Hear are a couple of stories from my time in Argentina last January 2018.
I sit here in the Mendoza Hospital to have a nice lady help me with my Spanish while her mom is sitting in a wheel chair gasping for air and just trying to stay comfortable by sleeping. I really don’t think my situation is as bad as anybody who is sitting here waiting. I feel that as an American we are always waiting impatiently for anything that we do. Our situation in America is so much better, I can not thank God for putting me an awesome country.
Let’s be real. Coming to Argentina to climb a mountain sounds awesome, but after a concussion that only toke about 2 weeks to recover to come to find out that altitude sucks. HIGH ALTITUDE SICKNESS has the same fucking symptoms of a concussion and make everything worse. I told my mom that I would be depressed if I didn’t come on this trip.
I currently sit in the hospital emergency waiting room alone with no one around that speaks English or even understands how well we have it in America. Every time I travel, I meet people that are traveling around countries alone, and don’t understand how they do it because it saddens me to know when I’m in a foreign country all I want is home. I would rather be with my family and friends than be in stunning country alone.
I know that I want to get married and have a family one day. It’s hard meeting these wealthy men on mountains and traveling the world, just to see that they aren’t even married.
How do you enjoy something to not be able to enjoy it with another person? I have come to realize that I love traveling, but don’t enjoy it as much to share memories with another person. God puts us on this earth to share life, the good and the bad, the sad and the happy. I really have not come to enjoy this trip as much as I hoped. I love the people that are on this trip with me, but they aren’t the friends that I will have the rest of my life.
Bring it back to reality, I’m still sitting in the Mendoza Hospital waiting patiently to see a mother and daughter brought in from a car accident. The tears falling from the mother’s eyes just breaks my heart. Mostly older people sitting here with sub par hospital systems and jankety beds.
Sometimes I wonder if I want to become a missional doctor could I handle being away from home for such a long time. I know that God can change my heart and mentality of how I look at it now.
I love home. It is where my love and passion rive my dreams and stupid ideas that friends love to play off.
My soul sits with God everyday to dwell in wisdom and understanding. I have never thought that it would be so hard sitting in a country missing home. I have the freedom to do whatever I want for food and nights out. I seem to walk around plaza indepencia every night to find nothing that I want to get for friends and family.
My friends should of summited today, but who nows. I’m so glad to be off that mountain. Most days it felt like someone was sitting on my chest. It was hard to breathe even at basecamp. I was super fatigued and only walked to Inka and back, which usually made me exhausted. Everyday I was nauseous, I never really wanted to eat or even drink water. How I am even supposed to stay hydrated. Sleep was always awful. But the day I left via helicopter I was definitely at my worse, super emotional, short breaths, super low oxygen levels (60%), I would per then lay down and see tons of stars, I even felt that my English was hard to speak. I really struggled at forming sentences the day before.
I made it home a week later, but still struggled with my health to find out having the Sickle Cell Trait wasn’t a good idea to be at elevation.