There's a bit of an empty space in Bastion now that wasn't there a week ago. Richard, a young man who I've had a lot to do with, died suddenly and very unexpectedly on Sunday evening. He would have turned 30 on Dec. 9. He had had epilepsy for many years, poorly controlled, and didn’t do himself any favours in his younger years, using alcohol, and maybe drugs as well. He was somewhat disabled from so many seizures, with partial paralysis on one side, looked like he’d had a stroke. He was well known in the community of block 6 in Bastion, all the youth knew him, and he became part of our lives 3 or 4 years ago, coming to the church, almost never missed and present at all events. He was always the first one to sign up for an outing, of any kind, was always at camp, as a camper or as a maintenance helper. He was usually alone, but that seemed to be okay. But whenever he had a seizure, and they were quite frequent, the boys would be by his side in an instant, lying him down, and holding him until it passed. They were very good to him.
I took him to emergency one night in March, and he was sick enough then that I wondered if he would live, but he did, and we got his meds adjusted and got him back on track, and he’s been doing well, even got a job working in a little restaurant the last few months. But then I got a call early Monday morning to say he was gone. He had what seems to have been a cardiac event of some kind and he was gone by the time they got him to the hospital.

And I was thus introduced to a whole new part of this culture, all that takes place around a death. All of it very very different to what I'm used to in my own culture. It started with the "velorio", much like an old fashioned wake, I think. On Monday evening we went to his home, and the entire front of the house had been cleared and transformed to a mini-funeral parlour, with the coffin at the front and rows of chairs set up. We went in, and sat down, and that seems to be all you do. You don't pay your respects to the family, visit awhile, then leave. You come and sit and stay, some would stay all night. We did sing 3 of Richard's favourite hymns, the idea of a few from the church, but that's all. People came in, went to the coffin, crossed themselves and then went and sat down inside or with the many outside too. Many of the tough street guys came and went. At 10, after 2 hours of this we decided that it was time for us to move on, but Richard's mother wouldn't let us go until we had been fed, the customary "rosca", hard dry breadstick rings, and a piece of cheese. And cola. And then we left.

The burial was the next afternoon. We all met at the house, and in due course the coffin came out on the shoulders of some men and was carried out of Bastion, with all of us following on foot. When we got to the main road outside Bastion most of us got onto pickup trucks, and others, mostly men, with 4 still carrying the coffin on their shoulders, headed off along that busy main highway to the cemetery. It was quite a long way, and it was incredibly hot in a full blazing sun, I just don't know how they did it. This is a custom that the poor have brought with them from the country, and have held onto, carrying their dead to be buried. Walking all the way, doesn't seem to matter how far it is. Along the way I was shocked to see how little respect was shown the procession by passing traffic, they just honked and pushed their way through as though this was just some annoying slow moving traffic. I was really surprised to see that in this very Catholic country, I didn't expect it.

(I have to confess that in the midst of all this, part of me was wishing for my camera and a way to take a few photos invisibly. Here was this procession, a little decrepit pickup truck leading the way, with a middle aged gringa perched up on the side in the back, hanging on tight, followed by the walking men, with the coffin wobbling aloft, followed by another 2 or 3 trucks with the rest of the mourners packed into the back. Accompanied by the ever-present vendors trying to sell bottles of water, and the traffic roaring by us, or at us!)

Finally arrived at the cemetery, where there was a little trouble getting someone to open the gates to let us in, and then we proceeded on foot to the grave. Cemeteries here consist of stacks of cement cubicles, not graves in the ground as we know. When we arrived at the right spot, there was a priest waiting, he put on a gown, got a table organized and got underway. It was a mass (Richard came from a Catholic family and this is how they do it). It took a good hour, with everyone standing there. Lots of rituals, all new to me. He had a message too, about how to try to be better people, and the solution to it all was love. And then the coffin was opened so the family could say a final goodbye, and while that was happening I noticed a guy standing by with a bag of cement and water and trowel and bricks, and I realized what that was about. As soon as the coffin was closed up again and slid into its cubbyhole, he got to work, sealing it in. With everybody still standing there, watching. We saw the job through to the end.

It was a sad day, but I was thinking about the many memories I have of Richard, having seizures, being alone, being so sick, I can remember looking at him as he lay on the stretcher in emergency in March, and wondering what the future looked like for him. And he was apparently depressed, one of the boys told me. And now all that’s over for him. He will never have another seizure, he is out of the poverty and difficulties that he faced in life, and he's at peace and happy, in the presence of his Saviour.

