Just wanted to let you all know that I've created a new blog site. Please start checking in at www.anniekautza.blogspot.com for new posts. I from now on will be using that one.
Thanks, and happy reading.
annie
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
An Escape
I decided to escape from the Ranch this morning for a little bit – I needed to get away. Any volunteer would agree that if you spend an extended amount of time on the Ranch, without even getting away into the city for an evening, you will eventually go crazy. I find it difficult when I can’t get out of the Tegucigalpa area. It’s the feeling of being trapped, and never truly being able to get away from work. Living and working in the same place wears a person out. I have had a rough couple of weeks – the last several days have been exceptionally difficult. So, I decided to go into the city today to get a nice cup of coffee, hit up the grocery store, and try to forget about the worries that have been bringing me down.
I was really looking forward to some oh-so-badly-needed alone time, time when I didn’t have to think about anybody else – just myself; didn’t have to talk to anybody else – just be alone. I haven’t had that for a long time. It’s often hard to find a place here where you can really escape, and just be alone, and I’m a person that really needs that for my own sanity (unless you climb up into the mountains, which is a great option every once in a while).
So, I’m in the city and on my way to get coffee at Espresso Americano, the Starbucks of Central America, and there’s a marching band in the central park. September 15th is Independence Day here, so today there were parades all over the place. Junior highs and high schools get really into it, and there are bands and drum lines ALL over the place – marching down highways and everything. It’s fantastic! So, I decided to get my coffee and pastry to go, and went to sit in the park to watch the band. Oh, what hilarious memories it brought back of our high school marching band.
So much for alone time though – completely unaware of the fact before I sat down, I parked myself right next to a young homeless woman on the steps in Parque Central. The whole time I sat there she stared at me, and asked me for money. So, I handed over a couple Lemps. She continued to ask for my coffee, for my pastry, for more money. It becomes draining when every time you turn around, there is somebody asking for something, and it’s just simply impossible to constantly give to anyone that asks. At least for me. I know there are people out there that can, but I am not one of them. When on the Ranch, it’s the kids asking for simple things like sugar (they eat it straight up, right out of their palms), salt and hot sauce to put on their green, non-ripened mangoes, asking for a soda, or asking for your food as you’re walking away from the kitchen with your dinner in hand (although they’re scheduled to eat their own dinner in about 10 minutes). When I’m in the hospital, countless people ask for money so they can pay for medications, or pay for tests, or purchase food because they’ve been living in the hospital for months with their ill child and therefore unable to work (which includes them sleeping on a hard, cold, insect-ridden floor), or asking for money in order to pay the fee for not being able to donate enough blood before having surgery (surgery in the public hospital is free, you just have to find typically three people to donate blood prior to the operation). When in the central park, it’s homeless people asking for money, food or drink. It’s having to guard your backpack at every moment so nobody sneaks into it to steal money - and us foreigners are great targets for that. You know, one person can only give so much…
I had finally just had about enough of being pestered while sitting outside, that and the sun had started to burn my skin, that I was about two seconds from standing up to walk back to the coffee shop, where I could sit in peace and get a little reading done. Where I knew that I’d be able to just be alone, where I wouldn’t have to worry about anybody but me (that sounds kind of selfish, no? whatever.) Well some guy comes up to me and asks if I know where the immigration office is. His passport was stolen and needed to fill out paperwork to get a new one. Well, that very simple conversation turned into him sharing his whole life story with me – about growing up in Beirut, about being taken away from his parents due to physical abuse, about living in orphanages. About being a genius and finishing his bachelor’s degree at 15 years old, and self-teaching himself calculus and Latin. About his diagnosis of autism. About his friend that is working at an orphanage and cries herself to sleep every night. About how he was in a casino in San Pedro Sula, and since he’s amazing at blackjack, he was eventually kicked out of the casino after winning something crazy like $40,000. And just in case I didn’t believe him, he pulls out his blackberry to show me a photo of the wads of lempira he had won. And just in case I didn’t believe that, he pulls out his laptop from his backpack (not smart to do in central park, especially after just having been mugged in San Pedro). I warned him he probably shouldn’t pull that out, but he insisted, and showed me more photos of the $100 bills he had deposited to his newly created bank account.
He then goes on to tell me of his account in the US Embassy yesterday. So he walks in, says he needs to get a new passport. I forget the exact details of what went down, but in the end, he said he was being treated horribly by the folks at the embassy, since his roots are from the middle east, and it was September 11th. The woman asked him how he knew English so well, and his response was, “Well, underneath the mud huts we live in in Beirut, we have an underground network where we all learn English”. He went on about how he told her they also have to ride camels around the city, since they have no cars. Hilarious.
So, unfortunately, today was not the peaceful, relaxing day I was hoping for. The day when I could forget about all the cares in the world. The day I could forget about the widespread poverty in developing countries, the poverty that so many people don’t know about. When I could forget about the tragedies our children have faced before coming to NPH. A day when I could get away from the daily struggle of having to prove myself, a foreign nurse, to certain physicians here. Having to constantly defend myself and my knowledge of caring for HIV positive children. When I could wipe from my mind the inequalities in health care in developing countries – forgetting about the lack of access the poor have to even basic health care services. And when they do have access, the hospitals are so overcrowded with patients, and understaffed in highly educated health care professionals, making it an extremely slow process to even diagnose patients and get them adequate treatment – as we’ve experienced recently with our child that finally just got out of the hospital after being admitted for just five days shy of two months.
