25 September 2009
On Wednesday evening I went for a short run with Rebecca, the new American volunteer in Estancia. As we returned to our house, we saw that two of the children who live next door were playing outside, and we went to their house to say hello to them and their parents.
It began to rain, fiercely, as we chatted with the kids about what they had done in school. After a few loud thunder crashes it was clear that we wouldn’t be going back outside for awhile. Doris, our wonderful neighbor and the director of a congress for indigenous persons, brought us a drink made of corn meal and a dish made of a gourd similar to pumpkin.
I was halfway through my meal when the cane door to the house opened, and a young woman who I had met a handful of times rushed in. She came over and sat down next to me. Earlier that evening, she explained, her 84 year old father had come home from working in the corn fields. He had sat down, and then suddenly his face drooped and he started slurring his words. His daughter left the house quickly at that point and walked to mine.
I had seen her father in the clinic a couple of times before, and often ran into him when he was on his way home from the fields. He had high blood pressure, and I had recently asked him to increase the dose of the blood pressure medicine that he took. I also had asked him to start taking a baby aspirin a day. Given his risk factors, and the story that his daughter had described, I feared that he was having a stroke. I decided that I should go with her back to her house. Given the rain, and the fact that it was already getting dark, Rebecca and one of the kids from next door, Cesar, a twelve year old who adores Bela, decided to come too to help me find my way and provide support. We left the house and climbed up to the clinic in the rain to get some supplies, and then started the treck to the house.
Many of the roads were flooded on the way, and by the time we left the clinic with supplies, the night was pitch black. We trecked down a long hill, and then took a small path that winds along the bank of the river. Parts of the path were completely submerged, and water had risen up and covered the tops of my shoes. Further along, a steep incline had converted itself into a rushing waterfall, and it was only with the help of the patient´s daughter and Cesar that I was able to climb down. We finally arrived at the house about a half an hour later, soaking wet.
The man´s wife had lit candles, and the patient´s brother and other family members were surrounding the bed when we walked in. I said hello and confirmed what the patient´s daughter had told me about the event on the walk with the other family members, who updated me on what had happened since his daughter left. It appeared that he had not worsened very much since that time, and after talking to him briefly I sat down on the edge of the bed to examine him. It appeared to me that he had a stroke that was affecting the right side of his brain. I made a plan, talked to the family, and then explained that I would call a phyisician in the States to confirm or make changes to the plan.
After talking with the family more it was clear that they wanted the patient to go to the hospital. Rebecca called Ramiro, the director of the NGO for whom we volunteer, Campesinos para el Desarrollo Humano, and they made a plan to pick the patient up at six fifteen in the morning, as the roads were impassible at that time with the flooding. We stayed with the family for about a half an hour after that, and then began the treck home.
We had almost made it back when a large snake slid across the top of a deep puddle that had formed in the road. Cesar spotted it first, as he was up ahead to find the best way to cross. He yelled, ¨Stop, it´s poisonous,¨ and offered to kill the snake for us, which we declined. He grumbled, but eventually the snake slithered past and we went on our way, quicker than we had walked before. Cesar walked us up to the house, and as he said goodnight he told me, ¨I´ve decided what I want to be when I grow up. I want to be a doctor.¨
On Wednesday evening I went for a short run with Rebecca, the new American volunteer in Estancia. As we returned to our house, we saw that two of the children who live next door were playing outside, and we went to their house to say hello to them and their parents.
It began to rain, fiercely, as we chatted with the kids about what they had done in school. After a few loud thunder crashes it was clear that we wouldn’t be going back outside for awhile. Doris, our wonderful neighbor and the director of a congress for indigenous persons, brought us a drink made of corn meal and a dish made of a gourd similar to pumpkin.
I was halfway through my meal when the cane door to the house opened, and a young woman who I had met a handful of times rushed in. She came over and sat down next to me. Earlier that evening, she explained, her 84 year old father had come home from working in the corn fields. He had sat down, and then suddenly his face drooped and he started slurring his words. His daughter left the house quickly at that point and walked to mine.
I had seen her father in the clinic a couple of times before, and often ran into him when he was on his way home from the fields. He had high blood pressure, and I had recently asked him to increase the dose of the blood pressure medicine that he took. I also had asked him to start taking a baby aspirin a day. Given his risk factors, and the story that his daughter had described, I feared that he was having a stroke. I decided that I should go with her back to her house. Given the rain, and the fact that it was already getting dark, Rebecca and one of the kids from next door, Cesar, a twelve year old who adores Bela, decided to come too to help me find my way and provide support. We left the house and climbed up to the clinic in the rain to get some supplies, and then started the treck to the house.
Many of the roads were flooded on the way, and by the time we left the clinic with supplies, the night was pitch black. We trecked down a long hill, and then took a small path that winds along the bank of the river. Parts of the path were completely submerged, and water had risen up and covered the tops of my shoes. Further along, a steep incline had converted itself into a rushing waterfall, and it was only with the help of the patient´s daughter and Cesar that I was able to climb down. We finally arrived at the house about a half an hour later, soaking wet.
The man´s wife had lit candles, and the patient´s brother and other family members were surrounding the bed when we walked in. I said hello and confirmed what the patient´s daughter had told me about the event on the walk with the other family members, who updated me on what had happened since his daughter left. It appeared that he had not worsened very much since that time, and after talking to him briefly I sat down on the edge of the bed to examine him. It appeared to me that he had a stroke that was affecting the right side of his brain. I made a plan, talked to the family, and then explained that I would call a phyisician in the States to confirm or make changes to the plan.
After talking with the family more it was clear that they wanted the patient to go to the hospital. Rebecca called Ramiro, the director of the NGO for whom we volunteer, Campesinos para el Desarrollo Humano, and they made a plan to pick the patient up at six fifteen in the morning, as the roads were impassible at that time with the flooding. We stayed with the family for about a half an hour after that, and then began the treck home.
We had almost made it back when a large snake slid across the top of a deep puddle that had formed in the road. Cesar spotted it first, as he was up ahead to find the best way to cross. He yelled, ¨Stop, it´s poisonous,¨ and offered to kill the snake for us, which we declined. He grumbled, but eventually the snake slithered past and we went on our way, quicker than we had walked before. Cesar walked us up to the house, and as he said goodnight he told me, ¨I´ve decided what I want to be when I grow up. I want to be a doctor.¨
--Calla
No comments:
Post a Comment