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Hey all,
I am home now, currently sitting on my butt in Snohomish, Wa, spending far too much time on the computer. It's pretty crazy how luxurious endless energy and internet are. Yes, I'm feeling a little spoiled rotten.

So, I've been home for almost two weeks and have been putting off writing most things! I'm not quite sure why. At the beginning of June, I trekked from Haiti to the Netherlands (with a short stint in S. Carolina to see some very cute and entertaining nephews, my sister, and brother-in-law) for the wedding of Dustin and Annelies, my partners in crime in Haiti. They met in Haiti in early 2008 and have been waiting for this date (June 10) for a long time. I was more than happy to see the day finally come since I am such a huge fan of this couple. I've posted one of my favorite pictures from the day.

My mom accompanied me. We had a great time with the people there. Being with so many "Haiti people" I had never met or never met outside of Haiti, was pretty unreal. It was crazy to be all under one roof and share stories of how Haiti has been a part of our lives in so many different ways and time periods. Thank you Dustin and Annelies for the occasion...

As I sit at home and sift through pictures and stories, I may post some I didn't have time for before. Stay tuned...

May 28, 2009 Port au Prince

Right now I have no words but feel like I need to let some out. My eyes are tired and sore. Partly from the dirt in the eyes from the tap tap ride to Port du Paix, but mostly from crying most of the morning. I lost it this morning when I sat outside the house in the waking sun drinking my coffee - this was my last morning in Passe Catabois. I lost it when I kissed Rosnie goodbye - we've been together since January. I gave her a hard time this morning for not going into labor last night. I wanted to see the baby before I left, but she's only 8 months. I almost lost it when I entered the clinic for the last time. Anne Marie comes out and says, How are you? uh..not good Anne Marie, obviously. I completely lost it when we past through the schoolyard to see Lisa, Miriam, and Rose, but instead found Robina, the guard's daughter who I've seen everyday since the beginning; we are kindred spirits. She just stood there staring, why do you have to leave? I walked up to her and just said "M'ale" through my tears, "mwen pa vle kit'o". I finally found the other three before they ran away. Then onto the carfou to wait for a tap tap, but I knew I had to pass the Jal house before. I could barely get the "m'ale" out because I knew I was just going to blubber hardcore. Tears saying goodbye to Rob, tears on the tap tap taking me away from Passe Catabois, tears when the plane finally lifted off the ground...ugg...this sucks beyond most things.

The Best Beach Day Ever

The best beach day ever. Anne Marie decided it was time again to take a trip to the beach - with everyone from the hospital, and my going away was a great excuse to finally do it. It was a production to say the least, quite the big deal. It was the talk of the town (hospital) for the two weeks leading up to it. The beach, the beach, we're all going to the beach! It was going to be great. To see everyone, who had been so weak and sick when they came to us, in a new element was going to be the best reward of all. Madam Jal got food and preparations in advance to be able to prepare a big meal at the beach for everyone. This included a goat, several massive (I mean massive) pots of rice and beans all cooked over three rocks and firewood. And so Friday morning, after everyone had their pills and their shots, we all got into two tap taps and Rob's car. Um...this would be 73 bodies...I did the math. And oh, holy man, they were excited. Singing and shouting the whole way. My tap tap was a little quieter, but they caught on soon enough.

To see their faces, to know that this was the first time many of them had ever been to LaBay, to the beach (since many live in poor areas high up in the mountains), to be together with everyone, and everyone treated the same, to be almost drown by all the kids hanging onto us in the water, to see everyone have a day off, cover themselves with sand, "bathe" in the ocean, and eat a big Haitian meal...was beyond awesome...beyond words.

oh yeah and to ride back on top of the cab of the tap tap was so worth it (don't tell my dad about that one).

Wednesday May 20, 2009

It’s dark this morning with the cloud covering. It’s fitting considering the state of my heart. It’s getting difficult. Nine more days. It’s especially hard in some moments. Moments of a good conversation with Frer Jal or my dear friends in the hospital, Rosnie and her husband Luka, who have been with me since January. There is something different about them. They understand. They see the state of their country and are not proud of everything going on here. But they are also not paralyzed by it. There is hope in their voices, pride in their children, and hearts that reflect that perhaps they really know Christ. They give me hope. Lately, they have been reminding me that I can count down the days until I leave. I say I don’t want to talk about it.

Last night was another classic Haiti moment. Sara and I decided our feet needed some soaking and heavy-duty cleaning as the cracks around our heels and toes were so caked with mud to the point a simple shower did not suffice. At least this was my case; I can’t speak for Sara or she may hit me when she reads this. So out came the basins, soap, and lufa scrubber. As we scrubbed away (my foot file is now useless as I think the skin of my heels dulled the dang thing), we reflected on the past couple weeks. They have been heavy. We had the delivery of the twins where one required CPR for about an hour (they are both ok now!), the next day the woman with preeclampsia finally delivered another set of twins - one was breech, then we had another set of twins come in with obvious developmental delay - they are three years old and weigh 11 and 13 pounds. I was stunned in silence when we saw they were really three years old. We are still trying to figure out if it’s a congenital condition or just plain malnutrition. After that, we had the 22 day old baby with the temperature of 108 (now, a week later she is beginning to cry, breastfeed, and is fever-free; can we say miracle?). We had a women with such severe anemia, all she could do was lay on the bed and arouse at times with her intense abdominal pain. All she needed was a blood transfusion, but we had to deal with the fact that the family probably wouldn’t embark on the difficult journey to the hospital in town and she would probably die (we still haven’t heard from her). This week started off with a four year old boy in obvious respiratory distress. Perhaps an epiglottitis, or some intense swelling in his throat, was causing us some fear that he would die right in front of us. We were even beginning to talk of intubation or creating a temporary trach, despite our lack of electricity and adequate supplies. They ended up going to LaPointe with him. Yesterday we saw three kids who were so skinny, their ribs protruding through their skin. With the stress of the past weeks it was a little hard to take. Their family just doesn’t have enough money to buy food. Sometimes I feel defeated, they seem to come everyday.

Most of the cases were just a reminder to me of the injustice in medical care in different parts of the world. All these cases in the states would be handled with confidence….or they wouldn’t exist at all.

May 19, 2009

Yesterday was a sacred moment for me. Linda, the mother of the baby I took care of for three weeks last September, Ismael, met me at the hospital in the morning. I didn’t recognize her at first, but was shocked beyond all words when I figured out who it was. I never thought I would see her again and haven‘t seen her since October. Ismael, we think had some brain damage from birth and was not feeding, so I fed him via NG for close to a month. I later heard he died about a month after they left the hospital. I had been named his Godmother.

After I ran back from the house to get some pictures I had of Ismael and Linda, I gave them to her and we just sat outside the hospital. We were sitting outside the room she had been in with Ismael. She was quiet, very quiet. I tried talking with her some; how was her family, what she is up to, then talked some about Ismael. And that’s when the tears came. She sat there in silence as the tears just rolled down her face. I was surprised. Never in my life have I seen a Haitian mourn like that. Usually it’s loud wailing or they just put up a brick wall inside and never show any emotion. But here she was, an 18 year old who had already seen her first baby die, sit in raw emotion and mourn as she reflected on him.