To touch on the comment of having to defend myself and my knowledge of treating HIV positive children…I just finished reading the book Mountains Beyond Mountains, by Tracy Kidder, an amazing tale of Dr. Paul Farmer and his mission to treat infectious diseases in impoverished and underserved areas. In the final pages there was a great statement, which really struck me, and relates to my work here over the past weeks. “If you spend all your time arguing about that stuff, defending yourself, you don’t get your work done”. Amen. Especially within this past week, this has been a huge struggle for me. Starting back before I came back down to Honduras for my second year as a volunteer, I began reading up on HIV treatment, especially for children. I read a lot about holistic care for HIV positive kids and adolescents. I knew that I was in for an incredibly tough year, as I would take on the challenge of being the “health care manager” if you will, for our, at that time 23 positive children. I had no actual training in taking care of them before I got down here. What I knew was what I read, and from the minimal experience and interactions I had with them my first year. So, I really pushed myself into figuring it all out on my own, piecing things together by asking several doctors with incredible experience in the area for input on topics as they came up. I’m by no means and expert in HIV, but I’ve at least got a great base. And, I’d be the first to admit I didn’t know something if I truly didn’t have the answer. It’s frustrating when I’m working with another physician, with very minimal experience in treating positive kids, and my input is just not welcome because the physician can’t accept that yes, maybe I am competent. When I spend all of my energy trying to defend my own knowledge and experience, in order to assure that the children receive the best care possible, and I still fail, it takes time away from getting anything productive done. And that’s hard for me to accept.
So then, on a brighter note, I did enjoy some time watching and listening to the band in central park (although I got a nice sunburn after sitting there for another 45 minutes listening to that guy's story). They were pretty impressive. Not only did they march in small formations (there were probably only about 30 of them), but they also were dancing, Latino style, while playing their instruments. I mean, I can’t even dance like that when I’m not playing an instrument. I can’t imagine how ridiculous I’d look if I were trying.
I finally felt some peace and relief when I was back on the Ranch in the evening, for a fantastic thunderstorm. It was even more calming when we lost power, and all I had to do was just sit and read by candlelight and listen to the rain pounding on the roof. Ahh, I miss these storms.
I was really looking forward to some oh-so-badly-needed alone time, time when I didn’t have to think about anybody else – just myself; didn’t have to talk to anybody else – just be alone. I haven’t had that for a long time. It’s often hard to find a place here where you can really escape, and just be alone, and I’m a person that really needs that for my own sanity (unless you climb up into the mountains, which is a great option every once in a while).
So, I’m in the city and on my way to get coffee at Espresso Americano, the Starbucks of Central America, and there’s a marching band in the central park. September 15th is Independence Day here, so today there were parades all over the place. Junior highs and high schools get really into it, and there are bands and drum lines ALL over the place – marching down highways and everything. It’s fantastic! So, I decided to get my coffee and pastry to go, and went to sit in the park to watch the band. Oh, what hilarious memories it brought back of our high school marching band.
So much for alone time though – completely unaware of the fact before I sat down, I parked myself right next to a young homeless woman on the steps in Parque Central. The whole time I sat there she stared at me, and asked me for money. So, I handed over a couple Lemps. She continued to ask for my coffee, for my pastry, for more money. It becomes draining when every time you turn around, there is somebody asking for something, and it’s just simply impossible to constantly give to anyone that asks. At least for me. I know there are people out there that can, but I am not one of them. When on the Ranch, it’s the kids asking for simple things like sugar (they eat it straight up, right out of their palms), salt and hot sauce to put on their green, non-ripened mangoes, asking for a soda, or asking for your food as you’re walking away from the kitchen with your dinner in hand (although they’re scheduled to eat their own dinner in about 10 minutes). When I’m in the hospital, countless people ask for money so they can pay for medications, or pay for tests, or purchase food because they’ve been living in the hospital for months with their ill child and therefore unable to work (which includes them sleeping on a hard, cold, insect-ridden floor), or asking for money in order to pay the fee for not being able to donate enough blood before having surgery (surgery in the public hospital is free, you just have to find typically three people to donate blood prior to the operation). When in the central park, it’s homeless people asking for money, food or drink. It’s having to guard your backpack at every moment so nobody sneaks into it to steal money - and us foreigners are great targets for that. You know, one person can only give so much…
I had finally just had about enough of being pestered while sitting outside, that and the sun had started to burn my skin, that I was about two seconds from standing up to walk back to the coffee shop, where I could sit in peace and get a little reading done. Where I knew that I’d be able to just be alone, where I wouldn’t have to worry about anybody but me (that sounds kind of selfish, no? whatever.) Well some guy comes up to me and asks if I know where the immigration office is. His passport was stolen and needed to fill out paperwork to get a new one. Well, that very simple conversation turned into him sharing his whole life story with me – about growing up in Beirut, about being taken away from his parents due to physical abuse, about living in orphanages. About being a genius and finishing his bachelor’s degree at 15 years old, and self-teaching himself calculus and Latin. About his diagnosis of autism. About his friend that is working at an orphanage and cries herself to sleep every night. About how he was in a casino in San Pedro Sula, and since he’s amazing at blackjack, he was eventually kicked out of the casino after winning something crazy like $40,000. And just in case I didn’t believe him, he pulls out his blackberry to show me a photo of the wads of lempira he had won. And just in case I didn’t believe that, he pulls out his laptop from his backpack (not smart to do in central park, especially after just having been mugged in San Pedro). I warned him he probably shouldn’t pull that out, but he insisted, and showed me more photos of the $100 bills he had deposited to his newly created bank account.
