Sunday, February 28, 2010

haiti (part 3)

In the words of JT, one of our most illustrious post-op patients who had the MOST DIFFICULT time coming out of anesthesia...

"I need someone...by my side!"

My time in Haiti was spent working side by side with gifted doctors, surgeons, nurses and paramedics. Talented in their fields, and remarkably compassionate and charitable in their personal lives, these people guided, supported and comforted me through the most formidable endeavour of my life. Their examples, shaped by their experiences on various and multiple service missions prior to the earthquake, inspired me to dedicate myself to humanitarian service in the future (hopefully with them!).

Dr. Vishy Broumand...outstanding surgeon from Florida...kept us on our toes with his wit and fabulous sense of humor!


Dr. Herold Duroseau is a pediatrician from Brooklyn. He is originally from Haiti and was able to communicate with our patients both in word and thought...he lost family members in the quake and his dedication and compassion touched all those he came in contact with.


Kimberley Williams, RN from LA...my girl, my sister! Friends for life we share a love and devotion for Haiti that will produce great things in the future! Kim was my inspiration, confidante and protector through our week long adventure.


Ome and Marie Winter (interview with CNN) Ome (pronounced oh-me ) is the director of Mission Rescate, a Christian based group from the Dominican Republic, responsible for providing medical care, food, supplies and medication for hundreds of homeless and injured Haitian people. Our clinic developed and ran under the cloak of this incredible woman's efforts. Faithful and devout, Ome's life literally revolves around providing aid to others. Never in my life have I met a more humble servant of God.

Marie is a fabulous, sassy nurse practitioner who gave me Xanax and loads of invaluable advice!

Dr. John Briggs is a family practice physician who currently lives in Togo, Africa as a Christian missionary. I would frequently hear him ask the locals "have you met Jesus?" John's experience made him a valuable asset to the clinic.
(plus, he was brilliant! learned the language in three days!)


Merari Rodriguez, a nurse from Florida, has already been back to Haiti for another week! Adorable but tough as nails...Merari is a friend for life!


Kim, Mary Oestreich, RN and me at the mountain home of a generous Haitian pastor.

(2 days of (wicked!) diarrhea + 5 days of insomnia = me looking like THIS!)



Jonathan Cotton, RN from Los Angeles...mature well beyond his twenty-five years, and gorgeous to boot! Jon took care of me when I was dehydrated, listened to my woes about having the runs...IN HAITI, and expertly gave me IV fluid to perk me up for another day in the clinic.



We took a little field trip to the beach on a Sunday afternoon, a group of us accompanied by ever-protective police officers. Exhausted after several days of grueling, emotional work, the get-a-way proved exactly what we needed to rest and recharge. Although the beach was not overly scenic, it offered a respite from the noise, smells and chaos of camp. My colleagues and I were able to sit and talk, learn about one another and share stories about our "regular lives." I will forever cherish that time and that much needed escape. It was yet another experience that bound us together not only as medical volunteers, but as friends, life long friends who would forever share the remembered sights, sorrows, joys and triumphs of a country broken but not destroyed.




I needed someone...by MY side...I am grateful for those who stood by me, taught me, and loved me despite my inexperience, insecurities, (illness!) and fears.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

haiti (part 2)

Saturday, January 23, 2010
(from my journal)

"Peds again today-Yay! I love these kids. I truly love them, and I tell them I love them, and I kiss them and hug them and kiss them some more. They are special little souls, these children of Haiti. So strong, so valiant."



Ninety-eight percent of the children that visited our clinic presented with complaints of vomiting, diarrhea, abdominal pain, fever and cough. Most were not actually sick; moms were seeking food, formula, pedialyte, and diapers. Those that had legitimate ailments were given medication, (antibiotics for ear/respiratory infections, tylenol and motrin for fever, decongestants for stuffy noses) sometimes breathing treatments if respirations were a struggle. All babies were given diapers, many were given formula and food. Ill or not, every child was dehydrated, and to all we gave Pedialyte (thank you Abbott Medical for the endless supply of lifesaving Pedialyte!).