On Monday we had another trip back to Milagro, to the eye hospital there, this time with 8 patients, 5 kids and 3 adults. The little gray van came all the way here again to get us, everybody showed up on time, and off we went. The rest of the day didn't go quite as smoothly as it had the first time, the place was incredibly busy and both doctors who we were seeing had been away for 2 weeks, and were operating when we got there, so we had to wait our turn with the throngs this time. However, in due course, everybody was seen, diagnoses made, glasses prescribed, and a couple of patients got appointments to go back to see a retinal specialist coming from the States in December.

But the point of this story has to do with how I was struck anew by the realities of some peoples' lives. I know these families, I know their lives, and yet it's easy sometimes to forget about their struggles. But it hit me hard this week, again.
Sonia is an 11 year old, child of a family I know well, goes to our school. I've known that she needs glasses, has had trouble seeing at school, but I didn't know where to take her, until I crossed paths with this ophthalmologist. So she came along with us on Monday and was given a prescription for glasses. Perfect. What I didn't find out until we were all on the bus on our way home, was that she could have got the glasses there for $40. Good deal, eh? Try to find glasses in Canada for $40. But she didn't get them, because $40 for this family might as well have been $4,000. Completely out of the question.
Her father had a good job until a few years ago, earning enough to look after the family well. But then the company closed, and he lost his job. And he has never been able to get another one, he's 50 now, and it's hard enough to find a job if you're in your 20's. So he has been taking out his big tricycle affair, travelling the streets and picking through other people's garbage for anything that is recyclable. It all goes to a depot that pays cash for that stuff, and that's how he has been trying to support his family. These people get paid a pittance for the garbage they collect. And he has a bad knee and back pain. They tried raising chickens to sell, but they were doing it in a very tiny yard area, and the chickens were getting sick and dying. So recently an "opportunity" came their way: someone they knew has a business making almuerzos, the typical Ecuadorian midday meal, for workers, and delivering the meals to the workplace. The food goes in flimsy plastic containers, which they are reusing. That's great, less garbage on these streets. But they all have to be washed. And we apparently are talking several hundred meals. This is not a one person job. So father, mother and teenage son are all going off every day to spend hours, I mean HOURS, washing these things. It's taking 3 of them something like 6 hours to get the job done. And for this they get paid - brace yourselves - $30, no not each, that's what the combined effort earns, per week!! Oh, and deduct bus fare for 3 people. That leaves them with $25.
That's why $40 glasses were out of the question.
They now have the money, and Sonia will see.

End of October. Fall is in full swing in Canada, winter is looming. Here, it's hard to mark the seasons, not much changes, I have to keep thinking, What month is this now? There's nothing to relate it to. The weather is either hot or hotter, or sometimes, less hot. It wasn't too bad for the first few weeks I was back, but then the clouds all left town, and every day was sunny and clear, with blazing blue skies, and and absolutely scorching sun. Just the idea of going out anywhere was too much to think about. I learned to time my journeys, out in the morning, lurk inside for the afternoon if at all possible, then venture forth again at 5 when the heat subsides a bit. But in the last week or so the clouds have returned with some blessed relief from that fireball in the sky. And the rainy season is getting closer. Not a drop of rain has fallen on this city in months. The months ahead will more than make up for that!

I feel as though most of the last 6 weeks have been spent in 3 hospitals here in the city. I tell people now - If you can't find me at home, check the hospitals, I'll be there! Start with the Solca, the cancer hospital. My friend Lenny has started chemo for ovarian cancer, and at the same time is having treatment for some TB lesions they found during surgery. So all of that means 5 separate trips to that hospital every 3 to 4 weeks. 2 for bloodwork, 2 for doctor visits, and 1 for chemo. All of which involve many hours of waiting. After the oncology visit, we have to launch off on a round of joining other lines to get the chemo in place for the next day - that usually takes 5 to 6 hours. Then the chemo is a 6 hour session. But Lenny is taking it all in very good form. It's even less fun for her! Her hair has all fallen out, and she's acquired a wig from someone, and in private she likes to whip it off and show me her "coco blanco" - white coconut!! And she seems to be coping quite well with the treatment, a couple of days of feeling lousy after the chemo, but then she bounces back. So in the meantime I pray that this is accomplishing what we're hoping for, a recovery for her so she can continue to care for her young family.
Then too, in between all the Solca trips have been waits on benches at the other 2 hospitals I frequent (I am actually known at these places now, they greet me like an old friend!), with other people who need medical attention for one thing or another. I have to remember to pack snacks, water, a book, and a sweater - these hospitals are vigorously air conditioned in places. Sometimes these visits are successful, sometimes hair-pullingly frustrating. Always an education.