He then goes on to tell me of his account in the US Embassy yesterday. So he walks in, says he needs to get a new passport. I forget the exact details of what went down, but in the end, he said he was being treated horribly by the folks at the embassy, since his roots are from the middle east, and it was September 11th. The woman asked him how he knew English so well, and his response was, “Well, underneath the mud huts we live in in Beirut, we have an underground network where we all learn English”. He went on about how he told her they also have to ride camels around the city, since they have no cars. Hilarious.
So, unfortunately, today was not the peaceful, relaxing day I was hoping for. The day when I could forget about all the cares in the world. The day I could forget about the widespread poverty in developing countries, the poverty that so many people don’t know about. When I could forget about the tragedies our children have faced before coming to NPH. A day when I could get away from the daily struggle of having to prove myself, a foreign nurse, to certain physicians here. Having to constantly defend myself and my knowledge of caring for HIV positive children. When I could wipe from my mind the inequalities in health care in developing countries – forgetting about the lack of access the poor have to even basic health care services. And when they do have access, the hospitals are so overcrowded with patients, and understaffed in highly educated health care professionals, making it an extremely slow process to even diagnose patients and get them adequate treatment – as we’ve experienced recently with our child that finally just got out of the hospital after being admitted for just five days shy of two months.
To touch on the comment of having to defend myself and my knowledge of treating HIV positive children…I just finished reading the book Mountains Beyond Mountains, by Tracy Kidder, an amazing tale of Dr. Paul Farmer and his mission to treat infectious diseases in impoverished and underserved areas. In the final pages there was a great statement, which really struck me, and relates to my work here over the past weeks. “If you spend all your time arguing about that stuff, defending yourself, you don’t get your work done”. Amen. Especially within this past week, this has been a huge struggle for me. Starting back before I came back down to Honduras for my second year as a volunteer, I began reading up on HIV treatment, especially for children. I read a lot about holistic care for HIV positive kids and adolescents. I knew that I was in for an incredibly tough year, as I would take on the challenge of being the “health care manager” if you will, for our, at that time 23 positive children. I had no actual training in taking care of them before I got down here. What I knew was what I read, and from the minimal experience and interactions I had with them my first year. So, I really pushed myself into figuring it all out on my own, piecing things together by asking several doctors with incredible experience in the area for input on topics as they came up. I’m by no means and expert in HIV, but I’ve at least got a great base. And, I’d be the first to admit I didn’t know something if I truly didn’t have the answer. It’s frustrating when I’m working with another physician, with very minimal experience in treating positive kids, and my input is just not welcome because the physician can’t accept that yes, maybe I am competent. When I spend all of my energy trying to defend my own knowledge and experience, in order to assure that the children receive the best care possible, and I still fail, it takes time away from getting anything productive done. And that’s hard for me to accept.
So then, on a brighter note, I did enjoy some time watching and listening to the band in central park (although I got a nice sunburn after sitting there for another 45 minutes listening to that guy's story). They were pretty impressive. Not only did they march in small formations (there were probably only about 30 of them), but they also were dancing, Latino style, while playing their instruments. I mean, I can’t even dance like that when I’m not playing an instrument. I can’t imagine how ridiculous I’d look if I were trying.
I finally felt some peace and relief when I was back on the Ranch in the evening, for a fantastic thunderstorm. It was even more calming when we lost power, and all I had to do was just sit and read by candlelight and listen to the rain pounding on the roof. Ahh, I miss these storms.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Medical Frustrations
You’re wondering where the photos are from my vacation? Well, unfortunately, they don’t exist. My vacation was canceled due to a ridiculous amount of work that needed to be accomplished in a short amount of time. I’m over it.
The child I mentioned in the last post, remains hospitalized. Going on week number seven now. Just within the past week they have finally come up with a diagnosis, and have started a pretty intensive treatment for him. He’ll remain in the hospital for at least another two weeks, as he requires some pretty serious IV medications. The poor kid has had just about enough of the hospital by now, and all of our nurses from our clinic that have been going in to care for him day and night are drained. The nurses from the hospital are wiped as well. I’ve been pretty much living in the hospital with him for the past several weeks – just to be around to talk to the doctors and take care of sending different tests to different labs. Unfortunately they have had to do several tests for him that they are unable to perform right there in the hospital. So that leaves us running all over the city in taxis and buses with blood work and other types of samples, to find labs that are able to do them for us.
