Lousy Layovers and Lessons Learned

At 2pm, after two trips through security, one missed flight, one cancelled flight, 12 and a half hours in the same airport, almost 16 hours worth of delays,  and 27 hours in route, I finally got on my fourth of four flights to take me into Medford, Oregon. I had arrived in the San Francisco airport at 1:30 that morning and found myself trying to sleep on a bench in the food court. It wasn’t quite long enough so I improvised and added a chair at the end to put my feet on.  It wasn’t quite wide enough either but I wedged myself in, barely able to turn. And it was far from warm enough. Without a blanket, I used my thin rain jacket to cover my feet and legs, two t-shirts to cover my body, and a hat to cover my eyes. Loud announcements for a conveniently open Subway in Terminal  A and patriotically free amenities for military and their family on third floor, as well as caring warnings against leaving your bags unattended blared over the loud speaker every 5 minutes. This rudely interrupted all thoughts of a good nights nap.  At 4:30 am, the food court opened and the morning rush started coming through. Groaning inside and painfully squinting at the world, I got myself up. Thankfully I had some friends to talk to and a computer to keep me half-way entertained for the remaining nine hours, but never the less, I was feeling pretty miserable.

When I sat down in my seat on the flight to Medford, a small piece of ice fell in my lap, I examined it and looked up. Really, I thought to myself, after all this and I get a seat under a leaky A.C.? I hadn’t read my devotions yet and opened up my handy travel bible to James. The second verse read “Count it all joy when you fall into various trials.” As if on cue, another drop fell from the ceiling. Suddenly, the whole situation became very funny to me, and I realized yet again, the power of choice. At some point, I had chosen miserable as my mood for the day and it faithfully stuck. But not anymore!  I realized that if I came to my friends wedding weekend as miserable as I was, dragging my airport catastrophe behind me, it would make me miserable AND miserable to be around. Sometimes life gives you leaky ceilings and you can pout in the puddle or you can enjoy the rain. Or, more realistically, I can crease my forehead  in disapproval at the ceiling, and scoot over just a little bit, and laugh. Laugh because sometimes God lets those leaky ceilings remind us that we need Him, and His attitude, and His gift of humor that makes everything a little better, and everyone a whole lot nicer.  

Names and Things

          I love how Obed and Abaid call me B, how Eduin calls me señorita Gage, how Ashley and Antonia run and give me a hug and a big smile everytime I come to the restaurant. I love how Jonathon says 'Riah' from across the room with his head tilted to the side, how Joshua is still willing to sit on my lap and let me hug him, how Michelle breaks out into a smile and how Micheala makes getting things done sound so easy. I love our families! Nora, Karol, and Diego; Mama Luz and Romeo, The Maldonado’s – Ruben y Doña Toñita, Daniel, Jessy, Ashley and her quiet, smiling heart, and Danielito, Diana, Antonia with her confidence and friendship, my exercise partner por siempre, and Emma, precious emma – I had to work so hard for her to like me, and now her chubby arms willingly wrap around my neck and her dimpled cheeks smile from ear to ear when I pick her up and throw her in the air. I love Chino and his crazy laugh and crazy jokes and crazy hugs and crazy attempts to make Eduin jealous. I love Chino and Edwin’s impersonation attempts, especially Edwin’s impersonation of Antonia and Chino’s impersonation of Kelli – “papa’s fritas otra vez?” Allan and Enma, Rosinda, Don Marco, Pastor Castillo and Jonathon, Reina, Magdalena and Dina, Amec and Sindy; so many people so full of friendship and hospitality. From our families, we were invited over and over again to come back and bring our families and eat their food and occupy their couches and beds and not so spare rooms. I have no doubt that I would be well fed and and well bedded if I ever come back to visit.

I love the kids in the orphange, Johnny, Sammy, Belkis, Jennifer, Jenny, Jessica, Katarin, Miky, Alex – AKA Primo, Jonaton, Daisy, Luis, Augustin, Chino – AKA Andres, Johanna, Junior, Jaime, Paula, Alejandra, and so many more. My heart hurts for them, I feel like whatever I did wasn’t enough. Whenever I gave them things it made it worse even though I feel like I should have given so much more. I really love them but I was at a loss of what to do for them. Even the time I spent with them sometimes seemed to make it worse b/c I wasn’t spending time with somebody else. That was hard. But the good times outweigh the bad and I still love them. And the babies from La Finca – who haven’t learned that stangers are there to request stuff from and haven’t hardened themselves to loving and being loved by the people that come and go so freely.

