| February 2, 2005 |
We’re short a few brigade members today. Lori and Barbara have remained at the hotel, both under the weather, and Maia is here but not feeling well.
Today is a special day for me; this would have been my father’s 86th birthday. A real revolutionary in his heart and soul, my dad was a man who spent his life working for the underprivileged, and he is here with me on this trip. With so many other things on my mind, it didn’t even occur to me until I was on the airplane that I would be here on his birthday. Happy birthday, Dad; as Sister Margaret Jane sang with gusto last night in the restaurant, “the people united will never be defeated!”
 Mark McEathron assists this genial senora, who gave a toothless smile to everyone. |
I took a number of photos of a toothless woman who walked with a cane (a pole). She patiently made her way through the clinics, and then was escorted by Jonathan to pharmacy, much to the delight of those in line, who teased her that she had a new boyfriend. She was very friendly and smiled at me but once I pulled up the camera she wouldn’t smile. According to Jonathan, the belief in photographs stealing a piece of your soul is prevalent among the older people. I learned the first day that, unlike the children, older people do not really want to see their picture. Now I understand why. |
It’s quiet this morning, so it’s a good time to take a moment to explain the clinic set up. Announcements are made to the crowd outside the hacienda over a loudspeaker system, explaining who we are (I catch ‘PazSalud,’ and ‘Americanos’), and what we are treating. Patients are always lined up when we arrive at 8 am. First stop for each patient is the registration table on the hacienda front porch. Local health authorities fill out the registration paper: name, age, why they are here, where they are from, and a dash with a colored marker for each specialty they will be seeing (orange for general medicine, pink for gynecology, etc). Every patient clutches that registration paper tightly; without it they can’t see a doctor or receive medicine. Those registered then line up against the hacienda wall near the front gate, guarded by more local health authorities in charge of allowing them in a few at a time. Once inside, each patient finds the proper line (marked by string in the same colors; orange, pink, etc.). And then they wait. Most patients see more than one doctor, so after they make it to the front of one line, they’re off to the next specialty and wait some more. When they’re done with treatments they head to pharmacy, the last line of the day. Many patients are here from the start of the day until we close.
| Patients come with a variety of ailments; some are very serious. Dale sees a
four-year-old boy with a possible case of lymphoma. Ken has a serious case too; a toddler
who needs corrective eye surgery and his older brother who needs eye surgery too. Ken’s
hoping his local Lion’s Club will raise some of the money to help pay for it. Many
brigade volunteers are commenting on the number of women suffering from depression,
Margaret Jane and Barry in particular. Dale and Lesley saw a beautiful young woman this
morning suffering from depression; she cried as she talked to them. |
 Sr. Eleanor has been arranging for follow up care for this lovely young woman, one of many seen by the doctors for depression. |
 Ken fears that, without surgery, this little boy will lose his vision. |
It’s hotter today. Many of us are feeling a little less energetic. The crowds outside the
hacienda have definitely diminished so it’s possible we might not have to stay quite so
late tonight.
Everyone except eye care is done, and it’s 6 pm. The crush is on in pharmacy. Dinner was fabulous. We ate out under the stars and palm trees at a restaurant owned by Jonathan’s friends, who entertained us with fire juggling! |