DAY SIX – Holding On, Letting Go
This is our final day in the OR, and our cups are full. Full of the stories we’ve witnessed, the hands we’ve held, the surprises we’ve adapted to, and the deep, wordless moments that come only with shared effort.
By now, the rhythm is second nature. Supplies are running low, but somehow we’ve found a second wind. There is energy in knowing we’re near the end—and it’s a kind of joyful endurance. You see it in the way people move down the hallways—less hurried, more grounded. You hear it in the laughter that fills break rooms and corridors. You feel it in the way people linger a little longer with one another, soaking in the camaraderie that’s been built stitch by stitch, hallway by hallway.
Surgeries today ran the gamut once again. Though our hands are tired and our lists are long, there’s no sense of toil—only shared momentum. The planning is over, and the improvisation has taken center stage. A few pieces of equipment gave out, forcing us to leapfrog between ORs and adjust on the fly. And yes, the power flickered again—but even that didn’t break our stride. Instead, it reminded us how instinctive our teamwork has become. Heads turned, silent nods passed, and solutions surfaced. Like a flock of birds changing direction mid-air, we moved as one.
Between cases, supply trunks began to open. Pens and clipboards came out. Inventory lists were created, supplies were checked, and boxes were labeled for next year. Eventually, the black crates were clicked shut and secured. And through it all, we held our roles: supporting each other to the finish line, handing over needle drivers, supplies, and encouragements like cups of water in the final mile of a marathon. We showed up for one another—just as we showed up for the patients.
One moment stood out. In the OR, a hand reached from beneath a surgical drape. A circulator met it without hesitation. No words passed—just the quiet grip of reassurance, offered and received. That’s the picture I’ll carry from today.
Outside, in the north atrium of the Obras, another kind of celebration unfolded: a Mother’s Day event filled the space with music and movement. Flowers adorned the fountain. The marimba band played. Children danced. Laughter and music spilled into the hallways. Inside and out, life pulsed with intention and connection, showing us that the celebration of life can pass through even the thickest walls.
As we approach the close of this mission, we’re not winding down—we’re filling up. With gratitude. With memory. With the invisible thread that binds a team like this together even long after the trunks are packed and the scrubs are washed clean.
The streets of Antigua were paved by hand more than three centuries ago. We hope that the work of our hands, and the impressions we leave behind, may carry on just as long.
Brian Jensen, Team Blogger
