One year later I am headed back to India. Patti, a nursing friend I met on a medical trip to Nepal, had read my journal entries and agreed that an Indian medical camp was a great idea. A coworker of hers at the Wisconsin clinic heard of our interest. He was ready. Dr. Rao Kothur was a native of a small village in Andhra Pradesh near Hyderabad. After years of practicing medicine in the states, he had wanted to return home to his mother country to establish a medical clinic in his home town. Our enthusiasm gave him the extra nudge he needed to materialize his dream.

Rao contacted government officials in the area and found space in community buildings; he enlisted the help of thirty locals, many of them family members and some of them physicians. He arranged food and lodging for the team. Patti and I collected medicines, bandages, and other medical supplies. Christy, a nursing friend recently widowed at thirty-two, signed on. She is bringing her twelve year old son, Austin. A premed student with a minor in religion, Bethany, will be helping out with the microscope and lab tests. She is doing her senior thesis on the parasitology of India. Catrina is coming along to tutor Austin. Patti’s daughter, Sara, had wanted to visit India and plans to help however she can just as she did at the medical camp in Nepal. At the last minute, a physician I met at an ER conference in San Francisco a few months ago decided to join us.

Our project has been well received and others have been generous with contributions. We had a list of supplies we needed for the village and we contacted the Sera Monastery to see if there was anything we could bring them. We plan to visit the monastery and their medical clinic after the camp. From the list, a physician donated a nice microscope that was buried in his closet and another purchased and donated lab supplies. Drug companies donated medicines. Welch-Allyn donated a replacement ophthaloscope bulb. The hospitals donated bags of saline, gloves, suture kits and many other things. Bethany’s church donated cash. Community members donated medical supplies left over from home nursing home and home hospice care. Medical textbooks were given to us by doctors and med students for the monastery at their request.

Our most recent contribution was a blessing from the Catholic priest who sat next to me on the plane from O’Hare to Kuwait City. He was of short stature and warm heart, with a thick Indian accent. This priest shared his story with me on the long, sixteen hour flight. He had been born in Kerala on the southwestern coast where there is a very large population of Christians, many of them Roman Catholic. For thirty-five years he lived in Delhi where he had known the Mother Theresa. He had helped her with many of her projects such as the home for unwed mothers and the food distribution centers. On her death bed at a Delhi hospital he had visited and given her communion as the hospital was in his parish district. He spoke affectionately of her and told of the times he had seen her scoop up the dying poor from the street.

I told the priest that I had wanted to travel to Calcutta on my last visit to northern India. I wanted to see where Mother Theresa had lived and worked. I wanted to pay my respects to her memory. Other travelers had told me they were surprised and disappointed there was no monument and nothing to see. With a wave of his hand he replied that all was a testament, a memorial to her life. There were tentament houses and medical clinics and many projects dedicated to the poor of India. And that was all she would have wanted.