F.R. “Fritz” Nordengren (beta)

Perhaps you’ve seen the books in book store that are full of questions. They are conversation starters. Questions that are funny, sometimes personal, sometimes uncomfortable. Often, the questions are open ended, such as:

“How would you spend your 40th birthday?”

Other times, they force you to make a choice:

“If you had to choose one, would you be rich or happy?”

{ click to see full size } A mother cradles her infant as she looks out the window (still capture from video)

There are many questions people ask about participating in a medical mission like the one completed in Villahermosa on Saturday, July 15. The logistical questions are answered in the mission FAQ.

There are other questions that each team member bring with them. Both serious, and superficial.

“Where are the bathrooms?”

“What is the dollar to peso exchange rate?”

“How do you say ‘do you have any pain?’”

Some are personal questions, some are deep, soul-searching questions. Usually, at some point in a mission, everyone asked themselves:

“Why am I here?”

A mission like this provides opportunities to discover both questions and answers.

For Joe Nicotra, anesthesiologist, Why am I here was answered like this:

“I was there to see the smiles on the faces of those parents on the last day after I watched them tend to their “patients”, sometimes stoic, sometimes in tears. I was there to see Victor look at himself in the mirror. I was there to watch some fifty children with a better chance at a better life.”

If questions are conversation starters, this it is my hope this web project, too, is a conversation starter. It’s a chance for those of you who have followed the progress of this team of medical volunteers to offer your help. Perhaps, like Claudia Scott and Kathy Schrage, the mission has motivated you to apply to go on a future mission.

Or maybe the work has moved you to make a donation to help other children.

On the night before we left Villahermosa, I discovered one more question. That night, we were treated to a nice dinner by our hosts. The food and good conversation, helped ease the stresses and challenges of the week of surgeries. And following dinner, a few of the team members returned to the Hospital del Nino to collect the last few pieces of luggage and supplies we had left inside.

As we pulled up to the hospital doors, we noticed sleeping families on the benches and the side walks. Most had no blankets, many with only newspaper between their bodies and the concrete. Sleeping under the night sky, someone commented, was “sleeping in a 10,000 star hotel.”

The people sleeping on the ground, we were told, are the families of the Hospital del Nino patients. There is only room for one family member inside, and the rest sleep outside. Which made me think of those little question books and one more question to ask:

“Would you sleep on the street for your children?

These parents do, night after night. Now, what can we do for them?