Ingrid stood patiently in line most of the morning, Sunday, March 18, waiting to be interviewed for the opportunity for surgery.  At age, twenty-five, she had a growing lump under her arm which worried both Ingrid and her husband as well as the Guatemalan doctor who had examined her weeks before.  Mother of a four-year-old and an infant, the anesthesiologist asked if she were pregnant.  "No, definitely not pregnant," she said through the team translator.  However, a simple test revealed that, yes, she was with child.  The news brought a twinkling smile to her face.  She was told to return to the hospital early in the morning four days later for the procedure.  Going without food or water, as directed, she arrived Thursday about 8:00am after a five-hour bus ride from her village of Santa Rosa.  Her husband could not leave his job and the children but would come the next day to drive her home.  As the day's patients were registered, Ingrid seemed frightened and nervous searching for reassuring eye contact from people whose language she could not understand.  She received a nametag, her Polaroid photo, and a short prayer from a Presbyterian pastor who struggled to speak a few words in Spanish.  Ingrid giggled, grateful for the personal contact and also amused by the pastor's clumsy use of the language.

The day wore on as she watched others in the waiting area being called to surgery.  About noon, she shyly indicated how hungry she was by pointing to her stomach and reminding us that she was pregnant.  Team member, Karen, was able to get her some lime Jell-O from the hospital kitchen which sustained her for another hour or two until it was finally her turn.  I gave her a hug and as she disappeared from my vision I indicated with sign language that I would see her after surgery.  Ingrid was led through the double green doors into the sterilized operating area first to the prep room, then surgery, then recovery, cared for by our team members and Guatemalan staff.  Late that afternoon following the procedure, she gave me a weak, tired smile as she was escorted from the hospital across the busy street to Casa Verde.  The "Green House" is an open building, stark and empty with a small shared kitchen where patients can stay overnight before returning to their home villages.  Our team was able to give her fifty quetzals, about $7.00, to purchase some food that evening.  Early the next morning, feeling better, Ingrid returned to the hospital for a final check.  She joined other patients and staff members for worship in the hospital chapel, and then waited for her family to arrive for the long trip home.

As Guatemala struggles with the building of infrastructure and services following the long civil war, many indigenous adults and children from rural areas have little money and are unable to get needed health care.  During the four years that Westminster Church has been in partnership with the Faith In Practice organization, teams have worked with local medical professionals to offer non-emergency medical surgeries, oral surgeries and dental care, medical examinations and medicines in village sites screening patients for surgical needs.  In addition, this congregation has made a substantial donation towards the planned building of the Casa de Fe, House of Faith, which will replace the Casa Verde and provide rooms, kitchen, laundry area, and chapel for patients and family members who, like Ingrid, travel long distances to Antigua for heath care.  An additional project, which has become the passion of several team members, is the building of an orphanage and school, Casa de Angeles, House of Angels, that will provide long term care for Guatemalan children for whom adoptions are difficult.

Now stories from Drs. Brian Bane and Hugh West:

Dr. Brian Bane, Anesthesiologist, member of St. Rafael's Roman Catholic Church

I first heard of Faith in Practice about four years ago, from my friend Dr. Paul Preston. We were both working in San Francisco at the time, and Paul was an experienced medical traveler, from my perspective, with trips to Central America and Africa already under his belt. When Paul described the medical trip to Antigua, I knew immediately that I wanted to do something like that. I have felt the call to do that for years, only I didn't spend much time thinking about it. I have been extremely fortunate to be where I am in life, living in Marin County, working as an anesthesiologist, with a beautiful family and a bright future. Why am I so lucky? Not through my own virtue, or my own hard work, or my own brains. What do I have that wasn't given to me? Hasn't God given me the very breath of life? God was calling me, and I was afraid to answer. I had all sorts of objections about a trip to Guatemala. Would the plane crash? Would I get dreadfully sick, and become a burden to the team?  Would we be overwhelmed by hundreds of sick people who would mostly go away disappointed by our inability to care for them? Would the team be a bunch of Holy Rollers, who would make me feel uncomfortable all of the time? My family of origin advised me not to go: there was something very unconventional about popping off to Guatemala for a medical trip. It wasn't entirely safe. I work long hours, and don't get enough time to spend with my wife and children. Why should I go and give time to people I don't even know?  So I said no, I couldn't go. I didn't have the time. But I felt a pang of regret each time I thought about the trip I didn't take. And God was patient with me. The next year, there was an opening again. So with a great deal of trepidation, I said yes.  What happened to my fears? I would like to say that not a single one of them came true. But God is not so easily figured out. I did get sick from something that I ate. But I survived. And I wasn't a terrible burden on anyone. In fact, while I was sick I experienced first-hand the kindness of the wonderful group of people on the trip, and that is a memory I will always carry with me. I did meet some patients that we couldn't help. There was one young man with an inoperable tumor that will probably end his life soon. I still see the look in his eyes when he realized that we couldn't help him. I can't understand why that happens to people. That is a big part of my faith: accepting that I can't have all the answers now.  Accepting that I can't agree with everything that God allows. So my fears weren't groundless, but they weren't reason enough to stay at home. ' Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, 'this is the way; walk in it.

