This past winter, I left Houston on my first international flight alone to India. I was headed to stay and explore Delhi for two weeks before embarking on a medical trip in Andhra Pradesh. I can't express how scared I was the days leading up to my flight. I'd never traveled alone before. I didn't sleep the night before the flight. But, eventually I got to the airport. Got in the security line. Sat on the plane. Before I knew it, the plane started flying and I couldn't get off. I was headed overseas. My journey started with one step, two steps and then I was hurled across the Atlantic.
To be quite honest, I didn't know what to expect from this trip. I knew I was going to have two different experiences. One touristy and entertaining due to staying with a friend and her very, very kind family. The other, I hoped would expose me to the clinical field and aspects of global health.
I've been trying to document this trip for a while. How do I deconstruct an experience that enriched me in ways I didn't know existed? To describe my trip strictly by my actions and itinerary would be a great disservice to what I've learned. It's no small feat that we saw nearly 2 thousand patients in three days of clinic, but that wasn't the best part of it. There's so much more I learned from this trip than the numbers. I'd rather focus on lessons and reminders I jotted down in my journal during these clinic days.
On the first day of clinic, a 10-year-old boy named Joseph shook my hand. He was dirty, had no shoes but spoke impeccable english. I asked Joseph if he needed help checking in, and he replied that he had snuck off to come here and practice his english. That moment struck a chord with me. There was a beauty in his eagerness and enthusiasm to learn. Joseph reminded me of a flame that kept growing brighter.
Later that night, as I was documenting the story of Joseph, I couldn't stop thinking about my own education. I had been handed my education on a silver platter. I have never struggled for pencils, books or tuition. This one thought kept crossing my mind: Would I have worked as hard as Joseph does for an education? I honestly don't know. I've grown up believing that education is a necessity. I'm deeply thankful for this luxury that my parents have provided me with. But, I think we lose some of that value when we don't appreciate the opportunity we have.
Let's redefine education as a necessary opportunity.
Remember that the next time you are stressed, that you are also blessed.
Your fortune was the result of labor, maybe not by you, but by someone.
Remember that next time your hand hurts holding a pencil, that it is what gives you potential.
The more traumatic cases were the cases of domestic abuse.
My heart sank every time we encountered women that had been subject to abuse. I didn't even know it was possible to feel agony like that. There is not much worse than sitting and hearing about someone's back pain or examining head gashes, asking for the cause and realizing that it's because of physical abuse.
The worst part is realizing that there isn't much to be done about it. Of course, we follow the standard protocol and encourage them to reach out to their parents, their church group and leave the household if financially possible. But for the class of people we encountered, it was not financially possible and these wives were hundreds of miles away from their families.
And despite how much good we were doing through preventive community modules, medication and dental extractions, I couldn't shake this feeling of not being able to do more. It hurt. But, at the time, that was the most I could do.
I wasn't OK with that.
One of the biggest take-aways from my experiences abroad has been that education continues long after you are gone.
There was a woman’s back that was unforgettable. The abuse that was mapped out on it is forever etched into my mind. This image is as clear to me as my mother's face -- all the bumps and the wrinkles that come with each their own set of memories.
It's truly said that traveling changes the way you see the world. In her mind, we simply gave her painkillers and offered advice, which she smiled at. Advice that was useless, because in her mind, her husband -- though abusive -- was paying for her children's schooling. That, to her, was invaluable. Education is indeed the pathway to enhancing one's life. Maybe not for your generation, but for future generations to come.
It was clarity. Like the wind had been knocked out of me. It sounds strange, but I envisioned my mother sitting in that very chair. I could somehow see the hardships that this woman, my mother, and so many other women like them had encountered, only to improve the lives of their future children.
I know I simply gave her painkillers, but she gave me food for thought. She, Joseph and so many more like them that I encountered made me recognize and appreciate my privilege. I was somehow, by some chance, immensely blessed. I had won the lottery of birth. I couldn’t shake that thought. When I saw my family welcoming me at the airport, I couldn’t help but remember the countless number of women we sent back to abusive households.
It’s our duty to recognize our blessings and give back to those who are less fortunate than us. This trip was a one time thing, but I’m definitely not ready to stop volunteering and passing on the opportunities I was blessed with.
I hope that this article illuminated some of my experiences I had during my trip. There were so many more little things. I loved bonding with my friends, the nurses I had just met, the doctors whom I learned so much from. But ultimately, I was filled with an unwavering desire to utilize my education and augment it towards the greater good.
For that, I am forever thankful.