Most of the children we saw in the clinic had concerned, loving parents caring for them, keeping them safe. Even with the devastation surrounding them, these babies and children were happy, content, and CLEAN...so very very CLEAN! These families live in tents, have no running water, and yet their clothes are spotless!





If a baby seemed quite sick, the doctor or nurse in triage would bring him back to us right away. Such was the case with a twenty day old, tiny little angel of a boy. He was brought in by a desperate father who explained the baby's mother had left two days earlier. Nobody knew where she had gone, or if she was coming back. The baby hadn't eaten since she left. "He won't stop crying," dad said, "I don't know what to do." The baby was starving.

We had no bottles, so I started feeding him formula with a syringe. He stopped crying once the sweet taste of Similac hit his tiny little mouth. He seemed content with the feeding until he decided he wanted to suck. He moved his head side to side rooting for a source of comfort to accompany the much needed nutrition. He started crying again, fighting the syringe, but grasping for it at the same time. My heart was pounding and I began to slip into that frustrated, breath snatching mode. My vision blurred as my eyes filled with tears and I watched this innocent little baby struggle in distress over my futile attempts to comfort him.

At that moment I realized...I was here in Haiti for a reason, a purpose. I was here to help these people in any way I possible could. If I gave in to frustration what would they do? I had more to offer this baby at this time than his homeless, forsaken and forlorn father.

With that I put on a latex glove. I held the baby in one arm and alternately gave him a bit of formula from the syringe, then put a gloved finger in his mouth to suck. Back and forth, for about an hour. I was able to fill his little tummy and rest him in sweet snoring slumber on my shoulder.

When I finally handed the baby back to his father along with more formula than we were technically supposed to give one person, I looked him in the eyes and pleaded "please find his mother." The formula we provided will run out...he needs his mom, he needs her milk.

I pray for this little baby and so many others...my babies, my Haitian babies, every single day.



I did have a favorite.

A baby that seized my heart from the moment I gazed into his beautiful brown, endlessly-lashed eyes.



His name was Stanley and he was just over eighteen months old. Dressed in dapper (spotlessly clean!) overalls and a smart, striped t-shirt, he looked at me with a puzzled expression as I drifted in his direction entranced by his adorableness. I looked at him and started my usual oohing and awwing that I could not hold back while in the presence of these incredible children. Though none of these little ones could understand my language, they understood my tone and recognized my smile. They would smile in turn, and shyly duck into mom's arms grinning coyly, flirting and peeking to make sure I didn't slip away.

Stanley was different. When I spoke to him in my sing song voice he looked me right in the eye, and without any expression at all responded..."huh?"

Stanley's mother allowed me to take him for a walk around the clinic and camp. I showed off my new friend to everyone around.

"Talk to him," I'd say.

"Hi Stanley!"

"Huh?"

Every single time. He never cracked a smile. It was priceless.

I was in love...

His mother sensed I had fallen for him and before she left the clinic whispered a request that brought tears to my eyes. "You will take him? To the America?"

Oh how I wish I could.
(What a good mama--she wanted the very best for her sweet baby.)

(from my journal)

"...I love Stanley, I love all my Haitian babies. I love Haiti. I love the people I am working with and those we are serving. How did I get so lucky to have this opportunity so unexpectedly come my way? I will be forever grateful that it did."


Wednesday, February 10, 2010

haiti (part 1)

Tuesday, January 12, 2010 at 5:25pm an earthquake, 7.0 magnitude, shook the country of Haiti to it's core. It collapsed homes and buildings, killing hundreds of thousands, injuring even more. It left millions of people homeless, jobless, injured, without electricity, running water or the means to obtain food, medication or living supplies.




I watched the horror unfold through CNN, NBC and other news sources, hearing stories of despair and tragic, unnecessary death due to lack of medical help, supplies and medication.





"I need to go there" I told Scott.

I felt a pull--deep within my soul. A want, a need...to help. I didn't quite understand it until I received a phone call two days later, exactly a week after the earthquake, it was my sister, Chris..."do you want to go to Haiti?"

