Kristy Maute

(Peru) Screen Day 2

(May 16, 2015)

The unknown was eliminated as we entered day two of screening. I knew what to expect. My nerves had been settled. Day two was a repeat of day one. The drive to the hospital was familiar. The walk to the courtyard of the hospital was familiar. The crowd waiting for us wasn’t a surprise. In one day this became familiar territory.

The medical team quickly settled into their screening stations. Patients were registered shortly after we arrived. With every patient that came through the screening process, I watched in awe the love of each parent. While the environment already felt like home, I still found myself standing back observing it all.

The children were entertained by a plastic bottle that quickly turned into a soccer ball.

Stickers provided hours of entertainment.

I never witnessed a family complain.

I never saw anyone ask for anything.

Gratitude filled the air before anyone even knew if they would get surgery.

This waiting room is such a contrast to the waiting rooms in America. Compared to the world that I know, I can’t help but feel they have found such a deeper appreciation for life when they have less. How do you blend our world so it has the best of both? How do you remove medical uncertainty, life uncertainty, and uphold the love and gratitude? I don’t know the answer, but I do know that more isn’t always better. I also know that less isn’t fair.

I feel myself growing quiet. My heart is changing. I find myself wanting to absorb it all. I want to stand back and appreciate every moment. I want to sit for hours and play. I want to learn from each person who showed up at the hospital the past two days. I want to learn from every person who showed up to volunteer. I have so much to see. I have so much to learn. I have so much to be thankful for in every moment of my life.

How do you take this all in?

Photo credit: Michael Kelly, U-Voice volunteer (and a pretty incredible person too!)

(Peru) Screen Day 1

(May 15, 2015)

It’s about to begin. I’ve had this thought for so many weeks now. I have carried around so much anticipation knowing this moment was about to arrive, and today is the day it begins. Today is the day I get to observe the magic of a medical mission. Patients are probably waiting already. They are waiting for us to arrive at the hospital.

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I don’t have a lot of words for today. There are only images that will forever be captured in my memory. I spent most of my day observing and learning. I was just trying to absorb it all. I was just trying to be a friendly smile to settle someone’s nerves. I was just trying to be an extra set of hands to the people who were taking care of every patient. I was just trying to keep a child happy while they waited for hours in the sun not exactly knowing why they were waiting.

It was a long day.

We arrived at the hospital and made our way to the center courtyard where screening would take place. I don’t know what I expected. I found myself taking several deep breaths as we navigated the hallways of the hospital. When we turned the corner and walked outside into the courtyard, the deep breaths got stuck in my chest. There was no visible end to the line of people waiting for us to arrive. Within seconds, people started clapping. I didn’t even realize they were clapping for our arrival until I had walked past the crowd and into the area set up for screening stations.

Every single person standing outside in the sun was waiting to be screened or was waiting for someone they love to be screened. And they were clapping. It didn’t seem fair. It still doesn’t seem fair. We should be clapping for them. Life certainly can’t be easy for them. I can’t imagine the ache in the heart of a parent when the learn that their child is born with a cleft lip or a cleft palate. I can’t imagine the feeling they must having wondering what they can do. If this was my child, surgery would be scheduled and planned before he was ever born. His birth would still be filled with hope knowing help was waiting. We should be clapping for them for showing up today.

At the end of day one, we screened nearly 200 patients. Nearly 200 individuals received a full health screening to see if they are healthy enough for surgery. The had time with a speech pathologist. They had time with a psychologist. They got help with breast feeding or bottle feeding. A nutritionist meet with them all. A dentist spent time with each patient. It’s an amazing thing to observe. It works like a machine. One station to the next. Every team has a specific goal, and every volunteer treated every patient with love and compassion.

Hours and Hours of Fun thanks to a green frog finger puppet and a two year old boy who made me love my boys even more

Tomorrow we will do it all again. There are more patients to screen, more bubbles to blow, more people to love.

“It is only with the heart that one can see clearly. What is essential is invisible to the eye.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince

Still working hard long after Sunset (or maybe just Jerry!)

Race Recap – Chkd 8k

The story of this race really began on Thursday. I set out to run six easy miles on my lunch break. It was a scorcher of a day, and I was running at 1pm. I told myself to run slow and to keep it easy. It felt slow and easy, but it wasn’t. The first two miles were way too fast on days that feel like 100 degrees. When I hit the two mile mark and turned into the sportsplex, I knew I had overdone it. My brain shut down. I didn’t want to run anymore. I slowly made my way back to work.

(9:16, 9:26, 9:39, 9:19, 9:55. Mile 6 didn’t happen.)

Thursday’s run left me defeated and a little scared to “race” on Saturday. It was going to be equally as hot. (It’s summer in the south. I need to stop my whining and embrace the heat!). My plan for the race was to use it as a modified tempo run: start easy and get faster.

My alarm went off, and I desperately wanted to stay in bed. Should I skip the run because of the heat?

Success #1 – I got out of bed

As I ate breakfast, I really wanted to crawl into bed. It was too hot out.

Success #2 – I drove to the race

I picked up my race bib, ran a mile warm up. I was dripping in sweat. I changed my race plan. I decided to aim for a personal worst. Could I keep my ego in check and run slow consistent miles? I have a bad habit of running to fast and burning out. So I lined up in the back behind all the runners. I sat behind pockets of people who run slower than my normal pace.

Success #3 – The first two miles were a piece of cake.

10:25

9:59

I remembered mile 3 and 4 from last year. They were hot. The course doesn’t offer much shade. My next goal was to survive Brambleton Avenue.