Being the one responsible for coordinating his case on our end, has proven to be both physically and emotionally draining. He obviously is pretty sick, and it’s been difficult watching him deteriorate. You can also tell he’s 13-years-old by the way he acts. To put it nicely – he’s a punk. Often times won’t listen to what anybody tells him. Gets mad when the nurses have to put IVs in him. Then once they’re in, he pulls them out. One might say it seems as though he enjoys making life difficult for others – more than likely stemming from inner anger. So, as we all fight for his life, he fights against us. He says he doesn’t want to die, yet won’t cooperate with the medical tests and treatments. The thing is that he usually gives in after some time of resisting. It’s draining for us to keep on insisting to get him to do even the simplest of things, example – to take his medications. Everything has to be explained 100% correctly to him before he’ll agree to anything. Whenever he arrived to do whatever type of exam, and just one little thing hadn’t been explained, he’d refuse to have it done. We’d take him to tests up to three times before he’d agree. I know, sounds ridiculous, right? There were many moments when we just wanted to give up – just tired of fighting with him. But, we knew what giving up meant. They had to take him to the OR to do some more tests – oh, he didn’t like that. After I spent much time explaining to him what they would do and why they had to do it, and what the consequences were if he didn’t let them do it, he finally agreed – until about 10 minutes before they were ready to take him. He wigged out big time – we ended up having to pin him down to give him IV valium to relax him enough to get him to surgery.
It gets better. Just after I gave him the valium (while he has a look of terror on his face, telling me to stop shooting him up because he doesn’t want to die – that broke my heart into about 1000 pieces), the surgeon tells me that we’ll have to wait to be last to enter the OR, because the child has a blood-borne disease and they don’t want to infect the OR. Fine. But I had already broken down once after I shot him up with Valium, I wasn’t looking forward to doing that again (I was beyond exhausted – this all happened at 8pm, and I’d been up since 4am with him). So we sit around for 3 hours, and finally we’re told that they aren’t going to operate on him at all. Well que bella. There were a couple possible reasons running through my head – 1) Surgical team is afraid of contracting HIV during surgery, or 2) Surgeon wants to make more money on the surgery, and for that reason offered to operate the following morning at a private hospital. Really, either could be true. However, the surgeons excuse was excuse #1. We didn’t leave the hospital that night until midnight.
So, we take him to the private hospital in the morning, the surgery went fine. He was in recovery, waking up. The surgeon comes in and tells me that he hadn’t, until this very moment as he was flipping through the chart, seen the CT results. The surgeon was aware, prior to surgery that he was operating because of the results we had gotten back from that CT. Then, as he hands me the tissues samples he retrieved during surgery (not even the correct samples that were supposed to be retrieved based on those CT results), I notice the samples weren’t put into the correct solution. This meant that the pathologist in the lab was not going to be able to perform half of the tests that were ordered by the specialists in the hospital. Due to a prior error of the same nature with another one of our children, I had spoken directly to the pathologist at the lab, and he told me step by step what needed to be done with the samples. I had explained that to the surgeon in complete detail. It really was not that complicated. I guess it went in one ear, and right out the other. The specialists were NOT pleased with that news.
What a long and complicated history for this poor kid…he’ll be hospitalized for at least another 2 weeks.
About a week and a half ago, we heard news of a pretty serious car accident that three volunteers and a teacher from our school had been in. They were on their way to Danli for the weekend, as the town prepared for its Festival de Maiz. They were hitchhiking, as volunteers here tend to do (it’s quite common in Honduras for people to travel in the back of pickup trucks). They were all thrown out of the back, as the driver lost control going around a mountain curve. Everybody pulled through – nobody came out with extremely serious injuries. Lots of broken bones, large abrasions, broken tendons and ligaments and gashes. Luckily, another driver that passed just after the accident picked them up and brought them into the city, about a 45-minute drive. Good thing one of the volunteers is a nurse from our clinic, a dear friend of mine, therefore she’s somewhat familiar with the hospitals in Tegucigalpa. She overheard somebody in the truck say “bring them to Hospital Escuela” which is the underfunded, under equipped public teaching hospital. She quickly responded negatively to that, and insisted they be brought to a private hospital. All are now either back at the Ranch, or at home with their families, recovering.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Hello all.
It’s been a relaxing weekend here on the Ranch. Following a pretty intense week, this tranquillo weekend was just what I needed. One of our HIV children was admitted to the hospital last Thursday. I spent a good thirteen hours at Hospital Escuela (public hospital in Teguc) with him that day, going to various consults, and then waiting hours in the ER with him, just waiting for a bed to open up for him upstairs. Finally, at 6:00pm, they took us up. We didn’t get out of the hospital that night until 6:40, and the last bus we can catch to get back to our home passes around 7pm. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to the point to catch that bus until 7:20, so obviously we missed our chance for the bus. Thanks to a friendly ambulance driver who happened to pass us on the side of the road, we ended up hitchhiking back home in the back of an ambulance – lights on and everything. It was fantastic. Friday morning, bright and early, I was back at it again – went back to the hospital to take care of the kid during the day. (At the hospitals here, they don’t allow family members to stay overnight with the children. Everybody is kicked out, and then required to come back early in the morning.)
As much as I don’t enjoy being in the public hospitals in the city, it is good to be able to go every once in a while. It really brings me back to the reality of where I am. Sometimes while I’m on the Ranch, so isolated from the real Honduran life, I often forget about the life that the majority of the people in this country live.
