Yahtzee and What Changed in Me After my First Medical Mission Trip
Carla Portnoy, Volunteer
This was my first medical mission trip and I came home after 8 days having learned so much about myself and what the Honduras mission trip truly meant.
Let me start at the beginning.
I am a retired pharmacist, and I love patient care. I had wanted to go on this trip for quite some time and 2024 was finally the perfect opportunity. I had retired and had received a lovely inheritance from my Mom, who passed in January. I felt my Mom would be so proud of me and I happily spent some of this money on the trip.
I didn’t know what to expect, because unlike my normal researching self, I had done zero prep for this trip. I wonder why? This is very unlike me. I remember landing and driving through the countryside that was so beautiful, lush, green, and mountainous. Then, when we drove through the capitol city of Tegucigalpa, I became aware of the true living situation for these Hondurans.
I had never visited a third world country before….and let me stop right here. My oldest daughter is a professor in Public Health at Boston University. The term in her global health world is “low-income country”. I like this term better, it’s not so “othering”.
In the capitol city I saw lots of abject poverty that included very hungry animals and people, dilapidated dwellings and burning trash. I learned that Honduras is the fourth poorest country in the western hemisphere. And here is where the game of Yahtzee started for me.
I am a passionate person. Sometimes it has served me well, especially when I am in the role of mom, spouse or patient care advocate. But it has been a burden at times. I feel things deeply and I question myself and my motivations constantly.
Our first day in the field pharmacy was taxing. It was hot and sweaty and I simply did not know if I was doing all that was expected of me. When we processed our feelings on that first night, I happened to have Father Paul as the professional leading my group of six other volunteers. Father Paul was intuitive enough to see that I was struggling. The Yahtzee dice of my emotions got all shaken up and then they came tumbling out.
Father Paul immediately helped me find some relief. His wise counsel and soothing voice stopped the tears. And to be clear, I’m not even sure what those tears were about.
I kept going and I started to figure out most, but not all, of what was happening to my emotional and spiritual self. I do not have any problem reaching out to others for help, so this is what I did. All around me were amazing, committed, hard-working people that had been coming to Honduras for years. Sharing what I was experiencing with others touched my passionate self. I was making strong, lasting friendships. It’s hard to explain in words all the joy that I felt throughout the hard work. Even now as I am thinking about my experience, in order to share it with you, I am verklempt (Yiddish for overcome with emotion).
The Honduran people are brave, kind and so resilient. I loved meeting them in their villages and speaking the tiny bit of Spanish that I knew. They laughed kindly at my attempts to communicate. I loved seeing the moms with their beautiful young sons and daughters. And I loved seeing the older men all dressed up in their finest clothes (bolo ties!!) to come to the HGW clinic.
On the way back home to the U.S., I pondered and self-examined my experiences and had some tearful moments. In the end, I came to this conclusion:
I am part of a successful medical brigade. It was hard work, but I participated, persevered and found my spiritual flow. I made a difference. I made so many new friends. I want to learn from the Honduran people and continue to help any way that I can. I want to go back to continue this important work.
