Birth stories abound here and I want to hear the details of each and every one of them!
Yesterday I gave a gestante, Dina, due 4/17/10, who lives in a very distant and difficult to access community called Nolberth, a tour of the casa de espera and encouraged her to come live in it close to her due date. She is unsure. All her babes have been delivered in her house. She attended one birth herself, alone. Her last babe was a fetal demise at 6 months. She went to hospital Yarinacocha for delivery and then later had retained placenta and endometritis. “Please come to the casa de espera!!!!,” we begged her. We discussed her increased risk for post partum hemorrhage as well. She fears delivery in our health post and in hospitals because “she has heard and seen how women are treated there.”
Another woman named Juana lives in San Martin, our closest community outside of Olivos about 7 Km away. We visited her in her home today after realizing that she hasn’t come to her prenatal visits for over 2 months. She was thrilled to see Anita and I and welcomed us. When we explained why we had come, she set a thick beautiful blanket onto the floor of the empty main living area in her thatch-roofed home and there, on the big blanket, we conducted her appt surrounded by her 2 hijitas (little girls) and their neighbor friends laughing and playing as they stared at the weird looking gringa girl! This will be Juanita’s 6th babe. She has delivered 1 in her home and 4 in health posts. Her 5th babe died at the age of 1 month. Anita tells me that he was born healthy at our health post, but developed what she calls Pemphigus because of the type of blisters that he had all over his body when he presented to the clinic. His parents didn’t bring him to be checked until he was very weak and sick. He had lost weight from diarrhea, etc. He was taken to Neshuya where he died the next day. Juanita says that she is excited to utilize the casa de espera and have her baby with Anita and I in Olivos. I look forward to working with her in only a week or so!
Naturally, in addition to birth stories, there are a mountain of stories of human suffering, women suffering. Chronic ailments abound and with very little “plata” (dinero, money), there is often very little hope for treatment. Today a young man, Franklin showed up at our little casita on his motobike at 630am. He brought news that his mom has chronic pelvic pain and wants us to come to their chacra to see her. Anita and I hopped on his bike and the 3 of us traveled the dirt roads to Santa Rosa de Guinea, about 10 Km from Olivos. There we met Octavia and her husband, Guillermo, and another son, Juan Carlos. Octavia has had chronic pelvic and low back pain for years. She has tried a series of natural remedies from her local curandera in addition to seeing specialists in Pucallpa. She has had 10 babes and I am sure she has a prolapsed uterus, perhaps among other things... I need to learn how to fit pessaries!!!! Franklin shows up at the health post roughly once a week so our visits to Octavia’s farm have become routine. I massage her belly (I wish I had learned Mayan Uterine Massage before I left the states too. I realize that I am closer to the origins of uterine massage here in the jungle, but I can’t find anyone that has heard of it. I believe it comes from… Belize?) and Anita gives her an analgesic injection. Their family is lovely. Her son Juan Carlos might be one of the happiest people I have ever met. He is in his 30s, an artist, and has traveled all over Peru selling his beautiful silver jewelry. He came back from his travels after 4 years to be with his sick mama. He smiles and laughs chronically (seriously) and when I asked him where his many brothers and sisters live and what they do, he smiled as he said, “Well, 5 of them are dead” (in spanish) and chuckled. I didn’t ask further because this family speaks REALLY fast Selva (jungle) Spanish and mostly speaks Quechua, so I don’t understand much, but I love visiting them all and soaking in the chronic smile of Juan Carlos and the sound of Octavia’s mix of Spanish and Quechua. I frequently run along the dirt road of the CNC and sometimes Juan Carlos passes me on his motorbike. I see his smile before I see the bright red bike J.
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