On a recent clear-skied Arizona morning, pediatric orthopedic surgeon Francisco Valencia and a group of medical students gathered around a small boy with skinny legs to discuss how to improve his future.
Melvin Campos, 7, was born in the Mexican border city of Nogales with club feet, a congenital disorder where the feet twist inward. If not treated, the condition can be disabling.
Gently touching the boy’s legs, Valencia, ’80, discussed with the students Melvin’s progress since a first corrective surgery five years earlier. He then turned to Alma Lopez, Melvin’s mother, and explained in Spanish that after a second upcoming surgery, her son likely would be able to run and play like other children. Melvin buried his hands in the pockets of his dungarees and watched with serious brown eyes.
Melvin was one of more than 250 children treated that day at St. Andrew’s Children’s Clinic, a 34-year-old nonprofit institution in Nogales, Ariz. On the first Thursday of each month except July, a church campus is transformed into a clinic for impoverished Mexican children with severe medical conditions.
All treatment is provided free, as are medications and supplies.
Asked what the clinic has meant to her family, Alma Lopez paused. She clasped her hands to her lips. Her eyes filled with tears. “No hay palabras,” she whispered. There are no words.
X-RAY MARKS THE SPOT: Valencia (above) anticipates that after a second surgery, Campos (below), born with club feet, will be able to run and play.
St. Andrew’s Children’s Clinic sits on the Arizona side of a city split across two countries. Nogales, Ariz., has a population of about 20,000. More than 250,000 live in Nogales, Sonora. In a state where border issues are often divisive, the clinic is a beacon of sorts. “This is a binational project trying to do something positive,” Valencia says.
St. Andrew’s was founded in 1973 by Mark Frankel, an orthopedic surgeon (and proud Stanford parent thrice over). After a visit to Mexico, Frankel organized volunteer U.S. doctors to travel once a month to Sonora to perform basic corrective orthopedic procedures for children. “They were real simple surgeries, but they seemed like miracles,” recalls Frankel, now 71. Not long afterward, he moved the clinic to the United States.
In 1974, Frankel treated a 16-year-old named Francisco Valencia for a sports injury at his office in Tucson. Learning of the bilingual teen’s budding interest in medicine, Frankel invited him to check out the clinic. Valencia was greeted by the sight of bloody bandages on a child’s arm: the aftermath of surgery. “I wanted to throw up,” he recalls. But that didn’t stop him from coming back, first as a translator, then as a physician. He now volunteers as the clinic’s medical director in addition to working full time in private practice. Bob Phillips, MA ’68, has served as executive director since November 2006, and is developing a sustainable financial plan for the clinic.
Once each month except July, children receive treatment on the mesquite-ringed grounds of St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, an entity separate from the nondenominational clinic. Families travel up to three days by bus to get there. They cross the border in the morning with a special day visa and return to Mexico that evening. As many as 300 children with medical conditions ranging from cerebral palsy to Down syndrome are treated each month by volunteer doctors, nurses and specialists. Patients can return for follow-up visits for years.
With about half of its $650,000 budget dependent on private donations, the clinic’s financial situation is precarious, Phillips says. Because it treats noncitizens, it is not eligible for government grants. Long-term planning is difficult. “We’re [always] one year away from going out of business,” Phillips says.
But while the clinic may want for money, it does not want for devoted volunteers. Joel Lerman, ’86, MD ’92, is one of several pediatric orthopedic surgeons who travel regularly from Shriners Hospital in Sacramento. Caring for St. Andrew’s patients is a privilege, he said, shortly after a young girl in a pink parka hopped off his table and walked away confidently on a prosthetic leg. The patients’ families “work so hard; they travel huge distances,” Lerman says. “The kids are beautifully cared for. When you can help these people out, it’s just awesome.”
Corinne Purtill, ’02, is a freelance journalist at work on a book about Cambodia.