Friday night, all of the volunteers were going out for dinner and dancing in Teguc, as a welcoming party for the new group of volunteers that came just two weeks ago. Earlier in the week I was really looking forward to going out, however, when the time came, I was just too wiped to even think of going out. I ended up coming back to the Ranch, and fell asleep by 8:00. Lame. In bed by 8:00 on a Friday night…
One of my jobs while I’m back is to help get the support groups we started last year for our HIV positive children up and running again. Since I left in March, a couple of the groups haven’t been meeting on a regular basis. A couple weeks ago we started meeting with our oldest group, and are working on developing their program a little more. The young adults that partake in the group have shown a lot of interest in getting it going again, and a lot of motivation for taking more responsibility for the groups. This is a huge success for us, since a couple of them have been our most difficult children over the years, in terms of getting them to take their meds, and in terms of their overall behavior. Some of them had been pretty closed off before we started the groups, but we’ve seen huge changes in their attitudes lately. It means the world to me to see these kids opening up like they are. I miss working so closely with them like you can’t believe. These kids have really become the motivation for the work I do.
In just a short two weeks, I’ll be taking off for vacation with a good friend, Tara, the current volunteer nurse in the clinic. We’ll be traveling to Cayos Cochinos, a group of little Garifuna islands on the northern coast. I’ve never been more excited for such a badly needed vacation before in my life!! I’ll make sure to post some photos upon our return!
As much as I don’t enjoy being in the public hospitals in the city, it is good to be able to go every once in a while. It really brings me back to the reality of where I am. Sometimes while I’m on the Ranch, so isolated from the real Honduran life, I often forget about the life that the majority of the people in this country live.
Friday night, all of the volunteers were going out for dinner and dancing in Teguc, as a welcoming party for the new group of volunteers that came just two weeks ago. Earlier in the week I was really looking forward to going out, however, when the time came, I was just too wiped to even think of going out. I ended up coming back to the Ranch, and fell asleep by 8:00. Lame. In bed by 8:00 on a Friday night…
One of my jobs while I’m back is to help get the support groups we started last year for our HIV positive children up and running again. Since I left in March, a couple of the groups haven’t been meeting on a regular basis. A couple weeks ago we started meeting with our oldest group, and are working on developing their program a little more. The young adults that partake in the group have shown a lot of interest in getting it going again, and a lot of motivation for taking more responsibility for the groups. This is a huge success for us, since a couple of them have been our most difficult children over the years, in terms of getting them to take their meds, and in terms of their overall behavior. Some of them had been pretty closed off before we started the groups, but we’ve seen huge changes in their attitudes lately. It means the world to me to see these kids opening up like they are. I miss working so closely with them like you can’t believe. These kids have really become the motivation for the work I do.
In just a short two weeks, I’ll be taking off for vacation with a good friend, Tara, the current volunteer nurse in the clinic. We’ll be traveling to Cayos Cochinos, a group of little Garifuna islands on the northern coast. I’ve never been more excited for such a badly needed vacation before in my life!! I’ll make sure to post some photos upon our return!
Friday, July 4, 2008
Where else but here?
It all starts with the closing of the Tegucigalpa airport following a plane crash a couple weeks ago. This airport closing leads all of the incoming international flights to San Pedro Sula, a large city about 4.5 hours north of the Ranch. The flights typically get in after sunset, making it too dangerous to drive all the way to our home that same night.
I had made reservations at a nice bed and breakfast for just $25. Looked nice on the internet, and comes with breakfast. Perfect. They originally had written to me promising to pick me up at the airport, especially since I was getting in late. Very nice of them. The day before I left home, I received the disappointing news that their son was having his birthday party that evening, so they would no longer be at the airport. Ok, shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll just get a cab from the airport. It’s definitely not favorable for a white girl to get into a cab by herself after dark, but I was confident it would be fine.
Once we boarded the plane in Miami, we were informed that it would be at least half an hour until take-off, as the inspection revealed that one of their tires was below regulation on the treads. Ok, fine…what could a half an hour hurt? It turned into about a 1 hour 15 minute wait, making us land in San Pedro at the same time three other planes landed. Now, this airport is by no means equipped to handle this increased flow of travelers, as it generally is not the main point of entry into the country. So it took a good hour to get through customs, making it pretty late by the time I was ready to take off for the hotel.
I get outside the airport, a man asks if I need a taxi, we settle on a price, and off we go to find his taxi. We come upon a tinted window SUV – his own personal vehicle, by no means a taxi. However after hauling 125+ lbs of luggage all the way to that car, there was no way I was going to turn around and go look for a different taxi. Lazy, I know. So I hop in, and try to direct this guy to the hotel. It also was not a bonus for me that the airport in San Pedro is in the middle of nowhere – a ways out of the city. So we turn down a rather dark street, and I start praying like I’ve never prayed before that I was actually en route to my hotel. I made small talk with the driver, as I somehow tried to get him on my side. I found out he’s actually been to Iowa, and from that moment on I had high hopes that he was a well-intentioned man, just trying to make a living using his personal vehicle as a taxi. My prayers had been answered when we were coming closer to the lights of the city, and I saw some familiar sights.
