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Stories: Hospital de Quemados

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Hospital de Quemados 21 Aug 2004
A few months before ending the mission, I was serving in V. Lugano with Elder Randy Roberts (El Gigante). We shared the pension with Elders Ryan Ferry and Caparelli (and for some reason they got the big bedroom while Roberts and I slept in the broom-closet of a second room). One evening, Ferry and I were telling Roberts and Caparelli about our most significant mission experiences, and I shared this one… Just after getting transferred into my fourth area, Atalaya, Elder Steffensen and I were approached by an hermana from the ward and she asked if we would visit her friend in the Hospital de Quemados. Now I had only been in the field for about seven months and in my ‘green’ Castellano I knew what “hospitál” was... and I remembered that ”quemar” meant “to burn or char”…so, putting two and two together, I knew we were in for it. She gave us clear directions and off we went the next day (yes, it WAS out of the area). The colectivo dropped us at the door of the Hospital, we entered and told the desk nurse that we were there to see Beatriz Segovia. She looked in her book and stopped, “¿A qién quieren visitar? ¿Beatriz Segovia?!” “Si,” I answered “¿Estan seguros?” she countered “Si, Beatriz Segovia!” I stated Long pause… “Momentito,” she replied, and disappeared into another room. I looked nervously at Steff and wondered what was going on. About a minute later the nurse returned with “la Jefa”, a large woman who sternly asked what we wanted. I told her that we had been asked to come by a friend of Beatriz to see how she was doing. She considered that for a moment and turned and the two of them went down the hall and then up-stairs. After a few more minutes they returned and asked that we follow. We went upstairs, down several hallways and stopped at a gown station beside a large closed door. We were told that we could only enter one at a time and that we would have to be dressed in surgical smock, booties, gloves, and mask. Uh Oh! I thought… and as compañero mayór, I would be going in first. The nurse opened the door. Six beds were in this deep room, three on each wall. Each bed was enclosed by a white curtain, all of them were closed, and each an electric heater at the foot. She pulled a chair over to the middle bed on the far side and had me sit down… through the curtain she told Beatriz that she had a visitor and then pulled the curtain back. Nothing could have prepared me for what I experienced as she opened that curtain. First, I was hit with a wave of hot, damp, putrid air. Barely recovering from that, my eyes were fixed on what appeared to be the living dead… From chin to toes, Beatriz was covered in blood and puss soaked bandages. She was lying on a body-length absorbent pad that was soaked with fluids. She was physically emaciated, barely more than bones (I almost wrote “skin and bones”, but there was no skin… only bandages). As I tried to compose myself for fear of embarrassing her and me, I fixed on her eyes… deep brown, bright, beaming and vibrant! Despite her devastating physical condition, I realized that there was spirit trapped in that terribly disfigured body. I introduced myself, told her who had sent us, told her about America and the mission. She spoke of missing her young son, who she had not seen since being admitted many months before. We talked for about thirty minutes. I finished by telling her that she, more than most people, understood the depths of pain that Jesus suffered. She, more than most, could draw closer to Him through this experience. I told her that He understood her pains and would be there to carry her through. I asked her to focus on Him as she endured the excruciating pains of recovery. I left the room and Steffensen entered for a few minutes. We left the hospital and sat in silence on the ride back to Atalaya. We reported our visit to the hermana and passed Beartiz’s name to the other zone. Now Fast-forward a year, back to the pension with Roberts, Ferry and Caparelli… When I finished sharing my thoughts about this experience, Elder Ferry asked, “What ever happened to Beatriz Segovia?” I said that I didn’t know, as I was transferred shortly after to Mendoza. He said, “Elder Cooper, I just came from Atalaya. A couple of months ago we taught and baptized a woman named Beatriz Segovia… that same badly burned woman.” We sat in stunned silence (again). I have often pondered on the breadth and depth of Christ’s suffering. His sacrifice encompasses ALL the horrors of history’s Hilters, Pol Pots, Stalins, Sadams, etc, and yes, even the personal horrors like Betty’s. (2 Nefi 9:21, Mosiah 3:7) The key to it all is that His saving power, while infinite and eternal, focuses on the individual(3 Nephi 11:13-17 – we too must individually approach Him). He is, after all, going to give me my hair back! (bad joke I know, and it pales in comparison to the miracle that Betty will experience!) We can repent, forgive, and progress or we can suffer (D&C 19:15-20) I know that some day, in a far better sphere, I will meet Betty and again see her bright beaming eyes… and embrace her perfected, restored body. (Alma 40:23; 41:2)
Norman Cooper Send Email
 
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