I Feel Like a Churro

I’m not ready to go. A complete 180 from my initial posts, questioning my existence in Mexico. But having to say goodbye today to my profesoras, the staff at Casa Hogar, and more importantly the kids, brought tears to my eyes. Over the years I have become more of a crier. Not something I’m proud of, but I think it has something to do with listening to my feelings more. Or maybe I’m just turning into a big baby? Either way, I am wishing I had more time even with the struggles over the last week.

Obviously after two weeks of Spanish courses, I am not going to be fluent. Sorry guys, don’t mean to disappoint. But I do have a solution for this perpetual problema of mine. Stay tuned. Having classes for four hours everyday is intense. My first week was spent solely on grammar and cultural competency topics. It was super organized and well implemented. The second week focused on medical terminology, vocabulary and phrases. This portion was not exactly what I had expected, but we made the best of it. My profesoras Maria and Lupita pushed me, and were always very thorough. I inevitably had moments where I just hit a wall and couldn’t absorb more. Honestly, I’m not sure how much I actually soaked up. It’s like when you powder churros (I’m currently addicted) with tons of sugar and cinnamon, but only so much really sticks. Well in this moment I’d like to think of myself as that churro. I had so much information thrown at me, but it is impossible to hold onto and apply it all. Seeing that I’ve been trying to master Spanish longer than I care to admit, I easily become frustrated with the fact that I still fluctuate between beginner and intermediate… a world away from fluent. But I am trying to redirect my way of thinking and am adopting a new perspective. I am to be excited about how much I do know, not what I don’t know. So far, I’m understanding waaaaay more than I have ever before. My host mom likes to tell me stories, since I’m sometimes a mute, and I love it—they have been entertaining. The latest was about the rooster that ran into the house after the dogs tried attacking it. I’m glad she chose to share this story, as I was a little confused with all the feathers in the kitchen. Also, I can get around in the city, figure out directions, buy things in the store, order food, etc. Don’t get me wrong there are still times where they look at me with total confusion, but I figure out how to get my point across. When I run out of words I start using my hands, not sure what that is all about. I also have a good foundation, and know a lot more about what to expect in the hospital. But it’s time to build upon it and really work on my conversational Spanish. They have skype classes online with teachers from the school, so I might look into that. I just need to talk, and talk a lot. Something I don’t even like to do in English.

In addition to filling my mind with Spanish, I’ve been filling my heart with the kiddos from Casa Hogar. I really want to stress how limited my time was there. If anything, it was more of a learning opportunity for me than a help to them. I think that’s one of the limitations with short-term mission/medical trips—its’ more for you than it is for them. I am grateful for my time at Casa Hogar because I truly believe God is preparing me for something in the future. My love of travel has definitely evolved over time. Initially, I just wanted to go to a different country and experience something outside of my little world. Then I remember wishing I had something to offer others since my trips were self-fulfilling. In nursing school I said, I really want to travel and use my nursing skills. I briefly found myself in Haiti and now Mexico. I don’t believe these are random occurrences, but building blocks to something else. I don’t dare to guess what that something else is since I never saw myself here in a thousand years, but I’m ready to get into the hospital and start working so I can build my clinical experience and have more to offer others. I’m confident God’s got something up his sleeve…maybe a long term mission trip in Mexico (okay, I guessed).

But saying adios to the kids today was tougher than I had anticipated. We had a good week as I had the chance to work with five of the CPDD kids on a different unit. I would stretch out their legs and arms, while trying to get a smile out of them. I loved this and remember why once upon a time I wanted to do physical therapy. Oh and for the first time in my two weeks I saw Antonio, Mario and Bimbo up in their wheelchairs! Though I had my challenges with Casa Hogar, the experience was invaluable. I got a glimpse of the realities of healthcare in another country.

I feel very fortunate for my time in Queretaro. The city itself is awesome-clean, authentic yet a touch of modern, people are friendly and welcoming, always seems like there is something going on in the plazas. And of even greater importance to my family, the city felt safe. I hope to return sooner than later!

