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Student Missions Journal



Asunción, Paraguay
Lauren Perlman
17 years old from Virginia Beach, VA
Operation Smile Student Educator in Asunción, Paraguay

During Operation Smile’s Mission Training Workshop, instructors warned us that it could happen – I would form a strong bond with a child. Her name was Chiara. She’d received surgery from Operation Smile for her cleft lip, but this mission Chiara needed her cleft palate repaired. Her adventurous spirit and precious smile drew me in. From the moment we met, Chiara did not leave my side. She found my awkward Spanish endearing, and liked to hold my hand as I traveled through the hospital. I met her father, and spoke to him in broken Spanish, but more than communicating verbally, he displayed his appreciation for the care I showed his little one through his teary eyes and hugs. Chiara’s cleft palate made it very difficult to understand her when she spoke. Chiara and I developed a wordless, emotional bond. We were one in the same and I will never forget her.

Before my mission, I was convinced that I would be uneasy around those with cleft lips and palates, but honesty, I don’t think that I missed a beat. All the children I played with and met were all so beautiful internally, that the external was practically immaterial.

In just one day, the children went through at least 1,000 crayons. Everyone was eager to get their hands on coloring books, crayons, and watercolors that the local volunteers and I set up a lengthy stretch of tables to accommodate the masses. My arms were nearly tattooed with various colors and designs courtesy of stamp attacks provided by my new friends, and I kept finding stickers in my hair brush. When art supplies ran low, we resorted to jump rope or soccer games. One young girl, Ramona, was determined to get at least “diez” jumps, and slowly but surely, Ramona accomplished her goal. We all burst into applause, and she didn’t stop smiling the rest of the day. It was incredible watching a young girl, typically fearful of the world around her, radiate such confidence. It was even more incredible that a simple jump-rope created this monumental change.  

I recognize that no matter how hard I try, the emotions and visuals experienced and witnessed while on my mission will, in some ways, be untranslatable. Arriving home was a bit odd. I was not used to traffic lights, perfectly paved roads, and streets free from Chipa (a native bread) vendors. I was not used to English, fifty degree weather, and getting a full night’s sleep. I realized that not only did my mission experience allow me to help change lives in Paraguay, but allowed me to come home and change lives in my own country. I have witnessed how volunteer hours and fundraising helps. I have witnessed the power of human compassion within the hearts of people from all over the nation and world. I have realized how lucky I am to wake up everyday with the often taken for granted opportunities of health care, education, and a home.  And most importantly, I have realized that I am strong and that I can make a difference. My life has been forever changed.



Linyi, China
Barron Frazier, 17 years old and lives in Norfolk
Senior at Norfolk Academy
Operation Smile Student Educator in Linyi, China

The Operation Smile medical mission to Linyi, China, was the most incredible experience I had ever witnessed. On November 5, I began my mission with a direct 14 hour flight from Washington, D.C. to Beijing, China. I did not exactly know what to expect in the coming days, yet I knew I would return home a changed person.

The first day of screening started with a ceremony in front of the hospital. Bystanders stopped to watch the dancing dragons and band play as the people of Linyi welcomed Operation Smile. Shortly after the 25th Anniversary celebration, everyone went to work. Stations were set up and the crowd slowly funneled into the doors, anxiously awaiting their turn. My student partner Scott, from New Jersey, and I went to work and went outside to hand out our gifts, blow bubbles, and play games. This seemed to be the ultimate pacifier for any of the restless children. Over 120 patients were screened the first day, followed by another 100 the second. We started early in the day and left late at night, but I always left wishing there was more time to spend with the children. They had such an enlightening presence about them that brought the best out of the whole team. Later the following day, posters went up informing who would and would not receive surgeries.

Surgery began, and about 30-40 operations were scheduled each day. I looked for kids that I had played with during screening. This is where I really connected with a baby named Xin Yue. I had the opportunity to follow him through the complete process, by taking him into the operating room, watching his surgery, and then later, giving him back to his father. Xin Yue, after birth, was abandoned by his mother. His father brought Xin Yue, who suffered from a cleft lip, to the Operation Smile site hoping that he could give his son the chance to live a normal life. In less than an hour, Xin Yue looked just as beautiful as all other children do. His father could not believe that was his son.

