| Honduras
Newsletter Twelve June 14, 2005 Dear Friends, It’s night in Tegucigalpa and someone is shooting fireworks off near my apartment. I thought they were gunshots at first (being the paranoid nut that I am) but no, they are huge purple, magenta and white fireworks that make me feel, despite CAFTA, very patriotic and nostalgic for those dangerous bottle-rockets of my childhood. I’ve just returned from another crazy day around Teguc. I had expected an average day of planning, translating, and organizing in the office, but things turned out a bit differently. When one of my co-worker failed to show up before 10:00, I began to grow antsy and went to investigate. I knew her son had been sick the last week and was immediately remorseful that I hadn’t called when I returned from Olancho last night. The entire office was strange. There was a 14 year old boy standing in the corridor painting the bathroom door white. Why? The kitchen and back room were filled with youth from Villa Nueva that were cleaning the floor, making coffee and polishing the chair legs and they were using some horrid, fuming stripping poison on the tile to try to remove…the grime? The paint? The Laquer? Who knows. I was loopy from the fumes and only knew that I had a 9:00 meeting with this co-worker and she, Senora Punctual, was no where to be found. She found me and the accountant discussing the pickup truck’s breaks in his office at about 11:00. As she began to explain what had happened, I realized she was both distraught and exhausted. She spent her night awake with her 13 year old son, Felix, trying to calm his fever and his coughing. There was no public emergency room open in Tegucigalpa Sunday night. Early this morning, she left her home with a doctor’s note and went to Felix’s school to speak with the principal about the amount of school he had missed and would continue to miss. Finally, she arrived at the office and the stress of the morning and previous night compelled her to break into tears. I left with her shortly for the doctor’s office. We were going to look for Dr. Tatala in the Palmira neighborhood. We were going without Felix because she had already spent a sizeable amount on medications, doctor visits and emergency visits. The cost would be less if she could explain to Dr. Tatala Felix’s symptoms instead of having him examined. The Honduran government only offers health care to children until the age of eleven. From the age of twelve and on, parents must find a way to provide for their children’s medical needs out of pocket. The majority of professional jobs do not offer health insurance benefits outside of the government’s “social security.” “Social Security” is a basic health plan that offers medical benefits to professional workers in Honduras. Professional workers are everyone from social workers and auto-mechanics to teachers and restaurant servers. Unemployed Hondurans or Hondurans that work in the informal sector (sell fruit in the market or tortillas in the street) must assume all medical expenses. No exceptions. My friend had spent 9 hours in the emergency room of Hospital Escuela last Thursday. Felix had not improved after starting the anti-biotic the doctor in the public clinic had recommended early last week. It appeared that he had an infection in his throat and possibly his chest. The doctor suggested a chest x-ray. It was possible one of his lungs had become infected. The next day, the two of them, felix and my friend sat in the hospital emergency room waiting area for hours. The x-ray was only offered at the public hospitals, not clinics. The waiting room, my friend told me was full of children. There are wicked strains of bacteria floating around Teguc right now and it seems that more and more people are suddenly plagued with infected stomachs, intestines, and noses. I can imagine the waiting room. I’ve seen it before. It is dirty-white and warm with little ventilation. There were many children, my friend told me, with appendicitis (oddly enough) waiting to see a doctor. There were too many patients and the mothers were told again and again to wait. A nurse suggested to my friend that she try to enter Felix into the adult part of the hospital. That perhaps she would have more luck there. My friend got in line. She waited 2 hours in line. She filled out the forms and paid the fees. At last, face to face with another nurse, she was crisply told that Felix could not be permitted to the adult wing of the hospital. He is after all, she said, only thirteen. The two of them left when the emergency room closed at 4:00 without speaking to a doctor and without a chest x-ray. Such was the pain in his chest that Felix was walking hunched over. The following day, they went to a private clinic. The chest x-ray returned positive, or is it negative? There was nothing in his lungs. Thank God. The doctor prescribed an antibiotic, Felix’s second, and my friend paid out of pocket. Today, after our brief visit again to the same doctor, we left with the following message: “the bacteria must be very strong. Buy this other antibiotic, (Felix’s third) and he’ll be fine.” I think my friend has spent almost half a month’s salary on these various medications and doctor’s appointments. The right to health is a fundamental human right. In Honduras, not all have a right to health. The uneducated that sell papayas in the street, the rural farmer that grows beans and corn, and the young person with a highschool degree that cannot find employment, all are denied. The unemployed woman that lives with the HIV virus, the thirteen year old child with a severe respiratory infection, the young pregnant woman from a marginal community. All are denied. Please remember in your prayers the sick of Honduras. With peace, Lindsay Lindsay Mack Iglesia Cristiana Luterana de Honduras Apartado Postal 2861 Tegucigalpa M.D.C. Honduras, C.A. |