Al llegar--Días uno, dos, y tres

What a first day.

I arrived safely in Perú after a pleasant 8 hour flight and met up with my new co-workers/roommates/friends: a group of ten kids from all over the U.S. Along with my compañera from U of M, there is a duo from Rutgers, a post-back from Berkley, a girl from Boulder, a girl from Cornell, a boy ( my new roomie) from Kansas City, MO, a girl from a small school in Texas, and one from LA.

We hopped a bus for our Hostel in Lima, and by 2 am we were all sitting in Cafe Haiti muchin´ on some South American goodies--chicken stuffed avocados that were the size of my head, shish kabobs, chicken and potatos, and for the less adventurous, papas fritas (your dependable french fry--always a classic). We all went home to our hostel in Miraflores (a city within Lima) and melted into our squishy bunked beds.

The next morning we woke up early, ate a delicious breakfast provided by the hostel--espresso con crema, naranjos, and bread with cheese. I even caught a glimpse of the epic Wimbledon final where Federer eaked out his 16th and record-breaking Grand Slam win over Roddick 16-14 in the 5th. I repeat, epic. I unglued my eyes and went on to explore some of the rich culture in Lima with my compadres. We visited a catedral that was simply exquisite and packed (it was Sunday morning--imagine that), and then walked through the center and talked to local artists about their works. They all really preferred to use olio (like acrylic paint) to give exceptionally vibrant colors of women with their faces burried working in the fields, the sun rising over the Andes Mountain peaks, or city scenes: each was stunning.

We returned to the hostel in time to check out and hop our bus to Huancayo--a topsy-turvy ride through the narrow mountain passes on our 8 hour ascent. My scepolomine patches did me well. We arrived at our new home around 10 pm to a freshly cooked chicken, vegetable, and rice stir-fry prepared by Doña Elena. I unpacked all of my things and headed to bed--ready to wake up in a few hours for breakfast at 7.30 and our first day at Hospital Carrion at 8.00.

I slept great during the chilly night (it is winter in Huancayo with no internal heating, but it is not nearly as cold as I had planned, probably about 50 grados at night and 75 in the sun during the day.) We ate some delicious fried eggs, rolls with cheese, and pineapple juice and headed to work equipped with some scrubs, lab coat, and hand-sanitizer. (here is a photo from my rooftop at 7.30 in the morning. Dad, I thought that you would dig the golden light).

We arrived at the hospital, which turned out to be an actual hospital instead of the Pediatric clinic that I had expected--all the better as there are so many different sects in the hospital that we are able to rotate to a new specialization each week. This week I am scheduled to direct 2 other girls in my group through OB-GYN (I am one of two people that speaks any spanish). In the coming weeks I will be aiding in pediatrics, internal medicine, and surgery. The girls and I (one from Michigan and the other from Berkley) met the doctor that heads the Gynecology department who was doing his rounds while teaching and quizing the medical students and nurses about each individual case. He spoke very clearly and with spectacular grammar so that it was very easy to follow, interpret for the two girls, as well as ask plenty of questions to him directly. Before I knew it he was only quizing me about different symptoms, causes, and also techniques and beliefs about medicine in the states. It was nerve-racking with so many students but I felt very lucky.

After rounds were over the three of us met with him personally to ask further questions about his job, techniques, and common conditions/illnesses that he sees in the hospital. The biggest issue was obviously sanitation and lack of potable water for woment to drink in order to filter out their system and keep everything clean. He even showed us a fetus from an illegal abortion (as are all abortions in Perú) that was at 13 weeks and in a cut off 3 L bottle. The mother, a 15 year old girl from the rainforest, had eaten some special ´hierbas´ to stop the pregnancy. Privacy does not exist here--doctors will often talk about very personal issues right in front of the patients, such as their probability of dying, their sexual promiscuity, and reasons for infection. It gets pretty graphic to say the least.

After following some doctors in the womens surgery area of the hospital while they cleaned the surgery sites (mostly from exploded pancreas that had infected the entire cavity), we returned home to another incredible meal.

