Day 6 -- El Carmen, When the Saints Go Marching In

. . . . . .continued from Part 1:

    As we arrived in El Carmen, I was consciously telling myself to take fewer pictures (I'd been averaging about 70 pictures a day), as I was running out of disk space on my computer and digital camera to store all the images.  I wouldn't exactly say I was thinking "Been there, done that" after only 3 days of clinic work, but I was thinking I'd gotten many good pictures already, so maybe today I could cut down a bit.  Well, by the end of the day, I had taken over 125 pictures -- more than any other single day.  Seemed like every time I turned around, there was a story or an image to be captured.  Just couldn’t take these people out of my heart.

    We noticed that each day we pack and unpack the tubs, we use and give away materials, but the number of tubs seems to multiply or remain constant.  The analogy to the story of the fishes and loaves came to mind -- it seemed our supply grew to meet the daily need.

    Shortly after our arrival, the school put on a play and had a welcoming ceremony.  This one was a little different, however, in that the clinic work had already begun.  They wanted a representative from PazSalud to give a short speech as well, so holy mackerel, they handed the microphone to me!  I've retyped it here (I was so nervous, I wrote it out first), as translated and spoken in Spanish by Simone (footnote:  I handed my camera to Forrest, who snapped a few pictures -- don't normally like to publish pictures of myself, but I guess sometimes 'journalists' have to just record what happened J):


Children acting out a play during the welcoming ceremony


Glen addresses the crowd in El Carmen


Sr. Eleanor comes to the rescue!

 Buenos Dias, my name is Glen.  I speak very little Spanish.  Lo siento.


We're very glad to be here, we hope we can make you feel better today.


We're from PeaceHealth, a healthcare organization in 3 of the United States:  Alaska, Washington, and Oregon.  I'm from Oregon.


We work with Sister Eleanor, from the Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace, to carry out our healthcare ministry.  Sister Eleanor is the main reason we're here today, and I hope you get a chance to meet her.  She's working in the General Medicine room for men.  We love her very much.


My co-workers and friends gave me a bunch of toys to give to the children of El Salvador.  We wish it was more, but it was all we could bring.  I'm very happy to give these toys to the school as a gift (at this point, I handed a brand new soccer ball to the school Director, along with a tub full of other donated toys).


Thank you for letting us use your school today, and for giving us the opportunity to serve you.  You have beautiful families.  Mucho Gusto!

(At this point, Sr. Eleanor emerged from her room and finished the ceremony -- I'm sure more eloquently than I!)

 
So many stories from today.  Ken saw a 10 year old boy (Horacio) that was born with normal eyesight, but went blind at 7 months of age as an infant, most likely due to a simple eye infection that could have been cured with eye drops.  He also had lost both parents--he was brought in by his Aunt.  He could have restored and saved his sight with routine surgery as a child, but his family couldn't afford the social quotas (fees) required in the city, so it was never done.  Ken spent quite a bit of time trying to determine if he could sense a bright light at all (if so, there was a glimmer of hope).  It appeared that the light did irritate Horacio, so that was a positive sign.  Ken referred him back to Hospital Rosales for surgery, but these are the types of stories that leave you wondering, never sure what will happen or if we'll ever know.

During this examination, a photo journalist from the national press was on hand and took a photograph of Horacio being examined by Ken (very close to the photos included here, just from a different angle).  His photo appeared in the national newspaper (the equivalent of U.S.A. Today) the next day, along with a very positive article about the activities of PazSalud.


Ken tests whether Horacio can sense light


Charo comforts Horacio as Ken continues his examination


Jenny Pflug and a healthy first-time customer!

 Jenny saw an 81 year old woman today, who had quite a smile on her face -- it was the first time in her entire life that she had seen a doctor.  If I'm doing my math right, this woman was born in 1921 -- before the depression, before FDR was president, before World War II.  Jenny was the first doctor she had ever seen, and I was there to capture it on film.

How cool is that?

    Kalpna saw an old woman with arthritis -- her son actually carried her into the room and placed her on the examination table, explaining that she hadn't gotten out of bed for 3 years.  Kalpna touched the patient's knees as part of her examination, and listened with interest to her story and condition.  When finished, they called outside for the son to come carry her out, but the woman got down from the table on her own, and walked out with her daughter.  Kalpna the miracle doctor!  Was it the touch?  The time?  The attention?  Mystery.
One 'funny' story to relate from today.  Julie Iverson saw a 74-year old woman who had stood in the gynecological line for a couple hours.  Turns out she was in the wrong line -- all she wanted was a pair of reading glasses.  But, never one to miss an opportunity, Julie insisted that she have a PAP-smear done.

Turns out the woman had already had 10 children, all at home -- tying the umbilical cord herself, and slicing it off with a machete.  All her kids were healthy, and she didn't have any particular health problems to report.  Never had a PAP-smear done in her whole life, and didn't particularly want one on this day -- then again, she'd never met Julie Iverson before.  Just doesn't take 'no' for an answer.

Upon completing the test, Julie sent her over to Jodi's station with a priority prescription for reading glasses.



Julie explains the quirky PazSalud requirement of getting a PAP-smear before reading glasses!
It was a fairly calm day today, in the sense of things being well organized and orderly.  I think Tisch even got to sit down in the Pharmacy for about 30 seconds a time or two, which was saying something.  The kids spent quite a bit of time reading books today to pass the time.  The volunteers as a whole were tired but grinding it out once again.  

As the day ended, we packed the tubs in the Pharmacy for the trip home and began loading them on the bus.  Just then, the sound of a young child screaming came from the Pediatric room, and everyone rushed to see if they could help.  Jenny and David dove in to treat a badly burned 2 year old girl, whose brother had put an iron to her back (the actual incident occurred several days earlier, but the burn was still fresh and the removal of old bandages probably wasn't too fun for poor Stephanie).  I'm not a clinician, so I'm not used to seeing this kind of thing, but I was once again struck and impressed with these physicians who were hot, drained, exhausted, most likely dehydrated, and were quite literally on the bus ready to go home, who dropped everything and took care of this patient with all the care in the world.  Didn't seem to flinch or impact them in any way.  Personally, I was fighting back tears once again.  

Good news on this one -- the mother had been doing a great job of taking care of her daughter.  The burn 'looked good' according to our doctors, and with proper medications and bandages applied, should heal fine.


Dr. Pflug, Lynch, Herbert all assisted Stephanie with her burn, along with Kathy in the Pediatric room


We tried to comfort Stephanie with one of our donated toys, but it was no match for an iron burn

    So my plan for this day was to slow down on the pictures, and conserve my disk space for days ahead.  I ended up taking more pictures today than any other.  I'll leave you with one more -- one I couldn't go without publishing:


Another beautiful Salvadoran face -- this one gracing a young girl who was both deaf and mute. 

 

Was hard to believe there was only 1 day of clinic work left. . . . . .