We operated for 3 days, and on the fourth morning, we gathered the entire crowd of patients and their families outside the hospital and handed out the eye medicines. I thought the Cataract Camp was over. But then, the people began coming up to us, placing khatas—white scarves traditionally presented as a way to honor and give thanks—around our necks. I was overwhelmed and sought refuge in the building. The people gently followed, placing layers of khatas around my neck. I stood there in the large, worn hospital entranceway, embarrassed and in tears, until it seemed I could politely retreat again. When I went upstairs, an elderly man in a shabby, gray traditional Tibetan overcoat followed. He spoke to me while placing another khata around my neck. “He says that he will pray for you and pray for your children and pray for your safe journey home,” said the translator. “And he says that after he is reincarnated, in his next life, again he will pray for you.”
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