"Can you bring some money to the ER for me?" my swimming buddy Chris asked. His wife had gone to the highlands leaving him riding herd over their three kids back in Arequipa. While playing at the same park Ben and Sarah used to play in 18 years ago, his three-year-old fell and cut open his forehead. Now at the emergency room, he didn't have money to pay the bill and couldn't leave to go get money. Plus, the plastic surgeon wouldn't be able to come for two more hours (interpretation: four hours).
"Why don't you bring him down to my house and I'll sew him up here?" I've had lots of practice sewing up faces here in our house.
Chris proceded to check out of the hospital and they asked for the equivalent of $80. "I can only give you $60. That's all I have on me! All they did was wash his face anyway." The clerk recalculated and after a bit gave the new amount: "That will be $8." Chris was thankful he hadn't had $80 before, as he would have just paid it without asking questions. While he was checking out, I was devising a system for restraining a 3-y/o on a boogie board with roof rack straps. Luckily, when he showed up, the wound didn't even need sewn, but rather approximated well with steri-strips. Today it looked good.
photo and permission for blog use courtesy of Latin Link missionary Chris Courtman
