Why I'm Going Back to Vietnam

Little boy in patient assessments.

Two years ago today I was starting one of the biggest travel adventures of my life. If I gauge it to the minute, I may have been throwing up in or near a bus somewhere between Ho Chi Minh City and Can Tho, Vietnam. I believe that it was at this point that I nicknamed myself Hurley.

Fifteen years ago today I was recovering from my first foot surgery. During one of my appointments with my podiatrist, Bruce Lehnert, I asked about photograph on his office wall. In it, he was sitting on a gurney in a hospital hallway with several smiling children with casts on their feet. The answer to that question is what led me to Vietnam with the International Extremity Project.

I started with my keyboard. I built a website, managed the blog, and started some social media activity while the medical team was preparing for or in Vietnam on medical missions.


When Bruce asked if I wanted to join the group traveling to Vietnam at the end of 2012, I didn't hesitate. I'd never been out of the country for vacation or business travel, let alone on a medical mission to South Vietnam.

Polio's long-term effects can
include contraction of
affected muscles as
patient ages.

I did little research in advance of the trip. I set no expectations. I wanted to go to Vietnam with an open mind so I could experience everything as purely as possible. And it was an amazing experience on so many levels.

During our two weeks there, we had a few days to explore markets and temples near Can Tho. Being in another country is one thing, but being there as part of a philanthropic cause is quite another. The real experience was seeing how the doctors were making a positive difference in people's lives.

My first experiences at the hospital focused on the patient evaluations. I worked with Amy Levin and Hoa, one of our translators, to set up an intake area to gather basic information about patients -- name, age, and a general idea of why they'd come. Some  weren't aware of their actual birthdays -- they came from rural areas where it's just not important. Others knew they'd developed difficulty walking after an illness, which meant they were likely victims of polio.

What struck me during this time was the patience of everyone there. People didn't ask when they'd be seen, jockey for position among other patients, or otherwise show frustration with the time it took to assess so many people (80+ in two days). The waiting area consisted of fiberglass chairs in an outdoor hallway. No cushy chairs and a TV blaring in the corner. No People magazines or vending machines around the corner.

Patient x-ray, presurgical.

I had planned to spend my time observing, finding things to write about, interviewing the medical team, and tagging along when the therapists went to the children's hospital. I also planned to do whatever I could to help.

I found myself in full scrubs and mask in the operating rooms. I calmed frightened patients, got instruments for the doctors, and prepared bandages for casting. I observed, photographed, and helped with record-keeping. Some surgeries were fairly simple, while others were complex.

Dr. Wing Ip at work.

I got to see how patients reacted when, for instance, they saw their feet in the correct position for the first time in their lives. Forty-year-old women who had walked on the sides of their feet for the entire lives now saw their toes pointing toward the ceiling instead of the wall.

I got to meet the families when I went with the residents and nurses to visit the patients in their rooms. The rooms are nothing like what most people experience in the United States. They're not sterile, beeping bastions of technology. They're extremely basic with 4 to 5 simple beds along the walls. Patients or their families manage their medications. Families bring bedding and food. Many families sleep outside the patient wards in the outdoor hallways on mats.

Patient in recovery area.

Seeing the recovery area and patient rooms for the first time was jarring just because it was such a departure from what I'd experienced. But it was the gratitude of the families that was truly overwhelming. I didn't have the language skills to explain that I was just a writer. But they knew I was part of the group of people who had come to help their family members. And for them, that was enough. And for me, it was more than enough to change me in ways that don't have words.

So when Bruce contacted me a few months ago to see if I wanted to go back to Can Tho in March 2015, I didn't hesitate.

Help me do more to help the people of Vietnam by donating to International Extremity Project. 

Everything we do is based on the donations of funds, equipment, and supplies we collect to support each mission. I pay my own expenses to participate. 

Just one of the reasons I'm going back.