Since the New Year, Bolivia has been waiting for the four days of Carnival that fall before Ash Wednesday (the first day of Lent). The beginning of this Bolivian celebration is recognized by water balloons being tossed out of cars, children running down the streets with water guns, women once vending fruits are now vending water weapons, and an annual BBQ at Hospitals of Hope in which I was beginning to partake…when all of a sudden I was head-locked by a paramedic with our ER doctor spraying water over my head, while an intern proceeded to dump a bucket of water down my front, encouraged by the head doctor who poured one down my back. Carnival is related to our (New Orleans) Mardis Gras (literally “Fat Tuesday”) in which the people party and partake in all the “bad behavior” they are suppose to give up for the next 40 days (Lent).The meaning of Carnival and Lent hadn’t sunk in more than the discomfort of a wet t-shirt…until Shelly and I worked 24 hours in the Hospital Tuesday morning through Wednesday 8am. The first 16 hours of our shift were tranquilo, in which we began dreaming of a full night’s sleep. By 11:30pm we laid our heads down excited for the sweet dreams ahead, only to be awoken at 12:10am to a screaming little boy named Jose, being carried into the ER by his intoxicated father who had been driving. His father left to gather his “woman” and other two sons who had suffered the same accident. With three little boys in tears of pain, nothing inside of me wanted to treat and care for the father of this family.
Before we had found beds for this family, another young man came in with a stab wound in need of surgery and more blood. After a financial conversation among the friends of this youth, we had to turn him away due to our inability to begin treating without sufficient blood. Next, an unresponsive man and his intoxicated family come through our doors hoping we could help. He had a 1-inch deep and 4-inch long gash alongside his left eye, in which we were able to witness over an hour of suturing. As the last string was being tied, another man with blood gushing out of his head comes rushing in, then an hour later leaves without wanting the further/necessary treatment of surgery, or to pay…and so the night continues.
From the first 10 minutes of Lent (Wednesday 12:10am) until the last second of shift-change the next morning, I was overwhelmed with a sense of despair for the broken family relationships, beat-up bodies, and endless pain our world seemed to be suffering that night. Lent had truly begun, and the reality of a world without Jesus had now sunk in.
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