We took a small siesta after lunch and then headed to the local ´aldeo´ to play with the orphans in the south of Huancayo. The campo resembled a jail with huge walls and gates keeping the boys in--this image was immediatly dissolved when the boys (ages ranging from 4-17) came running towards us with smiles gleaming from ear to ear. They were so affectionate and loving--they only wanted to hug us and hold our hands. Our group split up: some took care of the infants by feeding, singing, and changing diapers, some to the adolescent boys to teach english and respect for others, while I worked with the kids from 4-8. We colored in our coloring books and played catch before I led a group of boys out to play a game of soccer--it was around this time that I realized how unadapted to the altitude I really was! We moved from soccer to catch and then to tag before the boys were called in for dinner and we parted to do the same at our home.

We feasted on a delicious platano-stuffed chicken dish with rice before going on a walk around the city. It didn´t take long before I was completely exhausted and melted into my bed for the night. I am the luckiest boy in the world.

Tuesday: Woke up a little late--7.30, snagged a few granadías and some rolls with cheese and rushed out the door to catch the bus to the hospital. Heather, Jess and I mosseyed over to obsterics where we met Dr. Ramirez and a pile of note-taking-nurses doing rounds. The women in the OB were all in critical condition--recovering from difficult c-sections and required regular visits to observe the progress of their infections, pain, and bleeding. In Perú, their are 3 primary reasons that a women do not survive child birth: delivering more than 4 babies, which can be very draining for the body, not waiting for a full 2 years pass between births, and infection, which is the most common due to non-potable water and a lack of completely sterile technique. We learned that abortion in Perú is absolutely illegal in all cases, but that it is very common for mothers to chew tropical herbs that stop the development of the baby. We also learned that the majority of births occur in females of 18 years or less, and of these, only about 30% result in a healthy infant. How incredible. The doctors at the hospital will openly admit that their biggest issue in Perú is the lack of education in the forms of sexual and reproductive education for potential parents, prenatal care for mothers, and education on sterile techniques for workers in the hospital.

After rounds, we made our way over to the pediatric unit where we visited and colored with the kids. A large chunk of them were quechua and from regions deep in the jungle with issues ranging from yellow fever to tuberculosis to meningitis. Medicine and specific tests are so expensive that each doctor examines and analyzes each patient in an almost identical manner. Feeling their stomach and head with the hands, possible checking their eyes, tongue, and hands for discoloration, and then perscribing a wide-range antibiotic that they hope will kill any issue that they may be having. If the solution is ineffective within the first few days, the patients are discharged and told to return if symptoms worsen. It is not necessarily that the doctors do not have tremendous knowledge about health and medicine, but rather that they have zero access to more sophisticated techniques, procedures, and treatments to deal with many of the issues that arise in the region. Una lástima grave.

We caught the bus back to our home and walked to the most amazingly intricate parks that I have every seen! Erin, check out the castle--Gaudí much??? Each and every detail was so meticulously carved to weave a beautiful fairytale inspired by the raw wilderness. Check it out:

To Erin & Dr. Gest: check out this 5 ft. tall Aloe plant...Whoa!
Group photo: Roohie, me, Kelsey, and Chris

Finally, we made our way to the only medical school in Huancayo where we performed a cadaver lab with the local med students and their professors. The students taught us so much about every vein, artery, muscle, ligament, and tendon in the body--they were very helpful, and it was interesting trying to learn the vocabulary, which is already pretty complex, in spanish. I peaked into the thorax of my cadaver to see a small turtle resting where the heart should have been--their form of a practical joke. It didn´t take long before 2 of the professors made their way over to Heather and my table and began asking questions and comparing my experience working in the Anatomical Donations Lab of the hospital with that of a lab in Perú. Surprisingly, each of the bodies in their lab were extremely young, all between 20 and 30 years of age. These cadavers are not donated, rather, unclaimed by their family members because of either an accident that rendered them unrecognizable, or the fact that they family did not have enough money to pay for a funeral service.

Our conversation shifted all over the board, from the economic crisis in the US, to our new Pres., to the go-go and sometimes greedy American ideal, to traveling. They all had very strong and well educated opinions on world affairs and I felt very lucky to hear them.

We caught a bus home in the rain and passed out hard. Just another day, eh?

All for now, more to follow.

amor y paz

Nate