Little things

It's always fun...and strange...and exciting moving somewhere new, starting over. Involves anticipation, anxiety, adjustment. I've had my share of all of the above in the past month, but I'm enjoying things overall. Nashville is a cool city and, amidst the classes and studying and tests that have now begun and threaten a steady stream, I've managed to sneak out and enjoy bits and pieces in opportune moments. Like farmer's markets, the National Folk Festival, a Greek Festival, free park concerts, or just studying under a shade tree and blue skies. Because, as cool as it is to be studying something I actually enjoy, want to do, and will use, it's important to keep a balance. From now on, nursing will be a huge part of who I am. But it's not my identity. Just a complement to it, another piece of who I am in the Lord. So, balance is necessary, I think.

Ergo, finding fun things as the (prudent) opportunities arise. :)

As I continue to get accustomed to this new place, a new role, and these new people here, familiar faces and comforts have been a pleasure. I've had the chance - and will soon be able - to see some people I love, as they've come through on their way here or there. One of the perks of being a little closer than Peru, I guess! Maybe not for too long, but it's a blessing to share some time with them. Like a cool spray of water on a hot day, or the joy that is an ice cream cone, they leave my heart with a smile, refreshed to jump back into the task of living and investing in this present.

So here's to good friends, family, fall on its way, and falling asleep to thunderstorms.

The next step

Wow, sorry I’ve taken this long to write again. It’s been a crazy month between enjoying friends and family in Tupelo, visiting siblings in D.C. and Kentucky, and preparing to move to Nashville. And now, here I am, with a new apartment, a new roommate, a new city, and a new program. And that’s all quite exciting. But sometimes I still remember that tomorrow makes four weeks since I left Trujillo. I still think about Peru every day, and I miss it. I’ve got the flag on my wall, limónes in the fridge, barley coffee on the counter, and pictures in the frames.

So, borrowing from my dear friend Devon Emig (although she did this before she actually ended her year in Germany), I’ll give a quick list of things I miss about Peru. And, to add an upbeat, things I’m glad to return to.

PERU IS AWESOME BECAUSE:

- The people

-The fruit (especially mangos, avocados, and juice)

-Menús (fixed price, 2 course lunches for 4 soles/$1.50)

-Bodegas (neighborhood everything-stores) and panaderías (bakeries)

-Colectivos, combis, micros (the exciting and crowed public transportation)

-Walking everywhere

-Being with people who are different from me in many ways every day, having relationships with them, and that being normal

-Fresh foods and cheap produce

-Speaking Spanish

-Salsa and cumbia music

-A lack of obsession with time, phones, and work

-People’s generosity, accessibility, and availability

THINGS THAT ARE NICE ABOUT THE U.S:

-Friends and family (of course)

-Toilet paper in public restrooms

-Water fountains and tap water

-It being normal to be an active, athletic girl

-Salads at meals

-Seasons

-Green (Peru is a beautiful country, and many parts have a lot of green. Trujillo isn’t one of them.)

-Driving (even though I didn’t really miss it)

-Telephone calls

Impact

Wow, I don’t really know where to start. The Starbucks playing music in English in the Lima airport seems a world away from Trujillo, and, thanks to some inexplicable warp in time and space, I’ll supposedly be back in the U.S. tomorrow night. Can a year really have already passed? I remember arriving so clearly… yet I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime since then.

The last few weeks have been a blur and, due to sporadic internet access and general busyness, I haven’t done a good job of keeping you all up to date. So thanks for your patience… Medically-related, the mission is in the middle of short-term team season, which means there have been several groups come down to do medical campaigns. We had a group of dental students and, a couple of weeks later, a few doctors and a physical therapist doing campaigns in Wichanzao and the surrounding communities. Dr. Glover, a general surgeon from Jackson, MS, was in Trujillo for a week doing minor surgeries in a room in the Wichanzao church. He had actually stayed an extra week after spending a week with his church in Cajamarca. I got to go help translate with that group and, with about 6 doctors, 4 dentists, and lots of helpers, we attended about 1300 patients in a week. Pretty crazy, but a cool experience.