The moment was bittersweet for me. We both sat there in silence crying together. It was a connection beyond words. I started thinking about everything that has actually gone down in the building at my back. All these different faces started to float into my mind. I hadn’t let my mind think about them for quite a while.

May 17, 2009

A little fun and chaos. Tonight Sara decided we should utilize the massive amount of top ramen (I mean massive) we have stored in our kitchen that teams have left over the past months. We would make several extra large pots of top ramen and somehow port it down to the hospital to give to all the patients. It was a production. I walked into the preparations after they had already started. I found Sara with Lisa, Miriam, and Rose among several large steaming pots, top ramen packets every where, Lisa with a wooden meat tenderizer running to the next packet of ramen to crush, and Rose expressing her usual energy and noise around the whole kitchen. It was quite hilarious.

To my surprise, we pulled it off. It seemed to me everyone in the hospital loved the "American spaghetti" and after some time were starting to get a little loud, crowding, and wild to see if there was any more left. We made so much. We dealt everyone a portion bigger than I could eat myself. The sad part is we still have a lot of top ramen left in the kitchen (thank you teams).

The end of the night was just the frosting on the cake. Right when we were about to leave the hospital to walk the girls home, it started to pour. Rain in massive amounts I haven't seen in a while (thank you Jesus). We tried waiting it out but decided just to go since it was dark and getting late. The girls were troopers, all huddling under their one umbrella, trying not to slip in the mud, and giggling the entire time. But then it came: Lisa fell in the mud! One whole side covered in mud, but the look on her face was priceless. Pure glee and laughter. The girls were laughing so loud the whole way home as we tried not to slip again.

May 13, 2009

Yesterday was something fierce. Something we haven’t had in a while. After rounds in the morning I walked in the clinic to find Anne Marie and Sara, who had gone on ahead of me, in the midst of resuscitating a baby who had just been born. A twin girl who had been born after her twin brother who had come out breech. She had been fine until the point when she came out. She wasn’t breathing, and so the resuscitation began. We all were working on her for probably 45 minutes. She was there on and off but not breathing well enough on her own the whole time. After a while she started to come around, breathing on her own, a good heartbeat, and responding better.

Then we moved on to the next patient. A lady 8 months pregnant in preeclampsia. To make it better we found two heartbeats. Another set of twins! We decided it was best to keep her and induce the labor ourselves. So on went the IV pitocen and we just had to wait to see if it would be effective enough for her to give birth that day, all the while watching her blood pressure and babies closely.

In the meantime a woman brought her 22 day old baby in who was not responding. She was hot. We took her temp, and I was shocked beyond all words when I saw it read 108.0. Never in my life have I ever heard of something so absurd. What?!!! For a few minutes we just stood there, I think we were all just waiting for her to die there right in front of us. She was forgetting to take breaths every now and then. But after we got over the shock factor we tubed her to try and get some meds in her before it was too late. Who know what a temperature like that was doing to her brain. After four hours we got her temp down and she was beginning to wake up. Still not present enough to respond well, but waking up not the less. Now we will just wait and see what happens.

To make the day even better, Sara and I ended the day with a battle that involved a lot of sweat and the killing of four spiders who decided to get a little closer than were welcomed (inside our mosquito net and under the bed). I’m eating my words about being comfortable with spiders. But these were not our friendly banana spiders. They looked a little closer to baby tarantulas.

Let’s just say it wasn’t the best day.


Update today:
The first set of twins went home! Both breastfeeding and appear well.
The second set of twins were born today. It went beautifully. Two boys, one head out first, the other butt out first. He was small enough to come easily.
Our temperature baby is still with us. Still weak and sleeping most of the day, but is taking milk with a syringe. We will still have to wait it out.

May 11, 2009

Today I saw Robenchley smile. Saying it in words just like that takes away from how monumental this event really is. So I hope you can take my word for it. His mom called me over, “look, he’s smiling! He’s so happy today. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile since he’s been sick.” Robenchley is 6 months old, the size of a newborn, and has been sick for 2 months. He’s our mystery baby really. We admitted him just to watch him so we could try to figure out what was wrong. He’s dangerously skinny - a full cage of ribs in view when his chest is bare and his symptoms were so vague it could have been any number of things.

Finally after a few weeks with him still losing weight despite the milk we gave him we decided to start on Tb treatment because he has a string of swollen lymph nodes around his neck; one of the signature findings in a type of extra pulmonary Tb. I was nervous starting such heavy medications on a baby in such a state. The last time we tried, it did not go too well.

But now it’s been two weeks. He is gaining weight and starting to hold himself upright. And get this. He…smiled…today…



It’s a pretty big moment to see that when a baby you thought would eventually die who was always sitting in the crook of his mom’s neck with the saddest look on his face, bust out a smile.

Wadelene
post-kwash malnutrition
finished with Medika Mamba program

Love Nayson
8 year old
malnutrition
turned into all-around trouble-maker

May 6, 2009

It’s May. The thoughts of actually having to leave this place have been starting to overtake my mind. It does not feel good to say the least. I don’t feel ready and I don’t think I ever will be. Leaving the relationships I’ve made is the part that is going to rip my heart out. I’ll try to not think about it as long as possible. I have 23 days…

Some highlights of our last few days/weeks:

-last week we got two newborn baby boy twins. Ultimate preemies; they had to have been born at 30 weeks. Their bodies were about as big as my hand. They had been at home for 11 days before they came (thank you Port du Paix hospital for sending them home after birth). Jaundiced, not breastfeeding well, and basically too undeveloped for life. We were hopeful however, since they were able to drink their mother’s breast pumped milk and were even starting to gain weight. But two days later they both died in the night. It was a little hard to take. What they needed was a NICU, incubator, and a lot of tubes.

-Sara and I have been doing a lot of stitching. For some reason, right after we learned, it seems someone comes in everyday with some accident needing stitches. Yesterday a lady came in with a gash on her forehead: a boy had been throwing rocks trying to get mangos out of a tree and it somehow hit her square in the forehead!

-Speaking of mangos… they have arrived! If you know me at all, you would understand the excitement I feel about this and would understand why it’s necessary for me to eat at least two a day.

-Sara has created her “rat pack” at the hospital, aka. a group of kids who are head over heals for her and follow her wherever she goes. Spending Saturdays taking them all to the river or the afternoons bathing them all, she has more patience and energy than I do! Sometimes it gets a little out of hand, especially with a few malnutrition kids (who obviously are ready to go home, since they have their energy back and are starting to cause quite the trouble). A few days ago we were trying to leave the hospital to go home and a few kids wanted to “walk us to the path”, which is their custom everyday now. It’s usually a battle to make them stay where they are and let us go to our house. This day we had Love Nayson, an 8 year old who looks like he’s 4, but has the spirit of an 8 year old hyped up on caffeine with ADHD times 10 and another little boy named Onaldo. We were walking and Love stops and gets ready to pee (all the while holding Sara’s hand). We say, No! you don’t pee right there!!! Then he starts chasing Sara to pee on her (yes…he…is bad). We are yelling at him until I feel something wet and warm on my foot. I turned around and saw Onaldo peeing on my foot! He was obviously inspired to fe dezot from the ultimate troublemaker, Love! Oh man we were so mad, or at least trying to appear that way while they are running from us giggling. That episode ended up with me taking a kawot (a tree branch) to threaten to hit them, since I was so “mad” and Frer Jal finally coming out to give them some “punishment” at which they finally ran back to the hospital. I think we were laughing the whole way back home, which I’m sorry to say was not really appropriate, but just the natural response!

