Published | November 7, 2025 | by Daniel Barraez, MD, MBA
Some trips change you. They don’t just add stamps to a passport — they leave marks on your heart, shape your perspective, and remind you why you chose medicine in the first place. My most recent mission to Nigeria was one of those journeys.
This wasn’t my first time traveling abroad to provide care, and it wasn’t my first time in Nigeria. But it was one of the most meaningful experiences of my career because it brought together everything I care about: surgery, education, and a lifelong commitment to giving back to those who don’t have what I’ve been fortunate to have.
My passion for global health and service started long before I stepped off the plane in Lagos. Years ago, I volunteered twice in my home country of Venezuela, traveling deep into the Amazon rainforest to reach communities that had almost no access to surgical care.
We built makeshift operating spaces, often with limited supplies, and performed surgeries like appendectomies and hernia repairs for patients who had never seen a surgeon before. The conditions were far from ideal — sometimes there was no
running water, and often there was no electricity — but the gratitude in our patients’ eyes reminded me that medicine is about so much more than hospitals and technology. It’s about showing up where you’re needed most.
Those experiences planted a seed. They made me realize that as physicians, we have a responsibility to look beyond our own clinics and hospitals and to use our skills to make a difference wherever the need is greatest.
That same drive brought me to Nigeria — not once, but twice. This year’s mission focused on something especially close to my heart: laparoscopic surgery. As a minimally invasive gynecologic surgeon, I’ve seen firsthand how these techniques
can transform outcomes. They mean smaller incisions, shorter recovery times, and less pain — but in many parts of the world, they remain out of reach simply because surgeons haven’t had the opportunity to train in them.
Our goal was to help change that. Over two days, we partnered with local residency programs and surgical faculty to deliver an intensive, hands-on training course designed to build confidence and skills in minimally invasive gynecology.
We brought laparoscopic box trainers — simple but powerful teaching tools — and structured the curriculum from the ground up: camera handling, peg transfers, and basic tissue manipulation on day one, followed by more complex tasks like
intracorporeal knot-tying and vaginal cuff closure. Many stayed long after sessions ended to keep practicing, eager to perfect their skills. That enthusiasm reminded me why education is such a powerful form of impact: because it multiplies. Each surgeon we train will go on to care for many patients.
For me, this wasn’t just a teaching trip — it was deeply personal. It was the fulfillment of something I’ve carried with me since those early days in the Amazon: a belief that everyone deserves access to the best care available, regardless of their geography, beliefs, or socioeconomic status.
Surgery, at its core, is about restoring quality of life. But for too many people, the care they need is separated from them by barriers they didn’t create — lack of resources, lack of training, lack of infrastructure. Being able to help lower those barriers, even in a small way, is one of the greatest privileges of my career.
And while this was my second mission to Nigeria, I know it won’t be my last. Each time I go, I learn as much as I teach — about resilience, collaboration, and the shared human desire to care for one another.
Our hope now is to make this program sustainable — to create a framework local faculty can continue and grow. We’re already exploring ways to support follow-up sessions, virtual coaching, and new modules tailored to local needs. Because the ultimate goal isn’t just to teach surgery — it’s to help build a system where access to high-quality, minimally invasive care is the norm, not the exception.
This mission reminded me why I became a surgeon: not just to operate, but to serve. And it reaffirmed something I’ve always believed — that our skills mean the most when we use them to lift others up.
By Daniel Barraez, MD, MBA