Prologue-On the race you experience many things, some moving, some happy, some down right strange, and some (like my story) that leave you questioning “why me” in a bout of self-pity. Here is my story.
Act One: A Bridge-Side Baptism-
The setting, ideal. A lake, surrounded by volcanos, known for its beauty, called Atitlan. We had arrived Saturday mid-afternoon and spent that day exploring, dining, relaxing, signing, dancing, and meeting new people. In our explorations a few of us had come across a quaint bridge with a stunning view of 3 volcanos, the vast expanse of the lake, and a sky that went on for days. Naturally our thought was to revisit this scenic hide-a-way the next morning for what promised to be a sunrise we would never forget.
The next morning, before any glimmer of light peeked over the edge of the horizon, a group of 12 racers, including one squad leader, met on the patio of our hostel. Clothed in every article of clothing we had brought to ward off the weather, and weighted down with heavy blankets and camera gear, our modest group set off in search of a majestic sunrise. We followed the dark path around 1/4 of a mile, our feet stumbling, blankets slipping off backs, and headlamp lights eagerly searching for the next foothold, to our hidden bridge. You can imagine the elation we experienced when our bridge came into site. We sat down on the bridge, shoulder to shoulder, faces pointed to the first faint rays of the morning. All was well.
Suddenly, and without warning, a loud “crack” met our ears, and in a moment, the bridge gave way, spilling 10 of our band of 12 into the deep canal some 5 feet below our dangling legs. The water, although warm, shocked our bodies out of our newly awake stupor as we kicked upward, reaching towards the surface. This proved to be challenging due to the weight of our clothes, blankets, gear, and the unrelenting deepness of the canal. In my search for air my right arm struck a piece of debris, effectively spraining my wrist. Once we broke the surface our true priorities were revealed, and I screamed for one of the remaining people on land to grab my camera gear. Others, to their credit, where calling for Adam, a squad member who cannot swim (who ended up being one of the two that did not fall in), and another still, our squad mentor Hannah, cried out “Jesus, save them!”
And save us He did, not to far down the way a local heard our screams and assisted us out of the water. In the process my wrist was again hit, then stretched, then grabbed, adding to the pain. Adrenaline rushing, the local showed those of us trapped on the wrong side of the bridge a way around, and back to our hostel. Upon arriving the sun was just beginning to show and a medical kit was grabbed, I wrapped my wrist to the best of my abilities to ease the throbbing until the squad member with first response medical training awoke. Still wet, injured, and sniffling I walked into my hostel room “the dorm” holding back tears. The door accidentally slammed and awoke two of my roommates, one fellow racer and one a relative stranger. Ryan, the racer, through sleep heavy eyes joked “good morning, still alive I see” not knowing the past hours adventures. The comment caused my eye to flood over, bringing to light that I was in distress. Ryan and the other roommate, Tyler, sat straight up, offering to assist in whatever way they could. Within 5 minutes I had a new oversized yet dry outfit (complements of Ryan), and access to more first aid supplies, and I was (and still am) insanely thankful. All I could do at that point was to hurry up and wait for the first responder and fitness trainer to awaken.
Within thirty minutes both had roused from bed and seen to my wrist, stabilizing it for the rest of the day with a butter knife taken from the hostel and a dirty comb they had found and wrapped up in an ace bandage. The remainder of the day went by in a blur, Sunday morning worship, breakfast at a near by restaurant, packing up wet clothes, looking at the markets, and a shuttle van back to the hospital compound. Upon arrival Hannah, the ministry contact, and I walked the 50 yards to the emergency room for my free medical care, x-rays, and a wrist splint to be worn for the following 2 weeks. Finishing the day as it started, with a new experience and a story to tell.
Intermission-
Some things I wanted to mention before I go on to act 2. My wrist is healed! After two weeks of wearing a brace, taking meds, and being super aware of the lack of use of my right hand, I am confidently walking around Quiche sans wrist brace! Also, the three strangers I shared a hostel room with who helped look out for me and ended up being some of my favorite parts of the trip are on an adventure of their own! They are traveling around Guatemala finding ways to help out and do good in honor of a cousin/friends memory. I have decided to follow and pray for their journey and encourage you to do so as well. Here is their website: http://vivaguatemala36.blogspot.com
Act Two: A Trial by Fire-
Thursday, four days after the bridge incident. Apart from some soreness in the wrist I was feeling 100% back in the game. The time was around 10:30am, and the team had already had been scrapping away at paint for 2 hours. Suddenly I was approached by our logistics leader, cell phone in hand, intensity in her eye, and a cool commanding tone to her voice she instructs us to put everything away as quick as possible and return to the compound as fast as we can. As we move into action details come into view. There was a protest in the city center, one block over, and it was turning into a riot as we spoke, rumors of angry locals and overturned cars reached our ears. Calmly and earnestly we clean up our supplies and left the safety of the day care and took to the streets. The 20 minute walk took only 12 minutes, our group, normally spread out and relaxed, was tight with guys on the outside and girls on the inside. One we got to the compound we where safe and the riots did not escalate any more. I felt on edge, that something was off, so I laid down to take a nap, only to be awoken two hours later to a vicious bout of vomiting.
This fiery torture lasted all evening and through the night and when it seemed like my body couldn’t lose anymore fluid, the diarrhea began. My illness caused me to miss a day of ministry, a day that could have been devoted to working with children or painting a mural turned into a day with my new best friend… the toilet. This was a constant process, intake water to stay hydrated, then lose it in either one way or the other. When I was not occupying the bathroom I was sleeping, watching friends, and sipping on water. After one specifically aggressive round in the restroom I had just finished washing my hands when I felt weak in the knees, everything turned blurry, I grabbed onto a wall for support and had just been instructed by my friend Taylor to lay down when everything went black.
When I came to I was on the floor of the bathroom, looking up at Taylor, I was in a state of confusion, I couldn’t form words or focus on anything, I only had the strength to lift my head and to ask for our ministry contact, who was a nurse, before I laid my head back down and closed my eyes. I was shaken back awake by Jessica, a nurse on my squad and the medical care began. I had another go in the restroom, then was lead to a bed in the proclaimed “sick room”. Once in the room Jessica and another nurse friend, Sarah, hooked me up to an IV to return the lost fluids to my body. I was on bed rest for the next few days and had a number of visitors, either just checking in, or other sick people with similar symptoms and IV needs.
After a three day stay, I was able to say goodbye to the sick room forever and return to ministry, albeit a little weak, but ready to go. The following week I witnessed a number of my fellow squad mates fall to the same sickness, but recover as fast if not faster than myself. God had covered our squad and me, He let me get my World Race injury and sickness over and done with in the first month, and my future is clear to just do His work.
The End.
