Peru part 1 - The mission

Plaza de las Armas

Old town of Cusco

The Peru trip began with an overnight flight, followed by a nervous push through customs.  We had suitcases filled with vitamins, pain pills, glucose monitor kits, and other medical supplies.  On past trips our doctors and pharmacists had been harassed over these supplies, and at least one person had to pay a “special fee” in order to enter the country.  This time we were lucky.  The only suitcase that drew the attention of the official was filled with toothbrushes.  He looked puzzled, said something in Spanish, shrugged his shoulders and sent us on our way.

We were part of a Medical Mission trip to work in Cusco, Peru, providing free basic medical services in cooperation with our local church.  This was an outreach opportunity, as well as a way to simply help a few people.

We had to wait in the airport parking lot for the rest of our group.  After a few minutes on the parked bus most of us wanted to get off and walk around.  Immediately I could feel the effects of the high altitude.  The air felt lighter and drier, almost empty. When we arrived at the hotel, my roommate and I shared a room on the third floor.  Climbing those stairs at 11,000 feet elevation was a struggle.  I had travelled from my home that rests at 5 feet, maybe, and I knew I had to combat the elevation problem or else I was going to be sick and useless.   The hotel, and every restaurant and café offered cocoa tea.  This bland tea is brewed from the cocoa leaves, and is a local remedy for altitude sickness.  I drank a cup at the hotel, and at lunch and dinner.  Every breakfast I started with cocoa tea before mixing the coffee sludge and hot water for my preferred hot beverage.  Although I couldn’t walk far or fast without having to catch my breath I was never sick and never had a headache.  Local remedies work.  It is a shame the same plant that aids people can be turned into a drug that destroys.

Cusco is a beautiful city.  The old part of town has cobblestone streets and Spanish Cathedrals build over old Inca ruins and temples.  Each neighborhood seems to have a central plaza with a Cathedral on one side of the square.  For our first full day we visited the Plaza de las Armas, starting first in a restaurant.  Mission trips with doctors and nurses are different, and we always ate well.  I ordered, of course, cocoa tea.  This time the tea was served loose, with large green leaves floating in the water.  I guess we were to use our teeth as the filters.  For my lunch I ordered Alpaca skewers served with corn, potatoes and a dipping sauce.  The meat was extremely good and tender, the potatoes had good flavor and the corn was, well, different.  The kernels were thicker and starchier than I was used to.  

After lunch we explored the plaza, moving slowly and breathing as best as we could.  Sunday afternoon on the plaza is a social time, and people were walking around, visiting and resting on the steps of the cathedral.  Shops were open and tourists were photographing everything.  A band was playing, and after a time the band began to march around the streets followed by strangely dressed people in scary masks.  They were celebrating St John’s Day.  I was walking along a narrow street, following my friends and listening to the music when someone touched my shoulder.  I turned to see a grotesque face, plastic tongue hanging out, and I screamed.  He continued on laughing, I am sure.

That afternoon we attended the evening services of the church.  The congregation had grown to the point they were having two services, and we had been asked to come in the evening because there were so many of us.  It was great to worship in Spanish and to meet the members.  After services we sorted all the medical supplies that had been donated for this visit.  The eye doctors had boxes and boxes of glasses, and the pharmacy had boxes of pills.  Nurses sorted bandages, and physical therapists sorted boxes of instructions for exercises. 

The medical campaign was to start early in the morning, in a local plaza of a poorer section of town.  The town officials were excited to have us work with them, and they promised to have tents and tables set up and ready for us to start at 8 am.  Of course, things don’t often work as expected, and we arrived to a line of waiting patients, no tents and a plaza full of curious older folks, children and wandering dogs.  The city officials got to work, and we tried to do what we could.  Zones were set up for all the different stations.  A couple of tables and chairs were set out for the medical tent, where the doctors would see patients.  A dog wandered through the chaos, stood under the doctor’s table, and began to pee.

People waiting in line

Finally we were ready to start.  People registered, explained and wrote down their main complaint, then moved on to triage where nurses took blood pressure, performed a basic eye exam and handed out toothbrushes.  The patient had a choice of visiting the eye doctor, dentist, physical therapist, or general medicine.  Each patient was given information about the church and Bible studies were conducted under another tent.  As a translator for a doctor I got to meet many patients, and hear their stories.  I found them to be friendly, smart and very open.  The main complaint seemed to be muscle and head pain, dehydration and urinary track infections. 

A few of the patients with Doctor Lisa and me

A beautiful elderly lady moved slowly, and sat straight and tall in the patient chair.  She wore a black hat over her long gray braids.  She only spoke Quechua but her daughter interpreted into Spanish for her.  She told us her mother had been beaten often as a child by her step-mother and she still suffered pain from this cruelty.  The woman watched as her story was translated to Spanish then English, a sad and dignified expression on her face.

Another woman walked in with a bad leg.  She told us that she had been a child in the time of the terrorists.  One day a man had come to her house, and made everyone leave.  This man picked her up and drug her through the doorway.  Her leg caught on something and muscle and nerves had been torn out.  She still had no feeling in that part of her leg.

A younger lady came in for a pregnancy test.  It was positive, and the joy on her face made all of us happy.  Many mothers visited us, babies carried on their backs with colorful blankets.  One man couldn’t hear.  I had to nearly scream with my mouth next to his ear, which felt extremely rude.  After a good cleaning of his ears he and I were able to have a normal conversation.

The protest, from inside the municipal building

On the first day of the clinic a man and woman had a fight just outside of the clinic area.  The man was stabbed in the leg with a knife.  An ER nurse cleaned the wound, and the doctor applied a pressure tape to stop the bleeding.  This man left with the police.  On the second day we witnessed a protest against the mayor.  Scores of people gathered in front of his office, lined up along the street beside us, and chanted “trabajo, más trabajo.”  (work, more work).  They yelled, sang, waved signs, and marched around the square.  Other citizens showed up selling watermelons, candy and hats, and ice cream.  It felt like an angry festival.  Police lined up in front of the municipal building with shields.   We had to pass through the protestors, and the police line to eat and to go to the bathroom. 

Each day the line of people waiting to visit the clinic was longer.  The people arrived earlier and earlier to get near the front of the line.  On the last day an older man said he got in line at midnight in order to be seen.  Many older people seemed to only want to talk, to share their needs with someone who would listen.  Some younger people were so shy it was nearly impossible to get them to talk.  We had quite a few older people that spoke only Quechua.  One older man came and sat in the chair.  I said, “Hola, como está usted?  He just shook his head.  I repeated myself more loudly.  He shook his head.  I said the only Quechua work I knew, Nananchu, (pain).  His face brightened up and he began talking rapidly in the beautiful Inca language.  Luckily we had a few interpreters that knew this language.

I loved watching Lisa, the doctor, as she would greet the patients, ask the right questions and investigate the answers to determine what the real issues were.  Doctors have a lot in common with detectives.

Most people drank very little water, and dehydration seemed to be a major issue.  A lot of kids had parasites.  Most people worked hard, carried heavy loads on their backs and walked everywhere.

We held the clinic Monday through Thursday, 8-4.  1400 people passed through, and we handed out vitamins, medicines, exercises, glasses and church information.  People were prayed with, studied with, listened to and hugged.  It was a good work and I was thankful to get to be a small part of the fun.