Farmer 'N The Dell

As many of you know, I returned a few days ago from a week in Guatemala performing anesthetics for those too poor to pay. It was my first medical mission abroad, and although I scoffed when the organization with which I travelled called it a “Life Changing Medical Mission,” in the end, I had to admit that they were right. My life is changed, and I am grateful.

It’s easy as an American to become reactive. You are constantly bombarded by information and images: the internet, TV, radio, billboards. It can be dizzying trying to process all that stimuli, to rank it in terms of its importance, to try to form cohesive thought and not just spend your time intellectually sorting and discarding. The internet always has one more thing to offer, one more image to flash– a  24/7 bounty of choices that seems impossible to resist.

But when in Guatemala, when my access to the internet was dramatically reduced, my thoughts slowed to take in the work before me, and I slowed. I felt as though my heart rate dropped, my breath came in deeper, more regular intakes. In the central square of Antigua, I felt the relaxed pace of the place wash over me. I wanted to take a siesta, to let the Land of Eternal Spring wrap its unhurried arms around me in sleep.

But we didn’t sleep; we worked. And while working, I saw the work of others: the padre who had overseen the growth of the Catholic charity hospital in which I performed anesthetics, the nuns who cared for the orphans day in, day out, the caucasian woman (was she Canadian? American? European? I don’t know) who went from toddler to toddler patiently brushing  teeth. The place was packed with volunteers: Guatemalan, American, European. It felt good to make the transition from reactive to active. It felt healing to shift my focus from myself to others. And it felt uplifting to share this sense of mission with other volunteers and patients. There are plenty of generous people in this world. The 737 in which I returned from Guatemala City was loaded with them.

Of course, writing this and truly understanding this are two different things. But I do encourage you, should the pace of American life leave you overwhelmed and fatigued, to try to find the community and solace of volunteer work. It just might change your life, too.

Sorry I haven’t posted for awhile. I’ve been mulling over a 50th birthday party I attended recently. Originally the party was planned as a surprise, but when the guest of honor, who is a friend of my husband, got wind of the “surprise”, he started planning himself. He’s that kind of guy: detail-oriented, hardworking, a perfectionist.

Now, I don’t know this man well, but I like a good party, so I was curious to find out what exactly his pseudo-surprise would turn out like. And boy, the surprise was all mine.

My husband’s friend lives in a wealthy Bay Area community of large houses on large lots. We pulled up, dodged the valet parking, and parked ourselves along the leafy, tasteful street. Over the hedge row floated the tinkle of  music and the rumble of party talk, and I cannot lie: I felt the pleasured anticipation of chit chat, food and wine.

What I didn’t expect was to be bombarded by paparazzi. Light bulbs went off in my face, questions were screamed at me, a video camera with its laser beam light recorded my shock.

“Hey, it’s David Scwimmer and Jennifer Aniston!” the crazily dressed press people shouted. “Jen, are you really pregnant?”

My eyes took a moment to adjust between the camera lights of the “news people” and the darkness around. The press corps, dressed in zany Forties outfits, kept up the verbal assault. “Who’s the father?”

Gamely, I pointed at my husband, to which the paparazzo wearing leopard-print pants shouted, “No, who’s the father of the baby?”

I laughed uncomfortably and stumbled into the house. I was way too sober for a prank like that.

The party was set up to resemble Broadway, with placards touting the Birthday Man’s Big Show, complete with a faux souvenir boutique, where an elegantly-clad woman offered free Broadway-themed hats, shirts, and bags. Not understanding completely that I had entered Broadway on the West Coast, I made my way for the bar, where friendly wait staff poured Veuve Cliqout champagne, Rombauer chardonnay, and an assortment of top drawer cocktails in stylishly cut crystal.

An interesting mix of young women in cocktail dresses and older people like me, clad in practical party black, stood around nibbling passed hors d’oeuvres and an eclectic mix of party foods: All-American sliders and ribs for the birthday man and Asian-inspired fare favored by the hostess.

After an hour or so of high priced food and drink, we were ushered into the large circus tent in the backyard, in which a stage had been set up. An authentic-looking  Playbill was thrust in my hand, the guest of honor on the cover. We took our seats, and the musical tribute began, the EMCEE and hostess singing about the birthday man, their words projected onto large flat-screen monitors on either side of the stage.

It was a helluva production, with singing group after singing group taking gentle, funny musical swipes at the guest of honor. The band played a mix of modern and vintage rock and roll, the lyrics rearranged for maximum humor. As a culmination, an Elvis-impersonator took the stage, accompanied by two Vegas showgirls (one of which was the hostess herself!) in over-the-top silver high heals and elaborate feathered headdresses.

I left the party marveling at the sheer amount of work it had taken to turn that mansion into Broadway in the Backyard and also with a slightly guilty feeling that parties like that still occur when a tenth of our workforce is out of work and foreclosures are still mounting.

But I guess that’s Recession, American style. The rich are still rich, and champagne corks still pop.

Welcome to The Doctor is In! Gold Oak Ranch’s very own blog about healthy lifestyles. I’m your blog host, Doctor Rachel, and I probably should tell you something about myself. I’m a practicing physician with an interest in good food, good books, and health. You’ll find out a lot about all these topics in my blog. I’d love to hear from you, too. This may be a blog, but it’s also a chance for conversation. Stay tuned for future postings!