Day 4 – A Stronger Rhythm, a Deeper Compassion
Faith in Practice – Team 860 Robinson | May 14, 2025
By now, our days have taken on a certain rhythm. Early breakfasts, bumpy bus rides through the green hills of Guatemala, and long lines of patients already waiting as we pull up to the clinic gates. But even with this growing familiarity, each day brings new challenges, new stories, and deeper connections.
This morning began at 6:15 AM with breakfast, and by 7:30, we were once again on our way to the clinic. When we arrived around 8:00, the line of patients was just as long as it had been on our first day, stretching down the road, filled with families waiting patiently in the morning sun. We greeted them with smiles and waves as we entered, and our team quickly slipped into motion.
Today, it felt like everything clicked. The flow of the clinic was smoother and more efficient than on any day before. Every team member was in sync, every room operating like part of a well-tuned machine. That doesn’t mean the work was easy, but it was steady, focused, and full of purpose.
I spent the start of the day making rounds across the clinic, observing how each station was handling the early wave of patients. Triage was busy from the jump, and long lines quickly formed at both orthopedics and mobility, where patients were evaluated for joint pain, past injuries, and fitted for assistive devices that can dramatically improve their quality of life.
Just past the ultrasound room, I noticed that I hadn’t mentioned one key and most important part of our operation in earlier blog posts—the laboratory station, where our nurses, Christy and Cindy, have been working non-stop throughout the week. Here, they conduct a range of vital tests and lab work that support the diagnoses being made in general medicine, gynecology, and beyond. Their work is the backbone of so many patient outcomes this week. Their efficiency and compassion haven’t gone unnoticed, and they deserve every bit of recognition and more.
In general medicine, the morning was a bit slower than previous days, but the patient flow picked up in the afternoon. One case today stood out. Dr. Sarah saw a woman complaining of severe abdominal pain. Suspecting something serious, she sent her to ultrasound for further evaluation. Dr. Andrew, our radiologist, discovered a serious case of acute cholecystitis, a painful inflammation of the gallbladder, so severe it extended all the way down to her lower abdomen. He quickly called Sarah over to review the scan, and together they made the urgent decision to refer the patient immediately to the hospital in Jalapa for emergency surgery. Thanks to their attentiveness and collaboration, she’s now receiving the care she needs, care that could very well save her life.
Gynecology saw a late rush of patients today, with the team working diligently well into the afternoon, while pediatrics, education, and referrals maintained a steady rhythm throughout the day. The education station continued to play a key role in helping patients understand their diagnoses, particularly those managing chronic illnesses like diabetes and hypertension, some of whom were receiving this information for the first or second time in their lives.
Today, I spent my time helping in the pharmacy as they needed extra help, working alongside Dorthea and Beth. That meant I floated a little less and missed some of the personal patient stories I usually get to witness. But working behind the scenes of the pharmacy, I saw another kind of impact; a quiet, vital one. All day long, I helped Dorthea and Beth fill prescriptions, they explained dosages to me, and we double-checked names and medicines. In the final two hours of the clinic, we had our biggest rush, as the doctors completed their final consultations and sent patients our way. The line grew, but our pace quickened, and we ended the day strong, handing out final bags of medication and instructions while doctors waited nearby, ready to say goodbye.
As we left the clinic under a soft drizzle of late afternoon rain, we were tired but proud. We returned to Jalapa for our evening devotional and dinner, where our team leader Wendy, shared one of the most touching stories of the day.
She spoke about a man who came through triage earlier that morning, expressing ongoing anxiety and an inability to sleep. Gently, she asked why. He opened up, sharing that he and his two sons had once worked in a chicken slaughterhouse in Fresno, California, but a few years ago, his wife had died tragically in an automobile accident. Since then, he has been consumed by grief. As he spoke, tears welled in his eyes. Wendy, aware of the cultural norms around physical touch in Guatemala, asked if she could hug him. He nodded. They embraced, two strangers, bound by shared humanity and the aching need to be seen.
She closed her story with a traditional Mayan prayer and a reflection on grief, healing, and the emotional weight many patients carry into our clinic. Her words were quiet but powerful, and a reminder that sometimes the most important thing we can offer isn’t a diagnosis or a prescription. Its presence. It’s listening. It’s love.
Dinner followed, warm and comforting, and the day faded into the night.
Tomorrow, we begin again for our last and final day of the clinic, grateful for the established rhythm of our team and for the deepening connections that make this work so meaningful.
Miya Macnew, Team Blogger
