Medical Missions Provide Critical Access To Care That Most Rural Communities Lack.

 

Short-term medical missions provide critical solutions for today’s healthcare needs in historically marginalized and underserved communities like Purulhá. However, these remote areas lack medical infrastructure creating a barrier to service and jeopardizing continuity of care.

While we work on creating long-term solutions for medical mission service by building a healthcare facility that will provide a reliable community resource for care, we realize that communities need healthcare now.

By joining one of our medical mission teams you are not only bringing health and hope to these communities, you are creating lasting impact and change.

VOLUNTEER OPPORTUNITIES

2026

June 20 – 27

October 10 – 17

2027

February 6 – 13

June 19 – 26

October 9 – 16

8-DAYS, 7-NIGHTS MEDICAL MISSION

VOLUNTEER FEE:  $1,400 

The team fee includes:

  • Team transportation from La Aurora International Airport to the service site and return to Antigua, Guatemala at the end of the week
  • Meals and Lodging in Purulhá
  • In-country travel insurance
  • Language Interpreters (Spanish-English; Mayan-Spanish)
  • Patient care supplies and medications used during our clinic week. The most significant portion of our costs, this includes vitamins, de-worming, prescription medications, minor procedure supplies and on-site diagnostic testing.
  • One night hotel stay (double-occupancy, breakfast included) in the historic, colonial city of Antigua at the end of our service week

Not included:

  • Airfare
  • Meals in Antigua
  • Departing transport from Antigua to the airport
  • Private rooming (available for additional charge)
  • Personal expenses

 

volunteer assessing patient

MEDICAL MISSIONS CHANGE THE LIFE OF PATIENT AND PROVIDER

As a new nurse practitioner and a first-time participant in a medical mission in Guatemala, I entered the experience with a mixture of excitement and humility. I understood, in theory, the limitations of practicing in a resource-constrained environment, but it was not until I began seeing patients that the reality truly set in. Without access to laboratory testing, imaging, or consistent medical records, I found myself relying almost entirely on clinical judgment, observation, and the histories shared by patients and their families. This shift challenged me to trust my training in a deeper, more intuitive way.

One patient encounter, in particular, left a lasting impression on me. A mother brought in her 32-month-old son, for what she described as congestion. He was clean, well-cared for, and carried closely in his mother’s arms. As I approached, he looked up at me with strong brown eyes—alert and observant—which struck me in a way I did not immediately put into words. His history revealed that he had been born prematurely at seven months and required care in the NICU. As I began my assessment, it became clear that there were more significant underlying concerns. Leo had only two to three dental eruptions, was non-verbal, and had not met key developmental milestones—he was unable to sit up or roll over. While he tracked with his eyes, suggesting some neurological engagement, his physical exam raised further concern. He had a prominent forehead, and a pigeon-shaped chest that, on palpation, was extremely soft and pliable, along with a slight curvature of the spine. Together, these findings pointed toward something far more systemic than a simple upper respiratory complaint.

Without access to laboratory data, I relied on pattern recognition and clinical reasoning. The constellation of symptoms strongly suggested vitamin D deficiency, likely contributing to rickets—a diagnosis that gave me pause. In my training and early practice in the United States, rickets is not a condition commonly encountered, and recognizing its clinical presentation in this setting was both striking and sobering. His mother shared that she had previously obtained a CT scan when he was younger, which indicated delayed closure of his skull, further supporting concerns about impaired bone mineralization. As I prepared treatment, she acknowledged that she had once been told to give him a small bottle of vitamin D drops, but they had been unable to afford it, and it was unclear how well she understood their importance. Nutritionally, she described feeding him “licuados”—blended, liquid preparations of fruits and vegetables—with no access to formula or fortified foods due to financial limitations. This raised additional concerns for broader nutritional deficiencies, including possible iron deficiency. Given the circumstances, I provided vitamin D drops in a dose sufficient for treatment, along with calcium supplementation using crushed antacid tablets (Tums), with instructions for both to be administered in his liquid feeds.

In that moment, I felt the weight of both limitation and responsibility. There was no opportunity to confirm my clinical suspicions with diagnostic testing, yet the need for intervention was clear. Practicing in this environment required adaptability and a focus on what was both available and sustainable. At the same time, I felt a sense of emotional surprise and gravity—recognizing a condition that is largely preventable and rarely seen in my usual practice underscored the disparities in access to basic nutrition and healthcare resources. The experience emphasized the importance of meeting patients where they are, both medically and socioeconomically, and tailoring care in a way that is realistic for follow-through.

This experience reshaped my understanding of patient care. It reinforced the importance of a thorough physical assessment and reminded me that medicine, at its core, is both a science and an art. As a new provider, I had initially sought reassurance in data and diagnostics. In Guatemala, I learned to find confidence in observation, critical thinking, and human connection. This case was not only a clinical challenge but also a profound reminder of global health disparities and the resilience of the families navigating them. It is an experience that will continue to influence my practice, grounding me in both perspective and purpose as I grow in my role as a nurse practitioner.

The meaning of life is to find your gift.

The purpose of life is to give it away.

- WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE