The student missionary life in Peru presents a smorgasbord of medical experience. Filling prescriptions, taking blood pressures and glucose levels, giving penicillin shots and starting IV’s are all in my rudimentary repertoire. This week another item was on the menu: a vision clinic. A kind couple from north Georgia bought fifteen hundred pairs of prescription lenses a few months ago. They aren’t ophthalmologists or even optometrists, but nurses that decided they wanted to help folks in the word see a little better. Lucky for the folks in my area of Peru, the kind couple from north Georgia decided to come to them. And lucky for me, I got to be apart of the miracle of “giving sight to the blind.”
They came in droves, and the droves came at one in the morning to line up for our eight o’clock clinic. Whether they were near-sighted or far-sighted, young or old, needed glasses or not, they came. We first refracted their eyes. We had an old Spanish Bible that they would peer down at as we placed combinations of lenses in front of their eyes. At the correct combination, the patients would let out a resounding “Si”, or if they were older a tear might fall from their cheek as they realized they might be able to read the Bible for the first time in many years.
Then they came to me. I was the fitter of glasses. I would look at their papers and grab the correct prescription. I had a rough drawing of the eye, and I would give them a thirty-second explanation on myopia or hyperopia, whichever was the case. This I thoroughly enjoyed. And besides, at barely twenty-two, I had to do something to build up my credibility before I handed them their prescription lenses. Or maybe I didn’t. Those that came were incredibly trusting with whatever we did to them or gave to them during our clinics. To a twenty two year old with no medical experience, this is wonderful and scary all at the same time.
Then they came to me. I was the fitter of glasses. I would look at their papers and grab the correct prescription. I had a rough drawing of the eye, and I would give them a thirty-second explanation on myopia or hyperopia, whichever was the case. This I thoroughly enjoyed. And besides, at barely twenty-two, I had to do something to build up my credibility before I handed them their prescription lenses. Or maybe I didn’t. Those that came were incredibly trusting with whatever we did to them or gave to them during our clinics. To a twenty two year old with no medical experience, this is wonderful and scary all at the same time.
After myopia 101, out come the glasses. Out come more smiles from the patients as they can read again for the first time in who knows how long. If only everything in life had these immediate results. Of course there are many we couldn’t help. Many have cataracts. With the worst cases we could only shake our heads and send them off empty handed, doomed to peer at things through clouded eyes the rest of their life. I grew tired of sending people away like this, and more than once I pondered the thought of finding a mail order cours
e on how to do cataract surgery. I tossed the thought away and focused on the patients we could help.
e on how to do cataract surgery. I tossed the thought away and focused on the patients we could help.Quite a few of the patients were my students. I can’t tell you how satisfying it is to teach a student that can now see the board you are teaching from because they are wearing the glasses you fitted them with. Nope, I can’t tell you. A blog entry can get you only so close. Just trust me when I say it’s a a great feeling.
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