morning to travel by two separate buses to then complete the journey via walking the long, hilly hike to the city of Cobán and the clinic in La Ciudad de Esperanza. Once Roberto arrived, he received his checkup from Dr. Richard and was referred to Dr. Deb in physical therapy to find a plan to help improve his dexterity and mobility in his hands. Roberto has had severe arthritis in his hands and feet since he was first diagnosed at 16. In the last two years, Roberto has gained the ability to raise his hands above his head and has been determined to gain dexterity in his fingers, moving forward and working to manage his pain. While in physical therapy, we were able to scrounge up finger splints that will help extend and stretch the fingers that have lost mobility and provide strength and stability to the fingers that hyperextend. 

It was during this time that Roberto revealed he had traveled eight hours without breakfast or lunch just to receive care at the clinic and planned to make the journey back without dinner as he would arrive close to midnight. Upon learning this information, we took a hygiene kit (a small bag with soap, shampoo, deodorant, washcloth, toothpaste, toothbrush, etc.) and filled it full of his new, free medicine, physical therapy putty, and finger splint, as well as a sandwich, chips, juice, cookies, snacks, and water. To Roberto, the care he receives at the clinic once a year is worth the long journey. Each day as I continue to meet the resilient, persistent, and amazing individuals, like Roberto, who traveled to the clinic, I am reminded of each and every aspect of my life that may seem small and trivial but to others is life-changing. I am also beyond grateful to have this opportunity to provide both the medical assistance and the personal connection, compassion, and genuine friendships to each patient that walks, runs, crawls, or rolls through our doorstep. Each and every person I have had the blessing to meet will forever stay with me, as they have touched my heart and altered my perspective on what medicine can be for each individual and how caring for one person will affect their lives, alongside their family and community. And so, once more, I pose the question: How far are you willing to travel for medical care?

-Rylie Fairbank