In the midst of all these at times discouraging hospital trips, I've had a big positive. Through a Canadian contact, I've been put in touch with a ophthalmologist here, just when I really needed a good one for a couple of people. He has been wonderful, seeing my patients, not accepting payment, and a couple of weeks ago, arranged an expedition for me and a handful of people with eye problems, to a clinic he is associated with in Milagro, a town an hour away. It was founded and is run by MMI (Medical Ministry International), and is there for the poor. So a van came all the way here to collect me and my group, and took us there, where we were treated like royalty. Forms filled in, testing done, then our doctor saw them all in between his OR patients, and then suddenly, my old friend Julian was being taken in to have his cataract removed - just like that!! That day felt like a gift to me. We're saying it was a milagro in Milagro (the word means 'miracle'). We have another trip planned in a week, to take 5 or 6 kids to see the pediatric eye specialist there. All from a "chance" encounter with an old friend while I was in Canada. Any doubt that God is always working away there, out of sight? Not one!

Our Canadian group is now complete again. The last of our number, Nikki, got back from her time in Canada on the weekend. For a couple of weeks in August, Janna was the only one of us here, all the rest had headed back to Canada at various times over the summer. First me, then the Horst family, then Luke, then Nikki. But we're all back now, and getting on with what God has for each of us here.

I'm looking forward to another trip back to the jungle communities up the Onzole river later this month, finally. It's almost a year since I've been there, and I can't wait to go back and see my friends there. Stay tuned for news on that!

I've been back in Ecuador for a month now, and life here has absorbed me again. I've had some difficult days as I've struggled to adjust to life without the presence of all my family and friends again, there are times of loneliness, but I am adjusting to that and not feeling the gap so badly now.

(I've just been given a huge boost - my internet guy was just here to be paid, haven't seen him since April, and he says my Spanish is MUCH better than it was, in fact he went so far as to say it's good!!! Hey how about that? I think I may have just been having a good moment, but I'll take it!)

As I say, I feel as though I've been re-absorbed into this life. There have been all kinds of happenings, good and bad, fun and not much fun at all. A couple of weeks ago I went to camp for the day with the Kids' Club from Block 6, along with a few of the mothers and the leaders, and we had a great day. The weather was gray and windy and cold - yes, cold - I never had my sweater off all day! But everybody had a fine time anyway. The kids all went into that cold gray pacific ocean, so different to the one I'm used to in February and March when camp is on. They came out little frozen shivering penguins with blue lips, but had a ball of course. Played games, buried each other in the sand, collected the bumper crop of sand dollars, and the mothers welcomed a chance to be away from their usual lives in Bastion, if just for a day. And it was a good chance for me to be able to spend some informal time with them and get to know some of them better.

I've been able to spend time with some of my friends, having chats and catching up, the kids in university have just finished their first semester and done exams, and all the ones that I'm involved with passed and did well. It's hard to get used to the upsidedown-ness of the school year here, in Canada it's all just getting underway, schools, universities and the rest of life that takes a break through July and August, but here it's all in full swing. Universities are on a break between semesters, the kids in school are getting ready for exams. It's now hard to imagine that September life I used to know in Canada.

Our little school is a busy place, lots of activity. This week there was a first ever science fair and open house for the parents. Each class had a display set up, and the kids had speeches all memorized to tell you all you needed to know about whatever project they had. The oldest class divided into pairs and each did their own presentation, we heard all about the workings of the heart, how plants grow to adapt to sources of light, how plants absorb water and nutrients (and food colour) up their stems. One class told us everything we had ever wanted to know about quinoa, complete with samples of what you can do with it. And another class had a display about the nutritional benefits of bananas and plantain, also with samples. The parents came in droves, there were snacks for sale, and the whole affair was a huge success, pretty good for a first time.

And the medical problems are always with me. In the last week alone I have spent 17 hours waiting for medical appointments, that was only 4 separate visits. It is an absolutely crazy system, and everybody is just used to it, and puts up with it patiently. I'm a fairly patient person, but I have to say I've been sorely stretched a couple of times this week. Everybody is given 1 appointment time, everybody arrives then, but that is just the time at which the doctor will start seeing people, or tests will start being done. So somebody is out in an hour, and the rest wait, and somebody will have to wait 4 hours. Or more - yesterday I waited 6 1/2 hours for my patient to see the neurologist - that was a very long time to perch on a bench. The only good part about that wait was that it was at the psychiatric hospital (an experience in itself!), which was built in another age, and is an old fashioned place built around a huge open outside area, that was parklike, even had (unaccountably) swings and slides and all, which was a huge help because my patient was a 9 year old girl. But still!! And of course it's not just me waiting, as I looked along the line of consultorios, I could see dozens and dozens of people, always the poor, waiting and waiting. They are so used to it, it's their life everywhere they go where they have to deal any kind of officialdom.

