Yaque Abajo, Dominican Republic

It’s been almost two weeks since I left the Dominican Republic but it’s still hard to let it go. I find myself listening to Merengue or Bachata or Spanish radio stations to try and bring myself back to our days in Yaque Abajo, a serene little town in the rolling hills of the Dominican Republic.

Upon arriving in Yaque Abajo, we were met by Dominicans of all ages, many of them eager to hear news of the students and doctors who had been there the year before. It was very apparent that the Loyola crew from the year before had left a lasting impact on the people of this community and we had big shoes to fill.

Soon after we arrived, the rains also arrived in full force and we were left huddled under a small shelter, which we shared with our new friends and a few wandering roosters. By dusk most of us were settled in our new homes, the pharmacy was ready for business in the morning and we shared a delicious dinner together.

The clinic doors opened at 8am (or close to it) every morning and we were scheduled to finish by 12:30pm although some days went on until around 2pm. We saw about thirty-five patients every day ranging from small babies to resilient ninety-year-olds. Common complaints included, “gripe” (flu/cold), back pain, headaches and occasional GI problems. Sometimes it was frustrating to send patients away with a bag of acetaminophen, telling them they just had normal body aches and it was part of life, when they had arrived with so much hope for a concrete diagnosis and cure. I often felt like we weren’t living up to their expectations but when they left they would pour out their thanks to us as if we had saved their life. I slowly began to understand that sometimes living up to their expectations often meant just taking the time to hear them out and acknowledge that you understand and care about them.

After a full morning of clinic, we always had an amazing lunch waiting for us. We were fed extremely well and the food was beyond delicious. In the afternoons we always hoped for at least a short siesta, but the majority of the afternoon was spent visiting with host families or kids from the village and making house calls. After dinner the kids from the village organized various activities from dancing to dominos. Needless to say we were never bored or lonely.

I don’t think I would ever have been really ready to leave Yaque Abajo but when the time came, we said our tearful goodbyes. I held it together pretty well until our little host brother began to sob uncontrollably, to the point of hyperventilating, which caused our host mom to start crying, and although Maria stayed strong, I have to admit I did not. There were more tears and letters exchanged down by the clinic as we all boarded our “Gringo Bus,” and I am sure we will all wait eagerly for next year’s group to bring back news of our friends in Yaque Abajo.