La Casa Hogar

As part of my time in Queretaro, I am volunteering at Casa Hogar. This came to be when I asked the school if there was an opportunity to volunteer as I wanted to practice my Spanish outside of the classroom and give back in any small way possible. Without hesitation, they placed me at Casa Hogar thinking it would be a good fit since I am now a nurse.

The center is extremely welcoming and thankful to have my help, even if it is just a couple hours everyday. The doctor placed me in the medically fragile unit which houses ten children, give or take. Most are bedridden, non-verbal with cerebral palsy. A few others are severely autistic. One girl sleeps ALL the time, and she sleeps like an acrobat, her legs are literally over her head while sitting in a chair—no exaggeration. I asked what was wrong, and all they could tell me is she has a syndrome of some sort. I have never seen her awake, never! Then there is this little guy who is bright, quick and acts like a typical six year old. But he can’t walk and his growth is stunted due to his “crystalized” bones. He is adorable, and his eyes are as big as his head. When I asked him what his name was, I couldn’t understand him. So I asked if he could spell it, and with his finger he pointed out in front of him and traced letters in the air. Needless to say, I didn’t catch his name, but definitely got a good laugh out of it.

My three special amigos are Elijoh, Mario and Antonio. I visit them everyday, as I am to flush their G-tubes with water three times within 30 minutes. (Yes, the process of doing things here is very different than the states). Elijoh, 12 years old, doesn’t talk and I watched them cast his leg…didn’t really get a clear answer on how he broke his leg, especially curious since he can only move his upper extremities. He has a ton of secretions, and one day it was so bad that it looked like his skin was sloughing off, but it was just a collection of dried mucous, essentially boogers all over his lips. Thankfully, Ana (the nurse) had no issue with me cleaning him up. Mario on the other hand is autistic, and I found him sleeping for the first few days. But towards the end of the week he was wide-awake sitting up in bed, clapping his hands. I would try to ask him questions, but I’m not sure if he is non-verbal…but I have gotten a smile out of him a few times. Finally, mi mejor amigo Antonio is 21 years old and such a sweetheart. You can tell that he enjoys the attention as he immediately opens up his eyes when I come near. He was able to tell me his name, how old he is, and how he is feeling…he always replies with good. He loves to grab my hand and give me a kiss. He recently asked me if I had a boyfriend, so now I try to get a high five instead of a beso ☺. Antonio has cerebral palsy and is a spastic quad, but he’s got a lot of life to him compared to the other residents.

Besides doing G-tube flushes, I do vitals for the doctor since she cares for staff and outside patients too. I’ve also done some in and out catheters on children who are paralyzed or don’t have control of their bladder. The process is almost the same, however they flush with antiseptic after, hmm…

I have been working with the lead nurse, Ana. Again, she has to be awesome just because her name is Ana. More importantly, she has a lot of heart, and a strong work ethic. She is not technically a nurse, but has been going to school for nursing—guess it takes five years here. Not going to lie, she talks a lot faster than most and I sometimes struggle with what she is telling me. Plus, I’m overly cautious, as I don’t want to miss something, especially when it comes to the children’s health. So with wound care, we go together. Here is where things begin to change for me. Wound care consists of applying regular liquid soap, rinsing with water all while scrubbing HARD with guaze. Finally after drying the site, honey is applied onto guaze and then placed over the wound and taped into place. When we first grabbed the supplies to do wound care, I was caught off guard by the yellow liquid soap, but understood their resources here are different than ours in the states. However, I couldn’t make sense of the honey. Ana shared that honey is used to promote healing, though I wondered about it’s potential to increase the likelihood of infection. Most of our wound care consisted of bed sores. Other wounds consisted of one girl who fell out of her bed (she wasn’t placed in a bed with rails), another spastic quad had scraped her hand repeatedly on the wall and now had a large wound. An adult woman had a giant, benign tumor at the base of her head. It was the size of a mini nerf football, but it had an abrasion on the tip of it. Crazy!

