Better late than never...sorry for my delay with this last post!
I can’t believe my time in Honduras has come to an end. I am now sitting in the airport in Roatan, an island off the coast of Honduras, listening to a Caribbean rendition of “Achy breaky heart.” At Loma de Luz, I saw several patients who came all the way from this island via ferry and then a bumpy 1.5 hour drive to get care simply because they could not afford health care on the island itself (since it’s a tourist island, health care is here but expensive). Being here again makes me reflect on the inequities that plague our patients every day.
My last week at Loma de Luz flew by. I was on call 2 of the 4 days I worked this week. Call is a 24 hour shift and entails working clinic again the next day no matter how busy you were the night before. Most nights you can get some sleep; however, we use a walkie-talkie system and my walkie-talkie spontaneously changed channels on me, so I would wake up multiple times per night to make sure my walkie-talkie was on the right channel. My last day of call I was called at 7 am, the moment my shift started, about “a child” whose oxygen saturation was 46% on 15 L/min of a nonrebreather. I sprinted across the bridge to the hospital to find what I thought was a 12 yo boy huffing into the rebreather with blue fingers, toes, and lips. I quickly instructed the nurses to call a rapid response to get more hands on deck. The nurses looked at me with big eyes and said “Why doctor? We know this child. He always looks like this.” After getting my hands on his chart, I come to find out this is a 20 yo man with a hx of a large VSD from birth that has now developed Eisenmeger’s syndrome. His fingernails demonstrated the classic clubbing signs associated with chronic cyanosis. His prognosis was obviously poor, but right now he was acutely ill and needed our help. We empirically treated him for pneumonia and ordered labs- platelets of 41,000. Likely dengue. He held steady on the rebreather initially but then had an episode of rigors that dropped his sats to the 30s, 20, 10s…we set up to intubate and got the ventilator (there is only one in the hospital and boy, talk about old school). One the rigors stopped, his O2 came back up and we got him back up O2 sats of 60-70s, a win for today at least!
Being at Loma de Luz has challenging in so many ways, good and bad. Of course, devastating cases like that described above make me feel anger towards the world. One surgery to close this man’s VSD would have lengthened his lifespan by so many years and given him such a better quality of life. But because of where he was born, he was not granted access to services that could have helped him so much. Seeing patients suffering from curable diseases was a harsh reminder of the unfair reality of the world we live in.
Working at Loma de Luz also renewed the importance of public health for me. I saw a lot of trauma from motorcycle/motorvehicle accidents, unsafe working conditions (lots of machete and cow injuries), parasitic infections from unclean drinking water/food sources, and of course the effects of poor diet and physical inactivity in communities that are essentially “food deserts.” In a global health setting, incorporating public health in what you do is essential to really improving the community you work in (I guess that applies to the US as well).
I think the biggest lesson I have taken away is that global health is such a challenging yet rewarding experience for those who decide to take it on. The docs who work at Loma de Luz are so dedicated, basically on call 24/7 for any and everything that might be needed. They save so many lives and help so many people but at a cost to their own quality of life. Again, I can’t say enough about how hard the docs work in this setting- I think I worked harder this month than any other month of residency (actually, I take that back, OB was pretty busy…).
I am very much looking forward to coming back to the US and seeing you all, but will certainly miss all of the wonderful relationships I formed here in Honduras. I will also miss getting freshly-picked mangos as presents from patients. Hopefully I’ll be back some day, si Dios permite (if God allows…a favorite saying of the Hondurans).
See you all soon!!