-A boy we’ve had in the hospital on and off since last September, Olviner, who has chronic osteomyelitis of his shoulder finally got the surgery he needed!! We were able to send him to the mission in Saint Louis a few weeks ago since they were having a large group of doctors and surgeons coming from the states. He’s had this chronic infection for so long, it’s a wonder he is still alive. I think he’s seen every medical team we have had here and every time it seemed to be so hopeless, since all he needed was to have the shoulder opened all the way up, cleaned from the inside, and put on IV antibiotics, something we obviously can’t do with our set up here. Anyway, last week I rounded the hospital and saw him sitting outside with his mom with the biggest smile on his face. I exclaimed, “the surgery is done?!!!” and he nodded. I almost cried at that moment; it was a great moment.

-I really know I’ve been in Haiti for too long when last night I noticed two spiders on top of my mosquito net and was like, hmmm…that’s nice, then a little while later I hear a thud and saw that one of the lizards who walk on the walls in our room had flopped onto my bed and I was like…hmmm, that’s nice, and then I opened the door to our food cabinet and saw a cockroach, and my natural response was: “Mr. Cockroach, do you really need to be there right now?” and just closed the door on him.

April 29, 2009

Sometimes I feel like my senses are dulled to what’s going on around me. Not as sharp, not as reactive, not as impressed as when I first was immersed in this culture. And that bothers me. But a couple days ago, I felt something. I had to sit outside in silence for a while after I did an HIV test for one of our Tb patients. Positive…again. Number five of our Tb patients who we’ve discovered are also HIV positive. And that’s not counting spouses we’ve tested too. It’s overwhelming and makes you feel like your working to try and move a boulder a hundred times as tall as you that’s just going to topple back over you anyway. But this Tb patient I had just tested is 21... and 8 months pregnant. Her husband was the one who came to the clinic for the test after we heard he’d spent time in the Dominican and Anne-Marie had a hunch. I saw the two lines that said positive and just felt defeated. The past couple weeks we’ve seen so many positives and sometimes I wonder what Haiti’s going to look like in 20 years. How prolific will the disease be or will it just wipe out a generation? It’s easy to blame individuals but bigger societal and cultural problems are core. But when it attacking young women and their unborn babies, that’s when I can feel the rage start to boil inside me. I think I need to just listen to the song that’s playing in my ear right now:

“Everything’s broken…but it still can be redeemed.”

Maybe the Lord is trying to tell us something…

April 21, 2009

Feeling sick today. Two days with fever is never fun when Haiti decided to turn on the heat. It…is…hot… ugg. Work at the hospital is taking a lot of time. A lot of people. A lot of milk making (Sara’s doing most of it). A lot of breast pumping. A lot of talking. A lot of trying to keep the kids in order (pa fe dezod!) - they should probably go home soon. My stomach has been hurting so bad I felt if someone pricked it with a pin, I would fly away like a balloon with some force (and maybe the person in front of me would be flat on their back too). The rock that once was my stomach is breaking and I think the Cipro will have to come out soon. But life, rounds, and people who need medicine go on, so that’s what we do. I’m just glad I’m not alone. One thing I can say: Jeb (Gail?), thanks for the homemade chocolate chip cookies. I’m eating them despite my stomachache because it…is… so… worth it.

Sunday April 19, 2009

Now we are done with teams for a while, which I’m a little glad (ready for a rest is more like it). I can really focus on the hospital now and the people there. It is full, almost to the max, once again. My thought is when more help comes (ie. Sara), more work comes. It never fails. More Tb and now several malnourished babies (I like to think came especially for Sara) we are really focusing on now. One 6 month old baby who started to swell up a few days ago with the beginning of Kwash malnutrition was our focus yesterday. It was us running down to the hospital every two hours yesterday to force feed her F-75 Unicef milk. I think she will be ok if she continues to take the milk, but has the potential to be a source of frustration. Other than that we are just juggling our outpatient mamba kids, Cinderella project kids, and continuing Tb patients. I’m hoping to rest a little today before it all starts again tomorrow.

Ps. Leah finally arrived yesterday after spending 11 hours in the small airport in Port au Prince. And that was after missing their plane the day before and having to spend the night in Port au Prince. Welcome to Haiti… she brought a friend of hers who has a dream of starting some educational projects in Haiti someday; just to show her around and poke around for some opportunities. I’m excited to have my friend here for the week and for 5 days I don’t have to answer the infamous question I hear almost everyday; “Ki le Miss Leah ap vini isit? (When is Miss Leah coming?)”

April 17, 2009

Finally a moment of silence. Even the chickens and sheep are quiet which is actually a miracle in itself. I’m sitting outside in the rising sun this morning, drinking the strongest cup of coffee I could muster to try and break this headache. Plug in a little Jimmy Eat World and Jon Foreman and spend some time alone, reading, praying, thinking, writing…this is how I refresh.

My dad left yesterday, which I can’t even believe he was here for two weeks. It only felt like a couple days in all honesty. He was pretty tolerant of me as I worked most of the days in the clinic - he kept himself busy with work at the hospital. All the people there lingering and gawking at his masterpiece of cabinets. I think Haiti broke him as it does most people who come here. I think he loved it. I left him just as he arrived: with a little ounce of shock and stress. Just the two of us trekked into Port du Paix via tap-tap and after he left I caught a moto taxi and tap-tap back home by myself.

April 12, 2009

It’s been a while since I could update… because my dad is here! He came last week because he decided he missed me badly enough to come see me in this pretty insane country. So far he’s having a blast…at least that’s what he tells me. It’s time he sees all this with his own eyes and I’m super happy for the company. Last Saturday Rob and I picked him and my friend Sara, (who is a nurse and will be here for a couple of months) from the airport. Oh man…we went in on Rob’s motorcycle and up until then I forgot how afraid I was of things going fast. Don’t tell Rob, but I was holding on for dear life for most of the trip. He…can…drive… don’t tell my dad…. I think I already gave him a heart attack when I picked him up from the airport carrying a gigantic motorcycle helmet.

So, this week I’ve been busy once again with work and helping them settle to life here. It’s been pretty great. While I’m busy with work, my dad is working on some shelving for the hospital (and trying to keep the kids out of his tools, unsuccessfully I must say). And yesterday we had quite the adventure with going to the beach…you can ask him about that laterJ. It involved some moto taxis, two flat tires, a pretty sweet beach, a few naps, and a long haul on foot back to Passe Catabois.

Right now I’m starting to work with Sara and figure out how to divide and conquer, which is nice. A shared workload is better. However, only after a few days Sara found a baby to take care of (Sara!). Little Enel, is here just trying to recuperate after a bout with diarrhea, vomiting, and maybe some pneumonia. His aunt is responsible for him and has 11 other kids at home without a husband, so she couldn’t stay in the hospital with him, hence Sara took on the responsibility. We'll see if she is still sane in a week or so...

