Jarred Mait's Recount of The Trip to The Philippines

After 29 years of life, I have come to realize that there is so much around us that we never experience, so much that is just imagined, but never truly seen.

I never knew what it was like to lose a loved one, until my father was killed in a car crash; I never knew what it was like to hug someone who was told they had cancer, until my first year in medical school; I never knew what it was like to save someone’s life, until I went to the Philippines for the summer.

Before I delve further, allow me to provide a little more insight into who I am, so that you may, perhaps, appreciate my story.

I am a 2nd year medical student.

Wait, I am not a 2nd year medical student, I am a 29 year old, Jewish, former CPA with graduate and undergraduate degrees from Washington University in St. Louis, who has lived in London, France, New York, Miami, St. Louis; I am a guitar-playing, free-spirited, adventurous, Japanese-speaking 2nd year medical student…and I like to occasionally do yoga.

Ok. So now that I have gotten some basics laid out on the table, perhaps you know me a little better. Maybe you are even continuing to read my ruminations…I hope so, for the best is yet to come.

So why am I writing this today? Why are you reading this? The answer is simple: because we care.

On June 5th, 2010, I, along with 7 of my colleagues from the University of Miami School of Medicine set out on a journey to the Philippines. Now, we didn’t go on a vacation to the Philippines, we went on a journey. In our minds, we imagined that it would be like a vacation, there were going to be hotels, airplanes and restaurants and all things that spell “V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N”, yet we knew we weren’t going on vacation – we were going on a journey.

We left Miami at 6AM on a Saturday…Monday afternoon we arrived at the Bicol Clinic (i.e., the other side of the world). As if going through a mental reset process, we arrived in a territory that had never been seen by anyone from my school, let alone myself. We pulled up to the clinic with excitement and anticipation and jet lag.

The first thought that went through my mind was…”wow, this is gonna be one hell of a vacation”. Then I remembered, this wasn’t a vacation. The Bicol Clinic is situated on one of the most beautiful properties I have ever visited. There is a dormitory for students, there is a clinic for patients and there is 180 degrees of breathtaking views. If you haven’t yet, please look at some of the pictures, you wouldn’t believe it if I described it.

Arriving at the Bicol Clinic was just the tip of the iceberg.

Before leaving Miami, we assumed that there were people that needed medical care, we just didn’t realize how many and how badly. People literally wait for days to be seen by a doctor/medical student, they wait patiently and calmly. They come in on foot, by boat, or by any other means of transportation…but they come…and they don’t stop.

It’s not that the Philippines doesn’t have doctors, they do. It’s just that the people are too poor to afford medical services. A minor infection is ignored, and it gets worse…to the point of death. A stomach pain is treated with a local tea, but it is not cured and leads to dysentery. A cough is unrecognized and tuberculosis spreads throughout the body.

We take it for granted, knowing that if something gets bad enough, we can always run to the hospital or the local doctor to get some medication or whatever we need. What if that option didn’t exist? What if we didn’t have any medical care? What if we could only put water on our wounds? Luckily, we don’t.

When I saw my first patient at the Bicol Clinic, I instantly realized that I wasn’t working, I wasn’t on vacation, I was just doing. I wasn’t thinking about billing, I wasn’t thinking about legality, I wasn’t thinking about chain of command…I was thinking “what does this person have and what do we have to fix it?” Amazingly, Dr. Schuster had some incredible donors that provided us with substantial medical supplies: pharmaceutical drugs, surgical supplies, needles, syringes and a plethora of other “essentials”.

We didn’t have imaging equipment, (x-rays or CT scans) so we had to look the best we could. We didn’t have an EKG machine, so we had to listen the best we could. We didn’t have surgical lighting, so we had someone hold a flashlight as best they could to “maintain a visible surgical field.”

Patient after patient would come through the clinic, I think we saw over 1,900 patients in three weeks, but never did they just seem to be a patient, each had a story, each had a reason that they waited in the heat for hours and some even days. Whatever their reason – blood pressure medication, pain killers antibiotics, or to have a large mass removed from their body – each person was so grateful to know that they were receiving medical care. It felt so good to know that I could be a part of this.

And although we were doing so much for these patients, I couldn’t help but realize, “what if we could treat these patients before they got so sick? What if we could intervene before the tumor got so large that it was inoperable? What if we could provide tuberculosis medication so that it didn’t spread throughout the communities?”

I loved my experience in the Philippines. Not only working with my colleagues and learning from Dr. Schuster and the other physicians that volunteered, but I loved knowing that I was a part of the start. It takes a little love from everyone to make this world a better place.

We may think that we can’t do much because we don’t have the knowledge or the experience, but with the courage we realize that we do. We all have skills that enable us to help others, whether it be with our hands, or hearts or even our wallets.

I was not originally able to afford the trip on my own, but I wanted to go so badly. So instead of passing up on the opportunity, I emailed former colleagues, family members, best friends and people from my life. I was able to raise a substantial amount of money that assisted in paying for my experience and helping the Bicol Clinic pay for other things. The Bicol Clinic was so amazing in keeping the price of the trip down so that medical students could participate in this “once in a lifetime” experience.

If I may, I would like to revisit my original statement on “imagination”. First and foremost, I can’t imagine not having gone on this trip, as it has changed the way that I think about what a doctor is to people. I realize that we can imagine what it is like to help another person who is sick and in desperate need, but imagination pales in comparison to experience. And now a final thought on imagination…

Did our patients in the Philippines imagine that America is filled with kind-hearted heros? I hope so, because know it is… I’ve experienced it.