coca cola light

Wow. What an amazing adventure in Ecuador! I just got back to the U.S. yesterday morning and am overwhelmed with the memories of the trip. Although I took the red eye flight on Tuesday and got very little sleep on the flight, I could not stop talking about my experience with anyone who would listen...including the ice cream guy at Wastenaw Dairy :) As promised, here are a couple of pictures from one of the Social Work projects, THE LIBRARY. Actually, I saved more pictures (or I thought I did) to my flash drive but am unable to access them due to formatting issues, etc. So what is posted will not be very impressive, but please know that the work involved in the library construction was greater than appears.

Right now I am in a stage of reflection on the goings on of the project and will continue to benefit from all that I learned about interpersonal communication, international social work and professional collaboration. AND the beautiful scenery will continue to be part of my repetoire of visualizations that I use to decrease anxiety during stressful situations!

I really appreciate the relationships that were formed during the trip and will truly miss each and every volunteer, foundation/family member, amazon guide, child, client and random person I met. Knowing you has taught me so much about myself and the world. Thank you as well for the support you all have shown and I wish you all the best in the life that you choose.

As an update on my life in general, the job that I was hoping to get upon my return actually called me the day I told them that I would be returning (yesterday). Yeah, I think that this can only be a positive sign...So I'll be moving to Chicago ASAP to begin my professional career! Any Quito Project reunion that we have will be scheduled for a weekend day, right?!

Again, thanks for the memories!


P.S. For those who were not in the know...the title, "coca cola light" refers to the "jugo gringo" (foreigner juice) that other Quito Project members and I would sneak out and buy to have with breakfast, lunch, snack, etc...a faux pas in Ecuador apparently. The Onas would make fun of me for drinking diet coke every time I bought it and then ask me if they could have a little. Teehee ;)

Ecuador te llevo dentro de mi corazon...

I'm back in the old you ess of ay today. It was with a heavy heart that I boarded my American Airlines flight yesterday morning. Ecuador, Quito, the house of the Oñas-- that has been my home for the past month and a half. I was sort of glad that the power was out that morning because then no one could see me crying.
As someone who has moved around thirteen times-- I have come to know what sort of finality is entailed with leaving a place-- and even moreso in this case because for the medical students, this is our last vacation - period -. The best we can do is hold onto the memories and pictures in our head and the things that remind us of the people and places we've seen.

Some of the things I will always remember-- Sebastian and Andrea, the two little monsters/angels of the house who were always willing to hug you and then blame you for making them cry, watching the World Cup with all the project members—when PELIGRO! means take a swig from your Pilsener, late-night futbol on the canchas in the park outside our house, granadillas—the amazing break-it-over-your-head fruit that looks like alien guts but tastes like a million dollars, white water rafting in the jungle, making chocolate, climbing Guagua Pichincha, long bus rides with all the project kids, Choo choo gua (or however you spell it—it’s a fantastic song), days when we DIDN’T eat rice, riding horses in the Galapagos, smooshing faces into cakes on birthdays, dancing, late night Scrubs episodes, movies dubbed in Spanish, Fausto Vinicio, Ariel, and the internet guy, returning Pilsener bottles at 8am to the nutty lady in the corner store, eating lemon-flavored ants, Pinguino ice cream for 60 cents, giant turtles, BOB ESPONJA, late night medicine-counting, the long line of people every day at the clinic at 8:30 am, little kid hugs, Samy and Jordy, COSQUILLAS, farmacia drawings... I suppose this is one of those lists that only makes sense if you were there and can go on forever...so I think I’ll end it.

I hope I can go back one day but it’s always a frightening aspect to go back and know that it will never be the same as when you left it—and never will be again—but that is not always necessarily a bad thing.

To any and all who might ever be even minutely interested in joining the Quito Project—DO IT—this has been the best summer I have ever had –period-.

Mucho tiempo, mucho estudio, muchos abrazos y besos a todos,
Alex

Resumencito

Three and a half weeks of clinic and I am still amazed that it went by so quickly. With six medical students and either 1 or 2 doctors (depending on what week)-- we managed to serve around eighty patients a day on a slow day and over a hundred and fifty on our last and busiest day. It is barely a raindrop in the ocean in comparison to all of the need for medical care in Ecuador, let alone in the world-- but I guess all oceans started off as raindrops...right?
I can't say that every day was easy peasy and that we solved every problem, cured every person. What I can say is that we gave every person our best care and utilized every available resource we had. Suffice it to say there were times when we had to put our hands up and surrender and say-- "I'm sorry there is nothing more we can do." It ripped my heart out to see people accept it when I myself couldn't. You want them to yell at you-- to tell you you are a failure-- and they don't-- they thank you instead for doing everything that you could.

For example, we made a housecall on a family who had asked us to stop in. We'd been told that the father of the house had some sort of leg wound and couldn't make the twenty minute walk up to the clinic which involved many rocky pathways and lots of uphill hiking. When we got to the tipsy house, leaning out over the road, the entire family came down to greet us-- in all about seven children, four dogs, and three women. The children called down to the father who was apparently working in the backyard. About five minutes later, a man hobbled up the precariously steep earth stairs to the road where we waited and then we all climbed up some plywood stairs to the house. He carried his leg like one carries a sack of potatoes-- sort of dragging it up. We all crowded into the one visible bedroom in the house and he sat on the bed with his leg on a small stool. He unwrapped his leg and the smell was like a knife cutting through the room. It was double the size of the other leg and was a mottled grey and yellow. Two large open sores were visible from one side and a third wet sore was on the other side.
Dr. Serlin asked, pointing at the leg, "Cuanto tiempo?" (how long)
"Un año" (one year)
Dr. Serlin looked at Darren and me after examining it further-- "That's gangrene. It's going to have to come off."
I tried to explain it to the family in a way that would drive the importance home-- that the infection could spread and eventually affect his heart, his brain, all of the important organs along the way. They understood-- but kept telling me that he needed his leg-- he worked with the cows and the crops-- he'd already had a surgery on his hip after being assaulted-- he already had enough trouble walking. They thanked us for our trouble and told us they would stop by the clinic again.
Several days later, they returned saying they would not go through with the surgery-- even with financial help-- but "thank you so much for everything you've done, may God pay you for your service."

However, there was also the patient suffering from chronic arthritis who finally was able to move her fingers after years of having them clenched and throbbing who couldn't stop thanking us for giving her her hands back.

It's both rewarding and frustrating to have this opportunity to serve the community of San Martin-- however, is it good enough to just fix the symptoms of another underlying problem? Once the naprosyn, the ranitidine, the lotrel that we gave our patients runs out-- what then? If someone had been able to monitor our patient with diabetes, he wouldn't have ended up with an infected foot ulcer that turned gangrenous and needed amputation.

The Quito Project is designed to address some of those underlying problems-- addressing information on nutrition, social work, tutors-- but we are only there for three months out of a very long year. I wish there were a way that we could help all year long. We are working toward that end-- and who knows? Anything can happen when you have enough gumption, enough idealism, and a creative executive board.