This is how our mission leader Ayla commented 'Medicamp Ladakh 2024'
The Heartbeat of Ladakh!
The journey to Ladakh was a battle before it even began. Plagued by visa complications,
our arrival in Leh was delayed by two crucial days, a frustrating start to a mission we had anticipated for months.
Yet, the moment we finally stepped onto Ladakhi soil, any lingering frustration was washed away by the warmth of the welcome we received.
Preparations began in a flurry the very next day. We reunited with Samten, our steadfast local coordinator,
and the wonderful team of volunteer nurses and lab assistants from the Mahabodhi International Meditation Centre.
We were met with a pleasant surprise: the small hospital had been completely renovated.
It had served as a quarantine facility during the COVID-19 pandemic, and as a result,
it was now modernized and better equipped than we had ever seen it. To our delight,
a new gynecological chair and a relatively good ultrasound machine were available.
Our only limitation was the lack of a breast ultrasound probe, but we were grateful for what we had.
Given the four years that had passed since our last visit and our delayed arrival,
we had planned for a quiet start. Samten had only broadcast the news of our camp via radio three days before our arrival.
But the need was greater than we could have imagined. Even before our official start,
three women who had heard the initial announcement arrived, only to be told of our delay.
Determined, they took the time to come back, and we examined them and provided therapy recommendations before our clinic had even formally opened.
We were assigned a single room, which we creatively transformed into a fully functional clinic.
With a few adjustments, it became an examination room, a small pharmacy, a consultation space,
and a changing area, all in one. A corner served as our lab station, where we meticulously washed and sterilized our instruments throughout the day.
The first official morning began with a lovely breakfast, lovingly prepared by the Mahabodhi Center—a daily ritual of coffee,
apples, and encouragement. When we arrived at the hospital, we were stunned. The entrance was swamped with people.
A queue snaked down the stairs and out the main door, with a dense cluster of women crowding the registration desk.
The local volunteers were a bit overwhelmed. We took a deep breath, headed to our room, and simply began to work.
Knowing that many of these women had traveled vast distances, some over 200 or 300 kilometers,
we were determined not to turn anyone away. We threw ourselves into the work, giving it our all.
On our busiest days, we saw up to 70 patients, each visit including a preliminary talk,
a thorough examination, and a final consultation with a therapy plan. For some,
we performed minor procedures in the hospital's beautifully modernized operating theater.
The sheer number of patients was overwhelming, but their gratitude was profoundly moving. Some wept with relief.
Amid the blur of faces and stories, one encounter stood out. A woman arrived who we had operated on eleven years ago.
At the time, no surgeon had been willing to help her due to a combination of an infectious disease,
a single kidney, and a severely myomatous uterus. She had traveled a long way just to see us again and get a check-up to ensure everything was still okay.
She was radiant, the very picture of health and vitality, almost unrecognizable from the woman we remembered from over a decade ago.
Her smile was pure joy. Seeing her so happy and healthy made us feel overjoyed in return. In that moment, we felt the profound purpose of our work crystallize.
There were others, too—patients we had seen five, seven, or ten years prior, who returned for follow-ups.
But this one case had remained etched in our memory.
Despite the long hours and our relentless pace, we couldn't get through the entire list of women who had registered.
The work was endless. But as we packed up our instruments on the final day, exhausted but fulfilled,
we carried with us the image of that smiling woman—a living, breathing testament to the heartbeat of the work we were so privileged to do.
