Mission Trip to Turkey - Dr. Michele LaBotz
Posted on June 01, 2023
I would be embarrassed to admit how many times I have listened to the news and thought, “Somebody ought to …” but often lacked the time, energy, money, (insert your favorite excuse here), etc. to take action myself. That pattern changed for me on February 6, 2023. Seeing the devastation wrought by the 7.8 magnitude earthquake that hit Turkey and Syria was so compelling that I knew I had to do more than just write a check and say a prayer for those affected.
After stepping back from clinical practice at the end of 2022, I had been researching opportunities to serve a medical mission in Ukraine. I was familiar with the different options for providing medical disaster relief and had already determined that International Medical Relief (IMR) seemed to be the best fit for me. It has a 4-star rating on Charity Navigator with a 99.7% expense ratio and is typically the “first in, and last out” for disaster relief. I joined a conference call to learn a bit more about events on the ground in Turkey and told my husband Gregg that night that I wanted to go to Turkey instead of Ukraine. He wasn’t thrilled about the idea of me doing this on my own and announced that he didn’t want me to go without him. “Me” became “we” and the process began.
Paperwork was completed and 4 VERY large (and very heavy!) suitcases were filled with medical supplies from Partners for World Health and donations from our church. We were instructed to BYOB (bring your own bedding), as well as our own food for the week within our carry-on bag (which was a major challenge) as ~ 50% of luggage was delayed getting into the airport in Adana. No need for towels because showers would not be available!
We flew into Adana and met the remainder of the team who would help staff the IMR medical clinic for the week. The medical staff included another physician (hospitalist), a nurse, and me. We were joined by 5 non-medical volunteers (including Gregg who is a retired golf professional) who assisted with logistics. This group came from across the U.S. and also included an ice hockey coach from the U.K. and a medical researcher from Saudi Arabia. Everyone except Gregg and I had prior medical relief experience, including my fellow physician who had over 50 prior trips under his belt, and a 3rd grade teacher from San Jose, CA who had over 30.
We were assigned to a medical clinic within a displaced persons encampment in the Hatay region, between the Mediterranean Sea and the Syrian border. During our 4-hour van ride from Adana to the clinic we stopped to buy drinking water for the week, and evidence of the devastation was soon apparent. This was 2 months after the first major quake, and major damage was sustained in an area the size of Germany. Mile after mile of complete devastation. Heavy equipment was everywhere and demolition was in full swing. Over 1.5 million were left homeless, and the official death toll is just under 60,000. Families were given $500 to relocate, but many were not able to do so and are now living in tents supplied by the government and a variety of NGOs.
This is a population that lost everything while they slept during the 4:17am quake. Our clinic provided service to anyone who came, and we were each assigned a volunteer interpreter who was local to the community. My interpreter was a 23-year-old teacher (but he really wants to be a chef!). Most of the acute injuries from the quake itself were healed, and we just had several visits for dressing changes. Lice, scabies, and a variety of infections were rampant. Very hard to control these things when there are 10 family members in a tent, and no access to laundry facilities. In addition, there were lots of eye and respiratory irritations due to the poor air quality from the ongoing demolition and I ended up seeing a few adults for a variety of aches and pains.
Donated medications had labels in a variety of languages (rarely English) and Google translator proved invaluable. Reading glasses were a hot commodity, and Gregg was assigned the task of distributing hundreds of pairs on “eyeglass day” when people would start lining up an hour before the clinic opened to get their hands on a pair.
There were a lot of broken hearts. Oftentimes, patients would pull out their phones to show me pictures of family members gone, and the only “treatment” I could provide was a listening ear, shared tears, and validation of their loss. Patients and families were unfailingly grateful, but this was a very different type of medicine than I was used to practicing in South Portland.
After all the preparation, it was hard to believe when it was over. I wish I hadn’t waited so long to make this type of effort, but I’m so glad that we did it. This is an area that will not return to any semblance of “normal” for many years. Rebuilding will provide a lot of opportunity for a few, but there is a vacuum of opportunity for many. I fear the risks this may present to the children and young adults of the Hatay region, and the potential for further instability and radicalization in a part of the world that is already on edge. Maybe “somebody ought to do something…” and maybe that somebody should be us.
Photos with captions below.
Phone numbers on the side of the building indicate a family has lost a member and wants to be notified for the demolition
Less than 50 yards from our encampment was a 5 story apartment building that was less than 4 years old.
The IMR medical clinic
