Ale La (Go There)

Well, so a few things have changed this summer. One, I had another birthday, and two, I moved across the country. You know, not that big of a deal. I would love to tell you all about this in a much deeper and profound kind of way but I think that will have to wait for another day. Instead this will be a kind of show and tell. I tried to write in my journal the day after my birthday and this is what happened… For those who can't read indecipherable handwriting, that says "can't write date, sign of aging?"  When I told Future Husband about this, he laughed and said, “But that happens to you all the time.” Which is true, I have some kind of dyslexia that causes my brain to substitute inappropriate numbers and words into writing and conversation when I’m tired. I think that’s a thing. We will just say that it’s a thing, ok? Future Husband also laughed when I told him cheerily a day later, “Today I actually LIKE being older!” I...

I came home last night after another day of hospice work tired and worn. The emotion always seems to hit me after I leave a death, after hugging the family, after calling everyone who needs to know, and after all the paperwork has been turned in at the office. Afterwards, my thoughts take a different shape. I think about breath and the still silence in the room after it is gone, and I think about the difference that I have seen in some rooms, full of peace and tears and quiet, versus others, full of bargaining and fighting and struggle. Fear of death seems to be a part of what makes these scenes so different from each other. I had a patient once who would ask me with every visit, “What do you think about god?” She told me that she was convinced that there would not be enough space for her soul in the universe after she died, and that she didn’t think that God was big enough to hold “all the souls of the people and animals that have ever existed.” She pictured all of ...

Somedays I feel like my nickname should be “perpetual motion” but then days like today happen and I find myself sitting in the my living room, in a dark and quiet house, with the light from one candle and the chatter of far away traffic for company. I feel shaken from the Holiness of death. Not in a fearful way, but it’s as if something Big has happened, and as if the longing space in my heart just grew deeper. I feel like moving slowly and purposefully. Then I feel like tying on my minimalist shoes and finding a trail that runs a pathway under that big, clear moon that has just risen up to quiet the noisy sky. I feel like eating chocolate and drinking whisky. Or maybe I should just lay down on the wooden floor, and let silence wash over me. These moments are precious and if we “Have not Love” then all the words we speak are just noise, and all the actions we take are empty. Sometimes we must stop moving to feel and be filled. And I remember: ...

Surrender and Trust. Those are terrible words. They feel terrible anyways. I mean, I'm sure they are wonderful in theory. But anyone who has ever struggled with Surrender and Trust knows what I am talking about; that sinking feeling when trust comes up in a conversation, the numbness when someone says, " Don't you trust yourself? " and the near hysteria when you realize that trust and surrender mean that sometimes bad things happen. Well, I guess bad things happen anyways whether you trust, surrender, or not. Yes, this post is off to a cheerful start. I have been thinking a lot about  this time  when I was in Peru and vividly remembering my conversation with God about surrender. I remember that I was reading the book of Job on that trip, and I was struck by the encompassing tragedy of it, and how Job just sat in the dirt and wept for days. I remember that when I finally told God, " I think you can really HAVE my life... Yes, really. " I wanted to sit...

Holy ground, sometimes we get to walk on Holy ground. I love the passage in Exodus 3 where God tells Moses to take off his shoes before he comes any closer. God is asking for an outward symbol of an inward attitude. Hey Moses, make yourself vulnerable and humble, you are about witness how Big. I. Am. Once Moses realizes what this means he hides his face as well. I feel like that a lot these days. I walk into a patient’s home, into the circumstances that surround their death and I feel like I’m walking into something sacred. Sometimes it is terrifying, sometimes there is so much emotional pain that you can feel it strangling you, and other times it is SO peaceful as you watch that person get ready for something enormous. I have cried tears of happiness, sadness and overwhelming fullness at least once a week since I got this job. There have been days of insanity; a patients eye rupturing, cleaning gangrenous feet, and holding an inconsolable sister after the quick passi...

I don't know about you guys but I sometimes struggle with a lot of skepticism. But I have a working theory; God does stuff. Christians talk about Faith, we talk about God, and we talk about God having a plan for our lives. However, oftentimes, if we're honest, we will admit that we have a hard time believing in God's plan for our lives. Even more frustrating is the fact that we often cannot see God's plan for our lives. So, how are we supposed to follow along with whatever that plan is? These are the kinds of things I ask myself, and maybe you have asked yourself the same. I really felt like the time I spent in Peru was put in front of me in a really obvious way . People talk about feeling "called" to do something, but for me it was more like there were no options here in California and as soon as I started to think about moving to Peru a world of possibilities exploded. Call it what you like. I felt like God DID something to take me to Peru where...

"How do we understand God in this?" This was a question that really struck home with me over the past two weeks, as I was translating for our MMI trip to Puno/Juliaca. How do we understand God in this, when a woman grabs your hand with tears in her eyes and says "Help me," when you have to tell a woman with no insurance that she may have cancer of the spleen, when a mother of two deaf/mute girls tells you that she will sell her organs so that they can have cochlear implants? How do we understand God in this? When a patient comes in with a fungal growth the size of a cabbage on his foot. He says he has been cleaning it with urine and that it's "getting better." The team manages to convince him that he needs to be hospitalized, it is a potential emergency, and that he could contract sepsis. But, when he finally agrees to go to the hospital they tell him that all his paperwork has been transferred to Arequipa, where the health care workers are on ...

Please forgive me. I had to type the title in Spanish. I'm not trying to be a poser or anything, you know that person who goes all "native" and speaks rubbish Spanish all the time. It's just that right now, I only have three months left and I'm trying to say EVERYTHING in Spanish. And, yes, I know those two sentences contradict each other. Irony. Anyways. The type of medicine we did in the jungle was not too different from the medicine we do in other places in Peru. We still saw (what felt like) millions of patients with low back pain, lots of gastritis, and moms who were convinced that their children had parasites. Quick, an excerpt from a real live conversation: Me - "Entonces, su hijo tiene la grippe. Algo mas?" Anxious Momma - "Seguramente tiene bichos tambien." Me (with eyebrows raised)- "Hmmm, bichos. Porque piensas que el tiene bichos?" Anxios Momma- "No come bien, y solo quiere comer carmelos." Me- "Ah...

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to practice nursing 50 years ago? You know, back when they calculated IV drop rates using a wrist watch, and back when all the nurses still wore white caps. Come to Peru, and work with me at Goyeneche Hospital and you can experience all of those things for yourself. I remember in nursing school when Dr. Otten used to say things like, "In the olden days we did this..." and we all would roll our eyes. But here, today is a day of old. What is an alaris pump? How does a computerized charting system work? Imagine trying to explain these things to nurses who have never used them. That is what happens every time one of the nurses asks me how nursing is different in the States. Don't even get me started on the patient to nurse ratio (in some places it's one nurse to an entire floor). And yes, I did learn how to calculate drip rates using a wrist watch. But no, I will never wear one of those white caps. Aside from technol...

Over the last couple of weeks, I have had the great privilege of working with a team of volunteers and surgeons here in hospital Goyeneche. I was the RN in charge of the Pre-op area. Which meant that a team of nursing students and I got the patients from their beds in the hospital wards, placed their IVs, took baseline vitals, double checked for drug allergies and time NPO, and then sat with them while they waited to be cut open. We also got to duck in and out of the operating rooms and see a lot of surgeries like septoplasties, laparoscopic gallbladder removal, hernia repairs and hysterectomies. It was a huge honor to work with this team of proficient and compassionate people, and to work with the Peruvians from the hospital who were translating and helping us problem solve. It's pretty amazing how these things come together. By the end of the two weeks, we had the routine of patient in, patient on the table, patient in recovery, down to an art form. It was almost effortless,...

Two physical therapist and a nurse on a home visit, in a field. Feli our Quechua translator, Tajel and Stephanie (PTs) and our patient. He was paralyzed at the age of 14 and is wheelchair bound. We evaluated him under a tin roof while it was raining. Then his aunt brought us hand made cheese and toasted corn. The family farm, chakra (in Quechua) The cute donkey After our home visit we walked through Quinua Pampa a city up at 10,000 ft.