I love Sandra from the orphanage in Santa Barbara and her daring, persistent heart.  I love Jehovanni and what he gave me – purpose for being in Honduras. He was always so grateful, willing to share love, laughs, thoughtfulness and appreciation through text messages and words when at his house. Bringing him company and what little relief I could was like experiencing a part of God's plan.

And I love, love, love Kelli. My friend of seven years and my wife of nine months. I am convinced that her supportive friendship and contagious laugh was God's way of getting me through this year! 

There are a few things besides people that come to mind as well. I love the clouds, full and white! There were so many beautiful places: the waterfalls, also known as Las Golindrinas, Roatan and it’s INCREDIBLE snorkeling and clear blue water, Copan’s butterfly sanctuary, and the market in Santa Barbara.  I loved running; the fresh air that filled my lungs and the scenery that refreshed my soul! I love that no matter how much I ran, the hills were still challenging, they could always be ran faster, yet made me feel accomplished just to get to the top no matter what pace I went. I also love Spanish, learning a new language was my biggest and most rewarding challenge from my year in Honduras! Last but not least, I love the pace of life. Sometimes it drove me crazy, but the majority of the time I soaked up the spare time that I had to do things that I wanted to do, like run, study Spanish, go to the orphanage, help Jehovanni, and spend time with friends.

Thinking of things I love in Honduras makes me think mostly of people. Everything I did has somebody connected to it, rather it’s a patient and their family, a friend, or a coworker. The friends and family that I made have truly enriched my experience. As I look back at this year, I remember the relationships so much more than anything that I ever did. There were challenges, there were hard times, there were tears, and there were many frustrations, but besides some hard lessons learned, I prefer to remember what I love. There will always be memories that will fill my heart with warmth.

Final Thoughts on Honduras

This blank page is staring at me, taunting me, challenging me to find words to describe the last nine months in Honduras. Where can I start? Lessons learned? Favorite memories? Things I’ve done? Regrets? The names of family and friends that I now have in Honduras? Family and friends that I may never see again. This plane continues at a steady and unforgiving pace, leaving no time to reminisce or let go.  I can still see the shore of Honduras behind me, the clouds, our favorite Honduran clouds, scattered above. Both are fading quickly. I can only hope that it’s not a preview of what will happen to my memories.

            I don’t want to let go. Three weeks ago, I was more than ready. I was frustrated and tired from work and the effort that at times felt so wasted. I was ready to meet mom in the airport and feel her ever supportive arms around me. I was ready to say goodbye to a pending relationship that wasn’t going anywhere and getting more complicated by the day. But now I find myself feeling this experience slip away like sand through my fingers, leaving a dull feeling of emptiness. The friendships that I made have increased in value over the last few weeks. Saying goodbye has made me realize what I will miss. There is something about travelling to tropical Roatan and sharing a house, beautiful beaches, warm sun, and snorkel gear that binds you together, or maybe it has nothing to do with the experience and everything to do with the investment of time. My gratitude for the families that have gone out of their way to make us feel like part of their family, feeding us and welcoming us into their home, is inexpressible. Their hospitality and free love will never cease to warm my heart. I hope that I will never forget the effect it had on me and that I will do the same for others in the future.

The last three days have been filled with doing nothing but saying goodbye. During our last visit to the orphanage, as I wrapped one child after another in a hug, I realized with a sinking feeling how quickly each precious moment was passing and I was thankful that in that particular, precious, passing, moment, I was with my kids.

The kids in La Finca have had a big part helping me find purpose here in Honduras. We have spent many hours playing Uno, improving my Spanish, and chatting about who knows what. Sometimes their hugs and smiles were freely given, other times they were hard earned, and a few times, replaced by glares or rude indifference. Their defense mechanisms are strong with barriers that are hard to break down, but with good reason. Strangers come and go, offering love and gifts for the time they are there, but then, like me, they leave, leaving the kids trying to fill their need for love, supervision, and guidance on their own. It’s hard not to wonder if the time invested and the relationships built will actually do more harm then good because of the way they have to end.

One girl, Jennifer, was particularly special to me. We had a connection. She sought me out and we became friends. But as time went on, I realized that other kids were jealous to know that every time I came, I came to see her and as I tried to spread my time more evenly among the kids, Jennifer and her friends would rudely tell me that I never spent time with them anymore. It was an exhausting circle of a game, and at time’s I told them so, offending them even more. I can only pray that my time and love invested in those kids will be remembered and remind them of a God that, unlike me, will never leave them and will always understand.

