By Reynaldo Mena
An unfortunate event marked the destiny of Ana Ruiz-Peña.
Her father, affected by lung cancer, passed away when she was only 13 years old, which convinced her to dedicate the rest of her life to caring for others.
“I was very close to him. He was retired, so he took care of me all the time. I stayed with him when he was sick, and I was there in his final moments. He didn’t stay sick for long.”
Ana Ruiz-Peña, the CEO of Vida Mobile Clinic, emotionally recalls those moments.
Her father was from Spain, his name was Gabriel Ruiz. Her mother was Salvadoran, her name is Ana María.
Gabriel met Ana Maria in El Salvador; he used to travel a lot. He was a flamenco guitarist, and it was through this music that Ana grew up, and she still remembers it fondly.
“He used to sing a song to me all the time since I was a child, it went like this.
‘Que bonita que es mi niña
Que bonita cuando duerme
Que parece una amapola
Entre los trigales verdes
Que bonita que es mi niña
Que bonita cuando duerme
Que parece una amapola
Entre los trigales verdes.’…
“I’m going to cry,” she says.
Ana Ruiz-pena experiences with her father have shaped her entire career. Her desire to help others comes from that history.
“He always used to say that we should help people. If we saw a homeless person, he would give them money. He’d say, ‘You don’t know what they’ve been through or what they’ve suffered,'” Ana says.
Now, alongside Karla Rugamas, the COO of Vida Mobile Clinic, she continues that tradition.
“He accompanies me on this mission. He was a painter; I have one of his paintings in the clinic. When I finish treating a patient or at the end of the day, it’s like I’m telling him, ‘We’re making progress, another day helping people,'” Ana Ruiz-Peña adds.
There was a time when her family had no health insurance, and her mother would warn her about the risks of getting sick.
“I wanted to learn to dance flamenco and play with my skateboard, and my mother would say, ‘Don’t do it; you’ll hurt your knees, and we don’t have insurance to go to the doctor,'” she recalls.
These experiences brought her closer to the people who live without insurance and with closed doors, with no option to see a doctor.
That’s when I started to see the healthcare system in this country. The idea of dedicating myself to healthcare, being a volunteer, showing that maybe we won’t become doctors, but there are many other ways to practice it.
“First, I studied Health Administration at Cal State Northridge. There are many ways to start and then progress,” she says.
One day, outside of classes, Karla and she talked about how important it would be to have a mobile clinic to go to many places. Then the pandemic came, and they decided it was time to do it.
“We’ve worked in different community centers, talked to medical students who want to get involved in our project. Healthcare is a universal right, and in this country, it’s broken, we have to change it,” she adds.
Over these early years, she has seen the positive impact they’ve had on people.
“There are many stories that have touched us, made us cry. Well, Tania isn’t here but she’s even more emotional than me, but we have many examples. I tell our colleagues to go to sleep with peace of mind; we help people as much as we can. We do everything we can, and often it’s not enough,” she says.
“For example, there was a patient who I don’t even know if she’s still alive. She had gone from doctor to doctor, and they wouldn’t tell her anything, wouldn’t give her a diagnosis. I knew it happened because she didn’t have insurance. But then she came to our clinic, and as soon as I saw what was wrong with her, I knew she had cervical cancer. She got lost in the system; she didn’t get the care she needed. It took a year for her to find out what was happening,” says an indignant Ana.
“In another case, a patient needed brain surgery, and they just told him that the operation wasn’t necessary. It’s disrespectful,” she says.
Ana’s and the rest of the people at Vida Mobile Clinic desire is to have an impact on communities. They recently received funding to share their experience with medical students.
“We know it’s not enough. We would like to implement more preventive medicine, address mental health cases, although we know that Latinos are not very supportive of that; they think mental health means they’re crazy. So, we need to educate them about this. We want to do so many things, grow, provide personalized care, and make consultations more than just five minutes,” she says enthusiastically.
It seems like her father is still with her. She recently traveled to Spain, but only for two days. She didn’t know how she would react emotionally. She finds it difficult to listen to flamenco music, but Gabriel’s spirit is with her.
“I had the peace of being with him until the end. Without a doubt, the experience has served me in my career, in the way I treat my patients, and how we run this clinic,” she says.
“Mental health is like the skin. We only pay attention to it when we get burned.”