Sometimes I wonder how much short-term trips actually impact a community. Of course, they are much more effective when a long-term option providing follow-up care is available, and maybe a lot of the relief is only temporary for many of the patients. Yet, honestly, it’s at least some relief, and it’s more than many of the patients who travel a few hours from remote towns would be able to access otherwise. Maybe it’s enough to give them a little more strength, a little more hope. And maybe it just helps to have a professional actually listen, care, pray, and try his or her best to help.

I’ve been thankful I stayed and have been able to help with these campaigns and with the day-to-day rhythm of the clinic, which has been consistently busy lately. Aside from work, I enjoyed spending about 8 days living with my friend Karina and her family. They don’t live in Wichanzao itself, but they are in La Esperanza (the same general area of Trujillo), and it was great to get to live a little closer to the clinic, be in a family environment, and spend more time getting to know them. And then this past week has been rich with investing in people and making sure I do my best to “say my goodbyes well,” as someone counseled me. Good advice. Thankful for chances to spend time with people, and for the blessing of having so many people who’ve touched my heart.

The clinic’s despedida (goodbye party) was so much fun and, although hard to say goodbye, it made me appreciate again what a unique feel of family the group has. It’s difficult, sad, and definitely surreal saying goodbye, and I’m sure it won’t really hit until I’m back… and even then, little by little. (Be prepared for periodic reflections and realizations.) However, I don’t feel like I’ll never see these people again. They’re a part of me, and God has taught me so much through them. And, Lord-willing, I’ll get to see them again. As my mom wrote me before I came to Peru, “See all you can, make lots of memories, and leave part of yourself there.”

Check – more than I could have hoped. Praise the Lord.

Hospitals

It’s funny… I kind of expected that, after going to Cajamarca a few weeks ago, I’d have a pretty normal life here in Trujillo for a month, return to Cajamarca for the medical campaign the week of July 4^th, and then finish out my time in Trujillo. Funny how things change.

The last few weeks have certainly not been calm, and I’m thankful to have a chance now to just sit still in the apartment (actually, it’s not even my apartment – staying with another nurse from the mission since the other interns left). But I’ve spent the better part of the past three weeks with one of our patients in and out of the hospital. He’s an 82-year-old man named don José, and we’ve been trying to get him an endoscopic surgery to remove nasal and sinus polyps since December. So, after lots of appointments, delays, and endless lines and paperwork relating to his government insurance (which, in spite of everything, thankfully covers just about everything), he finally had that surgery about two weeks ago. After a night in the hospital, he went home…which is actually a room in the church, since he has extremely limited resources, no family, and a few months ago could no longer live with the family he’d been with.

Patients waiting to make an appointment with the government insurance.

Lots of waiting...

But a week after his surgery, he started having some pretty severe stomach issues (won’t go into detail) that left him so dehydrated and week that he couldn’t even stand up. So, to make a long story short, we took him to the hospital and he spent the next 8 days there to get rid of his stomach infection, recover fluids, and get his distressed kidneys working right again. Like I said, the insurance helps a ton, but in the government hospital it’s pretty imperative to have somebody with you because if the doctor prescribes a medicine or test, you have to go pay (or get it approved by the insurance) and then pick it up yourself. Perhaps one of the understaffed personnel could take care of it later, but the medicine would probably be delayed way too long, or the tests might go undone. So, rotating with a few ladies from the church and a couple of clinic staff, I was in the hospital with him for a good part of the last week and a half.

Pretty crazy there for awhile. But I learned a lot, saw a lot, thought a lot, and got to know (at least by recognition) several people who worked there. Of course there are all types, but the majority – at least on his floor – were very good to us. And when he began to recover appetite and strength enough to be more talkative, it was really cool to get to know don José better. This little man – who was born in Cajamarca, only went to school through 3^rd grade, has educated himself through enviable curiosity and reading, lived in Lima during his young adult years, was in the army for two years, ran the 100 and 400 m, likes soccer and basketball, was in love once better never got married, had everything stolen from him 40 years ago, moved to Trujillo, grew old without family, sells candies in the big Hermalinda market, and became a member of the Wichanzao church a month ago – has been through a lot. And, despite the nature of the circumstances, it was cool to get to hear some of it.

