Day 5 – Halfway and Holding Steady
The church bells started at 6 a.m. At least they always seem to.
There’s something grounding about church bells that early. A reminder that the day belongs to more than your schedule.
This morning’s talk was about handling difficult times with grace and dignity. About silence. Solitude. Setting aside time to nourish the soul. Letting peace cancel out the noise.
Stop.
Just breathe.
Pay attention to the textures. The light. The aroma of coffee drifting through the courtyard. The way Antigua glows before it fully wakes.
Halfway through the week — that message lands differently.
Before the first cases, providers made morning rounds. One patient had traveled all the way from Belize. Others from small villages scattered across Guatemala. Each room we stepped into held the same expression — relief, cautious optimism, gratitude that feels almost disproportionate to what we think we’ve done.
No complications, just smiles.
The dental team hit the ground running after a brief standoff with a new suction machine. In these settings, you are not just a clinician. You are part mechanic, part engineer, part inventor. Watching them troubleshoot, you’d think they were a troop of Scouts who had memorized the U. S. Army survival handbook.
Resourceful. Optimistic. Composed.
The dental patients this week are primarily special needs — a population that requires patience, skill, and a particular kind of gentleness. Dr. Summers and his team move through those cases with quiet focus, adjusting, adapting, making it work no matter what the room dealt them.
It’s MacGyver medicine in the best sense of the phrase.
Inside the O.R.s, the rhythm felt even smoother than yesterday.
Hysterectomies.
Colporrhaphies.
Cystocele repairs.
Hernioplasties.
Cholecystectomies — to name a few.
Case after case, the team moved with increasing confidence. The choreography tighter. The language shorter. The trust deeper.
By the numbers, we’ve now crossed the halfway point of the week. The totals are climbing. The impact tangible.
But the real measurement isn’t numerical.
It’s in the Post-Op ward — in the woman who arrived groggy yesterday and now sits upright, smiling. In the steady vitals. In the absence of complication. In the relief that settles into a patient’s shoulders when they realize the hardest part is behind them.
By late afternoon, the light outside shifted into that familiar golden wash.
The walk back to La Quinta felt softer today. Cobblestones glowing. Motorcycles weaving home. Families gathering. Antigua returning to its evening rhythm while we slowly unwound from ours.
Back at the hotel, conversations stretched longer. Laughter came easier. Stories from the day replayed over dinner tables. Colleagues becoming friends. Professionals becoming teammates in a way that only shared fatigue and shared purpose can accomplish.
Halfway through.
Spirits still high.
Work still steady.
Gratitude still louder than exhaustion.
Tomorrow we lean in again.
And when the bells ring at 6 a.m., we’ll be ready.
Brian Jensen
Team blogger, Robinson – Jensen Surgery 888