Wednesday April 1, 2009 (poison du Avril)

I know spiritual warfare is real and here in Haiti in a very overt way, but it’s different when it stares you right in the face. This morning I walked into the room of one our TB patients. People were grouped all around him, he was propped up in bet panting heavily and was looking a little distant. I knew something was up, but was trying to figure out if this was just Haitian drama (which is a lot of the time) or if it was something real. This man has been so sick and responding the slowest I’ve ever seen to Tb treatment. We’ve sent him to Port du Paix for different tests and even were seeking advise from other doctors as to if this was a resistant bug. But my best guess after today is that there is something else going on.

Something evil that is barring his body from healing. Apparently early this morning he was found on the floor after he had had a severe nightmare. Anne-Marie had seen him and everything was the ok in terms of the physical and medical. But when I got there he wasn’t talking, was sort of flopping around, and his eye…just…looked….crazy. I don’t know how else to explain it. I decided to just pray for him there because it seemed to me something evil was going on. He was obviously shocked and scared and seemed to just be changed. Anne-Marie reminded me he has started going to the church here in PC and it’s possible he was reaping persecution for that. This all sounds like crazy talk, but really, there is real stuff going on like that in Haiti.

Some nieces who just showed up today wanted to take him away for a few weeks, it’s possible to a witchdoctor, since we cannot treat him medically if he really has something evil inside. I ran to get medications for him to continue taking, but when I arrived a little later he was starting to come around. He was taking a few bites of food and starting to talk to me. I asked him if he had pain: no. I asked him if he was scared: yes. That is the core of Haiti; the core of voodoo: fear… He said he didn’t want to go, he wanted to stay with us. I don’t know what’s really in his heart, but I was so relieved. He wasn’t quite all the way there, but kept telling me, “wait for me, wait for me”. I told him I’d wait for him. I’m thinking Jesus did a miracle today.

Wednesday April 1, 2009

I was sitting at the hospital yesterday and just realizing how much I love the people here. I walked up to the hospital and spotted Jacque sitting outside with a group of Haitians as he was trying to conduct a bible study. He had a pretty big crowd yesterday. More than his usual meager few. So I sat down and listened for a while. Except I couldn’t listen well because as soon as I sat down Yolta and Robina, the guards girls, sat on me and started asking me when my dad was coming to visit (they get a kick out of the name Rick and laugh every time I say it because creole is not so good with the ‘r‘ pronounciations). They know he’s coming on Saturday but kept demanding: make him come tomorrow! All the while a couple of the patients were making faces at me and laughing; ok maybe I was making faces back, but oh, it’s like we have some inside jokes, but I’m not sure what the joke it. Nevertheless, the nonverbal communication was flying. All the while Jacque trying to continue reading from the bible. Oh man, sorry Jacque. I make such a nuisance of everything.

Naderge, a patient in the hospital somehow makes me crack up every time I look at her. Oh the faces she makes! I swear she could be a mime or maybe a stand up comedian. The other night I walked in her room for evening rounds and she was standing, walking around, narrating and acting out some outrageous story. She had everyone in the room rolling on the ground laughing. The best part is, the fact that she is still alive is a miracle. She has TB in her abdomen causing her to have ascites, which makes her look pregnant. She has HIV too. She came to us already on treatment from a different hospital who had put her on milligramage way above therapeutic range. And they didn’t tell her she had HIV. It was a nightmare. Maybe she is lying, but anyway, we started her on the correct treatment. Shortly after that, she became so sick, with what we think was a peritonitis. However, without imaging we didn’t know why or where. We all thought she would die since she appeared to be going septic, but the doctors with the dental team said he only chance was to put her on Moxifloxacin, an antibiotic that we have never used here. We thought there is no way we have it, but I opened up the medicine cabinet and there is was. We put her on it for 10 days and she is alive. I will try to capture her making one of her faces.

Our third team in three weeks arrived yesterday. The guesthouse has been hopping. This week we have more Russians and a few others from California, who are going to be doing construction on the church in Vion. Today they are finishing up welding various projects at the hospital and are on a mission to transform one of Rob‘s containers into an extra room we can put patients in the future. The previous team worked like nobody’s business and made some beautiful gates, doors, and shelves for the hospital. And Cliff, an old army mechanic, decided to extend his stay a few days because he has met his mother challenge. He’s been working on Rob’s old army truck that hasn’t run in a few year. He got it running! He still needs to finish up a few things. We are trying not to tell him about Rob’s other vehicles that aren’t working or he may stay a month!

I’m missing my friend. Dustin left yesterday for the Netherlands, which is probably a good thing because he was spending crazy amounts of money (I don’t really know, you’ll have to ask him) on phone cards and climbing to the tallest mountains to get service to call Annelies. Yes…they are made for each other. Nevertheless it was priceless having someone around to talk to who knows this place, this work, and this life. And not to mention someone I’ve been to hell and back with.

Wednesday March 25, 2009

This is an odd week so far. So slow. I feel useless at times because the patient load is just so low. Maybe in comparison to the week we had last week or just the fact that everyone had their medical problems taken care of, no one is having any problems this week…I don’t know!

Another team arrived Sunday. A team of construction guys who are working on building the roof of a church in a neighboring village and also doing some welding for the hospital. There is also a nurse and a PA, so I am working with them as well this week. Even though the day is not packed with patients, I think they are still enjoying their time so far. To make matters even more interesting though, is the fact that most of the team are Russians! Just throw one more culture and language into the mix here, and it’s pretty entertaining. The Russian, borsch, sausage, and tea are flowing to say the least. And man, these guys work hard. I heard they were pretty upset when they were forced to quite working at 5pm!

Onto other news: yesterday was officially Stop TB day worldwide. And to celebrate the day, our “TB nurse” at the clinic invited all the patients at the hospital for a party at a neighboring clinic. Apparently the department of health was putting on something that involved music and food. So, I gathered everyone from the hospital that could walk and we set out on a field trip. After a twenty minute walk, through a river, and up a few large hills and we arrived. At one point one of the girls was making another girl push her up the hill because she was so tired (as a joke); it was pretty funny. We arrived … and waited … and waited … and waited there … for 2 hours. Only the nurse from our clinic showed up. Welcome to Haiti…the deep care and compassion of the country’s leadership was felt by all. And so we walked back to our home, the hospital, empty-handed, but I didn’t hear anyone complaining. At least we got to go on a little field trip.

Side note: Yesterday I learned why Cenerge, a TB patient at the hospital, was collecting medical gloves all last week when the big team was here: he totally constructed a sling shot made out of a sturdy stick, woven rubber gloves, and the insides of bicycle tires. He is using it to knock birds out of trees…oh man…

Wednesday March 18, 2009

The English is flying! Passe Catabois is a different world this week. It’s like the fair…plus free clinic. Put up the tents, sell the elephant ears (pate) and the masses come for free medical consultations. There is a team of dentists and dental students who set up a clinic for pulling teeth on the roof of the hospital., plus a huge team from Saint Louis with docs and nurses for the medical side. But seriously, Dr. Shane and Dr. Alec, the docs that came with the dental team, are crazy. They look at a patient for a couple minutes and spill out this string of words; “I think he has rediculopathy in his spinal cavity, most likely due to HIV. That’s priority for the cause of his paralysis.” It seems like just pulling words out of their butt, but it’s real and accurate. They…are…smart…and I’m spending a lot of time feeling jealous of how much they know. I’m working with them a lot so far, working as translator and uh…cultural consultant, haha. Never in a million years would I have thought.