Success #5 – I survived

9:49

When we finally made the right hand turn towards the baseball stadium, I was mentally tired. It takes a lot of mental strength to consciously run slow. The first two miles I was telling myself to slow down. The third mile I was telling myself to survive the long stretch in the sun.

11:27

By the time the stadium was in view, I decide I was over it. I stopped to eat my chews. I think I just wanted a mental distraction.

10:27

Still looking for distractions, I decided to walk a water stop.

Official Results: 52:22, 10:32 pace

Success #6 – I crossed the finish line with my second slowest 8k time ever, and I’m incredibly happy with it.

This race delivered everything I need to successfully train for the Chicago Marathon. There are so many valuable lessons tucked in those five miles of racing that are going to make me stronger next October. I’ve got some work to do, but I’m not afraid to do it. Summer training leads to personal bests in the fall.

Race Stats:

Place – 353/931 (37%)

Group – 34/96 (35%)

What’s Next? Time to find some summer 5ks and the Rock n Roll Half Marathon Labor Day Weekend

Uniting a Team

(May 14, 2015)

Most of the volunteers arrived in the middle of the night last night. Airport pickups had me crawling into bed after 2am. It’s all beginning. It is all about to start. The pieces of a successful mission are starting to fall into place.

As we waited for the volunteers to arrive, we guessed who was with Operation Smile. Did they fit the picture we had painted in our head? Did they look like a plastic surgeon? Would I know if they were a nurse? Voices I have become familiar with over the phone became welcoming faces.

Every single volunteer that got of the plane followed the same pattern – recognition that we were waiting for them, realizing I am Kristy, and a huge embrace. No one shook hands. No one awkwardly introduced themselves. We were instantly a family united in Lima.

Day 1 on our mission agenda included a tour of the hospital, reviewing hospital protocol and a team meeting. As we sat on the bus anticipating the one hour drive north along the Pacific coast, our Program Coordinator made an announcement. The hospital tour was cancelled. There was a protest at the hospital that made it unsafe for our visit. Our new destination was the historic district of Lima. We were going to tour a cathedral and catacombs.

The entire day I was amazed by how quickly everyone became friends. We were strangers from over 10 different countries. We spoke different languages. We have different backgrounds. Our differences never mattered. We are all a family connected and united by our common goal to bring hope to families.

Standing outside the Covent of San Francisco, I took a few moments to take it all in. I am in Lima. I am on a medical mission with Operation Smile. Tomorrow we will meet families and children who hope to get surgery, but today we have the chance to embrace this community. While we all learn to love each other more deeply, we get to stand in the middle of a church built in 1535. We get to stand in a library that was once considered the most important library in the South America that dates back to the 17th century and holds 25,000 books. We get to stand in the church’s choir. The pipe organ was built in 1901 and has more than 1000 pipes. We get to walk through the catacombs that is the burial ground to more than three centuries of priests, members of the brotherhood, and citizens of Lima. Surround by over 500 years of history, my presence in the world seems like only a small ripple.

While the Covent of San Francisco made me feel small, there is no denying there is importance in the ripples that Operation Smile will make in the lives of the families we can treat. We all know this. We all know that there is nothing more important than the children we are in Peru to treat.

In this moment, in the historic district of Lima, I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I’m surrounded by the people I’m supposed to meet. I am where I belong. We are were we belong. We are so much stronger when we are united. Each of us bring our own unique gift to the mission and as a result families can continue to dream for their children.

My heart is so incredibly happy.

Exploring Mira Flores

(May 13, 2015)

Volunteers begin to arrive tonight around 5:30pm. After confirming a few details, the afternoon belonged to me. With no destination in mind, I wandered up and down the streets of Mira Flores, a district in Lima. The air is filled with a surprisingly comforting smell – an odd mixture of salt water and exhaust fumes. The sounds of car horns echo off the buildings. This district in Lima is an amazing blend of city life and beach living.

As I wander up and down the streets, I accept the fact that I’m noticeably a tourist. My eyes are wide as I try to take it all in. I look up and down. My eyes dart to the left and right. I am still not comfortable dodging traffic as I make my way across the busy intersections. I am okay with the label of tourists. I am content trying to absorb the energy of the city.

As I wander I notice a woman handing out balloons to children who walk by. A boy takes one and continues to hit his mom’s backside for the rest of their journey. The mom is unphased by his behavior. It comes with the territory of having a toddler. Chet would approve, and I suspect I’d be unphased too. Another boy walks by with an Angry Birds t-shirt that Cole used to wear. I miss my boys. A man sitting outside eating lunch reminds me so much of my father-in-law I almost ask to take his photo. I see my father-in-law in so many people since we lost him two years ago. A couple walking down the street holding hands makes me wish Christian was with me even if he doesn’t enjoy city life. Everywhere I look, I see something familiar in this city that is still foreign to me.

In this foreign city, I’m finding my connection. I’m finding my comfort in my morning run along a different boardwalk and a different ocean. I see people who remind me of home. Even thought I’m 3351 miles from home, I still find things that feel familiar.

Perhaps that is what this journey, every journey is about. It is about finding comfort. It is about finding the familiar. It is about finding your tribe. It is about connecting to people and life.

I’ve been here for less than 24 hours, and I already see how important it is to be connected. Tonight the volunteers arrive. We are already connected though our passion and our commitment to help. On Friday, patient screening begins. The families we will meet are just another version of ourselves – familiar faces living similar lives in a country that is foreign to me. We are all doing the best we can with our lives – separated by 3351 miles in daily life but always connected.