But after a few days of doing things with Ana, I became confused and discouraged.

1. I understand that culturally there is a different way of caring for patients, however there is a part of me who is uncomfortable with some of these practices, as I don’t know if it does more good than harm. Side note, one of my nursing friends looked up honey and some research has found benefits to the use of honey. But I don’t know how I feel when I’m told to apply so much pressure that I take the scab off or cause the wound to bleed.

2. Now, imagine going to a SNF (Senior Nursing Facility), not necessarily a place where residents are receiving one to one attention. Many times, you just see basic care being provided. Staff care for their physical needs, not necessarily their emotional. It’s definitely very different to the environment of a hospital. Now imagine a SNF in Mexico, this is the best way I can explain Casa Hogar. Though this site has a lot of heart, their resources are limited. I wear the same gloves for the whole day, as most of the nurses don’t wear any. I look at G-tube sites and am unfortunately not surprised at the signs of infection. I can recognize a dirty diaper by the drenched bed sheet or the heard of flies that gather on the child. You always see flies on the kids, just more with the dirty diaper. And diapers aren’t changed with baby wipes, just use the current diaper and scrape off any residual stuff. The children/adults aren’t changed immediately since they are on a schedule. (I understand why, the staff would be changing diapers all day and nothing else if they took care of everyone immediately). Mattresses are on the floors and outside on the concrete, where children and older residents spend the day lying down. Some of the autistic children can be found behind doors with bars alike to a prison cell where they are left to themselves, crying, screaming, or sleeping. Though there is a classroom and physical therapy equipment, I have seen only a select few children utilize it. Granted, I am only there for a small window of time. But in my gut, I know these children are receiving limited care and the staff is so immune to the severity of the situation, that they aren’t motivated to do anything outside the norm—I can’t blame them. Feeding them, giving them medication and changing them is really all there is time for. For 30 children, I saw 2-3 staff members who assume total care.

So last week I left in tears, saddened by what I was seeing, feeling helpless and frustrated with not practicing my Spanish (the kiddos are non-verbal and the staff are busying working) and I considered leaving and volunteering at a typical orphanage. In my heart I didn’t want to abandon these children and even though I’m only there for a short time, I still have the opportunity to bring something to them. I can’t define what that something is, but maybe just a smile, a touch or laugh as my improper Spanish is comical.

Tomorrow I am going to talk to the doctor and ask NOT to do nursing care. I’m hoping she will be open to me doing range of motion with the children as many are in their beds 24/7 and becoming contracted. To be honest, I really just want to wipe off their faces, clean them up, hold their hand, and shew away the flies. Hoping God gives me the opportunity and strength to do so…

Apollar Sounds A Lot Like Pollo

Queretaro Language School
Profesora Maria
Profesora Lupita
Gustavo, Mariana and Manuel

Monday morning I woke up uncertain and pretty nervous—I just felt like I was on sensory overload. Everything around me was unfamiliar, but fortunately the Queretaro Language school does a good job at making you feel at home. I walked in and was happy to see others like myself, Spanish novices! A lot of the students I noticed were middle aged, some traveling with their children who are also receiving lessons. I received a quick tour of the “campus”, it’s what I would imagine a Spanish hacienda to be, and the school’s website definitely didn’t do it justice. Before I started classes, Ana, took me to Casa Hogar where I am volunteering for the next two weeks. Lucky for me, she is fluent in English and as an added bonus she is hilarious. I’m telling you, I have never met an An(n)a I didn’t like. Maybe I should name my kids Anna just to ensure they are awesome. Anyways, instead of paying attention to the bus route to Casa Hogar, I was too busy laughing at Ana’s stories. Her English is better than mine, and I am convinced she is American (just kidding).

