So the immersion adventure begins. During last week's excursion up to Pequnos Pasitos, it was decided that we would go up to the mountains two at a time to stay in one of the rural villages for a week and to perhaps implement some small public health intervention. Ana and I volunteered to be the first two guinea pigs for the experience, and so we woke up at 5:30 a.m. to prepare for what will probably be the absolute highlight of this trip.
We packed hurriedly and with a frenetic sense of urgency--despite the fact that we had spent so much time packing the night before. Because of our communal laundry habits (and the fact that we don't have a dryer), we had laid out a huge collection of clothes to dry the night before our trip without realizing that we had to factor in "drying time." What resulted was a collection of half-dried clothes that we were forced to pack in our backpacks, which only got wet again when we sauntered out into the rain.
When we arrived at Pequeno Pasitos via Gua Gua, we were immediately put to work. Ana and I were asked to take vital signs and to switch off with one another so we could each have individual time to work with the doctor. The doctor was great to work with, since she always took time to explain things and didn't seem to patronize the patients. Plus, she spoke to us only in Spanish, which was an added bonus since it forced us to stretch our language skills.
Clinic was interesting, not so much because of the patients, but because one of the medical staff suddenly got sick. Marta, one of the cleaning ladies, was struck by a sudden episode of dizziness, nausea, and vomiting. With prodding, she eventually went home to rest. No one thought anything else of it until she sent someone to the clinic to pay Marta a house visit and take her blood pressure. I turned out to be the lucky person, since no one else was available to do so.
Marta's house, like many others in the village, was a tightly-constructed hut made of wood and covered by a metal roof. Her room was small but tidy, comprising nothing more than her bed and a few possessions displayed on a number of make-shift shelves. When I saw Marta, she was sitting up in bed and seemed relatively chatty despite her ill appearance. But as I examined her, it was clear that her body said otherwise. Her blood pressure was moderately elevated, but what concerned me most was the fact that her heart rate was barely in the 50s. I hurried back to the clinic, eager to tell the doctor that she should at the very least have an EKG done and some labs drawn. But before I could say anything, I was told that none of that was possible at the clinic. They did not own an EKG, and it seemed that Marta would have to make the 40 minute trip to Santiago in order to have any sort of lab test done.
After clinic, we had a wonderful lunch of rice, black beans, and broccoli. Diego, the clinic director, took us to fulfill our promise to Fatima (a patient whom we saw during our previous visit), which included dropping off a lab slip so she could have her TSH rechecked. We then journeyed to El Llano, a small village within the clinic's catchment area, up an incredibly big hill to do a home visit with an 18-year old mother of 3 very young kids. She and her husband were once inhabitants in Santiago, but they decided to move out to El Llano when her husband was promised a more lucrative job on an isolated farm. It instantly became apparent to me that they had made some pretty steep sacrifices. They young mother really wanted to have a career as a singer, while the father's main wish was to return back to Santiago to take care of his sick mother. Instead, they chose to leave the city and live in a remote shack in the middle of nowhere, with no running water and no help to bring up three young kids. It was indeed a way of life they hadn't known previously.
We finally met our house "mom" that afternoon. Her name sounds almost too good to be true: Maribel Dulce. And indeed, it is a name that suits her well, given her incredibly sweet nature. Her home, small as it is, is wonderful. It is certainly more "cush" than Ana and I were expecting, especially since there seems to be running water and a semi-workable toilet.
Dinner here was pretty simple, but very tasty: eggs and mashed potatoes. When I asked Maria what she had put in the eggs, she smiled real big and said in a proud voice, "milk, butter, and Parmesan cheese." Ana and I simply looked at each other and smiled. Given our lactose intolerance, this was certainly going to be an interesting week...
And tonight, we're sleeping in beds in a house that is partly open to the elements. It's been raining here the entire day, and the dampness in the room is palpable. What a drastic change from the living conditions in Santiago. Just sitting in bed, writing this blog entry with a flashlight, I now see that we are surrounded by all sorts of flies, mosquitoes, and other random tiny insects. Here's hoping that we don't get eaten alive tonight...
No comments:
Post a Comment