The first day of the rest of my life...

And so that's what happened! I returned to my favorite city and started the Acute Care Pediatric Nurse Practitioner Program at UCSF. While in school, I entered a Global Health Pathway program where I was exposed to global medicine on a new level. I was humbled by the realization that despite our best intentions "missionary medicine" can often do more harm than good. I learned about the unintended devastating effects our interventions can cause within the very communities we hope to em-better. My studies in global health caused me to take a step back. Although I fully appreciated the impact my intensive care skills had in short term missions, I wanted to make more of a difference up stream. Many acute care problems can be prevented with good primary care. And so, with this in mind, I decided to get a post-masters in Primary Care. 

All this schooling left me well...wanting more! I've always felt a pull to work with Latino families. I love the warmth and vibrance my Latino patients bring to my practice. But I knew so many families received substandard care as the result of medical practitioners by overestimating both their  own language proficiency and their patients' comprehension. The only way I'd feel confident I was giving the best care possible was to become fluent in Spanish. So...I moved to Guatemala. I lived with a Guatemalan family in the chilly city of Quetzaltenango. There I took one-on-one Spanish lessons for 8 intense hours a day. Once I was able to communicate efficiently I really enjoyed life in Guatemala. I loved the people I met, the colors worn by the indigenous women and of course the tamales! 

I craved this experience back home. So in an attempt to bring Latin America to me, I moved to the Mission, SF's notably most Latino district and applied at San Francisco General Hospital. SFGH is an incredibly busy county hospital serving everyone in the city despite insurance. On the pediatrics side I'd estimate about 85% of my patients were from monolingual newly immigrated families without the socioeconomic resources necessary to go anywhere else. That being said, we provided the highest standard of care. Most of my colleagues worked both at the General and UCSF. They were some of the most accomplished, brilliant providers I've ever worked with. I felt so proud to be among a team of such compassionate, talented, driven colleagues.  Yet after two years I began to realize that my heart was pulling me somewhere else. 

I began to lose joy in little things. Though I still loved seeing all my patients' names show up on my morning schedule, I began to dread the long hours spent after clinic doing all the tasks I could never seem to catch up on. Little by little my spirit weakened. I kept pushing myself, more focused on the tasks than the heart of what I lie before me. Until one day it came to a screeching halt. All the stress and worry caught up with me and I landed myself into a major depressive episode forcing me to take a leave of absence. I spent 6 months climbing out of that hole. Thanks to my amazing friends and family I made it through to the other side. As I was recovering, I decided to go on a trip to Nicaragua and Honduras. My family thought it would be good for me to get back to doing things I loved before returning to work. 

Little did they know how good it would be. In Nicaragua I lived with a local family yet again. Only this time I could speak the language! I laughed, smiled and felt light. I basked in the sunshine, greeted almost everyone I passed and just fell in love with life again. I kept thinking, "wow I wish I could stay here." 

After two weeks in Nicaragua, I traveled to Roatan, Honduras to meet a good friend from NP school. Three short hours after I arrived, I was sitting by the pool bar sipping on a cocktail when someone yelled, "We need a doctor or a nurse over here!".  I raced over to find a 6 year old boy screaming with his face covered in blood. His dad was panicking. I immediately applied pressure to the wound, cleaned him up and calmed his parents. He had a pretty deep forehead laceration which would absolutely need stitches. In the states, I would've  recommended they go to a plastic surgeon. But here we were in the middle of an island in Honduras. No plastic surgeon around. Turns out some ex-pat's knew of a little clinic a short distance away that had a Pediatric ER physician who volunteered there. After a few frantic phone calls, the doctor agreed to meet the family at the clinic. Thus, I first heard of Clinica Esperanza or Miss Peggy's Clinic as it's known on the island.

