Fifty-eight.
That’s the
number of highly motivating, selfless professionals and lay people that came
together for one week to serve the people in five Guatemalan towns. Our “dream team” this year was almost double
our usual size.
It also had
a beautiful international flavor with members from the United States, Mexico,
Guatemala, Columbia and Canada. Our team
consisted of chiropractors, medical physicians, vision, dentists, a physical
therapist, an acupuncturist, nurses, a deacon, nurse practitioners,
pharmacists, translators and other lay non-medical personnel. With our broad skill sets and large group and
help from many generous Guatemalans volunteers, we were able to treat about
4,000 people! Más o menos…(more or less).
Our team is
organized, caring and most importantly…effective. We are a family.
We have also grown since our humble beginnings.
I was fortunate to be involved with the second mission team serving in
Mexico. It consisted of twelve
members. I am happy to report that 2014
is our 20th anniversary as a medical mission team or brigade as some
call us.
The name has
changed a few times since our inception as the brain child of Bishop John
McCarthy of Austin, Texas. Currently and
officially we are St. Frances Medical Mission.
This year
proved to be a very gratifying mission in so many ways serving the people of
San Andres Osuna, El Rodeo, San Vicente, Chapernas and Guanagazapa.
Exhausted,
happy, sad, exhilarated, fortunate, honored, humbled, encouraged and thankful, are
some of the words that express our missionaries’ feelings during and after our
trips.
This, our
team’s third trip to Guatemala, proved very interesting. Two towns were new to us, others we had
served in the past. It was exciting for
me to see and treat many people I had on previous trips. When one young girl in San Andres Osuna with
cerebral palsy saw me, she immediately smiled a huge smile, awkwardly elevated
her arms and allowed me to give her a big hug.
She couldn’t speak, but made sounds of joy having recognized me. I was equally thrilled to see her. It was a heartwarming experience.
In
Guanagazapa I had similar experiences. Upon
arriving at the building that would serve as our clinic, I noticed the first
man in line colorfully dressed in his red and white striped pants. He was a Mam Indian that I had treated two years
prior. Throughout that day, I
encountered more old patients.
Remembering them and them remembering me was especially gratifying. Some remarked how much better I had made them
feel and some admitted to not doing the exercises I had taught them. They seem to suffer from the same memory
problems as my patients at home. More
proof that people are the same regardless of where you are in the world.
I have the odd
privilege of patients not following my recommendations in numerous countries!
Oh well,
what can a poor chiropractor do?
Each mission
trip is unique and brings with it its own set of frustrations, joys and sadnesses. Certainly one of the joys of this trip was
treating previous patients. To see their
happiness and enthusiasm when they recognized us and knowing it brought them
pleasure having our team return to their town was gratifying and joyful for me.
As usual, we
encountered people who endured the hardships of walking many hours seeking our
health care. Six hours was the longest
time I personally heard of someone walking, but likely there were others who
may have travelled further. That’s
nowhere close to the record of a two day walk in Honduras, but still I wouldn’t
walk six hours to have my tooth pulled.
Would you?
Just as high
as the exhilaration can take you, the lows can be devastatingly low. An emotional roller coaster ride of highs and
lows is what most of us experience during the trip with after effects lingering
well beyond our return home. The joy,
however, always outweighs the pain and a real sense that something good was
accomplished always remains within us.
Part of this
year’s sadness was the loss of a good friend, and one of the organizers of our
Guatemalan mission. Erick Morales passed away suddenly just a few
weeks prior to our arrival. He will
surely be missed. He was loved by
many.
At the end
of a long hard day after putting in several hard days already, Dr. Steve, one
of our physicians took his last patient, a young boy. The boy, about 8 years old had a large infected
cyst on his abdomen that needed to be removed.
We were working in a large community hall built from cinder blocks and a
metal roof. This type of building
becomes very loud when filled with people.
It was very hot and humid this day, much like a typical summer day in
Houston, Texas.
Partitioned
clinic rooms for the doctors to see patients are made, as they often are from
sheets hung on lines. My clinic area was close to an open dental area which is
where Steve brought this young patient.
The dentists were using old dental chairs transported in for their use,
and this became a perfect surgical site for Steve. I had just finished treating a patient when I
could see some commotion and several team members trying to assist Dr. Steve
who was hunched over this young boy. The
scene was somewhat reminiscent of what you’d see on a M*A*S*H episode…commotion, instruments,
syringes, gauze, blood and lots of people.
It was a less than calm setting with the commotion and a screaming,
scared boy. I approached Steve to see
what he was working on and offer my assistance.
At that moment, he was making an incision into this boy’s belly. Blood was flowing, gauze was mopping up the
blood, syringes being filled with medication, the best help I could offer Steve
was to hand him clean gauze and to wipe the sweat from his face. Dr. Steve asked me to hold his glasses
tightly on his head to keep them from continually sliding off his face from
sweat.
As he bent
over the boy, performing this impromptu surgery, I became Steve’s human eyeglass
holder. The boy was crying and screaming
as nurses held him down and as still as possible. Dr. Steve caressed his head talking to him in
a calm and soothing voice assuring him that all was okay. I’m sure he was screaming more from fear than
pain. The poor boy’s screams echoed
throughout the huge building well above all the other noise.