But the shock factor gets even better. Monday night they took off a gangrenous finger. Like, full on amputation, without cautary . It was 10 headlights, all the dental students huddled around, a very protected “sterile field” and a lot of throwing out of anatomical terms I’ve never heard of. It was crazy…but very well done.

I’m running on adrenaline and sweat and wonder when it’s going to run out. The company is so nice. Last weekend I was missing the other world so badly and I think the Lord delivered. The next day, the team arrived: a dentist from Granite Falls, four of the team members grew up in the Seattle area, and another one of the docs works at UW medical. A little bit of Northwest culture for the soul. And to top that off, Julie, my friend here who travels back and forth to Port au Prince for agricultural projects brought me back a sack of apples (which are no where to be found in Haiti) that said Yakima, WA ….. and… please recycle. Oh home sweet home….

Sunday March 15, 2009

My first trip to Foison! Foison is a village up high in the mountains bigger than PC. We have so many patients who come from that area and Dustin is here to work on some projects in that area so I was stoked to finally get the chance to see it. We went by motorcycle. Dustin is a pretty good driver and only almost dumped us one time (I’m kidding Dustin!). I’ve heard the area is beautiful and green beyond description but they have been lacking in rainfall for a while and much of it was dry and brown. Very disheartening when you think about the fact that most people survive on their own gardens, which depend solely on rainfall. I’m hoping it’s not another kick start to a wave of malnutrition.

But the highlight: we visited John, our two year old post malnutrition kid, who spent a couple months in the hospital with us last year. He stole our hearts too. We still see him every two weeks to follow his weight and health and help out the family when we can. He and his family live on top of one of the mountains surrounding the village in the valley. A small grass hut with almost nothing inside and the land surrounding is their garden looked quite parched. The family is typical. A single mother with her many children, and all the grandkids who have come from those children who are seeking love (or payment) in different ways. It’s sad…sobering…

Saturday March 14, 2009

Rob has been madly cleaning and moving things around the hospital in order to get things ready for the team of dentists and doctors coming this week. They came last year too and from what I heard, it was crazy. They saw over 1000 patients in three days! The team of doctors and medical personnel was numbered at 40 (who all stayed at and around (tents) the guest house). Luckily (for me) only the team of dentist are staying here and the others will commute from Beauchamp every morning. Commute! Ha! That is passing all the donkeys on the road. So long story short, pray for this week. That the teams would be effective here, that they would help people who really need help, that we would all be patient with the chaos going on and keep our heads on straight!

It seems like we will be cleared out in the next couple weeks. We have quite a few patients who are waiting to see the team of doctors this week and after that will go home. And the mass of TB patients we admitted in January have almost reached their 2 month point. And I think it’s time they go. They are all too well and causing all kind of desort (trouble) in the hospital now. You know when you come in the morning and see them dancing to the music coming from the tap tap beyond, they need to go home!

Dustin arrived here in PC on Thursday! I was excited to see my friend again, but couldn’t help but feel something was missing: Annelies. We are all missing her as she is back in the Netherlands working and getting ready for their wedding in June. Dustin will stay for a few weeks helping one of the pastors in Foison (a nearby village in the mountains) install internet.

I don’t know what’s happened to my patience and compassion, but lately I’ve been wanting to strangle all the chickens and sheep around the guesthouse. In my opinion when you hear bhaaaing and crowing right outside your window at 6 am, that is the natural response.

Random happenings of the week

The weather, mezami! It’s like we’ve been in the midst of a hurricane, but no rain. Well, rain a little at night, but the wind! I think it could blow a house away at times. And this morning the thermometer read 64 degrees. With the wind chill factor that’s probably about 52 degrees. I didn’t have a coat in the clinic on Thursday and felt like I was going to die (the Haitians were rolling on the ground laughing when I told them that).

It seems we’ve gotten into a little trouble with the Dept. of Public Health involving TB meds. They are a little angry at us at the moment, so we are waiting to see what they will do. We know we are in the right, but it’s possible we’ve caused them some embarrassment. I’m not sure how much I can write for the whole world to see, but know that we are ok, we are not in danger, but pray the clinic would be protected and this would blow over. (ps. They gave us a mondo box of TB meds that should last for quite some time. Mwen sezi! I couldn’t speak)

Two HIV patients that stayed with us for a very short time passed away after we sent them home. It seems to be raining HIV here.

My friend, Edmond, went home. He is a success story in itself. Came to us before I got here in January, skin and bones, skin all in rash, blisters, and infected, weak, not able to get out of bed. He has HIV. He wouldn’t even come out of his room and laid in his bed with a sheet over his head because he was so ashamed. He started with treatment at the big hospital but stayed with us to regain strength for a few months. His goal was to gain as much weight as possible, so every Friday (weight day) brimmed with excitement. Last Friday he weighed in at 57 kg. I think he came in at 48kg (105lbs) and he is probably 5’10”. The past few weeks have just been fun. He was always sitting outside making jokes with everyone. I was feeling down since he was leaving, but this morning I got up early and went running and on my way back I met Edmond on the road as he was starting his journey home on a mule at 6:00 in the morning! He had a huge smile on his face and said, I’m going home! It was a satisfying moment.

Things are changing at the hospital. The mass of TB patients we had in January will be going home in the next few weeks. It’s hard (ha! for me…)

Friday March 6, 2009

Last night I felt sober, sad, focused…sometimes I feel like I get a glimpse of something bigger: how the world really is. How I sit at the hospital and see how mankind is completely broken, sick, and desperate. How I watch the wind roll through the trees and think how all of creation is waiting, yearning for everything to be restored. How the distribution of resources, opportunity, and justice is so unfair. Anissaint, one of our HIV/TB patients, will be well enough to go home soon. But what will he do? Just sit there. There is no work in this country besides keeping your own garden, selling your own crops, which is usually completely dependent on rain, sun, the weather the Lord gives them. No matter how smart you are, how good your intentions are to build a good life, they are beaten down by their world that is Haiti. They go to the Dominican, most likely not so legally, scorned by the Dominicans, to find work. And they come back with HIV…Anissaint, Edmond…

Oh I already miss Edmond’s company…He went for his check up today at the big hospital, and so it’s likely he will go home in a few days. He’s my friend; always asking how my day went instead of bogging me down with ailments, complaints, and can’t you just give me a pill? It’s a breath of fresh air. Sometimes I wish I could really understand what’s going on inside his head. What he thinks of his life, of his illness, what he really thinks of the Lord in the face of a Haiti filled with a church that is self-serving, hypocritical, and unwilling to get their hands dirty with sweat, tears, and illness. Do they really know what Jesus did for them? Do they really know what it means to know him? Sometimes I see Anissaint sitting outside, completely alone, deep in thought; he has to be mulling over some pretty heavy thoughts.

I pray the Lord would show them life.

Jideline, Jidelande, and proud older sister, Elude, before they went home yesterday!

Wadelene yesterday

Friday February 27, 2009

Some Good News:

-Jideline and Jidelande, the 18 month old twin girls at the hospital, are going home tomorrow! The team in January spent a lot of time and energy and TLC on these girls. They are well, big, and will go home with check ups every 2-3 weeks!

-Wadelene, 9 year old malnutrition, achieved her goal weight today. She was 16kg this morning (and she came in 5 or 6 weeks ago at 11.5kg)! They will go home this week or the next. She is running all over the hospital with her short hair (they cut off all the blond hair and it is growing in black now!)