"yes, yes I do..."

Less than forty-eight hours after Chris's call I was sitting on an airplane heading to LA to meet up with a group from the Church of Scientology. They had a chartered plane set to take us to Miami, then on to Haiti.

I began this journey all alone. The opportunity came my way (as an answer to prayer)and through my sister, Chris, whose friend Stephanie works for a local travel agency owned by a member of the Church of Scientology. As mentioned earlier, the church had chartered a plane to Haiti to transport a group of their "volunteer ministers" (young adults specifically trained in disaster search and rescue). They were looking for medical professionals to accompany them, and I was anxious and ready to go. With the unwavering support of my sweet husband and kids, parents, sisters/brother and friends, I was somehow able to arrange my busy life to fit into Scott's very busy schedule and answer this call to serve in the country of Haiti.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

I remained alone for most of the day. Although touched and impressed by the acceptance of my traveling companions, I couldn't help but feel I had embarked on this (humbling, life-changing but dangerous) trek a solitary individual, isolated by both my professional practice and personal beliefs.

Then I met Kim.



I just happened upon a group of three, mid-conversation, while wandering the airplane aisle en route to Miami. One person was motioning toward a woman seated just two rows ahead of me "...you are permitted to give out medication because you are a nurse..." That was all I needed to hear...I made my way to the seat in front of the woman, leaned over and got her attention. "I'm a nurse too!" (I couldn't help but blurt) Unsure of how she would react to my bold attentions, I pulled back a bit to allow her to respond. To my relief and sincere joy I saw reflected in her face the exact feelings that had been troubling me since morning. Her radiant smile embraced me, and I knew, from that moment on, I would no longer be alone.

At 1:00 am we began our descent into a pitch black city, one devoid of electricity or even much structure. Once on the ground Kim and I walked arm in arm off the plane and onto the tarmac. After retrieving our belongings we piled into a truck along with a group of doctors and other nurses we had met in Miami. We were silent as we drove through still, narrow streets toward a camp set up within the confines of the police department in Port Au Prince. Upon arrival we were directed to a stack of patio chairs, told to find an open spot and get some sleep before morning.

Friday, January 22, 2010
(from my journal)

"My first night in Haiti...Lying there in 95 degree temperature, bugs flying around my head, sounds of the tent city across the street and police officer banter making it impossible to sleep at all! My heart was pounding as I tried to relax and calm myself with deep breathing and prayer. What in the world have I gotten myself into? I should have just said NO! It was such short notice. I'd love to go another time, that's what I should have said. But, I didn't say no, I said yes, and I'm probably going to die in another earthquake or by some act of violence, or I'll catch some horrific disease and suffer for a few months...then die. Well, nothing I can do about it now. Make the best of it and hope the week goes by quickly!


Our camp and makeshift clinic in Port Au Prince...we were surrounded at all times by armed police officers and soldiers...




The "original crew." Talented, compassionate, extraordinary group of doctors and nurses I worked with my first two days in Haiti.



Our clinic was set within concrete rooms of the former police station. We tried to keep things as clean as possible, but were challenged by bugs, heat, humidity, and dust.







Patients (up to five hundred a day) were treated in a triage tent in front of the compound. Adults who needed additional care (wound debridment, dressing changes, IV fluids, surgical attention, OB concerns, etc.) were taken to the eight bed ER (surgeries were done under local anesthesia and sedation). All babies and children were sent directly to the peds room (to me!) (and some of the most incredible pediatricians I have ever had the privelege of working with!)






A day ladened with sadness and overwhelming need at some point transitioned into moments of inspiration, touching gratitude and gladness.




As the sun set on my first full day in Haiti I gave in to utter exhaustion and slumped onto my patio chair/mattress berth and drifted into a calm sleep. Shouts and laughter woke me as camp life grabbed its second wind and tales of the day, proper introductions, and requests for dinner successfully diffused the stress and emotions of the difficult day.

I am so happy to be here. What a difference a remarkable day makes...


coming up...my babies, the people, the beach and Wynchesla...