Some of you may have known that my husband recently had a motorcycle accident. Those are pretty common here…and we hear about it from lots of Americans. “Wow- so dangerous!” “Scary- those motorcycles!” “Make sure you wear your helmets!”, etc etc.
I can assure you that most Dominicans are in agreement about the motorcycles. They all think they are dangerous, They all know there are crazy people on the road, and Monch and I know that we should be wearing our helmet. The thing is…motorcycles, and accidents…have a lot to do with economics. There isn’t one San Juanero out there that wouldn’t rather have a car than a moto. But we live on an island and cars here pretty much all need to be imported, and that makes them about TWICE as expensive as in the States. Also, gas is about 5-6 bucks a gallon, which makes filling your car unattainable for many folks. Catching a moto anywhere in them city costs you less than a dollar…and most people have a moto taxi guy that they are accustomed to using. Helmets are great (we even have one of the best kinds!) but we can’t take it anywhere where we can’t carry it- it would be stolen immediately! Many people don’t have enough money to even buy a helmet. Economics. Monch and I are blessed to have some access to the Solid Rock trucks but the majority of people don’t have that option. They have to haul their kids, their groceries, their furniture, their animals…. on motorcycles. I’ve seen dryers, televisions, pigs, rebar, concrete bags, huge sacks of rice or potatoes, 4 children, large mirrors, and more loaded up on motorcycles.
I have visited the mens’ ward in the local hospital and noted that 80-90% of the male patients are there because of motorcycle accidents. I hate it. And yet, I live in part of it. We don’t have our own car and we probably won’t have our own car for years on end. We have a scooter and a motorcycle and I ask for safety prayers more than anything else on my prayer requests. This is part of the deal of living here, being married here, and being part of the community here. But please don’t think that the phone call from the hospital about Monchy ’s accident didn’t wreck my world and make me question everything about living here. I want my husband and I to live safe comfortable lives. I get tired of taking baths in a bucket and fearing the fact that there are no ventilators that work in the main hospital. I’m afraid for both of us getting dengue and I hate sweating over stupid mosquito bites. I hate riding the public buses with 5-6 people squished in a row… knowing that if we wreck…. I’ll just be in a pile of bodies by the side of the road and people will take videos before they try to save me. This is part of the reason that I am and was such a fan of the Paramedic Program. ONE life saved because someone knows what to do in an accident or a trauma could be one life that I know personally… my husband, myself, any of us here. In his time since taking the Paramedic Course, my husband has been called on several times to step in and help. Two days before his accident, he cared for a collapsed diabetic patient at the track. While many many folks gathered around the patient to watch and take videos, Monch checked his vital signs, called for help, and assisted in his transport to safety. He and I happened to have a BP cuff, stethoscope, and glucometer with us in order to assess the patient more thoroughly. This very basic equipment was apparently more than the entire “medical team” had available at the sports event.
After Monchy’s accident (when he was conscious and could call me), Laura and I went to find him at the main hospital. He had not been seen by anyone in his time there (we don’t know how long because he doesn’t remember anything) and was sitting on a stretcher feeling lots of chest pain. His knees were both bleeding and he was short of breath. I didn’t see any of the doctors that I know in the ER and I didn’t want to waste any more time waiting. Laura and I got him into the pickup and drove him to a private clinic where we knew one of the doctors. We walked in and let the ER doctor know of his chest pain. He wrote a prescription for a chest xray and sent us to the waiting room. During Monch’s chest X-ray our doctor friend showed up and took over and then I felt like I could relax a little bit. From that point on, we were in the hands of Doctor Francis and I knew that Monchy would be taken care of. I also knew that the clinic took credit cards and that we could pay. Imagine all of the people who don’t have doctor friends, who don’t have credit cards, who can’t pay private clinics. Imagine all the folks who have to keep waiting and waiting at the full public hospital with chest pain and bleeding who don’t have irate wives that can pull them out of the public ER and have access to a truck to take them to a private clinic. Imagine folks who don’t have Vicodin, pulse oximeters, and antibiotics available.
This is another reality of living here. We have been doted on and visited by no fewer than 70-80 people in his “recovery” weeks. All of these visitors know how quickly accidents happen and how easily people die here. Many many others are familiar with how “achy” and bruised Monchy is feeling because they have experienced it as well. They love on my husband and I and some of them are teary because they know what a close call it was.
One of the other comments that I hear at least every week from group members is “how happy and content” the Dominicans are. YES. This culture is fun-loving. They are emotional. Whenever there are 2 Dominicans together..there is a party. It’s true. They love each other and family and dancing and noise and music and baseball and dominos. All true. They live life to the fullest because they KNOW more than we do how quickly life can be taken away. They are overall a “happy” culture but they also cry loudly and with each other. They just hide their depression and sadness from you. They dream of a better life just like you and I do. They sweat over mosquito bites and fear bus and motorcycle accidents. They want Iphones and video games and cool clothes and basic good healthcare. They want their kids to be educated, even if it takes 10 years at the local public University. Oh and they trust God. They trust God more than I do. They trust Him because there is so much less hope in their own ability to save themselves. They thank God for saving Monchy. And so do I. I walked around our block the night of his accident and tried to breathe deeply and sob quietly away from the craziness of our apartment full of people caring for us. I thanked God for His care and protection. I thanked Him for my husband and his bruised and battered body that was spared and is still here with me.
But now I also pray more for those who are here and those who are coming. I am here with Solid Rock, brought here by God to serve. I am not trying to make this blog an advertisement for everything that we do. But I can tell you that I see a day in which there are ventilators that work in San Juan, that there is care for the POOR that is every bit as good as the care that my husband got from Doctor Francis. I can tell you that I am sick to death of the c/s rate here and I want to do something about it and I hope that in our new clinic there is a changing of the guard and women can labor in peace and not be alone and feel empowered and safe. I can tell you that I can see Nef and Amaury and my husband and every other paramedic in our program racing through this city on an ambulance with an 9 year old that WILL LIVE after being hit by a car because they know what to do and how to treat him and get him to an emergency room where he will be SEEN and taken to emergency surgery. I can tell you that more babies are ALIVE and WILL be alive because the doctors and nurses know how to resuscitate them after delivery because they have taken the Neonatal Resus class with Sam and Terry Wellman. Everything takes a billion years here and I can’t tell you when our new clinic will be finished or when we will open the doors or even that everything will run smoothly or how I would like for the first couple years. I’m expecting chaos, disappointment ,and frustration for a great percentage of the time because that’s just how it is here and guess what- that’s what I’ve learned about ministry too. So here’s the main thing… My hope is in Jesus. He saved my husband. He brought me here. Hear me on this- there is NO PEACE WITHOUT HIM. In the chaos of accidents, in the loudness of 30 people in my house, in the blood rushing to my ears upon receiving bad phone calls, in the silence of Laura and I driving to the hospital, in the pain of stitches and potential broken ribs, Jesus is there. He is my Hope. Please please please look to Him today. And thank you for your continued prayers for us. They are so needed and appreciated.
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