Hospitals Of Hope

Today an abuelita (grandmother) got on the bus with her nieta (granddaughter), and she only had 1 boliviano for the ride...

which costs 2 bolivianos for them both. I wasn't going to give her mine, since I only had one, and only large bills after that. But I decided to swallow my fear. I asked the driver if he had change for a 20 Bs. bill....and when he said he did, albeit begrudgingly, I thanked him for helping us, and gave her my coin. She held my hand in her unwashed and sticky hand, and blessed me up one side and down the other. I could see that she was having problems with her eyes, and it appeared to me that it was a neurological deficiency of some sort (yeah, get me in with doctors, and you'll see me in medicine yet :) ).

So she asked me where I was going, and I told her I worked at the hospital. She got really excited, and told me about her neurological difficulties (score, I got it on the first try!). She asked me all kinds of questions about her eyes and about when a doctor could see her. I gave her the name of our neurologist, who only comes twice a week, and told her to ask for me if she had any problems. She thanked me, kissed my hands, and then she said the strangest thing. She said, "Thank you so much for not being afraid to love me." To be honest, I thought I might have gotten the translation wrong. But the longer she looked into my eyes, her eyes blinking and saturated with gratitude, the more I knew that she had meant precisely what she said.

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