3-26-26. Day Five
“If I am not for myself, who will be for me?
But if I am only for myself, what am I?
And if not now, when?”
Hillel the Elder
Today begins the same as all the previous four: Devotional and Team meeting at 6:15. Breakfast and on the bus by 7:30 for a 10-minute ride to the clinic. Head to our stations and get to work. What was unusual 4 days ago has become our new normal.
But this is our last day. It may have started the same, but it won’t end that way. After the last patient is done today, we will be packing up our equipment and what supplies we have left. We will be taking down privacy curtains, folding up tables and reloading the same truck we unloaded 5 days ago. We will stack the chairs in the courtyard that were brought in by the local team. We will refill the classrooms with the desks and chairs that were removed to make room for us, turning our specialty clinics back into classrooms, ready for school again on Monday morning.
While we may be “leaving no trace”, we certainly left our mark.
In 5 days, we registered 1018 patients, had 1410 clinical visits, and made 165 referrals.
But the numbers don’t really tell the story. While what we literally provided was medicine and treatment and testing and counseling and advice and wheelchairs, and etc., etc.…. what we really provided was
CARE.
In every sense of the word.
As I write this, however, I’m not thinking so much about what we gave to the people of Guatemala. I’m thinking of what we received from them. You can’t go through this experience and not be deeply touched and moved by the people we had the privilege to meet, albeit briefly. They are, almost to a person, gentle, kind, generous and grateful. We received blessings from them over and over for any service performed. (I don’t imagine it happens often in the states that one gets hugged for doing a blood draw or asking for a urine sample!).
I know each of us have those patients whose memories will stay with us long after the glow of the mission fades.
Our interpreter Linda met Eleanora, a tiny modest abuela in her late 80’s from the countryside. When she came to the clinic it appeared that she likely had never been to see a doctor in her life. Yet, while helping reassure her and make her comfortable Linda learned, among other things that, as a younger woman Eleanora served as a midwife. In her lifetime she estimated that she probably helped deliver nearly 100 babies… including 7 of her own!
Jimmy in orthopedics had a woman come to see him with painful arthritis in her knee. After receiving a cortisone shot, she thanked him and left the clinic and went home. About a half hour later she was back… with a plate full of a homemade lunch for him in thanks.
For me it was all the children, innocent, playful and beautiful. But one in particular absolutely stole my heart. Efina is about 9 years old. She is deaf and has cerebral palsy. I first saw her from across the courtyard walking haltingly with her mother (her mother was the patient) and even from that distance it was apparent that there was something special, something absolutely beautiful about her. Thankfully I got to see her again later when she accompanied her mother to the lab.
I really don’t have the words or skill to adequately describe her or the beauty and sheer goodness she exuded. When Amy gave her a sticker, a HUGE smile went across her face and she screamed with joy. With some help from her sweet mom, Elfina put the sticker in her notebook and clapped her hands. Another sticker and another moment of joy. And then she turned, and looked at us, and, with great effort and a smile that will be burnt in my memory forever, made a heart with her hands. I began crying then, just as I am now writing this.
I realize that when I get back home, memories of my time here will begin to fade and I’ll become absorbed in my day-to-day life and routines. But I don’t think I could ever forget Efina.
If there are angels, I believe I met one.
Before putting this last post to rest, I’d like to express my gratitude to all that made this experience possible. Thank you to Joel and Marie Carmen and Claudia for leading and directing us. Thank you to our team of 35 doctors, nurses, pharmacists, interpreters, assemblers, assistants and our photographer for your commitment, your tireless effort, and for sharing your skills. Thank you to the local team and the red and blue hats without whose hard work and expertise missions like this could not happen. Thank you to the people of Guatemala for welcoming us.
And a big thank you to all who supported our mission through your financial and/or moral and emotional support. You may not have physically been here, but were instrumental in making a big difference in the lives of a lot of people.
Tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn, we’ll board the bus and, instead of heading to the clinic, we’ll be making our way home.
I’m not ready to leave.
I want another day in the clinic. I want another day helping to provide care to these wonderful people. I want another day of hugs and blessings. I want another day of the kids. I want another day of working alongside such an amazing and impressive group of people… another day of kindness.
I want to come back.
Jeff White
Zimbelman Clinic 897