Even though I was just a student, the doctors and nurses included me in a lot of what they did. The plastic surgeons explained each step as they reconstructed lips and palates in the operating room. Team members came from different parts of the world, but we all left as family. Besides working around the hospital, I had the opportunity to go to an orphanage. Scott and I gave presentations about basic healthcare, like dental hygiene, with our rendition of “Baby Got Back” or as we say, “Baby Got Plaque.”

By the time I was packing to go home, 154 lives were changed. 154 children can now kiss their parents. 154 can walk down the street without facing discrimination. Operation Smile has taught me to put others before myself, and to believe anything is possible. Unfortunately, over 70 children were turned away in Linyi. By raising that extra dollar and volunteering one more hour, I hope to change lives one more smile at a time.



Makati, Philippines
Eliza Peak
17 years old from Franklin, VA
Operation Smile Student Educator in Makati, Philippines

After traveling a tiring 24 hours I finally arrived in Makati, Philippines at about 2 a.m. As anxious as I was to glimpse this new country the van’s headlights did not adequately reveal the poverty-stricken streets that I was to view the first day of screening. Lindsay Kramer, from Florida, was my student mission partner in the Philippines. Our primary responsibilities on the mission were to play with the children and teach them about basic healthcare like dental hygiene and nutrition. Lindsay and I also got the opportunity to visit Virlanie Orphanage and San Antonio Elementary School. The children we visited were very appreciative and attentive during our educational presentations. The next day Lindsay and I assumed our duties, which included us comforting and reassuring the children before and after surgery.

As I scanned the crowd of children and their families waiting to be screened, my gaze was suddenly focused on a pair of shy eyes looking up at me. I smiled at the girl who was looking at me, but she immediately averted her eyes. I decided to approach and engage her, but her mother sadly stared down at her and said “Janelle is ashamed.” Janelle’s story is typical of the 109 children fortunate enough to receive reconstructive surgery during the Operation Smile mission. Janelle and her family traveled over two hours by bicycle. As I worked with Janelle through the pre-operative evaluation and teachings, I found out what an endearing and sweet person she truly is. These qualities she kept hidden because of her shame about her appearance. Janelle’s mother was filled with hope and was determined to try and correct her daughter’s cleft palate disfigurement. I kept her family informed while she endured the two-hour surgery. I was anxiously waiting for her in the recovery room after her surgery. I sat and rubbed her arm until the anesthesia wore off. Most of the children cried for their mothers when they woke up, but she immediately recognized me and held my hand. I was so happy to stare into her eyes and comfort her. I continually asked her if she was in pain and she confidently responded, no. After some time in the recovery area, I accompanied her to the post-operative area. I also brought her parents from the waiting area to her bedside to comfort her. Janelle’s mother was crying and ran up to me and hugged me. At that moment I knew for a fact that their lives were changed forever, and so was mine.




Lima, Peru
Kelly Bonilla
Miami Country Day School
July 2, 2007

On May 22nd, 2007, the day I departed my surroundings in Miami for Lima, Peru, I could never have imagined the experience that I was embarking on that would forever change me. Not only would it open my eyes to the harsh reality that millions of people around the globe are faced with on a daily basis, but it would lead to the unimaginable, to the formation of unprecedented friendships and teamwork, and most importantly, to the rescue of so many desperate lives.

The moment I stepped off the plane, I was in a different world. In less than six hours, I went from the sun-drenched, beautiful beaches of Miami, to the struggling streets of Peru. For three hours on the flight to Lima, Jennifer, my fellow student, and I spoke nonstop about our insurmountable excitement. But the strange thing was, we did not really know what we were so excited for because we had no idea what to expect. After months of anticipation, we were finally there.