I pray the same for Sandra from the orphanage in Santa Barbara. Its hard to believe how strong of a connection can be built in just a few days. I hope I can somehow stay in contact with her. She is so precious! So daring, so loving, so smiling and hugging; wanting to be thrown across the water over and over again, despite having to gasp for breath and thrash in the water as if she were drowning. I will never forget how she pushed her way onto my lap and in the end asked me over and over for “un recuerdo”! I feel like she fought for my heart and definitely won! Her humble desire to give me something to remember her by – the childrens paper games and a half used Christmas heart tin candle.  I hope she knows that she will never be forgotten!

            Jehovanni also gave me purpose while I was there. With his stark need, contrasted almost unnaturally by his friendly personality and inspiring attitude, he quickly became my favorite patient as well as a genuine friend. Watching his wounds heal as a result of my feeble efforts felt like seeing a miracle unfold before my eyes, slowly but surely.  Pastor Castillo, and a few others expressed that they were impressed with my dedication to help Jehovanni, but I never felt very impressive. Finding Jehovanni was like finally finding the reason why I came to Honduras, how could I not do it? Jehovanni was always a team effort. As people heard about him, they wanted to help. His gratefulness made him enjoyable to help. I already miss his text messages full of bible verses, random jokes and cheesy quotes, that came as a result of lots of time in his bed and his passion for making people smile.

            Learning Spanish is a different kind of relationship that will be missed. I spent the majority of time in Honduras learning Spanish. I miss needing to concentrate in order to understand and having to think ahead about things to say. I miss the challenge that it provided, an endless supply of mental stimulation. It has barely been a month or two that I have even felt proficient in the language and I already have to leave. It felt so good to see the hours of studying pay off as I became more comfortable with conversing. I will never forget the built up frustrations and feelings of utter ignorance that the first few months of trying to speak and understand brought. I am so thankful those days are over and I am so excited to be able to use this new skill in providing better care to Spanish-speaking patients in the future.

This plane keeps moving, its unforgiving pace hasn’t changed. As with life, there is no turning back and there is no slowing down. Saying goodbye to the relationships in Honduras means saying hello to friendships and family in the United States. Once again, I am reminded that this world, full of hectic lives, sickness, injustice, and goodbyes is not our home.  I can already sense my memories fading, but there are some that will last. In a little while, the wheels of the plane will touch ground and I will be hit full force by the life I used to know, hectic and busy and full, full of relationships that ten months ago, I put on hold for Honduras. This is the life I love and at times this is the life I hate, but whatever I am feeling, this is my life. And I will choose to greet each new phase with open arms and an open heart embracing those around me and ready to be filled yet again.

Incendio Comayagua

Introduction: This was my following homework. I decided to research a fire that had recently happened in a prison that claimed the lives of 355 prisoners. It gives me chills to think about what it would be like to be stuck in a prison cell as an unquenchable fire comes to take your life and/or the lives of those around you. Heaven help the survivors! 

A la 1:29 a.m. el 17 de Febrero del 2012, un incendio terrible pasó en la cárcel de Comayagua, Honduras. Bomberos y otros profesionales rescatistas, han encontrado 355 muertos y hay mas que están en condiciones criticas en los hospitales públicos. La identificacion de la mayor parte de los reclusos muertos todavía es desconocida. Por eso, las familias esperan devastadas, orando y mirando afuera de la cárcel.

Igual que  muchos de los muertos, la causa del incendio todavía es desconocida. Autoridades dicen que tal vez fue un cortocircuito, pero hay dudas que sugieren que la causa del incendio pudo ser una bomba. El presidente pidió ayuda para investigar mas a fondo, México ha mandado un equipo de profesionales y materiales para ayudar con cosas medicas, para buscar e identificar los cuerpos de lo reclusos muertos, y para investigar la causa del incendio. Chile y Estados Unidos, también han mandado ayuda. Todo el mundo quiere saber la causa de este incendio.

El incendio de este día impacta a familiares y amigos  de los reclusos. Pero mas que a ellos, a los reclusos que sobrevivieron y que tendran que vivir con los recuerdos de sus compañeros que murieron arrasados por el fuego. No se puede imaginar el espanto y angustia al ver a los otros quemandose sin la posibilidad de hallar una salida.  El trauma en la mente sera imposible de llevar. Además, aun que sobrevivieron, la mayor parte  de su vida van a sufrir de daños permanentes. 