I don’t want
to exaggerate my role in this surgical procedure at all. I played a bit part in assisting a loving,
talented doctor and nurses perform a delicate procedure that helped this boy
tremendously. Yes, I tore tape, handed
Steve some gauze and became a human $1.50 eyeglass strap… but for that short
moment in time, it was necessary. It
felt good to be of assistance. The boy, of course, calmed down…the drugs
helped. He was patched up and sent off
for follow up care. I am confident he
was fine. The surgery was a success! And now I can add surgical assistant to my
resume. This will look good next to my
dentist credentials, since I’ve pulled a tooth in Honduras before!
Besides all
the other patients that Dr. Steve helped over the many days we spent in
Guatemala, I am convinced that the purpose for him to be in Guatemala, in that
town, was for that one boy.
In my
opinion, if Dr. Steve hadn’t treated any other patients, it would have been
okay. It was that particular boy, on that day, at that moment that he was sent to
minister to. I think that’s true for all
of the team in a variety of ways.
We’ve all
experienced some moment of divine awareness…a message delivered to our heart,
mind and soul highlighting our purpose and the reason to show up to do what we
do. It’s shown to us in a person, an
emotion, a feeling, a shift in perception, a change in attitude, a rebuilding
of human love, an alteration of consciousness that is presented to us with
clarity… Some people call this an Ah Ha
moment. A defining “thing” that’s
intangible but real for each one of us.
We are
brought to that moment in time for a reason and it’s not just for physical
healing. The locals were brought to help
us in that moment too for our own growth and our combined salvation. We are brought together to give and receive
love that saves us in some way.
If we are
listening, if we are paying attention, if we are in the moment and receptive to
it; God is talking to us. God is
teaching us. God is embracing us…maybe
even testing us.
I have
experienced these people, these shifts, and these moments on missions
before. There seems to be something
unique about a mission setting. Of course, they happen throughout our lives too,
not just in a mission setting. We just
need to be open to them, watching and paying attention. It is a tightened down, concentrated, moment
of compressed time…in which, miracles do happen.
I
encountered a woman pushing an eleven and twelve year old boy and girl in a child
buggy. She was referred to me by another
member of the mission team so that I could treat the children. Karina and Deri couldn’t speak, nor could
they walk. They lay in the buggy
contorted with contracted muscles, unusually small bodies for their age and
microcephalic heads.
What could I
do for them? Was the question in my mind.
Certainly there wasn’t going to be much I could do…especially with one
treatment. Maybe the best I could do was
laying on of hands, and showing them love.
Luckily, my colleague, Dr. Charles
Hensley, was available to treat Deri while I treated Karina.
It was an emotional
experience to see these two children afflicted with conditions that trap them
in their bodies and render them helpless; knowing that they live in less than
ideal conditions which adds to their difficulties and burdens the family. While lifting
Karina out of the buggy to place her on my adjusting table, I was met with a
big surprise. I lifted her with ease. Though I had no means of weighing her, I am
confident she couldn’t have been more than 15 pounds! I could have easily held here with one
hand. The mom said she lived on milk
alone refusing to eat solid food. Lack
of proper nutrients and no physical exercise meant Karina had little muscle
mass and fragile bones. She felt as
light as a piece of wood that had been eaten out by termites!
Dr. Charley
and I did the best we could with gentle manipulations and soft tissue
mobilization. We also counseled the
mother about dietary options for them. Thanks
to the generosity of my patients, who donated significant sums of money for me
to use when I felt it appropriate, and with donations from Dr. Charley and Dr.
Rudy, I was able to arrange to help this girl.
Since she refused solid food and only drank milk, it was important to
find a way to get the lacking nutrients in her body. We sent our local helpers to purchase a six
month’s supply of PediaSure® and a juicer.
The area has an abundant supply of fruits and vegetables, a rich source
of nutrients, and the juicer will allow her to drink a liquid.
We also arranged
for a baby to get medical help at a hospital who would otherwise die. In another town, San Vicente, I treated a
woman who had a mass (likely a lipoma) near her spine that needed further
evaluation and removal. I was able to
pay for her to go to the hospital too.
These are
just a few of many stories of people we were able to help through the power of
touch, the power of love and with the financial donations from team members and
my patients at home.
I could go
on and on with many stories from this trip and from twenty years of mission
trips, but I won’t. It’s easy to write
about the mechanics of it, but so difficult to capture the emotional and
spiritual component of our mission experience.
Medical
missions have been one of the best parts of my life and I pray I will be able
to participate for many years to come.
Blessings
and thanks to everyone who has ever supported our teams’ efforts through prayer
and financial contributions to bring healthcare, love, hope and encouragement
to those amongst us whom have less. Though you may not have personally been
with us, you are a large part of our team.
Enjoy the
many photos.
Dr. Rick
Barrett
And the King will answer,
"In truth
I tell you, in so far as you did this to one of the least of these brothers of
mine, you did it to me." Matthew 25:40
