By Russell Contreras, Globe Staff
The Boston Globe (Boston, Mass., USA)
A stroke several years ago nearly immobilized Priang Keat. Soon after, Keat hardly left his Lowell home and would usually sit there alone, trapped in his thoughts of the Khmer Rouge horrors of the 1970s.
Then the Cambodian Community Health 2010 program came along, offering the 67-year-old and other elder Cambodian refugees exercise, field trips, health education, translators, socials, and a reason to stay active. It pushed Keat out and about, even convincing him to regularly take the bus despite his use of a cane and his slow gait.
But come Oct. 26, the program that has helped more than 3,000 Cambodian refugees will cease to exist. The US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has announced that it will no longer fund the program. Nearly two dozen health workers and educators will lose their jobs, leaving many older refugees like Keat on their own.
"I don't know what I'm going to do," said Keat, speaking in Khmer. "I need people to help me translate" during visits to the doctor.
Vong Ros, executive director of the Cambodian Mutual Assistance Association, one of many local groups that use the program, said he feels ashamed it is ending and does not know what to tell the older Cambodians in the community.
"They were the people responsible [for bringing] their families out of the Khmer Rouge. They fended for their families and kids," said Ros. "Now their kids are grown up here, have to work. This leaves [the elders] vulnerable."
Cambodian Community Health 2010 started in 1990 as an effort to attack and solve various health issues in the Cambodian community, from heart disease to diabetes to mental health problems, said Dorcas Grigg-Saito, chief executive officer of the Lowell Community Health Center, where the program is based.
The $900,000-a-year program aggressively pushes prevention education and had started peer support groups to reach out to the Cambodian population, which remains skeptical of the modern-day healthcare system, something that was nonexistent in rural Cambodia, said Grigg-Saito.
In addition to education and outreach, the program offers tai chi and walking, meditation classes, diabetes treatments, special home visits, and educational tapes in Khmer about hypertension. It has also provided translators for doctor visits.
"It's given the Cambodian community a sense of empowerment," said Grigg-Saito. "This allowed them to develop skills to do things for themselves and be proactive about their health."
Sidney Liang, director of Cambodian Community Health 2010, said he fears that without the program many older Cambodians now will not go to a doctor or seek help until they become sick. That could be "disastrous," said Liang, especially considering that about 62 percent of them suffer from post-traumatic stress disorders related to their experiences under the Khmer Rouge, the regime blamed for the deaths of an estimated 1.7 million Cambodians.
Lowell has the country's second-largest Cambodian population, after Long Beach, Calif. An estimated 30,000 Cambodian refugees live in the Lowell area.
In a bid to keep the program alive, Liang is spearheading a petition drive asking the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the Massachusetts congressional delegation to reinstate the funding. Liang acknowledges the effort is a long shot.
Llelwyn Grant, a CDC spokesman, said the Cambodian Community Health 2010 program was one of 70 around the country applying for 40 available grants this year. The applications were evaluated by health professionals, Grant said, and the Lowell program did not make the cut. He said the program can reapply for a grant in 12 months.
In the meantime, the Lowell Community Health Center and other agencies that use the program are developing alternative plans to help Cambodian residents, even though they are not sure about the funding for staff. Liang said he will be encouraging Cambodian residents to start visiting the Lowell Senior Center, for example.
The word about the program's demise is slowly getting out.
"I don't know what I'm going to do, because there's nobody to help me," said Sror Leng, 77, who suffers from arthritis and high blood pressure.
Madoroin Huot, 68, is in the same situation. "I can't speak English, and I can't drive," Huot said through an interpreter. "So, I'm depressed and I don't know what to do."
Russell Contreras can be reached at rcontreras@globe.com.
Then the Cambodian Community Health 2010 program came along, offering the 67-year-old and other elder Cambodian refugees exercise, field trips, health education, translators, socials, and a reason to stay active. It pushed Keat out and about, even convincing him to regularly take the bus despite his use of a cane and his slow gait.
But come Oct. 26, the program that has helped more than 3,000 Cambodian refugees will cease to exist. The US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has announced that it will no longer fund the program. Nearly two dozen health workers and educators will lose their jobs, leaving many older refugees like Keat on their own.
"I don't know what I'm going to do," said Keat, speaking in Khmer. "I need people to help me translate" during visits to the doctor.
Vong Ros, executive director of the Cambodian Mutual Assistance Association, one of many local groups that use the program, said he feels ashamed it is ending and does not know what to tell the older Cambodians in the community.
"They were the people responsible [for bringing] their families out of the Khmer Rouge. They fended for their families and kids," said Ros. "Now their kids are grown up here, have to work. This leaves [the elders] vulnerable."
Cambodian Community Health 2010 started in 1990 as an effort to attack and solve various health issues in the Cambodian community, from heart disease to diabetes to mental health problems, said Dorcas Grigg-Saito, chief executive officer of the Lowell Community Health Center, where the program is based.
The $900,000-a-year program aggressively pushes prevention education and had started peer support groups to reach out to the Cambodian population, which remains skeptical of the modern-day healthcare system, something that was nonexistent in rural Cambodia, said Grigg-Saito.
In addition to education and outreach, the program offers tai chi and walking, meditation classes, diabetes treatments, special home visits, and educational tapes in Khmer about hypertension. It has also provided translators for doctor visits.
"It's given the Cambodian community a sense of empowerment," said Grigg-Saito. "This allowed them to develop skills to do things for themselves and be proactive about their health."
Sidney Liang, director of Cambodian Community Health 2010, said he fears that without the program many older Cambodians now will not go to a doctor or seek help until they become sick. That could be "disastrous," said Liang, especially considering that about 62 percent of them suffer from post-traumatic stress disorders related to their experiences under the Khmer Rouge, the regime blamed for the deaths of an estimated 1.7 million Cambodians.
Lowell has the country's second-largest Cambodian population, after Long Beach, Calif. An estimated 30,000 Cambodian refugees live in the Lowell area.
In a bid to keep the program alive, Liang is spearheading a petition drive asking the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the Massachusetts congressional delegation to reinstate the funding. Liang acknowledges the effort is a long shot.
Llelwyn Grant, a CDC spokesman, said the Cambodian Community Health 2010 program was one of 70 around the country applying for 40 available grants this year. The applications were evaluated by health professionals, Grant said, and the Lowell program did not make the cut. He said the program can reapply for a grant in 12 months.
In the meantime, the Lowell Community Health Center and other agencies that use the program are developing alternative plans to help Cambodian residents, even though they are not sure about the funding for staff. Liang said he will be encouraging Cambodian residents to start visiting the Lowell Senior Center, for example.
The word about the program's demise is slowly getting out.
"I don't know what I'm going to do, because there's nobody to help me," said Sror Leng, 77, who suffers from arthritis and high blood pressure.
Madoroin Huot, 68, is in the same situation. "I can't speak English, and I can't drive," Huot said through an interpreter. "So, I'm depressed and I don't know what to do."
Russell Contreras can be reached at rcontreras@globe.com.
1 comment:
Hello Dr Lao Mong Hay, here is a specific site of vietnamese invasion ( military) and number of military. Can we refer this to UN?
Areak Prey
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