Started out harmless enough, strolling along a path, heading to the beach, minding my own business, when one of those pesky barbed end daggers, launched itself between my flip-flop and the tender underside of my foot.
Yes, I cursed! Pulled it out, and carried on, muttering under my breath as the assaulted area stung. Later that evening, I suspected the tip of the thorn was still imbedded; contorting my leg (in what I’m sure was an advanced yoga position—I don’t do yoga) I examined the bottom of my foot. Yup, there was something in there; I poked, and prodded in an attempt to remove it. When my hip protested the pretzel formation I had forced it to endure, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to leave it be—the remnant of thorn would work itself to the surface, and that would be that.
Well, that didn’t happen. With every step I took, the offending debris was pushed further in—not out. And once again, in my infinite wisdom, I chose to ignore it. Fast forward a couple of months (okay so I was in complete denial) I hobbled along, complaining to all that would listen, that there was a thorn in my foot and it hurt! More than once, it was suggested that I should go to Miss Peggy’s (Clinica Esperanza) and have that taken care of. I knew that, but had every excuse for why I didn’t have time; I am on such a tight schedule on Roatan, don’t you know. Finally—common sense kicked in and I went to the clinic.
Located at the top of a hill, in Sandy Bay, what once was Miss Peggy’s home (she ran the clinic out of her kitchen) has expanded to a full fledge, not-for-profit, medical facility; Miss Peggy and her team of dedicated staff and volunteers tend to the medical needs of all on Roatan.
Being the chicken that I am, when I approached the entrance, I was grateful for the welcoming and calming atmosphere. Children played on the jungle gym, their parents nearby, others sat on the wide front porch, fanning themselves. Inside, more clients sat in the neatly arranged waiting area, the air-conditioning negating the need to fan. Most were quick with a sincere smile and greeting, as was the receptionist, who took my information.
When it was my turn, I was led to a consultation room, where one of the volunteers checked my vital signs, noted them on a chart, and assessed what I would require; consulting with Dr Raymond, it was decided that more than a pair of tweezers were needed; he would personally tend to my treatment. I won’t go into the gory details, let’s just say… the thorn remnants are gone, as is the infection, that I had given free rein by letting it fester for so long… the necessary excavation was then closed with five stitches!
Once again relying on my infinite wisdom, I devised a secret plan that as soon as Dr Raymond was finished, and before the freezing wore off, I would go grocery shopping, and take care of a few errands. Fortunately, (although I didn’t think so at the time) Dr Raymond is a mind reader. He handed me a blanket and a pillow, turned off the light, and as he exited the room said, “Have a good nap, see you in a couple hours.”
“But, but, but, I’ve got things to do before the freezing wears off!” I protested.
“I know—that’s why you’re staying right here.” He smiled and closed the door.
I’m regularly asked how I could risk giving up “First World” healthcare when I moved to Roatan—thing is—the best care I’ve ever gotten is on the Island of Roatan. A dedicated team of trained professionals take care of my medical need with compassion and a true commitment for the well being of ALL the people of Roatan—even those like me, whose infinite wisdom is solely lacking.
Please visit the Clinica Esperanza website for more information on what they offer, and details of the upcoming 5th annual “Sundae by the Sea” at Gumbalimba Park; all proceeds directly benefit the ongoing efforts to provide quality healthcare to all on Roatan.
This story can also be read at Honduras Weekly; retitled, Miss Peggy’s First World Clinic in Honduras.