The hotel was nice, the couple really sweet. They had A/C and hot water – so one last night of living in “luxury”. The amazing breakfast that was advertised turned out to be toast and cream cheese, but it was good enough. I wasn’t going to be picky. The owner of the hotel and I then jumped in the car to head to the bus terminal to ship me in the way of NPH. After trying to get his car started for several minutes, it finally purred like a lion and shook like nobody’s business, and off we went.
All goes well on the bus, until we get within 30 minutes of Teguc, and I wake up to the attendant informing everybody that they do not know what the problem was with the bus, however it was clear to them that they could not continue driving the bus under those circumstances. I was happy I was completely oblivious to what was going on since I was so knocked out from the previous day of travel. They had called for another bus that should arrive within the next hour to take us into the city. I was relieved to know that they were smart enough to stop driving knowing something was wrong. That last half hour into the city is a pretty curvy one, with some pretty steep drops off the mountain side. Not the place I’d want the bus to break down at. So, we sat there for approximately 20 minutes, and all of a sudden we start moving again. Either they figured out what the problem was and were able to take care of it, or decided they just didn’t care anymore and wanted to risk it and just get to Teguc already. Collectively, the majority of bus passengers do the sign of the cross, and pray for the best. Ahh, we finally arrived in one piece.
As I prepared for my return to Honduras, there was quite the mix of emotions running through my system. I was beyond excited to be returning to my second family here at NPH, whom I have missed dearly for the past couple months…looking forward to that moment when I step into the home of the children I have worked with over the past three years, and get to see all of their smiling faces, and I willingly have to accept the fact that I soon will be mauled by fifty children with sticky fingers and dirt covered clothes from a long afternoon of playing outside. There’s nothing in the world more satisfying than seeing those beautiful eyes light up when they see that an ex-volunteer has returned to spend some time with them. Then come the hugs and kisses, and shortly they’re off playing again.
So, there’s that excitement, but also the realization of just how much work needs to get in such a short amount of time. I think I could live here year round, and not even make it half way through my “to dos”. As life goes, you start one large project, and 20 smaller ones develop out of that, and then there are those urgent cases that just need to be dealt with as they pop up.
When I finally made it to the Ranch after two long travel days, as we pulled up to the gate, a feeling of pure joy rushed through me, and a smile came upon my face, knowing I was “home” once again. It has been raining quite frequently down here lately, so the entire country side is all shades of greens, and just beyond beautiful. As we live in the woods in the mountains, you could imagine just how incredible it is.
It didn’t fail, just a short three hours after arriving I had already been sucked into work in the clinic. The health care coordinator here wanted to jump right into our meeting we had planned to have at some point during my first week. I managed to at least put that off until my brain was in a functioning state.
We currently have some pretty serious things happening with some of our children, and some organizational frustrations within the clinic (nothing too out of the ordinary). So, it sure has been a busy and stressful week already. Thirty five hours in three days. Not too bad.
I have spent the past two days in the city at the public hospitals with one of our youth. Oh, how I missed them! They really have become my second home. It was nice though to get to see some of the doctors and nurses that I’ve worked with over the past year and a half in the hospitals.
So, there you have it. I’ll do my best to keep this updated with the latest.
Miss you all.
Lots of love,
Annie
I had made reservations at a nice bed and breakfast for just $25. Looked nice on the internet, and comes with breakfast. Perfect. They originally had written to me promising to pick me up at the airport, especially since I was getting in late. Very nice of them. The day before I left home, I received the disappointing news that their son was having his birthday party that evening, so they would no longer be at the airport. Ok, shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll just get a cab from the airport. It’s definitely not favorable for a white girl to get into a cab by herself after dark, but I was confident it would be fine.
Once we boarded the plane in Miami, we were informed that it would be at least half an hour until take-off, as the inspection revealed that one of their tires was below regulation on the treads. Ok, fine…what could a half an hour hurt? It turned into about a 1 hour 15 minute wait, making us land in San Pedro at the same time three other planes landed. Now, this airport is by no means equipped to handle this increased flow of travelers, as it generally is not the main point of entry into the country. So it took a good hour to get through customs, making it pretty late by the time I was ready to take off for the hotel.
I get outside the airport, a man asks if I need a taxi, we settle on a price, and off we go to find his taxi. We come upon a tinted window SUV – his own personal vehicle, by no means a taxi. However after hauling 125+ lbs of luggage all the way to that car, there was no way I was going to turn around and go look for a different taxi. Lazy, I know. So I hop in, and try to direct this guy to the hotel. It also was not a bonus for me that the airport in San Pedro is in the middle of nowhere – a ways out of the city. So we turn down a rather dark street, and I start praying like I’ve never prayed before that I was actually en route to my hotel. I made small talk with the driver, as I somehow tried to get him on my side. I found out he’s actually been to Iowa, and from that moment on I had high hopes that he was a well-intentioned man, just trying to make a living using his personal vehicle as a taxi. My prayers had been answered when we were coming closer to the lights of the city, and I saw some familiar sights.
The hotel was nice, the couple really sweet. They had A/C and hot water – so one last night of living in “luxury”. The amazing breakfast that was advertised turned out to be toast and cream cheese, but it was good enough. I wasn’t going to be picky. The owner of the hotel and I then jumped in the car to head to the bus terminal to ship me in the way of NPH. After trying to get his car started for several minutes, it finally purred like a lion and shook like nobody’s business, and off we went.
