Gee ain't it funny...

see the rainbow?!

...how time slips away.  April? When did that happen? Time is slip slip slippery.  I spent the morning sitting on the roof, staring at a rainbow.  I've been up since 5:30am, drinking way too much coffee and catching up on uploading photos while everyone is sleeping (the more people using the internet here, the slower it is).  Paulito had a layover here in Guayaquil last night, so we were all up until about 1:30, then I got up with him at 5:30 to make coffee/breakfast, and to make sure he made it out ok.  The elevator can be a little confusing if you're not used to it.  If you're going downstairs by yourself, it involves throwing the key sensor out of the elevator before the doors close.  It makes sense, trust me. I also, maybe (fingers crossed!), figured out how to track my location and post it to the blog, for viewers like you. It worked from here, but we'll see what happens when I change locations. Could get a little hairy. Could be kinda cool though.  Now, mom, you'll know exactly where I am at all times.  Just what you've always wanted.  It also will tell you how fast I am traveling, which could be fun.  I tried running around the hospital to test this out, but alas, I could not go fast enough for Sputnik to track me, and just ended up scaring away the one patient of the day.

There is not a whole lot going on here in Guayaquil.  BP is facing a lot of resistance from the hospital administration.  We are trying to get things together to give free surgeries to those who need them in the area.  This obviously involves a lot of planning and data collection, but the admins are making it very difficult.  They insist that everything we do, we do under their control.  For some reason (MONEY!), they are toying with out minds and emotions and making things very difficult.  We are promised vehicles and a driver, get everything ready for the day, then the vehicle/driver is all of the sudden unavailable.  Why? Control? They don't want us here?  Not really sure.  This hospital used to be a hoppin' place.  This catholic priest from Ireland ran programs here for 15 years, everyone loved him, the hospital was actually helping the poor people in the area (which is everyone. we are in the hood). Then, the priest got old, went back to the land of the green, and left the hospital under the control of the archdiocese of Guayaquil.  Now, the patients get the luxery of paying for every little part of their care.  For instance, say you had the poops for a few days, and need some IV rehydration.  Not only do you have to pay for the salt water they pump in your veins, you also have to pay for the IV catheter and the tubing.  When I say pay, I don't mean it goes on your tab.  You have to walk your poop covered, dry-veined self over to the hospital pharmacy, purchase said items, crawl back to the ED, where some kind doctor or nurse will then begin to treat you.  Meanwhile, you could have paid 25 cents to hop a bus, offended much more people in an eclosed space with your fecal aroma, and checked yourself into the government run hospital.  There you could kick back, relax, and enjoy some free care.  Why would anyone ever come to this hospital? Answer: they don't.  Yesterday, BP and I went down to the ER to shoot the poop (not literally this time), and the one doctor and one nurse informed us from their lounge chairs that there was not a single patient in the hospital.  Not in-patient. Not in the ER. Not in surgery. Nada. Moral of the story: not really sure.  It comes down to money and power.  The administration is resisting our efforts because they are afraid it will take away from their income. But maybe, having a patient or two in the hospital (even if they aren't paying), would be good for business. Word of mouth my friends.  Right? Maybe wrong. I really don't know anymore.

It all goes back to the concept of you can't give someone something they don't want.  People here have a lot of pride, and don't necessarily like foreigners ramblin' in telling them, "we can fix this miserable situation you have here." "It's our situation, and miserable is how we like it!" Something I have learned through other people's mistakes (isn't it great when you get lucky enough to learn that way!?), is that you can work and work and work and work some more, but unless it means something to the people you are helping, the second you leave, all is lost.  Look at our Irish preist friend. He were here 15 years working to make things better. Yet the second her left, BAM, back to crap.  Or Larry, the gent with the Canadian organization that works in Lima.  He built a place for kids to eat one free meal per day, but as soon as they left, the community turned it into something else. Storage? I don't remember. There are countless examples of this. So what's the answer? How does one actaully make a lasting impression?  I'm not really sure.  Find people who you can really trust to leave it with? Don't leave? Drink the immortal juice and live forever? Or maybe what you do doesn't really have to last forever. Do what you can while you're here, and if it makes one person smile for one moment in time, then it's worth it.  That seems like an easy answer to a difficult question.

Alphabet! Photo courtesy of Debby

Meanwhile, we have been waiting around in our third floor suite (CAGE!), we having been making good use of our time. Yesterday, I taught a Spanish class to the members of our team who don't know the language. I had a white board and a ruler. I was in heaven. Hopefully the lessons will continue today. Ok, hungry, jittery (caffeine!), and now sleepy. If you need me, check my GPS coordinates.

Spanish lessons. Photo courtesy of Debby