De todos modos, fue un desastre, triste y terrible. En estos momentos puede ser difícil  ver la mano de Dios, pero tenemos que creer que aun en la dificultad, El todavía está con nosotros. Sabemos que el sufrimiento nunca es la voluntad de Dios, pero el es capaz de traer algo bueno de todo. Tal vez alguien pueda  pensar mas antes de hacer algo malo que pueda mandarlo a prision, o tal vez los familiares y amigos despierten y busquen mas a Dios. A mi, me hace pensar que Gracias a Dios, este mundo no es nuestro hogar, que tenemos la esperanza del cielo donde hay perdón, amor, entendimiento, y cura sin limite.

Porque Las Cambiamos?

Introduction: This was one of my first homework projects. The importance of changing positions seems to be a difficult concept to understand for the nurses here so I decided to write my opinion paper about changing positions. Thank you to my teacher, Gloria,  for fine-tuning and correcting my many mistakes it and helping me in my spanish!  

Cuando se pregunta, por que debemos cambiar las posiciones de los pacientes cada dos a tres horas? Generalmente, la primera repuesta es: Para prevenir irritación en la piel o úlceras de presión.  Por eso, cuando no se pueden ver directamente malos resultados por no cambiarlos de posición, pareciera que no es necesario seguir el consejo. Pero, en el departamento de enfermería, tenemos que pensar en el paciente íntegro. Un paciente tiene algo mas que piel en su cuerpo; también, hay pulmones, músculos, huesos, área genital y la mente.

Cambiar de posición ayuda el paciente en muchas maneras. Cuando se deja a un paciente en la misma posición por mucho tiempo, tenemos como consecuencia, problemas en los pulmones. En pacientes que no pueden moverse por si mismos,  pueden contraer una neumonía, porque la flema en los pulmones puede estar allí por mucho tiempo y la bacteria que la provoca crecerá. Cada paciente que tenemos, que no puede moverse por si mismo, nos muestra que esto es verdad, porque tienen bastante tos y flema gruesa.

Los huesos y músculos nos dan otras razones para cambiarlos de posición. Cuando se les cambia la posición, de repente mueven los brazos, el cuello, los hombros y las piernas. Los músculos se ponen rígidos y mas difíciles de manipular si no están en movimiento. Esto provoca mas dificultad para las enfermeras, y también, resulta mas doloroso y representa mucho sufrimiento para los pacientes.

Generalmente, cuando les cambiamos la posición a los pacientes, son las únicas veces que revisamos los pañales. Muchas veces, después de 2 horas, los pacientes ya han hecho heces u orina y dejarlos por mas tiempo sin cambio de posición, resultara que tendremos que cambiar todas las ropas de cama. Si no hacemos todo esto, el área genital estará expuesta con heces u orina que lastimara la piel provocando ulceraciones o erupciones y esto causa incomodidad en el paciente. También, la humedad de un pañal orinado provee una buena oportunidad para que crezcan bacterias, resultando en infecciones en la uretra.

Finalmente, los pacientes que no pueden moverse, miran la misma pared por horas y horas. La mayor parte del día, no hay nada emocionante pasando en sus cuartos. Cambiar de posiciones es una manera fácil para estimular la mente.  Y por lo menos, habrá algo diferente que ver. También es una buena oportunidad para hablar con el paciente, le podemos recordar la fecha, su nombre,  que tiene familia que le ama y que Jesús se preocupa por el. Es verdad que parte de cualquier tratamiento es descanso. Por eso, durante la noche se apagan las luces, y  los dejamos tan tranquilos como sea posible. Durante la noche, es un buen tiempo para dejar a los pacientes hasta por 3 horas en vez de cada 2 horas, pero máximo 3 horas. Todavía, necesitamos pensar en el paciente integro

En total, hay muchas razones para cambiar la posición de los pacientes, cada dos a tres horas, esto determinara una mejor condición de salud en el paciente. Pero, mas que todo, es sabido que un poquito de prevención, vale mas que un montón de tratamiento. Vamos a prevenir además de curar. Vamos a cuidar a los pacientes en la mejor manera posible. Vamos a pensar en el paciente íntegro tal como lo hizo Jesús.

finding a purpose

A few weeks ago, I went with the pastor to help someone that he had heard about. His name is Giovanni, he is 25 years old, and his story breaks my heart. When he was 13, his dad tried to kill his mom and when he shot at her, he missed and shot his son instead. The bullet went through Giovanni, from one side to the other and passed through his spinal column. Not only is he paralyzed but he is also deformed. I don't know when the last time he was out of his bed or his house. The combination of being bed-ridden and not having any sensation from the waist down has resulted in several deep and grotesque pressure wounds. Many of them are infected. The pastor invited me to come to clean his wounds. There is something addicting about being in a place where you know you are needed. Today I went for the fourth time and I hope to go at least once a week until I leave. It is definitely not my favorite thing to do though. The process is incredibly grotesque. Scrubbing raw flesh down to the bone combined with the smell of flesh, urine and iodine makes me slightly nauseated. I know that he can't feel it, but I know when I am scrubbing tendon's because his leg jerks sending chills down my spine. However, I pray, smile and do my best not to hold my breath or let my face show how I feel.

