Vivianna was three years old when pushed into an open flame by an older sibling last June. The accident occurred in a remote Indian village in the Bolivian countryside miles from the nearest hospital. As she fell backwards into the fire, her dress ignited and singed her back and buttocks. Because of the seclusion of her village, she lay without medical attention for three days. Once rumor of her accident reached Cochabamba, a medical missionary set out by helicopter to airlift her to Burn Center Viedma. Upon her arrival, Daniel, Jonathan, and Will watched in awe as Dr. Romero and company stripped all layers of tissue from her back down to her musculature, and grafted skin from all over her body to cover her exposed injury. We recently learned from Vivianna’s current care taker that the boy who pushed her into the fire was banished from her village. Unfortunately, we also learned that the village elders met and decided not to allow the now four year old Vivianna to return. Consequently, she is in the care of an American couple volunteering in Cochabamba. She’s learned to speak Spanish in lieu of her native language, and visits the burn center daily for physical therapy to ensure the elasticity of the grafted skin on her back. From what we’ve seen of her she’s nothing but smiles, and from what her care takers say, she’s a bundle of unbridled energy and mischief.
Friday, July 11, 2008
A Special "Hola" for Daniel, Jonathan, and Will
The most touching account described by Daniel, Jonathan, and Will about their experience last summer at Burn Center Viedma involved a little girl named Vivianna. While it’s rightfully their story to tell, we were privy to recent developments in her saga, and wanted to share these new revelations, along with some special video footage, with our founders.
Vivianna was three years old when pushed into an open flame by an older sibling last June. The accident occurred in a remote Indian village in the Bolivian countryside miles from the nearest hospital. As she fell backwards into the fire, her dress ignited and singed her back and buttocks. Because of the seclusion of her village, she lay without medical attention for three days. Once rumor of her accident reached Cochabamba, a medical missionary set out by helicopter to airlift her to Burn Center Viedma. Upon her arrival, Daniel, Jonathan, and Will watched in awe as Dr. Romero and company stripped all layers of tissue from her back down to her musculature, and grafted skin from all over her body to cover her exposed injury. We recently learned from Vivianna’s current care taker that the boy who pushed her into the fire was banished from her village. Unfortunately, we also learned that the village elders met and decided not to allow the now four year old Vivianna to return. Consequently, she is in the care of an American couple volunteering in Cochabamba. She’s learned to speak Spanish in lieu of her native language, and visits the burn center daily for physical therapy to ensure the elasticity of the grafted skin on her back. From what we’ve seen of her she’s nothing but smiles, and from what her care takers say, she’s a bundle of unbridled energy and mischief.
Vivianna was three years old when pushed into an open flame by an older sibling last June. The accident occurred in a remote Indian village in the Bolivian countryside miles from the nearest hospital. As she fell backwards into the fire, her dress ignited and singed her back and buttocks. Because of the seclusion of her village, she lay without medical attention for three days. Once rumor of her accident reached Cochabamba, a medical missionary set out by helicopter to airlift her to Burn Center Viedma. Upon her arrival, Daniel, Jonathan, and Will watched in awe as Dr. Romero and company stripped all layers of tissue from her back down to her musculature, and grafted skin from all over her body to cover her exposed injury. We recently learned from Vivianna’s current care taker that the boy who pushed her into the fire was banished from her village. Unfortunately, we also learned that the village elders met and decided not to allow the now four year old Vivianna to return. Consequently, she is in the care of an American couple volunteering in Cochabamba. She’s learned to speak Spanish in lieu of her native language, and visits the burn center daily for physical therapy to ensure the elasticity of the grafted skin on her back. From what we’ve seen of her she’s nothing but smiles, and from what her care takers say, she’s a bundle of unbridled energy and mischief.
The Birth of a Churango Prodigy
Anyone who knows Jim is aware of his incredible prowess on the guitar, but apparently this talent is limited to six-stringed instruments. In this clip, Pablo, a fifteen year old boy who is recovering from burns on his chest and arms, does his best to instruct Jim on the finer points of playing the Churango, a ten stringed instrument. While Jim gives it the old “med-school” try, it’s obvious that Pablo is the superior Churango player. Sorry Jim, the video doesn’t lie.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
The Discomforts of Home
Regardless of the perils faced during the course of a long and stressful day, one always has the comfort of a hot shower to look forward to; a few minutes of warmth and solace in which to forget about the day’s trials and tribulations. As if life at the burn center wasn’t uncomfortable enough, the children can’t even depend on a warm soak to sooth their misfortunes. Instead, their weekly bath consists of a lawn chair and a bucket of water. This footage is of Sarah, a four year old girl who was burned on her forehead when her brother tipped a boiling pot of water onto her and her older sister Maribel. Consistent with most events for the children at the burn center, her bath is obviously very traumatic. One thing that the camera doesn’t capture is the violence with which Sarah is shivering throughout the process. During her bath, we discovered that towels and baby shampoo are two luxuries the center is forced to do without. As is visible in this clip, they use hand soap to wash Sarah, and then dry her with bed sheets.
