The legend of Dr. Tebow grows
Fans by now know the legend of Tim Tebow by rote: he plays quarterback as well as anyone in America, sings on stage with the stars of country music, makes girls swoon every time he smiles.
During spring break, Tebow added a new facet to his fame. In an impoverished village outside General Santos City in the Philippines, Tebow helped circumcise impoverished children.
On the Friday of a weeklong trip to the orphanage his father's ministry runs in Southeast Asia, Tebow assisted with the care of locals who had walked miles to the temporary clinic that the ministry helped organize. More than 250 people underwent medical and dental procedures, some of them from "Dr. Tebow," who has no formal surgical training.
"The first time, it was nerve-racking," he said. "Hands were shaking a little bit. I mean, I'm cutting somebody. You can't do those kinds of things in the United States. But those people really needed the surgeries. We needed to help them."
Tebow didn't plan on operating that day in the Philippines — his job was to preach to the hundreds of people before they had teeth pulled or cysts removed. But as the day rolled on, he grew curious about the three Filipino doctors and his friend, University of Florida graduate and aspiring doctor Richard R.B. Moleno, in the bus-sized vehicle that served as a mobile hospital.
Tebow started as a helper and gofer, holding tools and running errands for the medics. By afternoon, he was asking questions and looking for more active ways to help. And by the end of an exhausting day, he was wearing gloves and a mask, wielding surgical scissors, finishing off stitches with a snip.
"You could see he was really into it," Moleno said. "He thought it was cool. I'd make a stitch, he'd cut a stitch. He got his hands a little wet in surgery."
Moleno joined three Tebows — Tim, brother Robby, and father Bob, along with Shaun Young, a friend and Florida graduate who plans to attend dental school this fall, on the trip. All five spent better than 24 hours on airplanes flying more than 9,000 miles to the Philippines; throw in the time change, and the men lost nearly two days to travel.
The five stayed at Uncle Dick's Home, the orphanage near General Santos City. They spent Monday through Thursday preaching at 15 schools, going from one to the other on bumpy Jeep rides. Throughout, the trip provided culture shock — the men carried toilet paper in their backpacks and cleaned themselves with "bucket showers," a local tradition that looked just how it's imagined.
Friday brought another ride, this one to an area that lacked even the basic amenities enjoyed in the city. Families lined up for hours waiting for the mobile-care units, and the people took numbers, like customers at a deli, to designate who would be seen first.
"It was a pretty amazing sight," Young said. "People wanted to get care so much they were fighting to get on the bus. They all thought their number should be next."
The locals started by hearing a brief Christian sermon from one of the Tebows and then moved to a brief medical exam from a Filipino doctor. The patients had their blood pressure taken, heart beat checked, and any available medical history reviewed.
Moleno had purchased medicine in the city, and patients not needing immediate care were given a stash and sent home. Others were sent to Young, who extracted a couple of dozen teeth, then gave toothbrushes to school-age children who had never cleaned their mouths before.
Others saw Moleno, who after a crash course from the Filipino professionals, circumcised 10 boys and removed six cysts, some the size of tennis balls. Tebow helped with the last few circumcisions, growing more comfortable with each one.
"I got a kick watching him," Bob Tebow said. "He did a great job, and he didn't look really nervous. I wouldn't let him cut on me, but he did well and helped where there was a need."
The men worked until dark, Bob Tebow said, and still had to turn away at least 50 people. The Americans performed in tight quarters by their standards and helped introduce basic tenets of medical care to their Filipino friends; Young said he got some strange looks from his professional colleagues when he wanted to sterilize tools between each procedure.
The three college-aged boys all recalled separate but similar images from their stays. Young never had seen teeth as bad as what he found in the youths' mouths. Moleno remembered the gobs of dark matter that filled the cysts. Tebow thought back to a young boy shot in the stomach years ago; doctors, in a procedure he watched, removed the bullet from the tissue that had grown around the slug.
All three remembered the reactions of the children they helped heal.
"It's really vivid for me," Tim Tebow said. "I don't remember anybody crying while we treated them. Those kids were so tough."
Back in the Jeep, the boys returned to the orphanage Friday night, and 48 hours later were back in Florida. Each not only wants to return but hopes to inspire others to join them in helping the poor overseas. Tim Tebow has come closest so far — Florida coach Urban Meyer said this week that Tebow motivated him and his family to make a planned mission trip to the Dominican Republic this summer.
As for the doctor thing, that seems to be a temporary gig for Tebow. He played quarterback in last month's spring game and plans to spend the fall trying to lead the Gators to a national championship, maybe snagging another Heisman Trophy along the way.
That, no doubt, will grow his legend much more. But in a small Filipino village two months ago, that legend got its biggest boost yet.
"You always hear that this kid can do anything," Young said, "and then I see him doing surgery. Maybe he can do anything."