Giovanni is very polite but also shy. When I arrived for the first time, he wouldn't even look at me in the face. I'm sure he has had more then his fair share of stares and revolting looks. When he did look at me though, one of the first things he said was that I was beautiful. In a country where girls get whistled, cat called and looked up and down around every corner, his sincere compliment touched my heart and made me feel truly pretty. It made me realize that we have something to give in our beauty, the beauty that God has given us. Beauty brings life to depression and light to darkness.  It is not given to impress others or bring up our own social status but to give. True beauty is found in the smile of one who is confident of who they are and why they are here. When I saw Giovanni in his bed in a one room, poorly furnished, plastic roofed house, with pressure sores to his bones and flies buzzing around, I found these two things. In that moment I knew who I was and why I was there. I was a nurse, and I was there to offer my time, my skills, and my hands to clean his wounds; and my smile to bring some light into his life.

First Christmas away from Home

I decided to sing Christmas songs in the shower today. It seemed like a nice and festive idea until the wave of homesickness swept over me. I allowed myself to swallow a big pill of self-pity and started to sing the few words I remembered to “Homesick” by MercyMe.  Thoughts of Christmas at home flooded my mind: FAMILY. Cooped up in Dad’s cabin in Idaho, playing games and eating tacos with flashing snow-flake Christmas lights inside and continually falling, real snowflakes outside. I even yearned for the backache from shoveling snow.

After my shower I went down to the hospital to talk to my friend Obed about Christmas plans. We are both scheduled to work on the night of Christmas Eve. I wasn't dreading it too bad, I had joked about how we would wait for Santa Clause at the fireplace in the hospital at midnight. It’s worse for him though because he has to be at work at 4p, meaning that he would miss dinner at home. His family graciously invited the three of us SM’s, Kelli, Carla, and I, to their house for dinner that day and I felt bad knowing that we would be in his home for Christmas eve and he wouldn’t. Earlier, we had talked about how this would be our first Christmas working and not being able to be with our families. As we were talking however, he told me that he is planning on “escaping” work for a few hours to eat dinner and, if there weren’t any emergencies, he will spend the night at home. “This is my first Christmas that I have to work” he said. “Mine too”, I replied. “This is the first Christmas I’ll be away from home” he continued. “Mine too”, I repeated. “I don’t want to be here, I want to be at home.” I was silent and swallowed my second dose of self-pitying homesickness as I tried to keep the tears from welling up in my eyes. I don’t want to be here either but I don’t really have a choice. What is Christmas without family?

Later on, Kelli and I went to the orphanage to spend some time with the kids. We played Uno with them, played with hair and rubbed backs, held the little ones, teased the older ones, and chatted with all of them about nothing important. I loved being with them, I always do, but thoughts of feeling shorry for myself because I couldn't be at home were still with me. 

After a day of being sad, missing my family, and thinking that I just couldn’t celebrate Christmas away from home, I realized I was missing the whole point. Christmas isn’t about snow, Dad’s cabin, or Grandma’s fireplace, it’s not about making pizza, taco’s, mom’s brown rice and steamed vegetables, holiday baked yams or apple pie. It’s not even about family, although family is a very crucial part. These are all traditions, fantastic traditions to enjoy and cherish and carry on, but at the end of the day, Christmas is about Christ. I may be a little behind the times to discover this, but sometimes old ideas find fresh meanings when we are put in the right circumstances. Before I fell asleep, I remembered that the first Christmas was about Jesus, leaving His home, stepping foot into a whole new world, so that He could serve us… for 33 years! Suddenly my one Christmas away from home didn’t seem so bad and I felt ashamed for my moping. In addition to being in a place where I can serve, I am incredibly blessed! I’m in Honduras with one of my best friends, sharing Christmas eve with new friends, and Christmas day decorating cookies with kids who know all to well what it means to have holidays without family. I’m here to serve and to love, and there is no greater blessing then that! I’m certainly not ready to do it every year, I’m not sure my heart could handle it. That said however, for this one Christmas in Honduras, I wouldn’t choose to be anywhere else.