I've been dealing with leg ulcers, one that I've been trying to close since last December, it's SO slow, and a new one on my old friend Julian's foot. We've caught this one early, so I'm hoping we can heal it quickly. A little girl with epilepsy, my friend Marlene with her ongoing kidney disease which seems to be fairly well under control right now. And the newest most serious issue, my friend who had the enormous ovarian cysts removed in March has been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She had more surgery while I was in Canada, and has been having tests (that was last week's 4 hour wait, for a CT scan) and after many delays, we go on Monday finally to see the oncologist to get some sort of plan. This lady has some older, grown children but also 4 young ones, the youngest is only 2 or 3. A very needy family. I'd appreciate prayer for her, and for me as I try to help her through this system and diagnosis.

And that's just part of it. Lots to occupy me, and make me wish I had a medical degree. And lots to make me thankful. And I am so appreciative of my community of friends here, when I'm having a bad day, feeling down or lonely, there is only one solution - I take myself across the dreaded road and spend some time visiting in Bastion - a guaranteed cure.

Oh dear, I've just seen the date on that last blog post - June 16!!! That's quite awhile ago, I think I may be overdue an update!

I'm back on the south side of the equator again, came back a week ago, after 3 1/2 months in Canada. That was a long time to be away, maybe too long. But it was time for me to be there, with my family. As I try to look back at those months now, so many assorted memories are there, so many occasions. Some sad, many happy. I was there for 2 funerals, I said goodbye to my sister-in-law Heather, which is why I went home, and also to my friend John, an unexpected loss. But I was there for some celebrations too, I got to go to 2 weddings, and I was delighted to be there for my grandaughter's first birthday, and make a cake for her. Also got to celebrate my Dad's 80th birthday. And there were so many other wonderful occasions with the family and friends. They were months of a LOT of eating - catching up on food that I miss when I'm here. But that means I have returned with a slight problem, I returned with a few extra pounds, on my person, not in my luggage! All due to a lot of great meals and the use of a car. However, the Ecuadorians don't see this as a problem, they keep saying - Oh you're fatter - you look so nice!!! This is a great culture!

I was able to do a little bit of travelling while I was back, to Muskoka for a weekend, then on to Quebec in the Laurentians to a cottage where some childhood summers were spent. Great times of catching up with friends and relatives. A weekend at my brother's cottage, where we relaxed and watched him work! And 2 days with my sister and daughter at the shores of Lake Huron, where I'd never been before. I can't imagine how I've missed that, it's so beautiful and so unexpected somehow, and so close to home. And above all, I got to spend a lot of time with Elizabeth, my best beautiful grandaughter, and get to know her, and see her start walking and talking. I could take up a great deal of space here, going on and on about how she's the most amazing grandchild ever....but I'll spare you that! But am I ever missing that child already!

And now I'm trying to readjust to life here. It is good to be back, it's been SO good to see my friends, and I've been well hugged and welcomed back to Ecuador. But it is an adjustment, I was in Canada long enough to get used to the ease of life there again. Now I'm back to noise and dirt, and no car (that will get rid of those pounds, I hope). Long lines to do everything. Not being able to understand half of what is being said, or to make myself understood at times. Being without running water (it went off yesterday and has just come back after more than 24 hours). And other minor inconveniences. But probably the hardest has been the return to an empty house, and feeling such a distance between me and the family. But I'm thankful for the technology that we have now, and this "aloneness" causes me to turn to my Father in heaven, who will fill those empty spots better than anyone.

There is work to be done, I've been visiting my patients one by one, catching up, and having new issues to deal with. And I'm realizing once more how inadequate I am for this job, on my own, but remembering that the ability to do this work comes from outside of me, the guidance and help I need every day comes from above. I could not be here doing this without my God.

I've been back in Canada for 6 weeks now, and am still struggling in some ways to adjust to North American culture. Somehow, although I am Canadian born and bred, and almost all of my life has been spent here, it's more of a "culture shock" to find myself back in Canada than in Ecuador. To be sure, I am enjoying my time here, I'm soaking up the fresh clean air, the cool, the quiet, the times I get to spend with family, visits with friends. It's a happy surprise to have to deal with any kind of officialdom, and find that I don't have to spend 2 hours in line, there aren't 20 pieces of paper to have ready, and arguments to have, and more lines to stand in. It is nice to go out without having to put on a money belt, or clutch my purse with both arms, or leave all valuables behind.

