from Julio Mendoza, translator

Day 1:  From the start, I anticipated that I would be busy all day helping to interpret for scores of patients, so the long hours came to no surprise.  I was also aware that people had traveled tremendous distances and would have endured hunger and thirst to have the opportunity to see a physician for the first time, so I was sympathetic to their physical status when they met with the doctor.  However, what shocked me the most were the tears shed by several of the mothers (in Pediatrics) when they received reassurance from the doctor that their babies would be okay and that they need not to worry.  It was at that point that I realized the importance my "grain of sand" played in the overall success of the Mission.  Those mothers would finally be at peace because she had done everything she could to ensure the best for her child -- and to be honest, I would have done the same if I had a child of my own and didn't have the many fortunes I have available to me.


Day 2: Today I worked as a floating interpreter.  I wondered if patients were scared of enduring surgery.  I know that if it was me, I'd be frightened, but I suppose that at some point having less pain is better than the alternative.

A mother who had limited resources gifted a lipstick to the pediatrician who went out of her way to refer her to an autism specialist.

I noted that is is becoming more and more difficult to turn down surgery patients due to high demand and limited resources.  As I walk around the hallway, patients crowd around me to ask if their surgery appointments will be honored, and all I can tell them is that surgery is no longer available because the spaces are filled.  Despite this, they beg me to intervine for them to the higher authorities, and all I can do is ask one of the directors to reconfirm what I had already told the patients.

Whether coming from a doctor or non doctor, there is no worse feeling then telling someone that they cannot receive surgical treatment because they are not sick enough to receive it (although I will add that doctors can probably handle it much better than I ever could).

Day 3: Despite all precautionary measures, I managed to come down with a mild case of diarrhea.  Fortunately, the pediatrician whom I was working with gave me some medication that quickly took care of the problem.

Most of the day went smoothly.  (I was even able to take some pictures of staff and consenting patients).  During lunch, I was able to get to know the pediatrician at a personal level, and it amazed me how similar our past experiences are.  The lesson that we learned from each other is that "that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger'.

On our way home from the clinic, my wife and our mutual friend (both of whom are doctors at the Mission) came across a young girl on the sidewalk experiencing an epilepsy attack.  We were quick to rush over and provide assistance, but the girl's two friends informed us that she would be fine.  Not being a doctor, I stood on the side and observed the scene with a sense of pride in that we were positively representing our program.  Our pediatrician's information was provided to the girl, and we expect her to show up to clinic tomorrow.


Day 4:  I hadn't even arrived to the door of the clinic, when I get flagged down by a familiar face.  I can¨t quite remember the details, but the distraught lady immediately starts telling me that her family showed up to surgery for the mother-in-law at 7am as instructed by the surgeon, but the surgeon wasn't there. I suddenly remember the case.  What can I tell her?  My guess is that the surgeon got wrapped up with another urgent matter and could not meet her appointment.  I rush to the program coordinator, who also remembers the case, and he immediately calls the surgeon via cell phone -- a surgery spot has been reserved to remove the tumor, but the surgeon needs to re-confirm the possible complications with the family before the procedure can be done, so she will meet with them one last time when the surgeon is done rounding on her patients. Whew!!!

I wasn't assigned to a specific clinic today, so I played the role of floating interpreter.  I wasn't as busy as days past, but I did feel privileged to be called on for the more complicated cases, when detailed communication was essential.  I did have some time to chat with the nursing staff and some of the patients, and they look forward to our return next year!

The day is done, and I¨m looking forward to visiting the orphanage tomorrow afternoon!