Dr. Hugh West, Emergency Room Physician, member of Westminster Church

THE DEFIBRILLATOR: Thursday morning, less than 48 hours before departure, a message landed on my answering machine. Karen Preston, whom i didn't know, had just heard from Guatemala. There were three defibrillators at Hermano Pedro Hospital and they were all broken. Would it be possible for the MDs on the team to find a working defibrillator and bring it down? Ok, first I had to get past my attitude: I'm a busy guy trying to get it all done, working three jobs, making good family music with my wife and children, checking off the countdown list ... besides, I didn't know any nice defibrillators!  I didn't know where to start. That day I had to go to Santa Rosa Memorial Hospital to complete charts from the last two shifts. When I arrived, I sat down with the charts and said to myself, okay, one phone call and that's it. Where would you be if you were a defibrillator? The bio-med department. So I picked up the phone and asked the operator for bio-med, and she connected me to Matt Swanson, the director. I told Matt the story, and he said, "Well, iI have one right here on my desk. It's surplus, replaced by newer models, but it works fine. Someone asked about it but they've never come to pick it up. Would you like me to have it?"  So my second call was to April Green who asked,  "How big?"  I told her and she said, "Bring it over.  I have just the spot!"  By that evening, the defibrillator was packed for Guatemala.  I told this story to the group in Guatemala and commented on the amazing coincidence.  Karen Preston, she of the 48-hour message, said,  "Wrong!  That was no coincidence.  That was the hand of God!"  Silly me, how could I have thought otherwise?  Someone else said that the original request for that defibrillator at Santa Rosa Memorial had probably come in long distance, very long distance.  I was happy about all of this, very happy.  Praise the Lord and pass the electricity.

The Baby:  One morning after an hour's bus ride out from Antigua, we were setting up our clinic about half a block from the village square.  Here's the picture: twenty team members, a dozen big containers of supplies, rooms being chosen and chairs found, triage and patient flow being discussed, everyone bustling around, getting stuff done, the patients all lining up in a covered breezeway spilling out into the street, men, women, children, attentive, bright colors, talking quietly among themselves.  Into the midst of this mild chaos walks a young couple.  They look about 14 years old.  They are small, dark haired, soft-spoken.  They have walked some distance that morning to reach us.  They are man and wife.  He wears a hat from the fields.  She is wrapped in bright colors and she is carrying a baby.  They walk right into the middle of our busy scene.  They speak to the Mayan translator who speaks to the Spanish translator who announces to the group: "They say the baby is dead."  The first thing that happens is silence. Everyone who hears this stops and suddenly it is very quiet.  The second thing that happens is that everyone looks at me.  The physicians are a mixed group:  two family practice doctors, one pediatrician, one ob-gyn doctor, and one emergency physician, me. The emergency physician, you understand, is the one who does cardiac arrest.  This is clearly my area, and they are all looking at me like, "Ok, west, you're on." and I'm thinking -- oh no -- A pediatric cardiac arrest is an awful business, even with the whole team: nurses, respiratory therapists, all the equipment: oxygen, suction, endotracheal tubes, IV's fluids, medications, monitors, defibrillators, all this stuff i need, which we don't have, and I'm in the driver's seat.  So I ask the translators to ask the parents to come with me, and I take them and the baby into a little cubicle with a sheet draped over the entrance.  I ask the mother to put the baby down.  We unwrap the baby together, layer upon layer of many-colored cloth, dozens of layers it seems, and then -- there he was -- about seven months old, not moving, eyes closed.  It took a few seconds, but it felt like ages, as I felt for a pulse, and suddenly he opened his eyes.  He was breathing!  Moving his little arms and legs!  He was sick, a fever, but still with us.  So I swept the curtains aside and said, "The baby is alive," and I'm thinking "Yes, West, you ace!"  When I should be thinking, "Thank you God!"  I asked John Berry, the pediatrician, to step in.  John felt that the baby probably had pneumonia, and Bob Burton, our medical chief, found some injectable ceftriaxone -- good drug for pneumonia -- and we gave him that. Then we arranged transport in to the public hospital in Antigua.  We probably saved the baby's life. and you know what?  It felt great..

 The trip changed me.  I started out too busy, barely able to squeeze Guatemala into a very full life.  On the trip, I reached a turning point, a fork in my road.  I took that fork without even realizing that I had and redefined myself.  Now, I'm one of those doctors who goes on trips like this.  Every year. forever.  This was my first annual trip for the rest of my life.  I just needed some help in figuring out what kind of doctor I was, what kind of human being I was, and I got it.  So I have to say thank you.  Thank you to Barb and Doug.  Thank you to the team, thank you to this congregation, and thank you to the Lord.  I have been blessed, had blessings showered upon me, and I am grateful.

Closing Prayer