-Silvina, the lady who had the stroke, is doing so well. She’s still at the hospital, talking and able to move all of her right side. I don’t know what happened…a little bit of a miracle.

Thursday February 26, 2009

I started off the day reading Lamentations yesterday since I hadn’t visited it in a while and I love it. I love the emotion and the raw feeling. And it turned out to be fitting. I think I need to process what actually happened last night because I keep forgetting it happened; I guess it’s my way of coping with it or something. Last night a baby - 2 years old came - whole body burns from a house fire. They came and got me at the hospital since I hadn’t left yet. I was on the road to the clinic and I knew it was bad because everyone who had gone to look at the clinic was walking back shaking their heads saying, “oh Bondieu…” Frer Jal ran to get the key from Anne-Marie - she couldn’t leave the house since Rob wasn’t there so it was just me trying to figure out what the heck I was supposed to do. And so I just started cleaning his body as best I could. Everyone silent just watching what I was doing as we all stood in the dark with my headlight and a few flashlights. The skin was just peeling off. His face, part of his head, arms, legs, and parts of his back and chest were all burned; not so deep, but the surface area burnt was bad enough. He was responsive at times, which was surprising. I had given him ibuprofen and Tylenol already and then I just cleaned, put cream on, and wrapped him to try and keep him warm. I had no idea what to do with burns like that and was just praying the whole time that God would show me what to do. He was stiff and limbs were already cold, but I was shocked he was responding some when I finished. We had him drink a little, but 10 minutes later he was gone. Right in front of us on the table, he just stopped breathing. And even worse, his parents weren’t even the ones to bring him; it was a neighbor. I was mad. Mad that all the attempts were useless. And scared that I did something wrong; did I leave him uncovered for too long or had he aspirated what we gave him? But I know in my head he was already gone when he got here. The smoke inhalation alone can take kids. Ugg…just not a good end to an already bad day.

Silvina, one of the ladies in the hospital with heart failure, had a stroke today. She had been fine this morning when I saw her. But late in the afternoon they found her on the floor, not responding. Her right side wasn’t functioning well and she wasn’t able to talk. When we saw her in the evening we thought we would lose her; she had a major seizure when we were trying to get a hold of her family since they hadn’t been there in a few days. Uh tet chaje. And the day before we had to send our HIV patient home because she was at the end. It was chaos trying to figure out how to get her home since they obviously couldn’t walk, didn’t have a horse or donkey, which would have been useless with her condition, and no tap-taps could be found (which would cost us $400 Haitian, since the family has no money). The family was going to come carrying a bed, but I learned later they ended up finding a tap-tap at 11pm and made it up into the mountains to their home before she died.

Tuesday February 17, 2009

I’m so glad it’s Tuesday. I think it’s my favorite day of the week. So calm and mild, like the aftermath of the storm that is Monday, market day, and a clinic hopping with millions of very impatient Haitians. Yesterday - crazy. Here was my day in a nutshell. Hospital at 8am, rounds included giving TB meds, Unicef milk to six of our kids in for malnutrition, breast pumping, and checking in with our heart failure and HIV patients. I read Anne-Marie’s note she left for me and talked with Fagenson’s mom (7 yr old malnutrition) and he is going home today! We will switch him over to outpatient mamba and have him come every two weeks for weigh in and check up. He’s already gained 3.5 kg since a month ago and is starting to cause all kinds of 7 year old trouble in the hospital so we concluded he’s well enough to go home. He came in with Kwashiorkor, so it’s pretty amazing he’s doing so well. After rounds I ran back to the house to dump my stuff and wash milk jugs and hurry to the clinic to help with the mass of people I know is already there. I was expecting three TB patients to come for their monthly check ups and meds, but it quickly turned into nine people waiting for me - thank you all for coming on the wrong day! And all of them gently reminding me (ok not so gently) that they were still waiting… good thing I had packed all the meds for the week so I could grab them quickly. To my delight, however, Terna is here (a previous impatient 9 year old girl with TB of the spine, who had stayed with us for 2 months last year). I am so happy to see her I could kiss her, and I did. She is able to stand up straight now! After I got through all the rendez-vous, I tended to a boy who had sliced his foot pretty good and took off the end of his pinky toe with a machete the day before. After some cleaning and bandage, he was ready to go. I clean up a little and restock my backpack (my pharmacy). I ran down the road to the market to see if there was anything good left. I love and hate the market. Love it because it’s interesting and usually just a good time, but hate it because I’m white and turn into the spotlight. “Blan, blan!” People follow me around, demanding things from me. “Ba mwen di goud”. I’ve learned it’s best not to get irritated, but just dish it right back to them. Making a joke always works.

Then I hear this drumming and singing down the road like a parade. Sure enough, what’s coming I soon found out was some sort of voodoo party. Women all dressed alike, tied with red, blue, and yellow sashes around their waists and heads, dancing and singing to the drums. It drew a big crowd and everybody ran to see what was going on. I was half shocked, half super intrigued since I had never seen something like this in the middle of the day and in the middle of the road, let alone in the middle of the market. My new friend, Edmond, a patient from the hospital, found me, so we had a good time as he tried to explain what was going on. I still don’t know the occasion, since everyone I asked had a different answer, but the witchdoctor was among the party and apparently they were going to sacrifice a bull at his house later. Edmonds says they are crazy and how they were dancing was ugly (um…his words, not mine!) and everyone I asked at the market said straight out it was all for Satan. Amazing really, how something like that is so overt, so out in the open. It helps me understand this place a little better.

I finally realize I have to go. I run back up to my house with my purchases: carrots, mi gwen (water chestnut-like), sweet potatoes, bananas, cookies, and piece of sweet ginger bread I’m eating on the way. I had to make another batch of milk before I ran back down to the hospital to make evening rounds. I give the milk to the kids and check in with as many people as possible before it’s time to go to Rob and Anne-Marie’s for dinner (for the bomb rice and beans made by a great Haitian cook!). After dinner, I wander back down to the hospital to check in with a few patients I missed and chat with a few people. It’s good for my creole and for building relationships and just for a little humor, especially tonight because Edmond is trying to pronounce words in Dutch and everyone is almost rolling on the ground laughing…

I finally call it a day and walk back home with my empty milk jugs and my headlight below a clear sky of stars. Jacques has kept some water warmed up by the sun for me to shower with and it…is…nice.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Today, Anne-Marie and I went LaComa for the day to do clinic there. They have a nice functioning clinic run by a few Haitian nurses, and Anne-Marie has been trying to go once a month to see patients from that area. Dr. Larry, a doctor from Seattle (of all places!!!) who has been with us for a couple weeks, also went with us. The day was uneventful, until the ride home. (Seriously, it never fails). We were on the road from Poste Mitier to PC and noticed a lot of people on the road; a lot more than usual. We soon discovered that there had been an accident on the road involving a huge truck that had left the Beauchamp market with piles and piles of food and who know how many people sitting on top. Apparently it was a little top-heavy and hit a rut in the road the wrong way. For a moment it was a little surreal, until we found out that no one was gravely injured. In the middle of the dirt road was a huge truck flat on it’s side. The load spilled all over and a mass of people wailing like someone had died. We stopped and ran to see if everyone was ok. Luckily there was only one woman who had broken her leg and after we returned to the car, we discovered that someone had put her in the back of our car. Anne-Marie wanted to help, but knew she had to go to Port du Paix to the big hospital (we could see the bone). That’s when it got a little dicey. Some people started to get mad when we said we couldn’t drive all the way back to PdP and that we would NOT give them money to transport her there. Geez…they see the white skin and expect a lot. After a lot of deliberation, a few tempers flaring, drama, drama, and more drama…we decided to leave. We could squeeze by the accident, luckily. It ended up that a tap tap driver that was there would take her to the hospital.

