Hospital Esquela

People went in several directions today: some went out to the Jimmy Hughes children’s home (don’t call it an orphanage!), some went to Santa Ana, and others went to the hospital. I didn’t go to any of those. Larry and I accompanied Lori Connell as she drove around Tegucigalpa to exchange money (from dollars to lempiras), order supplies for a medical clinic we have planned for Saturday, and make plans for other events for the group. Mark and Lori spend a lot of time every day with those tedious tasks, and it makes the trip successful for all of us. It turned into quite an adventure, but that’s another story for another day.
When I volunteered to write the blog for today, Lori asked if I would write about visiting the hospital, since it’s such an important part of our trip and nobody has written much about it. To be honest, I put off going to the hospital as long as I could. It’s such an emotionally draining day, and sometimes I just feel so helpless there. But I went Tuesday, and as always, at the end of the day, I was glad I had gone.
Hospital Escuela is the public hospital for children. There are some nice, modern hospitals in Tegucigalpa, but Hospital Escuela is not one of them. Most of their equipment is outdated or out of order: there is only one working x-ray machine in the whole 4-story building. Although they have made some effort to brighten up the wards with paint and a few pictures, they are still dismal and unsanitary by American standards. When we got to the burn unit, a doctor was cleaning a child’s burned hand by pouring water over it into a bucket on the floor, which was never removed during our hour-long visit.
During another group’s visit, a boy had just overheard the nurses talking about the fact that he was going to have both feet amputated. Another boy was at the point of death from apparent starvation.
Many parents are not able to stay at the hospital with their children, and those who do are very uncomfortable. They might have a chair to sit/sleep in, but they might not. Some of them had been there for weeks or even months. The kids in our children’s ministry at the Okolona Church of Christ in Louisville had put together hospital comfort packs for children and adults in sandwich-sized Ziploc bags. I just know some of them are future Torchers! The parents were so appreciative of the simple offering of lotion, shampoo, lip balm, soap, paper and pen, and similar items. The children also enjoyed their gum, stickers, color sheets, crayons, and small toys.
We have a translator with every group, but even with the language barrier, the patients enjoy the attention from the American visitors. Especially in the orthopedic ward, where they children are not “sick,” they love having someone to play and color with. The nurses are kind and attentive, but they don’t have a lot of extra time with the patients. And we always try to pray over the children: if the translator isn’t close by, we just pray in English. Sometimes they will pray in Spanish at the same time, and it’s great to know that God hears and understands both at once.
There are two oncology wards at Hospital Escuela. The inpatient ward, where generally the children were very ill, was restricted to a few visitors at a time, but members of our group (mostly teenagers) were able to coax many smiles with bubbles, nail polish, and loving touches.
We have developed a well-deserved tradition of taking the hospital visitors out for ice cream at the end of the day. While it is not especially taxing physically, emotionally it wrings you out. It is a mixture of despair and hope that stays with you for a long time.
Okolona, thanks for the cards you made for the group: it is so nice to read that you are praying for us. And for all the families and friends back home, thanks for your support and love. We will see you soon.

Jennifer Sawyer



In the outpatient cancer treatment ward, a little nail polish can be a welcome distraction.


Our translator, Jeremy, stayed with this little boy a long trying, coaxing him to eat.


This little girl had had extensive skin grafts for her burns. Notice the hospital comfort pack!


This is the guy getting his burned hand “cleaned.”