The second day in Lima, screening began. The first day of screening was the most hectic day of the mission, yet it was my favorite. Over 340 potential patients were screened in just one day. At the beginning of that first day, Jennifer and I were a bit overwhelmed, with 700 eager patients and family members. Before we could even blink, we were on the floor with dozens of children, covered in chalk. We quickly learned that bubbles and stickers could cure every sob that was heard. As two sixteen-year-old American girls, you would think that we would feel out of place, but it was just the opposite. Our Spanish skills came in handy, and we forged bonds with dozens of children whose faces and stories will forever be engraved in our minds.

Surgery week began, and everyday my face lit up whenever I saw a child I recognized from screening. On many occasions, the first time a child saw us in the hospital, as they anxiously awaited surgery, they would greet us with a loving hug, an excited wave, or the American high-five that we taught so many young Peruvian children. There are always those children who are glued to your memory, those who you so desperately hope for; Pedro, Jessica, Randy, Rosemary, and Selva. Each of those names represents someone who we fell in love with, whose story is unique, and whose life was changed. The morning I saw each of their names on the surgery schedule, a huge smile radiated from my face, a smile that would soon be on each of those children’s faces.

Pedro, an 11-year-old boy who had hitchhiked with his mother for two days in order to return for a second surgery as an Operation Smile patient, was one of our best Peruvian buddies. Throughout both days of screening and his time in the hospital, he followed us, talking to us and playing with us along the way. He was a quiet, reserved boy, but he was so sweet and smart. He spoke the most heart-warming words that I heard while in Peru. Right before entering the operating room, Jennifer and Colette, our amazing student sponsor, and I were sitting with Pedro and his mother. He was visibly nervous, so we were trying to calm him down. Someone asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. In his soft-spoken Spanish, Pedro instantly replied, “I want to be a doctor so I can help kids like me, just like these doctors.”

Before going to Peru, everyone who had been on a mission as a student told me that it was the greatest experience they ever had, and it was hard to believe that. I found myself wondering, will it be as memorable as everyone says it is? I immediately found out that it unquestionably is the most rewarding experience I have ever had, and that is even an understatement.

As the youngest people on the trip, you would think that we would be slightly outcast, but that certainly did not happen. We truly became friends with our student sponsor, doctors, nurses, in-country volunteers, and everyone else involved with the mission. It felt as if we were their equals and colleagues in this healing venture, not just two teenagers tagging along for the ride. Many surgeons and anesthesiologists took us under their wings, eager to teach us. They explained the intricacies of surgery and the entire medical process. On one occasion during screening, prior to seeing any surgeries and a rookie at anything involving medicine, I was a translator for an anesthesiologist. I was given the task of questioning patients and parents about their medical history, and was able to take part in the examination process. One toddler that I questioned had a heart murmur, and, being the wonderful teacher that he is, the doctor let me listen in and explained exactly what it was and how it could affect the surgical process. That was just the beginning. Every operating room that we walked into, the doctors were constantly teaching us every step of the way. I went to Peru with an interest in medicine. I returned with the strong desire to become a surgeon. Everyone was incredibly embracing and fun. More importantly, everyone was there with a common goal: to change lives and help heal humanity.

As a student, I had the opportunity to do so many different things throughout our mission. I observed a myriad of surgeries, played with hundreds of children, spoke to countless family members, traveled to various schools to educate local children, and was often used as a translator for nurses, doctors, and other volunteers. At such a young age, having the opportunity to perform all of these tasks on a mission is truly remarkable. The friendship that we formed as the students on the mission was unbelievable, and is just another factor that further escalated the greatness of this life altering experience.

Our last night in Peru, Jennifer and I decided that it is practically impossible to have as amazing an experience and as much fun as we did in Lima. Appropriately, laughter and smiles were never lacking throughout the 12 days we spent there. We helped change 136 lives. 136 futures brightened. 136 stories and faces never to be forgotten. When you go on a mission, you expect to give more than you will receive. However, I feel as if I have received so much from being a member of Team Peru 2007. I learned from the hundreds of Peruvian children and their families whose faces we brightened with a friendly high-five, the tiny gift of a sticker, or the magical flow of countless bubbles. I now yearn for my next opportunity to go on a mission. I learned who I want to be, and how I want to help the world.