Once we arrived to Casa Hogar we were greeted by some of the residents who are in their early twenties or so, but cognitively they are much younger. One young lady named Marianna and another fellow Manuel. They are in charge of unlocking the gated door every time somebody comes in or out. I think they were a little confused with my limited Spanish, but Ana took over and we eventually met with Gustavo. I can’t tell you what Gustavo actually does there, I think I missed that part of his speech since I was preoccupied with guapo-ness. Luckily I regained focus and understood most of the tour. I do have to admit I continually heard him say “pollo”, which means chicken in Spanish. But later Ana told me it was “apollar” which means to support...just a tad different.

Casa Hogar is similar to an orphange, but it is considered a respite center for children/young adults with disabilities. Ages range from 6 to 30’s or 40’s. Most of the diagnoses consist of cerebral palsy, but the severity runs the gamet. Some children are bed ridden, non-verbal, others are cognitively appropriate, but physically limited. One unit has residents that are older, can walk independently, but function much like a child rather than an adult. Other illnesses you see there are autism, some children receive dialysis, and there is one boy who is adorable but they say his bones are like crystal—I’m thinking osteogenesis imperfecta. You can only imagine how hard that is to translate into Spanish.

Even though this is a respite center where parents can drop off their children for a break. Most of the children have been abused and abandoned, meaning Casa Hogar has been home for all or most of their lives. The facility has a lot to offer the residents it seems, but at the same time they are limited in staff and support. So many of the children aren’t able to take advantage of the therapy equipment.

After the tour I briefly met with the doctor who asked me, lista para trabajar (are you ready to work). I laughed and said yes, but had no idea what I was agreeing to. I can tell you in the short time I’ve been there I have worked with g-tubes, in and out caths and wound care. Simple tasks for a nurse, but getting direction in Spanish and doing it their way is a whole other blog.

Later on, Ana and I were able to make a trip to DelSol, a department store that carries underwear for silly American girls like me. So I am now with chonies, thank goodness! When we returned to the school all the students gathered in the courtyard and some of the American students shared about the origin and importance of the 4th of July. I won’t lie, after only a few days I was feeling homesick and this didn’t help as I wanted to be with friends and family-this is San Diego’s holiday. Nonetheless, they had hotdogs and if anybody knows me, I NEVER eat hotdogs. But never say never. I obliged and found some comfort in a little piece of home (even if there was salsa on my hotdog).

From 2pm to 630pm I had my marathon class, this is the way it will be all week! The first part is with Maria who is so organized, she is a good complement to my OCD ways. The last two thirds is with Lupita. You just want to put her in your pocket. An older woman, native of Queretaro and just a complete sweetheart. She is so patient, but a total stickler for grammar—I can’t get two words out without being corrected, ha ha. Even though I heart my profesoras, 4 hours is a lot. I know I need it, I just hope I can survive.

Finally, after a long day and just a hot dog I got to return home for cena. I think I surprise Senora Martha by my uncanny ability to eat like a man. I hope she sees it as a compliment to her cooking and isn’t offended.

I’m still a little nervous, but hopeful for what lies ahead. And I’m still trying to answer the question, why am I doing this? I’ll keep you posted as I come up with answers…

I'm in Mexico, but where is my underwear?

Gloria's beautiful kids and my future Spanish teachers
Martha and Euncia, my roomies
Wonderful Martha and I

If the way I packed is any indicator on what this trip is to be like then we are in for a ride. Who goes to Mexico without a Spanish-English dictionary? Who doesn’t check the weather report, only to be greeted by the rainy season? And who loses two weeks worth of underwear within one day? That would be me! Am I subconsciously sabotaging myself? I even started to question, why am I doing this? Going to a city I know nothing about, speaking a language that constantly dominates me, and using my school vacation just to go back to school? The only answer I have is...I'm crazy!

On Saturday I flew into Mexico City and was greeted by a dear friend and her family who have been living outside of Mexico City for almost a year. Her children are 5 and 2 now, and probably some of the cutest kids alive. I didn't get too much time with the kiddos, but enough to know I will be hiring them as my Spanish teachers in the near future as they are returning to California next month.