"Country Boy"
Last Friday, the burn center was transformed into a trauma surgery room. We gasped as we watched Dr. Romero unwrap a 12 year old boys right leg. It was obvious this was no burn victim. His skin had been ripped to shreds, and every muscle in his thigh was exposed. With our well developed "Spanglish" we were able to decipher the word "Vaca" meaning cow which was the demise of this young man. He was mauled by a long horn while working on his family's farm. Because his diet consisted of the typical rice and potatoes of a poor Bolivian family he had absolutely no fat on his legs. Because his condition was very fragile, it was vital that Dr. Romero knew the exact state of his health. At this moment Dr. Romero turned to us and asked MS4BCV to provide the finances for his lab work in hopes of his survival throughout the weekend- only $25. We are able to see first hand how every single dollar counts down here. Someone's sacrifice saved this young man's life. Yesterday we saw him, and he was alert, infection free and stable. We are waiting until Friday in hopes that he will be strong enough to survive surgery.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
El Presidente
Evo, named after Evo Morales the current president of Bolivia , was recently mentioned by the girls in one of their blogs. While the girls continue to do an outstanding job serving children like Evo, we have returned home, and now have the capacity to upload the numerous videos we shot at the burn center. This in mind, I thought it only appropriate to share the impact that Evo had on our experience in Cochabamba.
Two years old, he lay flat on his stomach with his right arm and leg tied to his crib to prevent him from rolling on his back. He was sedated to alleviate the pain of the burns he suffered on his butt, and the debridement that followed to expedite their healing. Although the exact cause of his burns was never revealed, it was speculated that they were a result of a custom of burning a child’s rear-end with coals to quell the onset of diarrhea. He had been abandoned by both his mother and father, and was under the supervision of his two uncles at the time of his injury. Aside from his burns, he was severely malnourished. He was covered by what could best be described as a tent of blankets constructed to keep him warm while preventing direct contact with his exposed burns.
Our first day at Burn Center Viedma, the sight of his hazy brown eyes peering up at us from beneath this heap of covers was overwhelming. All that he wished to say, but was yet unable, was written with the mastery of Whitman in the expressions on his face. In each wrinkle of his brow and twist of his lip I saw the fear, frustration, hunger, pain, and solitude that defined his brief existence. Yet as my eyes began to water and I started to slip into hopelessness, he extended his tiny hand and wrapped it around my finger. With this gesture, Evo introduced me to reality. His simple touch made all that was composed within the poignant expressions of his face tangible. Once accepted as concrete, hopelessness gave way to empowerment. "We can help you", I thought silently to myself.
The day of our departure from Cochabamba we stopped at the burn center to say goodbye to the children. Fully recovered and fifteen pounds heavier, Evo was found alone playing on the floor. Grasping the same finger he had three weeks prior, he led me on a walk through the halls of the hospital. The agony that had previously been portrayed on his gaunt face was replaced by smiles and demands for more food. Yet the time came to say goodbye, and I led him back to where I found him earlier in the day. I gave him a hug, said so long, sat him down and turned to walk away. I fought looking back with every ounce of my judgment, yet as I rounded the corner it was unavoidable. Two outstretched arms, a face furrowed with disapproval, and tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. It’s an image that’s burned into my psyche. I was abandoning him, much as his mother and father had, and although our brief presence in his life harbored a fraction of the influence of a parent, the statement in his expression will haunt me forever.
Two years old, he lay flat on his stomach with his right arm and leg tied to his crib to prevent him from rolling on his back. He was sedated to alleviate the pain of the burns he suffered on his butt, and the debridement that followed to expedite their healing. Although the exact cause of his burns was never revealed, it was speculated that they were a result of a custom of burning a child’s rear-end with coals to quell the onset of diarrhea. He had been abandoned by both his mother and father, and was under the supervision of his two uncles at the time of his injury. Aside from his burns, he was severely malnourished. He was covered by what could best be described as a tent of blankets constructed to keep him warm while preventing direct contact with his exposed burns.
Our first day at Burn Center Viedma, the sight of his hazy brown eyes peering up at us from beneath this heap of covers was overwhelming. All that he wished to say, but was yet unable, was written with the mastery of Whitman in the expressions on his face. In each wrinkle of his brow and twist of his lip I saw the fear, frustration, hunger, pain, and solitude that defined his brief existence. Yet as my eyes began to water and I started to slip into hopelessness, he extended his tiny hand and wrapped it around my finger. With this gesture, Evo introduced me to reality. His simple touch made all that was composed within the poignant expressions of his face tangible. Once accepted as concrete, hopelessness gave way to empowerment. "We can help you", I thought silently to myself.
The day of our departure from Cochabamba we stopped at the burn center to say goodbye to the children. Fully recovered and fifteen pounds heavier, Evo was found alone playing on the floor. Grasping the same finger he had three weeks prior, he led me on a walk through the halls of the hospital. The agony that had previously been portrayed on his gaunt face was replaced by smiles and demands for more food. Yet the time came to say goodbye, and I led him back to where I found him earlier in the day. I gave him a hug, said so long, sat him down and turned to walk away. I fought looking back with every ounce of my judgment, yet as I rounded the corner it was unavoidable. Two outstretched arms, a face furrowed with disapproval, and tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. It’s an image that’s burned into my psyche. I was abandoning him, much as his mother and father had, and although our brief presence in his life harbored a fraction of the influence of a parent, the statement in his expression will haunt me forever.
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