Jordan
Lauren Lucier
Christopher Newport University
July, 2007

As I flip through my many pictures of Jordan, all the memories of the mission are ones of joy and laughter; I don’t remember the heat or sweat, I only remember the smiles and laughter that were heard continuously through all my new friends from around the world. I remember that after hours of traveling, the plane finally flew over the masses of desert and I knew that soon I would be stepping into a place so far from home but yet so close to where by heart was yearning to be. I would have never thought that at the age of 19 I would be traveling miles away from my home, into the new and exciting world of Jordan, and becoming a part of one of the most wonderful programs ever, Operation Smile. I realized that I was a part of a team of doctors, nurses, and volunteers that had a passion, the same that I had, for providing hope and a smile to those who just need a little help in life.

The first few days of the college mission were spent exploring Jordan and all its wonders. Even though the adventurous trek through the never ending Petra and the hour piling on mud from the Dead Sea onto our bodies are memories that I know many people would not get to experience; I also know that the memory of traveling to a Palestinian refugee camp or to a foreign country’s hospital to meet hundreds of families that needed hope was something that not many people in the world would experience and think about doing.

As we entered the Palestinian refugee camp, my nerves were at wits ends not knowing what to expect, but as time passed and I saw how excited the kids were to see us, I knew I was where I belonged. My favorite memory at the camp was when the little boys, ranging from ages 4-16, asked me to read a book to them in English. The whole time their eyes were wide and big, following every word, and when I would finish a line they would scream, “Next line, read the next line!” The boys then proceeded to laugh at me as they taught me Arabic songs and words. But one thing that they taught me, which I don’t think they set out to do, was how much the little things count in life. These children had to leave their home, everything that they owned, to move into an over crowded, cemented walled area but they were happy to have each other. They treated each other like brothers and sisters, and they knew that this is what they had and they were going to make the best of it with smiles and laughter.

The refugee camp was just the beginning of some of the most poignant memories of Jordan. The next days were spent in the hospital completing the mission of Operation Smile. The day of screening was the day that I learned about dedication from the patients and the doctors. Some of the families had traveled from many miles away, through the desert, in the early morning, and yet most sat quietly all day, while the country was in a middle of a heat wave. The families were determined to find help for their children and would do anything for them; for most of the families the Operation Smile mission was their only way of receiving help. The kids were the best kids I have ever met and played with. Even though I don’t speak Arabic, I spent hours playing with the kids just smiling and laughing; I think bubble and stickers are international toys that every kid loves around the world. I spent almost half of the day blowing bubbles and sticking stickers and I knew that from every “shukran” (thank you) that was said I was helping them feel at ease at the hospital.

At one point during the day I followed a little girl named Maria around through the whole screening process. She had eyes that were big and the darkest brown I have ever seen, and her eyes just wandered around each room as the doctors examined her; Maria was burned from her neck down. She was scared and so was her mother. I could see her mother’s pain in her eyes and then she began to cry as she told the story on how Maria was burned; it was an accident but her mother blamed herself. After Maria had finished screening, they were sent home to wait to hear if Maria was chosen for surgery. And it was no surprise to me as I entered the pre-op room the first day of surgery, with all the anxious parents and children, there was Maria. I was in charge of bringing her down to surgery. She clung to her mother and did not want to let her go; she was scared and so was her mother, but they knew that in the end this would change Maria’s life.

At the end of the day when the last group of the 20 patients for surgery that day were about to be seen, I went down to the post-op room. While I was looked around, I saw smiles on the parent’s faces and a few tears in the children’s eyes, but all I kept thinking was, “this is going to change the children forever; some can now eat, move, and function without the help of their parents and they would no longer be shunned because they were different”; Operation Smile gave them the hope they needed to proceed in life. Just before I was about to leave I saw Maria for the last time, she was running around playing with her dad. She acted all shy when I handed her a smiley sticker but then she went and asked her dad if he would take a picture of me and her together. That’s when I new my time spent at the hospital had changed the lives of Maria and her family. As I walked away, Maria and her father repeatedly said “shukran” and then I saw Maria’s beautiful smile.

