Health Clinic

The other day, I went to a medical campaign in Chilca that Child Reach had organized. I've never been to something like that before. Medical attention and education is a great need in this place.

We were set up in a house connected to a school in town, where we had four nurses, two hired Peruvian doctors, and a Peruvian medical student. It seemed as if we were fairly well equipped, we even had different kinds of medicine to give away if it was prescribed by the doctor. We bought S/.500 worth of medicine at the pharmacy (about $200).


The house was full and everyone was so busy. Patients waited in line and watched as their friends and family were examined.

I was mostly sitting, taking everything in, and translating when I was needed. I was watching one nurse in particular. She was seeing a mother (the mother was fairly young, she couldn't have been older than 30) who brought her 3 year old son. She had already seen many doctors for his condition. The boy had a cataract completely covering his left eye. It was very pale and gray, and he couldn't see anything out of it. The mother said that every doctor she and seen in Peru said he would never see. All she wanted to know was if she took her son to the States, would he be able to see again (with the cataract surgery). I knew that any American eye surgeon could easily remove it and he would see. But I also knew it is nearly impossible to get in to the country for foreigners. I also knew the mother probably did not have money to pay for the medical bills or the trip.

The nurse told her she couldn't do anything for the boy. And his exam was over. The mother's next child was now being checked.

The boy, Sami, was standing on the ground, heckling his mom. So I picked him up and sat him on my lap. I put my hands in front of him and told him to pat my hands. He pressed both of his little, teeny hands on mine on mine and interlocked his fingers with mine. He was feeling the tops of my palms and pressing pretty hard for such a little one. It reminded me of how a blind person might feel someone's face.

I was holding him so tightly, and I snuggled his little head. I couldn't help buy think about how easily his condition could've been treated back home. Clearly, that would've been caught and treated. But not here. The resources weren't available to this momma.

Holding back my tears, I continued to play with Sami until it was time for him to go. I said a little prayer for him in my head, and said "ciao".

Then the line continued, people with coughs, rashes, pain, lots of snot...