according to a poll carried out by the US firm Gallup and shared exclusively with the Guardian<\/a>.<\/p>\n\u201cIn Venezuela, it feels like we are all just dying slowly and there\u2019s no hope for a change. I don\u2019t care if I\u2019m gonna work as a doctor or not. I just want to have food, medicines, security, a house, a car, and be able to give a good life to my loved ones,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
But it\u2019s not as though many of Diaga\u2019s relatives still live in the country \u2013 the majority have fled to Argentina by road through Brazil. And soon he will join them.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy younger brother had to leave because the urgent medicines [he needs] can\u2019t be found here and with my mum\u2019s salary it\u2019s impossible to buy them in another country.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf I go to Argentina, at least I will be with my family and together I think we\u2019ll be able to make progress,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
Shortages of medicines are well-documented in Venezuela, with patients often having to buy prescriptions and basic medical supplies using contacts abroad and risk having them sent over, or purchasing at highly-inflated prices on the black market. But many are going without.<\/p>\n
\u201cEvery day we see people dying for diseases that we know exactly how to cure but when you don\u2019t even have gloves, masks, gauzes, medicines or some big but necessary equipment, it\u2019s too hard.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd at the same time it\u2019s scary, because some families have ended up hitting us, frustrated and feeling that we don\u2019t want to do anything to save their loved ones and that we are guilty for this dramatic situation,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
Colombia, which officially took in more than half a million Venezuelans over the last six months of 2017, is continuing to to be a destination of choice among those looking for a better life. Elena Rincones, 25, a political scientist from Caracas, is relocating there this month to make sure she has access to the medicine she needs.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d rather be working as a waitress and being able to ship my father his meds than watch him die slowly because we can\u2019t find them nor afford them if we do. Last month alone I spent 10 times the minimum wage most Venezuelans earn on my dad\u2019s medicine for his diabetes.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd last time I got sick, I had to look in about six pharmacies to get the medication I needed. There are no medicines, people are even dying due to lack of antibiotics,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n
Ysabel Limas, 65, a retired writer, says she does not want to leave her home in Venezuela, but cannot afford the medication her stepmother needs. She has little savings and no family outside the country to call on for help.<\/p>\n
\u201cI cannot move, but I\u2019d love to move. My stepmum, who is 96, is living in a nursing home. Luckily I don\u2019t need to take a regular prescription. However, the pills for my stepmum, who suffers from dementia, are only available by a section or the whole the blister strip. There\u2019s been no availability of these medicines at any pharmacy for a long time.<\/p>\n
\u201cI found a person who can be contacted by email for medicine request. He finds your prescriptions, then you meet this guy or a person who you are supposed to pay in cash and you get the exact number of pills,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n
As is often the case when official channels dry up, black market trade booms. Ordinary people left with no other choice are turning to unofficial channels, with many taking advantage of the demand for drugs to supplement their meagre wages.<\/p>\n
Daniel Lopez, 35, an architect from Caracas who to Colombia last year, is trying to help from afar. He runs a non-profit medicine service which redistributes basic medical supplies from Colombia to Venezuela free of charge.<\/p>\n
\u201cFamilies and friends of friends call me asking for the cost of a medicine that is urgent for someone they know or themselves. Most of the time they can\u2019t buy it because of the cost or the medicine is regulated. And they can\u2019t afford to travel to Colombia to buy it.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo what we do is collect some common and cheap medicine and wait for someone we trust who has planned a trip to Venezuela, to give them the medical supplies to deliver to our loved ones. We can\u2019t risk sending the medicine through the mail as it\u2019s prohibited by law,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
And many others are doing the same. Fran Mej\u00eda, 35, a music producer who now lives in Barcelona, Spain, sends medicine to his mother, who is a doctor in Caracas.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy mother is a GP who works in private practice in Caracas. Throughout my life, and thanks to having a doctor in the family, we\u2019ve always had what we\u2019ve needed in terms of medicine. Not any more. Nowadays my doctor mother is asking me to send medicines her way from Spain,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
Serina Moritz, 47, a senior doctor in a large public hospital in Caracas, says that in her 20 years working in the profession the system has never been under so much pressure.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot only do we not have medicines, even basics, but there is no blood as we cannot run tests on it. For most of us we don\u2019t know what to do. I know colleagues who are leaving depressed,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n
According to\u00a0the Venezuelan Health Observatory,<\/a>\u00a0a research centre at the Central University of Venezuela in Caracas, estimates that less than 10% of operating theatres, emergency rooms and intensive care units are fully operational. It says 76% of hospitals suffer from scarcity of medicines, 81% lack surgical materials and 70% complain of intermittent water supply.<\/p>\n\u201cI will stay but it is impossible for us to survive under this system \u2026 why would anyone want to?\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Link:\u00a0https:\/\/www.theguardian.com\/world\/2018\/apr\/05\/it-feels-like-were-all-dying-slowly-venezuelas-doctors-losing-hope Source: The Guardian<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":38,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1481","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-article"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/theamericasblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1481","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/theamericasblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/theamericasblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/theamericasblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/38"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/theamericasblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1481"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/theamericasblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1481\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1482,"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/theamericasblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1481\/revisions\/1482"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/theamericasblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1481"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/theamericasblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1481"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/theamericasblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1481"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}