My mission is one I will never forget, and I will always hold a place in my heart for the children of Jordan. I thank Operation Smile, the doctors, the nurses, and most of all the families of Jordan for teaching me what dedication, desire, and a smile can do in life and throughout the world.



Aman, Jordan
June 25, 2007

On June 25, 2007, Operation Smile College Programs concluded its college mission to Amman, Jordan. Three students from Canada, Utah and Virginia gathered together on June 17th for 8 days of leadership training and service.
College Mission team coloring with students at a Refugee Camp in Baq’a, Jordan.

The college team prepared dental hygiene and first aid presentations for a group of 25 young students at a Palestinian refugee camp in Baq’a. The team also worked with the Jordanian students in preparation for the upcoming mission. Each student shadowed a specialist in their field for screening and surgery. The specialties included: burns, speech pathology, and child life. The students gained experience and knowledge from their mentors on the mission and were able to see first hand how Operation Smile helps children



Santa Cruz, Bolivia
Christine Standahl of Franklin, VA
March 14-24, 2007

As the rays of the hot Bolivian sun glared down, bundles of nervous children dotted the red seats of the waiting room. Through the crowd, I noticed a pair of shy eyes staring at me from behind his mother’s arm. On a dusty hospital floor, with legs stretched out in the shape of a “V,” I began the age old game of “catch.” It is phenomenal that such a simple game of tossing a ball back forth can create such an overwhelming sense of joy and excitement. Through laughter, I found myself being able to connect with this four- year-old boy who was from the other side of the world. His mother’s compassionate face spoke more to me than the language barrier could forbid. She and her son had gone through the surgery process before, but she anxiously awaited his acceptance for a second surgery to completely fix his cleft lip and palate. I stumbled over my broken Spanish to piece together a phrase. “Como te llamas?” I nervously let roll off my tongue in the direction of the boy. His mother answered with a smile, “Brayan.” Committing the name to memory, I said goodbye as they continued on through screening.

The next day, my fellow student Sarah and I got awarded the task of printing the list of children who were chosen for surgery. Quickly scanning the list, the name Brayan popped out immediately on the poster marked Miercoles. Like clockwork, Brayan and his mother appeared a few hours later. We exchanged relief and joy about his selection for surgery.

When Wednesday finally rolled along, I found Brayan and his mom in Pre-Op. His mom’s look told me she was relieved to see a familiar face. I led the way for them to see the Child Life Specialist and be briefed on the surgery process. Brayan was such a brave and loving child. He could almost pass for a doctor, the way he wore the bright blue plastic kid-safe stethoscope.

Since it was the third day of surgery week, Sarah and I felt like pros at being Operating Room observers. That morning, we made sure to secure our spots to watch Brayan’s surgery. To ease the nerves of Brayan and his mother, I assured them that I would be in the OR with him when it was time for the operation. After throwing on scrubs and carrying in young Brayan.

After reaching the hospital the next morning, I anxiously stepped off the bus to go visit Brayan with stuffed animals in hand. I was sure to bring one of the many amazing Bolivian students with me to translate. His mother smiled at me with gracious eyes and began thanking me. She said that she wanted to give me a gift from Bolivia to show her overwhelming appreciation for my display of kindness. Taken aback by her praise for a simple friendship, I thanked her and thought I said my goodbyes for the last time.

As the closing hours of Friday marched along, one of the Bolivian students said that there was a woman in the waiting area looking for me. After an exhausting day of surgery, with recovery and a fifteen hour trip back home ahead of them, Brayan and his mom came back to the hospital. Other families tagged along as well, simply to say thank you once again. Brayan’s mom insisted that I write down my address for her so that she could send me a package. As we exchanged hugs and pictures, my heart was filled with ceaseless compassion for these families.

