Hospital Hiatus

Well, I've reached another milestone in my Peace Corps service -- first trip to the emergency room! This was actually the first ER trip, and IV drip, of my life. Other than stitches at age seven and few ill elderly relatives, I've managed to steer well clear of hospitals.

Now I wouldn't wish seven hours in a Peruvian ER on anyone, but it did make for some interesting cultural observations, at least from what I was able to see. But let's back up a sec. How did I find myself in this bustling ER? I woke up two days ago with an extremely swollen face; red, itchy and generally unpleasant. I consulted our friendly Peace Corps doctor, via phone, and she advised me to take some Benadryl and go back to bed. Well, Benadryl is not easily found in the remote desert town I currently inhabit. I found what I could and spent a day moaning about in bed. Cut to this morning when I awoke with eyes swollen almost completely shut and face even more grossly inflated. I had a picture but my vanity won't allow me to post it, even to this limited audience. Instead I present a close approximation, and a reminder of a really funny movie.

I feel you, Hitch. Really I do.

I managed to find my way, semi-blind, to an emergency clinic in Chiclayo. I saw a doctor almost immediately, much to my shock, who confirmed an allergic reaction diagnosis, gave me a couple shots, and then ushered me into the sick bay. Where I was to spend the rest of eternity. All the beds were taken, so I was given a Peruvian-sized gurney to rest on. Anyone want to take bets on how many inches my legs hung off? Let's just say noticeably so. For the first couple hours, I was content to sprawl about, let the meds wash over me, rest my weary eyes, and make up stories about my fellow patients. I noticed a disproportionate number of teenage boys around me. I don't know if this is because boys that age are more likely to have clumsy accidents or if it's because Peruvian mamas are seriously overprotective of their adored sons. Judging by the amount of "tummy-aches" I'm going with the latter.

There were also a number of very old ladies, one of whom vomited approximately every half hour, and several wailing feverish babies. In the six hours I spent on my gurney, I saw exactly four nurses, two orderlies, and three doctors. None of them knew my name, I didn't have a chart, just my IV cart trailing behind me every time I went in search of answers. Eventually a doctor came back and informed me that I would need to stay 24 hours for observation and set an appointment with an internist. My Spanish is pretty solid, but combine an unfamiliar medical system, a number of drugs, and rapid-fire medical terms and you've lost me. Luckily I was able to get in touch with my English-speaking PC doctor who convinced the clinic to release me, prescriptions in hand.

Phew. What a day. Most of the time I feel pretty in control of my life here; I know what to do, where to go, what to say. But today I felt completely overwhelmed, confused and lonely. When the ER doctor asked me why I couldn't just call a family member to come stay with me overnight I wanted to slap her, in between bouts of hiccup-y crocodile tears. I probably got out easy in terms of third-world hospital visits, but there's nothing like a sick day to really humble a girl.

The swelling has gone down some and the itching has thankfully subsided. I can see, sorta, out of one eye (so apologies for the million typos) and am about to take a hefty amount of Benadryl and put this day behind me. I'm currently holed up in a Chiclayo hotel under strict instructions from my PC doctor not to go back to site for at least the next 24 hours. Now that's a treatment I can get behind.

Soul Sisters

Greetings from sweaty coastal Peru! I've spent the better part of my weekend enjoying the sweet, sweet comforts or air-conditioning thanks to the generosity of a friend's visiting mom. Moms really are the best. Now before you go thinking that I am living the high life here as Peace Corps volunteer, I would like to remind you of the many hardships I've put up with over the past 20ish months -- lack of running water, eating small rodents and unidentifiable intestines, limited access to the outside world, etc., etc., etc. Everyone deserves a break now and then.

Plus our relaxing weekend came on the heels of a three-day leadership camp for teenage girls, called ALMA, the Spanish word for "soul" and an acronym for female teenage leadership. And let me tell you, spending three days with 40+ hormonal teenagers is far from relaxing. Months of planning went into organizing and funding this year's camp, as well as weeks of incessant nagging to make sure that the girls I wanted to bring would actually come. It was a success by all accounts. I took two adorable girls (actually host cousins of mine), aged 14 and 16. They live with their (our) aging grandmother in a town a little further down the road from my house. They have three younger siblings for whom they are the primary caregivers. They don't have television or cell phones and have barely traveled further than Sipan. In short they needed, and deserved, a getaway.

Fun with balloons.

Hard at work creating promotional materials after my enlightening marketing workshop.

We spent three days leading workshops on leadership, self-esteem, sexual health and entrepreneurship. Once again I was reminded of the caliber of my fellow volunteers. I was inspired and moved over and over again by the dedication and commitment my peers demonstrated. The male volunteers especially shined in their role as support-staff -- it is such a valuable experience for these young Peruvian women to see men helping out in the kitchen, cleaning up after themselves and the girls, leading volleyball matches, trying their hand at traditional dances. We can give a thousand workshops, but leading by example is one of the most powerful and impactful things we're able to do here.

My sweet girls.

My girls, Angi and Mirella, seemed to have a great time. They made lots of new friends, though they were hesitant to separate at first, and thanked me several times for bringing them. We had a mini-debrief during the trip back to site and they both said they'd never been talked to about sex or sexual health in such an up-front and honest manner. This type of feedback goes a long way to making all the frustrating days seem worthwhile.

Angi participating in the world-famous condom/banana relay.

Mirella's turn.

The girls eagerly awaiting the volunteer relay.

And it was also fun to get in touch with my inner-teenager (not that she's ever too far from the surface) and spend a few days giggling, playing tag, and gossiping. There was an adorable 15-year-old boy who came as part of a marinera (traditional northern Peruvian dance) exposition. The girls went wild -- you'd have thought we'd had them locked up in a convent for months. But it was fun to watch, I even found myself happily posing for few pictures with cute William.

Group shot.

Best of all, the success of the camp has inspired me to pick up a few projects with the school once classes start up again. On the agenda: a youth entrepreneurship club with the high-schoolers and a geography/culture club for the younger kids.

But for now, I'll enjoy the last couple weeks of a lazy summer.