Since pictures are worth a thousand words:

Our latest heartbreak. Michelson had Kwashiorkor malnutrition, but died over the weekend. Here you see the classic Kwash: whole body edema and skin beginning to slough off. It's one of the most awful things to watch, hands down.

Louvne's garden

Me and Frisner

I got to visit my man,Frisner (now named Max), at House of Hope a few weeks ago. We had him at our house for two or three weeks last year before he was taken into the House of Hope where he is still waiting for adoption.

Wayans and Kerdens

Two twin boys that came to us with malnutrition. Kerdens, the smaller one, was swollen when they came in and gave us a fight every day for more than a month for drinking the unicef milk made especially for malnutrition. When he was more stable we switched to normal milk and he shocked us by gulping it down himself and licking every speck out of the cup. Wayans is just the class clown and liked to show us all his dance moves. They went home a few weeks ago and are doing well!

Passe Catabois in the early morning

Michika

Michika was 19 months old. She passed away several weeks ago most likely due to TB. We started her on treatment, but the illness took over too quickly. She weighed 4.6 kg when she arrived.

Tika

This is Tika. She came to us malnourished, but was well enough to go home a few weeks ago. Her mom left her and her baby sister with no word of her whereabouts and so, in the hands of a relative, both the girls became malnourished. However, when they were at the hospital, mom returned! They both are doing well now. I caught her mid-bath and she flashed me her million dollar smile.

Mural

Kate's newest masterpiece next to the hospital. I'm sorry to say that only part of it is shown here. It is hopeful, beautiful, and full of light.

Jimou

Twin girls that have been living at the hospital for more than a few months. For failure to thrive. I found them sitting in the hall like this...someone had tied them together, I guess so they wouldn't run away!

Time for a little more humor in Haiti:

- Haitians know the true meaning of economizing space. If you’ve ever set foot in the country you already know this. Haitians really know that a small Toyota truck is capable of holding 26 Haitians, 3 goats, a couple baskets full of chickens and everyone’s luggage strapped over the sides. Today I saw a donkey… maybe… I couldn’t actually see what animal was below the huge mass of dried palm grass that was 3 times as tall as the animal.

-The places I see chickens: making circles around our house looking for something to eat and people to wake up at 5 o’clock in the morning, grrr. In my room when I leave the door open. Up a tree. Running away from Lilene - one of the Haitian girls living here at the guesthouse - trying to escape a poor fate. In a pot of boiling water, feathers and all…thank you Lilene…

-What I saw at the Passe Catabois market today: reams of plantains, various fried food, piles of beans, rice, cornmeal, dinnerware made in China, cabbage, various parts of a goat killed early this morning including the heart, liver, and skull (yes all for sale to eat), red wine that was made in the Dominican, and dirt cookies.

- So this guy walks into a doctor’s office, a Haitian guy, all mangled and legs broken. “What happened?” asks the doctor. “Oh I just fell out of my garden!”
Thank you Jeb.

A Sunday, February 1, 2009

Here I am sitting inside on a Sunday wearing jeans and a sweatshirt (I’m thinking about putting on the socks soon. I am freezing with the clouds and wind today but I know most of you have no sympathy what-so-ever) eating my lunch of beans, eggs, and onions all scrambled, mmm. I can’t believe it’s already 3 o’clock. I just got home from church and I guess the conversation I had with Rob’s parents turned into a couple hours. Sometimes I look at my life and wonder at the oddity of it all. The guesthouse consists of me, Rob’s parents from The Netherlands, a French couple, Jacques and Isabelle with their one month old Haitian baby, and two Haitian girls. I’m enjoying this moment of rest before I have to go make rounds at the hospital again. My milk and “how are you doing” rounds is usually what evenings consist of.

The hospital is full to the brim. Eight malnutrition kids (but two twin boys going home tomorrow - oh how I will miss their entertainment!) and 19 TB patients. Yeah…you heard me. TB, TB, TB. That is our theme right now. And we are seeing it all: pulmonary, lymphatic, bone, and possibly CNS. It’s pretty crazy. I love it, but there is a lot of stress now with where on earth are we going to find enough medication for 8 months of treatment for every single patient, plus the ones who have already completed two months at the hospital and are on treatment at home. One of our nurses went looking for meds two days last week and only found three tiny boxes - all the same medicine and all not the kind we are lacking. The two hospitals near Port de Paix are having trouble finding meds too. It has the possibility to become a public health nightmare since stopping treatment early could create TB super bugs. Scary. So yeah, pray for a miracle or that Jesus would turn our TB med bin into a self producing treasure chest.

I’ve been on my own here for a little over a week since everyone left. Sometimes fighting with loneliness since there’s really no one on the same page of life or culture, but the work is good. The time at the hospital which usually takes me a good two hours in the morning and an hour at night, consists of a lot of jokes and laughter. That is after I get done scolding them, no I didn’t bring anything else for you besides all the milk and medicines I come with everyday for free! The beautiful thing about Haitian culture is that you can turn everything into a joke even if you are a little irritated. And now I have somehow become known as “Miss China” to a few people because apparently the story is that some guy didn’t know my name and that’s what came out. Whatever…so now I hear more times than not. “oh, Miss China! Ba’m ti gout let!” as I walk through everyday with my milk jugs.

A Day Out

Friday January 30, 2009
Today I got to go on a little adventure to Port de Paix. Anne-Marie and I set out in the Land Rover with a to-do list, that included getting an X-ray for a deaf man with a leg broken to the point that only the muscles and some skin are holding it together (he was on a stretcher in the back). We also took his two caregivers and two HIV patients for transport to their appointments at the bigger hospitals in town.
Check one: we made it through the mud and across the river, everyone and everything intact.
Check two: didn’t turn out so well. We went to Imaculee, the biggest hospital in Port de Paix but the X-ray machine was broken (going on three months… Haiti… grrr…). But Anne-Marie took the opportunity to show me around a little and made contacts with the Dr. in charge of the HIV and TB programs there.
Check three: city hall. We needed to get birth certificates redone for the two boys we had sent to House of Hope late last year to be adopted out, since the names were wrong and they had no record of the mothers’ deaths. It was sketchy, to say the least. A tiny room, crammed with four desks and stacks and stacks of dusty record books. The men behind the desks told us it couldn’t be done, so we tried to be pretty friendly. I somehow made friends with a police officer who also started telling Anne-Marie all his medical problems when he found out she was a doctor. Ha! He said he liked my eyes…good grief…but I’m sorry to say maybe being two white girls helped the process. We walked out with two redone birth certificates, exactly how we needed them.
Check four: A deviation from the plan. Drive to LaPointe to give their X-ray machine a go. Somehow try to transport our deaf man from the car to the hospital to the X-ray; Anne-Marie ended up yelling at a few Haitian men sitting on their butts watching her sweat carrying the stretcher (all jokes of course). Waiting, waiting, waiting, but in the meantime we were able to personally take the new birth certificates to Jenny at House of Hope and I gave my baby, Frisner (now Max) a kiss and got to say hi to my buddy, Frandy.
Check five: Back to Port de Paix for some shopping. A supermarket decked out with Valentine’s merchandise, and, no joke, tins of Kirkland Signature Valentine’s day chocolates for sale for $425 Haitian dollars ($53 American) and other fun things to look at when you realize, yes, I’m still in Haiti. A bookstore that was really a dusty hole in the wall, but pretty exciting none-the-less. And the local flea market.
Check six: We made it back through the river and over the bumpiest of bumpy roads in one piece and our deaf man still wearing the biggest smile.

