WE ARE SOSA

For years, I led a multinational team—a symphony of pilots, nurses, physicians, immigration officers, receiving facilities, insurance companies, and more. Each of us played our part not just to navigate the skies or understand the myriad regulations of international healthcare but to commit, wholeheartedly, to saving lives.

One night, I received a call unlike any before. On the other end was a wife and mother of two. Her voice was filled with fear, urgency, and uncertainty. She explained that her husband lay on a hospital bed beside her after a devastating C-3 spine fracture.

For those who don't know, trauma centers capable of providing the necessary complex medical procedures are 1 in 10. Moreover, 90% of those 1 in 10 hospitals are located in developed countries.

I had received distress calls from tourists before. What made this call different was that they didn't have money, the insurance company wasn't responding, and my superiors were unavailable to provide guidance. I had to pull out my moral compass.

The local medical facilities, she explained, were unable to perform the surgery needed. Simply put, no surgery would sentence the father of her children to a life of paraplegia. I was not about to let that happen under my watch. I gave the green light, and our international medical evacuation team dropped what they were doing that long holiday weekend and were on their way to a different country at 3 AM. Meanwhile, the receiving facility was briefed and ready for the C-3 spine fracture. Hours later, I was satisfied knowing I did what I could—the right thing.

The next morning, I faced the consequences. My superiors informed me that without a method of payment, we were now on the hook for the immediate hard cost of the evacuation. I found myself questioning my decision after being told, "You can save one life today, but then you'll be out of business and not be able to save 10 lives tomorrow."

The patient's luggage was left behind, and I went to drop it off at the rehabilitation center about two weeks later. Sanya greeted me with teary eyes and a smile I will never forget. She insisted I see her husband, Abraham, as he had been asking for me. Reluctantly accepting her invitation, I walked towards his rehabilitation quarters. It was the day he was set to sit up, a milestone in his recovery.

The atmosphere in the room changed palpably when I entered. I walked in on the therapist giving directions and assisting in the roll-over attempt to sit up. To encourage the patient, the therapist let Abraham know I had just walked in to see him. Without anything else said, we heard a heartfelt, "I will stand for him." Despite the therapist's disbelief, stating that today he was only expected to roll over and sit up, that he could stand in about 2 or 3 more weeks with physical therapy, Abraham persisted and said, "No, I will stand for him now."

Like something out of an inspirational movie, he rolled over and was able to sit up moments later. The therapist, excited and filled with optimism, complimented him on his strength. Despite noticeable discomfort and increasing breaths, he began rocking, each motion bringing him closer to standing on his own two feet. The therapist, amazed, called for assistance, but it was too late. Abraham had his hands on the walker and stood. What happened next changed my life forever.

Noticeably catching his breath, hands trembling, clenching firmly onto the walker, he turned his body as best he could towards the door where I was standing, just enough to make eye contact before delivering the words that redirected my path: "Johnny, I will be able to hug my kids again, thank you." It was a vivid testament to the impact of our choices, a reminder that we can choose to be human, to be there for one another. At the heart of our decisions dwells the potential to profoundly alter lives, even our own.

We have the opportunity to leverage technology—artificial intelligence, blockchain, cloud-based solutions, etc., to streamline tourist trauma cases around the world. Simply put, better technology + a human touch = better patient outcomes.