Drop trou and say "owww!"

Being sick in Honduras can be a transcendental experience, putting you into deeper contact with the nuances of your physical organism than you ever imagined possible. As millions of little parasites breakdance around your stomach, and biting nips of pain overtake your bones, you begin to think that being sick is how the body keeps itself in balance. Sure, it can mean a hellish few days or weeks, and your butt will be sore from all the injections, but ever notice how, in the days immediately following an illness, you feel in tip-top shape? Everything is suddenly right again in the universe of your flesh and bones and organs and tissues. Maybe, illnesses make us stronger in the long term (or is it just sufficient exercise and a healthy, balanced diet?)

Because Cofradia is a tropical locale with poor sanitation, illnesses are dealt with quickly, with the swiftness and efficiency of the attack on Pearl Harbor. Our volunteer team house doctor is named Dr. Caballero, which means, Dr. Gentleman. He sometimes lives up to his name, and is a rather squirrelly, sarcastic fellow with serious political ambitions and no small fortune to his name. He often treats our volunteers for free or else at a deep discount, and is extremely quick to insert needles into butt-cheeks. He derives some sort of ironic pleasure from this, as evidenced by the Cheshire Cat grin he displays after giving a shot. I have only had to endure two Cofradia viral infections this year, the first in September, and the second this past week. I was a prisoner of the bathroom, and in the case of the second infection, I also had flu-like symptoms without a fever. I did not hesitate one second, in either case, to phone Dr. C and get myself into his stuffy, moldy clinic filled with dubious medical texts, ancient-looking medical equipment, and a large collection of pirated CDs. He delivered the goods, injecting some kind of hardcore antibiotic that took effect within a day. In the case of my second viral infection, I also needed some pills to supplement the injection, because the virus in this case was particularly tenacious, and did not want to go down until the last round of the bout.

People in Cofradia are always sick, making this a very lucrative place to be a doctor. Our volunteer team has mostly made it through the year unscathed, but our students and the residents of this town have not been so lucky. A combination of poor nutrition, lack of exercise (people will ride the bus here for a block rather than have to walk it), and little sleep mean that most Cofradianos bodies are ripe to be breeding grounds for a host of sinister ailments. I do not blame the people for their poor health as much as the lack of education they have received about what eating right means, why exercise is important, and how a good night’s sleep allows the body to restore its vitality. People just do not know what is good for them here, and I have met some people, with serious illnesses like diabetes, people who sincerely wish that the Lord would take them right away. Some folks are so miserable with the dismal conditions of their lives, that they figure, why be motivated to be in better health at all? For these unfortunate souls, death would be a welcome recourse from the burdens of poverty, illness, and whatever other oppressive circumstances exist to make life nearly impossible.