August 15, 2006

It's All About the Heart - 1

Paquito Vazquez was 35 when the American doctors came. As a leading businessman in his mountain village, he hosted the missionary team and guided many patients their way. He was proud of his village, proud of their small clinic, and pleased to be helping neighbors receive personalized medical care. The visit was going to be a great success, and Paquito was a very happy man!

Then his stomach began hurting, ruining everything. At least he thought it was his stomach, so he drank the liquid Mama always prescribed for "dolor del estomago," and tried to get some rest. Nothing helped.

Two days later one of the visiting doctors saw him wince as he stood up from the dinner table.

"You OK?" the doctor asked.

"No," Paquito answered honestly, and then immediately added a string of words about how "I sometimes hurt just here above my belt, but it will be OK soon."

After some questioning and probing, the doctor took Paquito to the clinic for an emergency appendectomy. It was "just in time, un milagro de Dios," Paquito said.

The next morning three very serious American doctors joined Paquito's wife at his bedside.

"We discovered something very dangerous with your heart last night," the surgeon began.

The next hours were filled with diagrams and discussions about "what is, and what might be..."

"They said that maybe I might live 3-5 years without surgery," Paquito remembers, "but that if they cut open my chest and do the necessary heart repairs I would probably be able to play with my great-grandchildren."

That week, twenty years ago, Paquito Vasquez agreed to the doctors' offer and received a whole new lease on life.

"It was all gratis!" his sister Cecilia cheers. "My brother would have died if the mission doctors hadn't come to our mountain town. And now, he's 55 and has grandchildren bouncing around the house. Even better, Paquito went back to school and has become the doctor for our town clinic!"

Yesterday, while waiting in the Denver airport, I realized my shoes had more mountain mud than polish. Deciding that they could use a little TLC, I took my place in the shoe-shine line and waited for one of the workers. A shoe-shine woman looked up and said, "Next?" I've never had a woman shine my shoes, and it felt a bit odd to have Cecilia transform scuff marks into shining brown.

After a moment, she asked what kind of work I do. I mumbled something about working at a hospital that does medical mission trips around the world. That's when I learned about her brother Paquito.

"Keep going on those trips," she said with a last flourish of the buffing cloth. "There are many more Paquitos who need you."

It was the best shoe-shine I've ever had.

Dick Duerksen
Assistant Vice President
Mission Development
Florida Hospital