Medica Mamba

So we have a new product. Susan, from the Washington team, has hooked us up. While she was here in PC for several weeks, she and Anne-Marie flew to Cap Haitian and met with a doctor who is pioneering a new treatment for malnutrition in Haiti. Medica Mamba aka peanut butter that is detailed to a T that contains everything to combat severe malnutrition including the correct ratios of oil, sugar, proteins, vitamins and minerals and that, luckily for the kids, tastes just like the middle of a receese pieces. And it seems Jesus already orchestrated the situation a bit. We were worried how to actually get the product here to rural PC, but it somehow worked with delivery to House of Hope and then a member of our team just happened to be there with Rob’s truck to drive some home for us! AND the week before we admitted two kids, older kids, with severe malnutrition.

Wadlene, 9 year old girl, and Fagenson, 7 year old boy, both weighing in at about 26 pounds, white to no hair, and swollen feet. We started them on the Unicef milk right away, which yes was a fight. Wadlene liked to play grump all the time and gagged on the milk most of the time. I usually made her cry every time I came in the room because she hated the milk so bad. And Fagenson threw up the milk maybe half the time because his stomach just couldn’t handle it. But nevertheless, down went the milk and all their swelling too. And so a week or two ago we started them on the medica mamba. And they LOVE it. They each should take about 15 tablespoons a day (that’s the goal at least). Yes really that much. And this week they are both beginning to change. Instead of spending the whole day between their beds and the latrine (diarrhea) they are up and about and yes even smile when I come in the room. Wadlene still tries to pretend she’s a grump but it’s getting harder to hide the laughing. Yesterday I caught them in a photo sitting on the bed laughing together.

I’m excited about the medica mamba though. It’s precise and detailed and gives a specific protocol for each patient. It’s made to be used for outpatient treatment but right now we are using it for a few of our patients staying at the hospital, so we still need to figure out how to use it for outpatient kids. The challenging part is implementing it and making it all work with Haitian culture. And there is only one of me and one of Anne-Marie. Yeah…pray for us if you think of it. That this could really turn into something valuable and sustainable. And also I will put in the plug here for Susan! We need sponsors to be able to continue buying the product. I’m not sure how we can do this yet, but we are thinking it would cost about $100 to take one child through 8 weeks of treatment. Just think about it, mull it over and let me know your thoughts! We are excited about this.

Friday, January 23, 2009

Hey all,
I'm on a mini vacation at the HOH today. I rode with Lynn and Susan into LaPoint since they are flying out tomorrow morning and met the rest of the LaPoint team here. I saw our two boys we delivered here and they are doing so well. Very rewarding to see. They are still awaiting adoption which could take up to two years. Hopefully I'll be able to catch up on my blogs and emails soon. It's been a little busy here...

Monday January 20, 2009

Happy Birthday Mr. Luke!

Today was something else. Chaos is just the norm on Mondays I’ve come to learn. Rounds took Susan (the nurse staying here an extra week) and I three hours this morning with trying to start our new program, Medica Mamba (remind me to write more about that later) and admitting two new people Anne-Marie sent over from the clinic. Then to the clinic to find a mass of people still waiting there. Four TB patients with rendez-vous waiting for me, one of whom (Terna) scratched up half of her face, ending with a black/bloody eye because she fell off her horse in travel to the clinic. Plus trying to wade through confusion of what meds had been given previously. Then three new girls admitted with TB (adding to our two earlier in the morning it seems we are having a TB explosion). Then I had to see a whole family of kids who really could use Medica Mamba and should probably be registered in our Cinderella program and an abscess I needed to open who had been waiting all day. After that mess of chaos Susan and I had to carry a bed all the way down to the hospital (because we are now full…again…), organize the TB meds and new patients and try to start two of our malnourished kids on Medica Mamba. It’s craziness, but that is nursing in a nutshell and maybe Haiti for that matter.

Saturday January 17, 2009

I can’t believe this moment of silence is mine. All I can hear are the crickets outside and Jacque and Isabelle talking next door. I don’t think I’ve had a moment like this since the night before I came when I had 20 minutes of sweet sleep in between packing and getting up to go to the airport. But I’m thinking now, to many people’s surprise, I actually prefer the chaos that is when 18 people travel and live together in Haiti (what my last two weeks have been). And chaos is was at times. I obviously haven’t had much time or power for internet or even time to sit down and write something, so sorry to my faithfuls.

The first day back. A high for me. I jumped off the side of the tap tap when we arrived in Passe Catabois and walked up to the hospital. Shilanda and her mom (a patient from before I left) walked around the corner and shock came across her face. Miss Ryna! Then Darlande and her mom, then I rounded the corner and heard Leah and Kate. Oh man, it was hugs, kisses, and tears on my part to see them all and be back. It was just an awesome moment. And being with Leah and Kate, who I haven’t seen since July, was beyond incredible. We must all be girl soul mates or something.

I don’t think I can put the last two weeks into words because if I did it would be a novel. But it was chaotic and overwhelming to me at times as I was trying to get back into the swing of things and catch up on all the patients and happenings I had missed while trying to help the team where I could. But the team was pretty dang awesome. Independent, confident, relational, and ready to help where they could. It seemed that many days everyone took off to do their own projects. The guys worked away at the hospital and after I took the tour of what they accomplished, I am amazed. I’ve seen a glimpse into the future of what the hospital will be and how they might be able to actually pull off a functioning hospital. They made leaps with the plumbing, showers, toilet stalls, and tiling. It’s beautiful! If I can actually say that about a shower or a floor.

The nurses worked in the clinic but also really took to the people in the hospital. Katie cooking meals for the kids, transformed the trunks we brought into bathtubs and soaped up a lot of kids. And I know lives have been changed. Especially two twin baby girls. After two weeks of TLC from the team they are both thriving. Before we were having trouble getting them to eat, play, or even smile and now it seems they are doing all of the above.

So some highlights because I can’t put it all into words:
- Jaclynn and Autumns’ enthusiasm for delivering babies. Please come back and do them all for us!
- tiling, tiling, and more tiling. And a lot of sore knees
- Jean, who seemed to have more determination than most of us, and her part with the twin girls.
- the abscesses and the popage, oh…
- um, can we say panoodles?
- Eukr and how I kicked Tom’s butt every night, haha!
- the mountain of food that is still in the kitchen
- doing rounds in the morning with my mom and the look on all the Haitians’ faces when I told them: this is my mom!
- the spiders and the all screaming, oh man…
- me and my Unicef milk jugs (aka big gulp…thanks Ashley)