All goes well on the bus, until we get within 30 minutes of Teguc, and I wake up to the attendant informing everybody that they do not know what the problem was with the bus, however it was clear to them that they could not continue driving the bus under those circumstances. I was happy I was completely oblivious to what was going on since I was so knocked out from the previous day of travel. They had called for another bus that should arrive within the next hour to take us into the city. I was relieved to know that they were smart enough to stop driving knowing something was wrong. That last half hour into the city is a pretty curvy one, with some pretty steep drops off the mountain side. Not the place I’d want the bus to break down at. So, we sat there for approximately 20 minutes, and all of a sudden we start moving again. Either they figured out what the problem was and were able to take care of it, or decided they just didn’t care anymore and wanted to risk it and just get to Teguc already. Collectively, the majority of bus passengers do the sign of the cross, and pray for the best. Ahh, we finally arrived in one piece.
As I prepared for my return to Honduras, there was quite the mix of emotions running through my system. I was beyond excited to be returning to my second family here at NPH, whom I have missed dearly for the past couple months…looking forward to that moment when I step into the home of the children I have worked with over the past three years, and get to see all of their smiling faces, and I willingly have to accept the fact that I soon will be mauled by fifty children with sticky fingers and dirt covered clothes from a long afternoon of playing outside. There’s nothing in the world more satisfying than seeing those beautiful eyes light up when they see that an ex-volunteer has returned to spend some time with them. Then come the hugs and kisses, and shortly they’re off playing again.
So, there’s that excitement, but also the realization of just how much work needs to get in such a short amount of time. I think I could live here year round, and not even make it half way through my “to dos”. As life goes, you start one large project, and 20 smaller ones develop out of that, and then there are those urgent cases that just need to be dealt with as they pop up.
When I finally made it to the Ranch after two long travel days, as we pulled up to the gate, a feeling of pure joy rushed through me, and a smile came upon my face, knowing I was “home” once again. It has been raining quite frequently down here lately, so the entire country side is all shades of greens, and just beyond beautiful. As we live in the woods in the mountains, you could imagine just how incredible it is.
It didn’t fail, just a short three hours after arriving I had already been sucked into work in the clinic. The health care coordinator here wanted to jump right into our meeting we had planned to have at some point during my first week. I managed to at least put that off until my brain was in a functioning state.
We currently have some pretty serious things happening with some of our children, and some organizational frustrations within the clinic (nothing too out of the ordinary). So, it sure has been a busy and stressful week already. Thirty five hours in three days. Not too bad.
I have spent the past two days in the city at the public hospitals with one of our youth. Oh, how I missed them! They really have become my second home. It was nice though to get to see some of the doctors and nurses that I’ve worked with over the past year and a half in the hospitals.
So, there you have it. I’ll do my best to keep this updated with the latest.
Miss you all.
Lots of love,
Annie
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Off to Honduras and El Salvador
The time has come for me to take off for Central America again. I leave tomorrow morning, and will be in Honduras for two months, and El Salvador for another month. At this point, my plans are to return home mid-October.
I have an incredible amount of work ahead of me, as I try to assist the clinics in the implementation of the NPHI Health Policy. This includes working on updating all of the vaccinations for all of the children, collecting data on growth of the children to do nutritional/health assessments, and working on other organizational tasks, and some public health issues. In Honduras I'll be working extensively with the nurse that took over the health management for the HIV positive children, as we try to strengthen the support groups, and make them more sustainable.
So, please do keep in touch. I'll do my best to respond to all emails. My cell number while down there is (if calling from the States) 011.504.33.18.88.73. This number will work until the beginning of September, which is when I leave for El Salvador. I'll have to get a new phone that will work once I am there. Feel free to call any time! I'd love to hear from you.
Peace - Annie
I have an incredible amount of work ahead of me, as I try to assist the clinics in the implementation of the NPHI Health Policy. This includes working on updating all of the vaccinations for all of the children, collecting data on growth of the children to do nutritional/health assessments, and working on other organizational tasks, and some public health issues. In Honduras I'll be working extensively with the nurse that took over the health management for the HIV positive children, as we try to strengthen the support groups, and make them more sustainable.
So, please do keep in touch. I'll do my best to respond to all emails. My cell number while down there is (if calling from the States) 011.504.33.18.88.73. This number will work until the beginning of September, which is when I leave for El Salvador. I'll have to get a new phone that will work once I am there. Feel free to call any time! I'd love to hear from you.
Peace - Annie
Friday, June 20, 2008
An overview of the rest...
As a result of time restraints, unfortunately I haven't been able to get all that I want to post here about the immigration raid in Postville. So, I've decided to finally just make a final post on this matter for now.
Thursday and Friday evenings, I went to Postville to assist with the families that had congregated at St. Bridget's Catholic Church. The first night I was there, as soon as we arrived I was directed to assist in a telephone call, where I was to take down all of the names of the men, women, and young adults. At this point, all of the detainees were being shipped out of Waterloo to county jails across the state. My job was to take the names and birthdates of those that had been sent to Dubuque - about 20 individuals, one of them just 16 years old.
The team of volunteers that I was working with was trying to establish a list of all detainees, and to figure out where everybody had been sent to, so they would be able to let family members at least know what had happened to their loved one that had been taken away from them.