And yet . . .

I am having some trouble reconciling my 2 worlds. There are some things that really bother me about this world, and the one that has prompted me to head for my blog is about garbage.
Yesterday was garbage day here in this part of Burlington. Garbage day has changed since I lived here - now you have an array of bins and boxes to sort your rubbish into, and that's great, there's a lot of stuff that is not taking up space in landfill now, and instead is recycled into another life. But around here it was also "big" garbage day - where you can get rid of stuff that is too big to put out for the usual collection. That can mean odds and ends of all kinds of junk, but now it also seems to be a good chance to get rid of what looks to be perfectly good household items, that we no longer want. I went for a walk the night before the big collection, and took a look at some of the discards, and I was blown away by the things that were out there - chairs, tables, couches, bookcase, a stroller that looked way better than the one my children got pushed around in. These were gently used things, much of it not dead or dying - it looked FINE! Often people cruise about in pickup trucks and help themselves to some of the good useable items, but there were 2 things that got me about all this. One that these things are so easily discarded - that couch looks just fine to me, maybe slightly outdated? Maybe not. That bookcase is in great shape, just a bit of candlewax dripped down the front. Couldn't see anything wrong with the stroller. Do we need to live with everything looking perfect and up to the current trends? And if we do, why can't the things that are no longer perfect and up to our standards be given to people who need them? Because the other part that troubled me was when on Monday morning everything that hadn't been salvaged the night before, was put into the garbage truck and crushed and made to disappear. I watched while a couch with a pull-out bed in it was heaved into the back of the truck, a lever was pulled, there were awful crunching sounds . . . and it was gone. It didn't appear to have anything wrong with it, and it was way nicer than any of my friends in Bastion will ever have, and I think of the household items that they live with, or without, and it somehow seems wrong. I know this is a different world, and even in my other world there are people who live with excess, but not in the part of that world that I know.

. . . one of my struggles and a place where my 2 worlds collide.

May in Canada

On May 2 I left Guayaquil and came to Canada, 2 weeks earlier than I had planned, and with 24 hours to get ready to leave my home and life for 3 months. My sister-in-law's health suddenly began to deteriorate, and it became clear that my original travel date of May 14 was too far away. So Friday May 1 was a day that passed in a blur of heat, activity, tears, and goodbyes. I had numerous trips to assorted bank machines to try to persuade them to part with some cash, there were meds to buy to be left behind for my patients, 3 months' worth of dressing supplies to be delivered, arrangements for my house and cat......! But the impossible was accomplished and I was able to leave on that plane the next morning.

And then I was plunged immediately into a whole new world, one in which a close and dear family member was coming to the close of her time here on earth, and all of the family drew close to walk this unfamiliar path together. And thus passed 2 weeks, most of that first week spent at the palliative care unit at the Brantford General Hospital, until Heather was transferred to a hospice, where the wonderful people cared so well for her and for all of us. That hospice became our home for just over a week, we took turns sleeping there, had family dinners, and generally took the place over. And were assured by the staff that that's exactly what they want to see. Heather steadily declined over those 2 weeks, but still had some good periods of being alert and able to communicate and be part of some get-togethers in her room. Although she wasn't able to speak, she still managed to communicate with very expressive eyebrows, and a whiteboard. Family and close friends spent some very precious hours together, talking, remembering, crying, and laughing. I am so thankful to have been given these times, that I was able to get back from Ecuador in time. I had prayed so often that God would make it clear when I should go, and He did. Heather left us early in the morning of May 17, and went home to her Saviour. And now we have a big gap in our lives to get used to living with.
The other part of coming home of course has been that I get to spend time with my little grandaughter Elizabeth. That has been such a joy, and has helped to balance the grief. She turned 1 year old yesterday, and I was there to be part of that, and we were remembering how hard it was to be so far away last year when she was trying to arrive, and it wasn't going all that well, and I was dependent on intermittent text messages to know what was going on!!! Yesterday was much better!! She's very cute, very smart and full of personality, and I'm allowed to say that - I'm the Grandma!!


It has been a bonus too, to be here for a Canadian spring. When I arrived the new pale green leaves were just showing, the fruit trees were in bloom, so were the daffodils and tulips, and magnolias. Oh and pansies! And I've been here for the lilacs and lily-of-the-valley. Things I didn't even realize I missed, but so lovely to be here for them. What a beautiful country this is.

But. . . . cold! Will this place ever warm up? Just wondering.