Don Jose in his hospital room.

Thankfully, don José went home Thursday. He seems so much better, and we’re praying that he keeps recovering his strength and can return to the rhythm he had before. But even so, the truth is that he’s getting older and living alone in the church probably isn’t a viable long-term solution. I was thankful to get to care for him over the last few weeks, but there’s always a little doubt of “How much is okay?” Because the truth is, I’m leaving in a month, and the economic and family situations of many of the church members don’t give them much leeway to dedicate the care he needs. But, I also think that I/we haven’t done more for him than we would for an elderly family member, and I don’t think he should be denied the same attention just for being poor and without a family. But the next decision will be how to best care for him in the future. I probably won’t be part of that decision, but I’m praying for wisdom for those that are and that God will open up the right options.

Paces and Peace

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the pace and rhythm of life. I think it’s always changing, but there are some things that always seem to crop back up. Goodbyes, for example. A year ago, I was saying goodbye to the places and people that defined my college experience. In these last few weeks, I’ve said goodbye to the other six interns I’ve worked with for the past ten months. I guess when you live, work, and learn together in such tight community (especially in a different country and culture), you get pretty close. The group was very special to me, and I’m thankful we’ll always have this bond. But things will look a lot different now that they’re gone. Besides missing their friendship and doing life together, I’m living in a different place, and I don’t have the schedule of two weekly intern studies or teaching SALI English classes anymore.

But, despite missing the companionship of my compatriots, I’m looking forward now to the different pace of this last phase of my time in Peru. The pace of the month leading up to their departure was frenzied, to say the least. Practically, people were finishing up SALI classes, packing their belongings, and saying difficult goodbyes to their friends and lives they’ve made here. Emotionally, all of that is combined with processing what

this past year has meant, how it has impacted them, the struggles, joys and lessons they have experienced, how God has worked in their lives. In a way, I went through part of that process with my friends – at least in a supportive, observant way. But I know my turn’s coming soon and, although I definitely don’t want to get ahead of myself, I think their goodbye process started my reflection wheels turning. Which, considering that I get to spread that process over the next couple of months, is a good thing, I think.

But I was pretty worn out by the time they all left, so I was thankful for another change of pace: I spent last week in the mountain city of Cajamarca, helping a couple there with some ideas for conversational English classes they’re starting at the church. I hope some of my presence was helpful, but I also just appreciated the chance to learn from their relaxed way of doing life and to enjoy being out of the city-pace of Trujillo. Seeing the room where the Spanish conquistadors held the Inca king Atahualpa hostage was a wonder. Going for a run in the dairy fields outside Cajamarca was refreshing. Visiting a few of the mountain churches gave me a breath of fresh air, literally and figuratively as I saw the distinctive, difficult, and beautiful reality of the culture and congregations in towns like Huacraruco, Manzana Mayo, and Quinoapata.

Whether it’s guiding a horse in a circle for four hours making a brick mixture, selling vegetables and fresh cheese in the market, or working in the clinic in Wichanzao, I guess we all have our own pace. Maybe God gives part of it to us, depending on our personality. Maybe sometimes it changes, depending on our circumstances. Maybe we should always be aware of it, running hard enough to make the most of every opportunity but slowing down enough to relish relationships, take in the scenery, and take care of ourselves. I’m pretty sure I’ll be trying to find that balance my whole life. But I’m thankful for the chance to try, and for people who inspire me to run hard and those that show me how to slow down. I think God gives us peace somewhere in the middle, when we run for Him but aren’t striving to be enough on our own…when we’re close to the pace He’s made us for.

Agradecida

There's much to be thankful for recently. Mother's Day here is a big deal - and with good reason, as the women here work extremely hard. Most of the time during the medical campaigns, and even in the clinic itself, the women are those who come, who bring their kids, who have to leave in time to cook the traditionally main meal for lunch by 1 or 2 in the afternoon. Of course there are all kinds, but I've met some really strong women. The Friday before, we had a small little party at the clinic for our two staff members who are mothers. Nila is a sweet LPN in her early 60s who makes sure you've had your coffee break and always tells you "you haven't eaten anything!" Below, I'm with la hermana Marina, an active member of the Wichanzao church, mother of 4, a hard worker at the clinic keeping everything clean for us, and one of the sweetest people you'll ever meet.