From the families I encountered while on my mission in Bolivia, I learned to have an undying hope and a never-ending love. It amazed me that a team could assemble from around the world to create such drastic changes in children’s lives. Team Bolivia was comprised of some of the most caring and talented people I have ever met. The awe-inspiring miracles that the team of doctors performed every day reaffirmed every aspiration I have to practice medicine. However, it was the miracles I witnessed outside the realm of medicine that changed my perspective of people. While the countless collages of people who inhabit this Earth can pretend to be separated by communication barriers, the people of Bolivia taught me the international language and the borderless power of a simple smile.



Ninh Thuan, Vietnam
May 12-28, 2006

I never imagined how much I yearned to return to the heavy, sticky heat and poverty of Vietnam. At times, I crave it. My mission helped me discover who I truly want to be. It forced me to realize what is important in the world in which we live and changed who I was, as a person, in the best way possible. It was beautiful and life altering.

My fellow student partner, Sarah, nudged me awake excitedly; our plane was descending. I squirmed with anticipation and took in the sea of lights below our window. We had finally arrived after a full day of long airplane rides, countless in-flight movies and a few airplane food spills. Our mission was about to begin. As the team assembled and walked through the airport doors I was struck by the oppressive heat; it was 11:30 at night and I was already drenched. I suddenly realized that if it was this hot outside at night, imagine it in midday in a hospital crowded with bodies. Bring it on.

No amount of training could have fully prepared me for my mission. I was shown countless videos and pictures, I read handbooks and listened to lectures, I was told what it would be like, but it was like nothing I could have imagined. The first day of screening was filled with chaos, bubbles and, yes, the heat. Sarah and I were in charge of entertainment. I still believe to this day that bubbles are the best thing ever invented. I do not even want to imagine what our mission would have been like without them. A bubble machine was never far from my hand, I was amazed to see how something so simple could satisfy parents and children and bring such laughter and excitement. The day was long and consisted of coloring, tossing games and an intense hand-clapping circle. When the day began, I was nervous about the language barrier. I worried that I would not be able to do my job because I could not speak to the children. I learned that communication and understanding goes far beyond mere words and sentences. I connected on a deeper level and learned to hear what another person was saying by the way they smiled, how tightly they clasped my hand or what was in their eyes. The first day left me emotionally and physically exhausted.

As a student volunteer, I dashed back and forth from pre-op to post-op, comforting children, giving out toys, and of course, blowing bubbles. I constantly moved and darted all over the hospital and I adored every minute of it. The commotion was electrifying. There was always something that needed to be done. My favorite times in the hospital were when I could just sit with the parents and patients and just be with them, touch them, play with them, watch them, anything. They were so grateful. I was deeply touched by the mothers. Even though they were exhausted and fighting the heat, the mothers would jump up whenever I entered a room and usher me to sit in their place. I had never witnessed such kindness and gratitude before and I was completely, utterly, stunned.

The post-op ward was my favorite place to work. It was loud and throbbed with laughter, screams and doctor’s orders. I would weave my way from one room to the next, passing out stickers, giving out milk and teddy bears and just holding hands. I lived for the moments when I could just sit on a patient’s bed and stroke his or her head to comfort them. No words are needed, just a gentle touch or a reassuring hand squeeze. There was one patient who left a powerful mark on me that I will never forget. She was a silent 10-year-old who never raised her eyes from the floor. Her name was How. I often passed by her room and peered in. She never moved from her spot on the bed and the only thing she did was look at her hands. On Thursday of the second week, I finally sat down next to her and wiped the clammy sweat from her brow and gently picked up her thin hands. I will never forget the way she looked at me. Her eyes were dark pools of pain and sadness. Her slender face was weary and lined; her lips were grim and hard. She sat straight at the edge of her bed, her chin turned, defeated, towards the floor. The translator whispered to me that she had dropped out of school; the cruelty of her peers too much to bear. My heart ached for her. All her life she had been ostracized for a gaping hole she could not fix. She had endured the cruel laughter of her peers, the jeering of her townspeople. The gift of childhood was cruelly, heartlessly snatched from her; a grown up with the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was 10 years old. All I could do was hold her hand. She did not smile. Her mother told me she never smiled. I stayed with her for a long time, just tracing her fingers and touching her hair. I knew she was afraid. When a doctor entered the room she tightly squeezed my hand and I squeezed back. I began to squeeze her tiny fingers at random and place smiley stickers on her calloused knuckles. My heart leapt at the tiny smile that escaped from her lips. She squeezed my hand harder and stuck a sticker on my arm. It was then she smiled. Her timid grin revealed her deformity and she told the translator that all she wanted was a smile like mine. This moment left me speechless. It made me step back and look at the life I had been living, how I existed everyday a world away from this girl. The only thing she wanted was a working smile. I never even paid attention to mine. It was this moment that really brought the mission home for me, that moment embodied how life changing a mission can be.

