A Journey to Doctorhood:
Four weeks in Costa Rica changed Tom Spicer's life forever
By Jaime
Hunt , public relations coordinator
www.nwhealth.edu
Tom Spicer stared at the 9-year-old boy lying on
his table. It was his first patient at La Clinica de Mariposa in
Costa Rica and the only thing he could think was, "Oh, no!"
Contorted with cerebral palsy and mentally
retarded, "Juan" (not his real name) was a far cry from
the patients Dr. Spicer, a November 2004 chiropractic graduate from
Northwestern Health Sciences University , had seen during his
internships. Nothing in his training prepared him for the feeling
of abject helplessness he felt as he looked at Juan. There would be
no gradual wading into chiropractic. No, Dr. Tom Spicer was thrust
into his professional career - his doctorhood - by a boy who
couldn't even sit up.
Juan's retardation combined with the language
barrier created a difficult situation that had to be overcome
before Dr. Spicer could begin working on joints that hadn't moved
since Juan's birth. He began where he could. He gently stroked the
boy's hair. He looked in his eyes and smiled softly. He murmured
reassurances. The boy moaned and looked away, his fear evident. Dr.
Spicer felt helpless. In frustration he thought, "This is not what
I signed up for ... this helpless boy writhing on my table while I
don't have a clue how to help him."
Eventually a trust was formed and Dr. Spicer was
able to begin moving the boy's thumb. Over two appointments spread
out over two days, that was all he was able to accomplish - but for
the first time in his life, Juan could move his thumb.
It wasn't the miracle Dr. Spicer was hoping for
when he decided to go to Costa Rica . But what he didn't know when
he planned his journey was that the miracles would not happen to
his patients, but to him.
From Intern to Doctor
It began in September. Tom Davis, DC, an
associate professor at Northwestern, brought four chiropractic
students and a massage therapy student to Costa Rica for a
month-long experience treating the poor at La Clinica de Mariposa.
Dr. Spicer - then a T10 student at Northwestern - was one of those
students.
Before he left, Dr. Spicer imagined he would
learn to be compassionate, to expect the unexpected, to broaden his
diagnosis and treatment skills, and to learn to work in
"less-than-perfect environmental conditions." He journaled in the
days before he left, pondering how he would be perceived and what
he would encounter. But nothing prepared him for the reality of the
La Clinica de Mariposa experience.
Several times a year, Dr. Davis brings a handful
of students from Northwestern to La Clinica de Mariposa, a
traveling clinic that is part of a missionary organization. Doctors
from across the globe journey to Costa Rica to provide health care
to those in desperate need. The doctors trek from town to town,
setting up primitive clinics in churches and schools. Although the
doctors are housed in apartments in San Jose, Costa Rica's capital
city, the working conditions are rough. The weather is a study in
extremes as temperatures reach the upper 90s and stunning downpours
rattle the roofs. Biting insects - including tarantulas and ants -
are a constant torment. And equipment is limited to adjusting
tables and the doctors' hands, making diagnosis reliant on touch
alone.
Dr. Spicer was prepared for the adversity - he
knew the trip would be an adventure - but he wasn't ready for the
trusting gazes of his patients; gazes that told him they considered
Tom Spicer an experienced doctor.
Although he felt fairly confident in his skills,
Dr. Spicer hit sharp reality when his first two patients were
plopped on his table, their limbs twisted with cerebral palsy.
Sweat beaded on his brow as he realized he had no answers. But as
the steady stream of patients flowed in and out of the makeshift
examining rooms, he went from uncertain intern to full-fledged
doctor. He had no choice - many of the hundreds of patients who
flock to La Clinica de Mariposa hadn't seen a doctor in years, if
ever. They were eager for attention and willing to trust the band
of chiropractors from the North to ease their pains and help them
regain their bodies' normal functionality.
Dr. Spicer developed a bond with many of his
patients, including "Antonio," a teenager who worked in the fields
of San Miguel. He suffered from knee and ankle pain that limited
his ability to work. Although he was concerned that the American
doctors couldn't do anything to eliminate the pain, he approached
Dr. Spicer. Dr. Spicer adjusted him and sent him home with
instructions to come back the next day. Antonio said he
doubted he would return, but the next day, he was back grinning
from ear to ear. For the first time in months he was free of the
pain that crippled him. By his third visit to Dr. Spicer, the young
man had opened his heart to him, offering the hospitality of his
home should Dr. Spicer ever visit Costa Rica again.
The scenario was repeated again and again over
the four weeks Dr. Spicer spent in Costa Rica. Suffering, yet
trusting, people came looking for healing - and found it from a man
who hadn't yet earned his doctorate.
Witnessing his own healing abilities shocked and
amazed Dr. Spicer. In the midst of oppressive heat, venomous
insects, limiting language barriers and primitive working
conditions, Dr. Spicer learned to trust the only thing he could -
himself.
"I now trust my hands and my heart and my head,"
says Dr. Spicer. "I now trust how I feel. It's nice to have X-rays,
MRIs and advanced imaging, but for me, I'm now OK with just using
my hands."
Today Dr. Tom Spicer is a different person from
the man who traveled to Costa Rica in late September. His
experience - which, in the best of circumstances, could be
described as an adventure - taught him more about compassion, about
diagnosis, and about himself than any number of classes or
internships.
"I began each day in Costa Rica nervous and
scared. I had no idea what each day would bring - downpours,
language barriers, conditions I had never seen. But by the end, I
was able to tell myself that it's going to be OK. I was able to
know that I would do OK.
"I went to Costa Rica an intern. I came back a
doctor."
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