I'm so glad that Mary Carol posted before me, to remind the whole team of all the good things that happened and we did. It has been far to easy to focus on the last day, our flight, the people we left behind wondering, and forget about everything that went right.
There are a few hurdles to leap before going back, but I know once everything is ironed out, the mission will be that much stronger and prepared.
That said, here's an introspective look on how some of us feel, my latest attempt at prose poetry:
David Hora, CLS, MFA is thankful to be able to use both sides of his brain on this mission as scientist and asst. blog-meister. This was his first medical mission and hopefully not his last.
The "I" in TEAM
The quote, "There is no 'I' in Team," has become ubiquitous because of its applicability to almost any group effort focused on a goal. But when the cheers, accolades, or condolences cease, when we turn out the lights to listen to the crickets or ceiling fans, we return, with our fears, regrets, and insecurities, to the lonely 'I'. The Team that has achieved greatness or failed by just-this-much, always breaks into its constituent parts and the 'I' is left to react to the ups and downs of expectation, achievement, and disappointment.
The trip to Timushan was everything I'd expected. A remote location reached by rutted mountains roads, roads we must be off of by dark for fear of Banditos. We dealt with limited resources, language difficulties, improvisation, patients trekking in from long distances, over borders, or simply arriving by horse--the kind of plot anchor to which an industrious writer could add an air drop and murder to fabricate a Best-Seller or Blockbuster. Can I get an "Indiana Jones V?" But seriously, we all felt like we did some good that day, wearing our aches and pains proudly.
From there it was down hill for me. During the slow times I felt all but useless. Limited applicability of my high tech specialty in this low tech environment and I couldn't help translate. All I could do is stand by, watch other people work, and not feel at all part of the team. Three years of this mission had gone fine without a lab tech, and it looked like they would have done fine without me now.
As the week wore on, and business picked up, gradually I saw that, if nothing else, I freed up others to better use their talents. There wasn't a nurse or med student dipping urine or checking blood sugars--they could treat or learn to treat patients as they should. Still, if it wasn't for my additional role as assistant mission chronicler, I don't see much reason for me to return.
I know others felt varying shades of uselessness and worthlessness, and that mutual disappointment solidified the team, brought us to consensus when it was discovered that a robbery had taken place and our security was in question. Unanimously we vowed to keep the clinics open--there were people who needed us--regardless of how we felt about our roles, we knew the Guatemalans appreciated our presence. It is here that I began to see what Keats meant by Negative Capability, "that is when man is capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts without any irritable reaching after fact and reason."
That's what made it so hard to close the clinics at 10:30 Thursday morning. Keys at the Basilica had been stolen, locks could not be changed, and collectively we did not feel safe. But what must the people of Esquipulas have thought as we packed up, leaving them waiting with sick children in their arms or grandmothers in tow. How many would go without medical care in the day and a half we wouldn't be there? "Disculpe, disculpe," is all we could say. "I'm sorry, we must leave."
Even now, knowing we had helped a few people live better for a while, as we come back to our lives of comparative splendor, I keep seeing the father holding his son with cerebral palsy pleading, "Ayuda, ayuda, por favor," as we walked, dragging our bags of equipment and medication, away.
This, or something like it, is what each i in our team is seeing right now in the small, sleepless hours of the morning. So if we seem a little preoccupied, a little distant, perhaps reluctant to recount our adventures, please forgive us. The team has gone its disparate ways, each i left to reflect on our accomplishments and disappointments, and ready to do it all again if called upon, no questions asked. We were only gone a week, but the culture shock of clean water, air conditioning, mortgages, and electric bills takes some getting used to, knowing that somewhere near the Guatemalan-Honduras border a child may be sick or dying and I have the cure in my medicine cabinet.