I was part of a team of individuals who gave themselves wholly to saving children and adults they did not know. We arrived in a small, poverty stricken town a group of people scattered around the globe with a single purpose, to fix people. I have never been a part of something so beautiful and intense. Often my mind wanders back to the heat, the smell, the cries. Vietnam lays nestled inside of me, a constant reminder of who I am. I will not be the same, ever, for I am molded by the tender smiles and coarse, worn hands a world away. I live with a purpose now, a passion, waiting to return and help again. Every child deserves a childhood; they have a right to a normal life and not to be shunned for something they cannot control. This is what Operation Smile is, and I am thrilled to be a part of it.



Mae Sot, Thailand
Journal by Anthony Cerrone

After traveling by plane, taxi, and vans for 22 hours, the Operation Smile student team finally arrived in Mae Sot, Thailand. We arrived at this village in the northeastern part of Thailand with only four hours of sleep and extreme jet lag. Yet, the new atmosphere and different landscape caused our eyes to be glued to the windows during the eight hour van ride from Bangkok to Mae Sot.

Upon arriving at the hotel and meeting all of the team members, we crashed in our room and even missed dinner. Though the disappointment of missing a meal was overwhelming at the time, my student partner and I soon learned that there was a common theme of rice at every meal. However, the Italian blood in me managed to find the two western restaurants in the region.

The first day of medical screenings was what our clinical coordinator deemed as, “organized chaos.” The site of so many people and so many deformities was overwhelming at first, but as the day went on, you barely even notice the cleft lips or cleft palates anymore and instead, you notice how cute the children are and how beautiful their eyes are.

My main job was to keep all of the children and even the adults from becoming impatient, bored, or frustrated. So, armed with bubbles, stickers, and multiple suitcases full of toys, we spent eight hours making complete fools of ourselves to the sheer enjoyment of over 100 children. Many of the children do not receive much attention or toys on a regular basis, so they thoroughly enjoyed their time in the hospital.




After the day of screening, the remainder of the week we settled into a normal schedule. Each day, we arrive at the hospital around 7am and completed any odd tasks or played with the kids until we had to leave to go to schools in the middle of the day. Each day, we went to two schools and gave presentations on dental hygiene, burn prevention and burn care, and nutrition to younger children. The visits to the schools with our translator, Win-Win, were one of my favorite parts of the mission because the children were so attentive and energetic, and the trips really gave us a glimpse into how the local people live.

During the course of the week, I also got to view multiple surgeries. Even though Operation Smile is mainly known for fixing cleft lips and cleft palates in younger kids, our team operated on a wide variety of injuries from burns to extra thumbs and also on a wide range of ages.

The medical part of the mission cannot be described with adequate adjectives, but the people you meet there are just as wonderful. The Thai volunteers were so kind and helpful with anything from putting on my Thai pants correctly to ordering the least spicy food on the menu. Each member of the team was kind, always willing to include us, and always put forth so much effort each day. During the course of the trip, we examined 175 patients and performed surgery on 100. The trip was a truly amazing experience that I will never forget.