That evening I also was assisting in the free clinic they had running out of the church. We saw several women that had been detained, and then released on "humanitarian grounds" - one woman who was breastfeeding her baby, and other woman that were released because their husbands had also been detained, and nobody was left to take care of their children back at home. One woman's case stuck out to me - she was a known diabetic, who hadn't been using her insulin for quite some time because she had run out. She came in with blood sugars off the charts, and a developing wound on her ankle from the tracker bracelet that had been placed on her foot when she was released. It was frustrating and disappointing to see that ICE has been saying they are taking care of all needs for these people, including health care, and then to see cases like this. It is obvious this woman's case had been neglected. Foot wounds for diabetics can turn into pretty serious things, especially if your blood sugars are so out of control, like that woman's were, and I'm sure will continue to be when her insulin runs out the next time.
Friday night when I went back, my task was to work with the family member/friend that was looking for a detainee, go through the database to figure out where they had been sent, to let them know when their first court date was, what the charges were, when their second court appearance would be, who the judge is, and the name of their lawyer. We also spent time with families updating the database we had with their personal info - names, contact numbers, etc - which would then help the people at the church contact their family if something came up. We also worked with the people to help them fill out the necessary paperwork, in the event that they be detained as well, they would at least have the chance to be represented by an immigration lawyer. We also helped them to fill out paperwork to allow the families to get passports for the children who were born in the US, therefore legal citizens. They assisted with this so their children would be allowed to travel across the borders.
My sister and I were able to participate in several of the different prayer services and demonstrations, if you will, that took place that week in Waterloo. We attended a prayer service at Queen of Peace Catholic Church in Waterloo, which was followed by a procession out to the National Cattle Congress. This service and procession was to raise national awareness of what had taken place, and to let people speak out and share their story.
We heard several very touching stories from women that had been detained, as they stood beside their children, scared of what the future had in store for their families.
Postville is expecting to lose half of their community due to this raid. One-third of the children will be taken out of the school system. Several stores around town will be closed. Many other community members will become unemployed due to the decreased number of community members.
This is all I have time for. I could go on and on. But I'll end it here. Keep these people in your thoughts and prayers. The Catholic Church in Postville is still looking for financial assistance for these families, as well as for donations of all sorts, if anybody has the desire to get involved and provide some assistance for these people.
Thursday and Friday evenings, I went to Postville to assist with the families that had congregated at St. Bridget's Catholic Church. The first night I was there, as soon as we arrived I was directed to assist in a telephone call, where I was to take down all of the names of the men, women, and young adults. At this point, all of the detainees were being shipped out of Waterloo to county jails across the state. My job was to take the names and birthdates of those that had been sent to Dubuque - about 20 individuals, one of them just 16 years old.
The team of volunteers that I was working with was trying to establish a list of all detainees, and to figure out where everybody had been sent to, so they would be able to let family members at least know what had happened to their loved one that had been taken away from them.
That evening I also was assisting in the free clinic they had running out of the church. We saw several women that had been detained, and then released on "humanitarian grounds" - one woman who was breastfeeding her baby, and other woman that were released because their husbands had also been detained, and nobody was left to take care of their children back at home. One woman's case stuck out to me - she was a known diabetic, who hadn't been using her insulin for quite some time because she had run out. She came in with blood sugars off the charts, and a developing wound on her ankle from the tracker bracelet that had been placed on her foot when she was released. It was frustrating and disappointing to see that ICE has been saying they are taking care of all needs for these people, including health care, and then to see cases like this. It is obvious this woman's case had been neglected. Foot wounds for diabetics can turn into pretty serious things, especially if your blood sugars are so out of control, like that woman's were, and I'm sure will continue to be when her insulin runs out the next time.
Friday night when I went back, my task was to work with the family member/friend that was looking for a detainee, go through the database to figure out where they had been sent, to let them know when their first court date was, what the charges were, when their second court appearance would be, who the judge is, and the name of their lawyer. We also spent time with families updating the database we had with their personal info - names, contact numbers, etc - which would then help the people at the church contact their family if something came up. We also worked with the people to help them fill out the necessary paperwork, in the event that they be detained as well, they would at least have the chance to be represented by an immigration lawyer. We also helped them to fill out paperwork to allow the families to get passports for the children who were born in the US, therefore legal citizens. They assisted with this so their children would be allowed to travel across the borders.
My sister and I were able to participate in several of the different prayer services and demonstrations, if you will, that took place that week in Waterloo. We attended a prayer service at Queen of Peace Catholic Church in Waterloo, which was followed by a procession out to the National Cattle Congress. This service and procession was to raise national awareness of what had taken place, and to let people speak out and share their story.
We heard several very touching stories from women that had been detained, as they stood beside their children, scared of what the future had in store for their families.
Postville is expecting to lose half of their community due to this raid. One-third of the children will be taken out of the school system. Several stores around town will be closed. Many other community members will become unemployed due to the decreased number of community members.
This is all I have time for. I could go on and on. But I'll end it here. Keep these people in your thoughts and prayers. The Catholic Church in Postville is still looking for financial assistance for these families, as well as for donations of all sorts, if anybody has the desire to get involved and provide some assistance for these people.
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