Fate had a funny way of pointing me in the path I should take. From that day on several little "coincidences" lined up making it obvious this is where I belonged. As I went through customs at the tiny airport, I passed a sign for Clinica Esperanza. I learned it was started by an American nurse in her kitchen of all places and grew into a full clinic. She shares my believe that healthcare is a basic human right and should not be denied based on ability to pay. It was this idealism that led her to open Clinica Esperanza. The poster advertised the clinic's desire to open a pediatric ward due to an intense need on the island. Funny, that's just the kind of thing I'd be good at! 

Once I got home I mulled it over and over in my head. Do I go back to life as it was or do I follow my heart and pursue the passion I've had since I was a little girl.  Dare I follow the dream that propelled me into medicine in the first place? The risk is great, but the reward immeasurable. Within a week, I resigned from my job, I secured a volunteer position at Clinica Esperanza and I started on a mad campaign to fundraise my passion. I'm using what little savings I have and selling all my belongings to finance my mission. I'm saying goodbye to friends, family and loved ones. I'm preparing to leave my favorite city and follow where my heart leads me. I've never been so uncertain of what the future holds but I've never been so certain that I made the right decision. As a good friend said to me one day when I was talking about how crazy all this sounded, "Genevieve, today is the first day of the rest of your life!". And so it begins! I'm excited to share it with you as it unfolds. 

If you feel inspired to help me serve you can donate to my mission by clicking here. Every little bit helps! Thank you for your support! I could not do any of this without you!

How it all began...

"Above all, be true to yourself, and if you cannot put your heart in it, take yourself out of it." Hardy D. Jackson

The adventure begins! I'm not sure if all of you know my story so I guess that's the best place to start. I've been working in the American healthcare system since 2003, roughly 11 years now.  I started out as an RN working in the pediatric intensive care unit at Lucile Packard Children's Hospital (basically Stanford's Children's Hospital). As you can imagine "intensive care" lived up to it's name. About a month in I experienced my first patient death. She was a young 14 year-old girl who died from complications of severe Steven Johnson's syndrome. I was horrified. I left the hospital that day jarred by the reality of just how short life is and just how lucky I was to live all to the ripe old age of 23! It seemed like such a waste that many of my days just floated by without much awareness, and here this beautiful 14 year girl didn't have such a luxury. That day I made a promise to myself. "No longer will I let life passively slip by, I will live intentionally, making my moments matter because that is the best way to honor those who are not afforded the same chance."

From Packard I became a travel nurse. I wanted more time to follow my passion of practicing medicine abroad. I wanted to bring my skills and resources to children in the developing world. This started my nomad phase. I traveled around the states working in Seattle, NYC and Miami, carrying only what fit in my car. In between contracted assignments I lived out my dream. I volunteered twice with For Hearts and Souls in Mongolia, where I rode around in an old Russian school bus delivering health care to the most rural reaches of the Gobi desert. I recovered children after heart surgery in Ulaanbaatar. I traveled to Morocco, India, Uzbekistan, Senegal, D.R. Congo, Brazil, Guatemala and Egypt with Operation Smile, helping repair facial deformities. It was in these weeks abroad I felt happiest. Despite the long hours, poor resources and frustrating infrastructure problems, I loved every minute. I felt fulfilled, it felt like medicine in it's purest form. My heart felt lighter, freer to give all the love I felt bubbling up inside. 

It was on a mission through the Gobi desert that I realized my next step. We set up a make-shift clinic in a rickety old structure in the middle of what seemed to be nowhere. The electricity was spotty at best and it decided to turn off as night fell. Families who heard word that we were providing free health care traveled for hours, some for days to reach our little shack. Some came on camels, some on horse and some by foot. Yet without electricity, we could only see patients until sunset. I was triaging, taking vitals and noting basic complaints in the front, while our doctors and nurse practitioners were doing their best to see as many patients as possible. As I looked out the door at the line of 5 or 6 distraught looking mothers, women who sacrificed so much just to be seen by a medical provider, I knew I needed to do more.  If I had more knowledge, more skills, less of these women would be standing outside. I needed to go back to school to become a nurse practitioner.

If you feel inspired to help me serve you can donate to my mission by clicking here. Every little bit helps! Thank you for your support! I could not do any of this without you!