We had a chance to go out to dinner, and I was warned to bring something nice. But somehow I managed to stay in my jeans and converse. You can take the tomboy out of the states, but you can't take the tomboy out of me. Dinner was delicious and the drink of the night was Prosecco...I was definitely comforted by the bubbles.

The following day, we had a mini adventure finding the bus station in Toluca, but we eventually made it. I being the typical American, was trying to multi-task and call my contact at the school to let them know I would be late. I was watching my bus, and became confused when they closed the doors and started to pull away. I hung up the phone without an adios and sprinted toward the bus. The bus driver rolled his eyes, but luckily I hopped on. I sat next to a young woman who befriended me and put up with my broken Spanish. She had been visiting her novio in Cancun, and showed me all her keychains she bought. She offered me one, I tried to politely decline--but was unsuccessful. Though I have not been to Cancun, I am now a happy owner of a Cancun key chain, a cute frog. She was also the one who woke me up from my nap to inform me we were in Queretaro--my home for the next two weeks.

Francisco, the taxi driver was friendly, but unfamiliar with the school. He initially took me to the wrong casa, but the gentleman at the house acted like this was a typical occurrence and directed us where to go. When I finally arrived at the school I was greeted by Ana (she speaks fluent English), and my host mom, Senora Martha Alicia Martinez. I'm still not sure what to call her, and was stumbling between the tu informal and tu usted version. I should probably figure that out asap. We left the school with her terrier Pancho in tow, and arrived at her home which is just a block away from the school. She cooked, and I am now eating a lot of carne, we will see how long my stomach can handle it. She has another student (woman in her 40s/50s) who lives in the casaita in the back. She looks American, but is from Spain? Actually, don't quote me...I miss bits and pieces. I do know she spent a year in Santa Fe, so I told her about my 4 year stint there. Unfortunately, she didn't make it this morning to breakfast because she was having some troubles with her stomach. I'm curious to see how she's doing now.

But last night as I was unpacking, I realized something was missing. There were my dresses and shorts which I don't anticipate wearing as I see more clouds than sun. And then I had a couple pair of socks, bras and well...no underwear??? How can this be? That was the one thing I purposely overpacked. When trying to solve this mystery I think they may have fallen out of the pocket while I was at my friend's house in Mexico City. Or somebody is playing a really bad joke on me. At first, I just felt so helpless. But then, all I could do was laugh. And laughing is what I will continue to do, oh and buying some new underwear!

Random Pictures

I didn't have my camera, so here is a small collage of pictures from the team.

God is Good

I can't thank you enough for your giving heart and generous donations. You played a hand in helping Haiti, therefore you are part of these stories. Your support and encouragement brought me peace and confidence during those challenging times of our trip.

The need in Haiti is completely overwhelming, and trying to help can be daunting because you feel like it's just a drop in the bucket. Nonetheless, it's something and as I learned from many in Haiti-the little things DO count!

During our time abroad, I was constantly reminded that God is good. I thank Him for leading me to this point, as Haiti fired up my love for nursing. It was also a time of personal growth, and the relationships that were made have been life changing. Most importantly, it was a time to draw closer to God and I'm so thankful.

No matter what our faith is, we have all come together to be of service to others and I'm grateful. I thank you again for being part of my Haiti!

Love,
Melody

Thankful

From the wild truck rides in the pouring rain, to hiking miles and through rivers to get to our sites and even having a minor case of cellulitis from spider bites, I couldn't be more thankful for my experience in Haiti. I would be lying if I said I didn't have my doubts about this trip. I didn't know what to expect, and was apprehensive about the adventure ahead. And even while being there, I had moments of frustration, helplessness, humility and deep sadness. But I never doubted that this was where I was suppose to be. So much of my travels in the past have felt self-fulling, and to be able to go abroad with a purpose and give of myself was such a blessing. I couldn't help but fall in love with the Haitian people and they are the perfect picture of perseverance. I will always treasure my time there and now know this is only the start to my involvement with medical missions!