Kuhri Desert

India- Camel Safari. Night in the Kurhi Desert.

Sunrise in the desert paints the sky with the soft pastels and changes magically to iridescent cotton candy painted across a light blue sky. The little bird I so painstakingly photographed the evening prior has returned to sing and sing the announcement of a new day. Not rejoicing, excited. The clanking sound of bells on the necks of sheep and cows can be heard in the distance with the occasional shout of the bearded. A dog patrols the area, hot on a mission with no time for human affection. The process of awakening happens as fast as I can write and I suddenly feel overwhelmed by the speed of time.

The small boy leading my camel with the deep tuberculin cough. There is not enough time to become powerful enough to solve these problems. The money I gave him will never go to medicine.

A lamb is lost. I can hear him bleating.

Shay comes across the dune to deliver me coffee, the dog racing around his legs.
It all goes so quickly. Perhaps all I can do is to continue to snatch amazement where I can: one India at a time between the beautiful monotony of my daily sphere.

The dog races across the dune to sit near. 

Guet me out of here

I left my boys last night for a much needed personal restreat. Ive been trailed by a brave group of 22 year old boys who refer to me as ¨nurse J¨. One boy with cystic fibrosis, living out his last days, portable respirator in hand, one 17 yo at heart, and one kid with more near death stories than one ought to ever have. They were good friends to me- giving me hugs and endless shit as I stared nervously at potential landslides. I arrived in San Marcos, a tiny village on the lake, in the rain. I changed rooms twice. ´mi solo´ I said motioning to lack of locks. So I was put with one very strange boy and another one who was seriously ill, thinking why me. The heavens opened up again with serious rage and I was grateful to have someone to take care of cause I was so scared with the rising water and my little cabana in the valley. I was up all night with the rain and thunder and booming that I was sure was the land coming crashing through the valley. There is no time that you feel more alone, farther away from home, then when you are sick as a dog in a forgien country imagining what kind of sickness you must have contracted. But the one thing I can say is that in the morning I had the most amazing breakfast, the sun came out, i did yoga for 2 hours... and then jumped the boat to Panajachel. My plan .... maybe home when the weather is safe for travel.

Guatever

So, after the first afternoon in Guatemala it started, and then continued, to rain for days. In Antigua I hit the backpacker circuit. In the middle of 20 2oyear olds I found a nice 27 year old girl from England who has also had to work for the money she travels with. I was grateful for a conversation that didn't revolve around partying. Antigua itself was a beautiful colonial town with a market for me to go shopping in ... and even a Burger King. I can't remember if I wrote about the Volcano- but we rode 2 hours each way in the rain and hiked 4 hours in the rain to see where lava might be but I enjoyed the exercise. The next day I took off for Lake Attilan which happens to be at the end of a chinese built road that is 3 hours long. Huge sand/dirt embankments on either side just scream landslide at you and by the time I reached the lake I was shooken up. I got in a boat with a bunch of nervous gualtemalans bound for a small village with one hotel. Luckily- the one hotel was a slice of heaven. Thank god for that because I was beginning to wonder if my luck had run out. As the rain poured I worried about landslide possibilities, scratched my bed bug bites, and tried to fix my brand new broken camera. Oh the joys of travel. Miracle of miracles.. the sun came out the next day. Here we were braced for yet another tropical storm but no.. the gods smiled on me as we explored indiginous villages. I went for my first altitude fresh water dive today and freaked out in zero visibility. Luckily the dive master was a gentle person and used to the reaction. I then went and took a weaving class with a local woman in her house. As I sat in silence with her- speaking the only spanish neccessary... all my worries melted away. Women's work... for once in my life I was so damn grateful.

Guatemala

I was expecting something completely different than this. My vision was arriving to a small dumpy airport on a plane of missionaries, dumped into a bustling street with cabbies jumping over each other for my business and little children following me with open palms. What happened was I arrived to a very large modern airport (spotlessly clean with a staff that said "Welcome to Guatemala" as I passed), on a plane full of businessmen, and was directed out the door to the shuttle I desired. No begging children, no begging cabbies, and I woke up in Antigua, a strange westernized mecca just south of the city. Antigua is infused with serious cashflow. I put down my bags, went to the churches, rolled up my sleeves and bargained in the market (with terrible but improving spanish). ..... and went back to my room to count my losses. I'm totally struck by how safe I feel here. Not one person ripped me off, not one man made me feel uncomfortable, not one person begged. Here where 75% are below poverty- you would not know it. I have a feeling that has everything to do with my current location but still. It is remarkable how safe I feel here, how beautiful it is... And now back to the hostle ;)

Thanks

Each night we arrive at "The Plaza" an oasis in Tent city with palm trees around a pool and 12$ bottles of wine. Outside tonight I can here gun shots and yelling as we sit around and chat. Demonstrations have started. It has rained for four days and the people of Haiti are upset that they are living in tents. All this Aid money and no aid. God I wish I could just stay and help and help. It is sad here.
The people here are so appreciative. They wave at me when I come in and my translator pulled me aside today and said quietly and sincerely "everybody loves you here" (I don't know why). My patient told the media rep that I saved his life and we got our picture taken together to send to the sponser of IMC. Things like that feel so good. I'm so far far away from patients who complain about their dinner tray, from being so damn sweet to crazy mean crack addicts, from all the bullshit that comes with my job at home. All day long people say "thank you" to me... and I'm just doing my job.

Je Fait Mal

I'm lazing by the pool today... seriously. But I have been working my hard-exhausted by the end of the day. At this point I could stay here for a long time and be happy. I like it here. The people, the voodoo, the weather... and it's beautiful. They need help. By 8am even my knees are sweating and I prefer this to Boston weather. Who'da thought. I move bed to bed all day long hanging meds, placing IVs, saying "c'est bon", and pantamiming just about everything. This is what I've learned in Creol. The whole ward watches me work. It no longer makes me nervous. We do have 2 vents- powered by a generator when the power goes out, and one big oxygen tank in the center of the room with tubing running out to the different beds. Two days ago we finished making charts for everyone- it's as organized as can be ;) Eyeballing a versed drip..- god part of me really likes being far away from nursing that's based around preventing lawsuits. I feel like we are helpful here and it feels good. I joke with the translators. I document what is important. I take care of people. It is simple.

Haiti- Day 4

Working Triage on nights:

My translator is 19 yo- he never sits up and translates half of what I say. There is constant banging on the door and yelling outside. In order to get into this ER, you must look the most dead. So I go outside from time-t0-time to determine who is faking it, and who is critically ill- then I point and say "this one, then this one, then that one". Last night I had a man who was stabbed, a woman whose face was bitten by another woman, a 8 yo girl that was raped, a 4 yo who had been hit in the head with a rock, .... and on and on. People carrying lifeless bodies to have them then sit up and say "my stomach hurts".. "where?" ... and then they sweep their hand over their whole body.