Speaking of people like that, I'm thankful for my mom and grandmothers, both Liz, who's still living, and Virginia, who was a loving and strong woman herself. Thanks for being wonderful examples to me and so many others.

Also, transitioning a little, it's been and will be (at least in parts) a little bit of an emotionally draining month. Heidi, one of my roommates and dearest friends here, left tonight. She had to leave a couple of weeks before the rest of the interns at the end of May when the fellowship program ends, but it's fitting, I think, as she's been here two years. This way, I think she got a special thank-you and goodbye from a lot of people. Anyway, she has touched and will be missed by so many people in Trujillo. As have/will the other interns when they leave in two weeks. I'm so thankful to get to stay for 2 more months, but it's strange going through this goodbye process with them all - knowing I'll be doing it soon, but not yet. Just hope I can be with and helpful to them as they do it, while, at the same time, being present and thankful for the time we've had. So Heidi... the first... many, including Karina and me, will miss you a lot.

Perseverance

We have a patient at the clinic named don José. He's not wearing his trademark hunter orange cap or his mischievous grin in this picture, but you can at least see is face. Don Jose is in his early 80s and, since a couple of major surgeries he had about a year ago, he’s been close to the heart of everyone at Bethesda. Thankfully, he’s still mobile and self-sufficient, selling his candies every day at the Hermalinda market and regularly attending church at Wichanzao. However, in December, he came to use to let us know about some growths that appeared in his nose, nearly blocking his airways. After tests and scans, we were thankful that these tumors were benign, but the polyps do extend throughout his nasal and sinus cavities and need to be removed.

The problem, however, is that if your condition is not emergent, it’s difficult for it to become a priority. So, for the past few months, don Jose has been attending sporadic doctors appointments and hospital visits, jumping through the necessary hoops to get his surgery scheduled. It’s been a frustrating process, especially learning which lines to wait in, whom to ask what questions, and then which line to wait in next. Often, even after a few hours of this process, you might still leave the hospital with a “Your appointment will be next week” or “Come back in two weeks to schedule the surgery. There are no rooms available right now.” And I imagine that if I, unfamiliar with the language and process as I am, am frustrated with and confused by the inefficient process of bouncing from line to line like a pinball, it must be incredibly overwhelming for someone without much exposure to or education of the health care environment.

Yet, the perseverance, the patience – perhaps it’s submission engrained by years of disappointment and being told to wait – I see in everyday people inspires me. Granted, there are those who jump to the front of the line, who gripe and complain. But there are also those who, after getting to the hospital at 5 am, leave at noon without the appointment they hoped for. And then they come back and do it again.

It’s pretty sad. And the system of having to ask all the questions and make all the appropriate arrangements yourself doesn’t work. But I’ve learned a lot by watching the people waiting with me. They shouldn’t have to wait, look confused as they’re brushed off as some other department’s responsibility, and then come back for another round the next day. But they wait patiently. And they come back. And so, in my relatively painless bouts of waiting a couple of hours for the doctor or getting up the nerve to call him day after day to see if he was able to get a surgery date for don José yet, I thought about those faces.

And it reminded me of Jesus’s parable about the woman continuing to ask the judge or the neighbor who refused to stop knocking until his friend gave him some bread. I didn’t want to be a pestering bother, but I couldn’t stop knocking, couldn’t stop asking. I think perseverance is definitely a lesson in humility. But it’s also hopeful. Because we have a Savior who wants to help us, who waits for our knock, our call, our request. Sure, it might still require perseverance and patience. It might not happen in the timeline we think it should. But if even the stern judge, the reluctant neighbor, and the busy ENT surgeon finally give in to a persistent request, won’t our Father who loves us be so much more ready to do the same?

I hope you have a beautiful Easter.