Monday, March 29, 2010

A Day Off in Paradise

Sunday
Finally, a day filled with no work and nothing but relaxation! Victoria, Chantel and our translator Maxim met us at the compound today and we all walked to Church. It was another Creole service, so we couldn't understand much of what was going on, so it is sometimes hard for your mind not to wander. The Church was so packed that people were setting up chairs outside surrounding the Church, so we had to sit on the steps of the Church as well. It's good to see so many people grabbing on to their faith during this time.

After Church, Chantel's cousin Donaldson came to pick us all up for the beach. We drove about an hour up the shore. On the way, we nearly ran out of gas because every station we stopped at was out of diesel. Finally, we found a little roadside makeshift gas station with a woman and her family selling diesel out of about a dozen yellow gas cans. She filled the truck up with a giant funnel with a cloth filter over the top. It made for some great pictures too. As we continued our drive up the shore, we passed a pretty neat stop. A UN military truck was pulled over on the side of the road. Behind the truck, dressed in full military gear were Middle Eastern men just getting off their mats from finishing their afternoon prayer. I liked seeing that cultures and religions of all kinds come together to help create relief for the Haitian people. I like seeing how they stopped in the middle of the day to embrace their faith. Faith is so important, it's what keeps us alive when it seems like hope is gone and it's what gives us motivation for the future yet to come.

Finally, we arrived at Wahoo Bay. This is a little beach resort up the shore where for $10 dollars you can use the entire resort facilities. We went swimming in the perfectly warm ocean, laughed, layed in the sun, jumped in the pool, and had a wonderful time. The enormous green mountains were to the East and to the West was an endless body of water that disappeared on the horizon line. It amazes me that you can be amid such poverty and destruction, drive an hour away and feel like you're in paradise. We had to laugh at all of the light-skinned people at the resort. We were joking around how we should make a video called "NGOs (non-government organizations) Gone Wild!" There was a DJ spinning beats on the shore, people out riding jetskis, and the smell of food being grilled. There's not more that I can say other than today was a great day.

Monday
At work today I spent part of my focus in triage. It's amazing what these patients come through the doors to be seen for. You start gathering a history and a clear patient complaint. By the time your done, their eyes are dry, their stomach hurts, they can't sleep, they have blood in their urine, their big toe hurts, their hair is falling out, their skin itches, and they think they might be pregnant. It's really amazing. Many of these people have never seen a doctor before and they are just quickly trying to get as much checked out as they can. Very little of what we are seeing now has much to do related to the earthquake... unless, it is psychological. What we're starting to see more of is GI problems and now Gynecological problems. Many of the women here practice douching and use a mixture of water and bleach. It kills off all of the good bacteria and they end up with big problems. One doctor is now recommending they add baking soda to their mixture to cut down on causing imbalances.

On a completely separate note, we had something sad happen today. Joshua's mom showed back up- that's never good. Joshua takes a nose dive whenever she arrives. He gets quiet, depressed, stops smiling, puts his little head down, and sometimes starts to cry. The entire camp has become so defensive of him and when she shows up, the patients's claws come out. She arrived with her two other children by her side. We didn't understand why she had them with her until the translator shocked us by what she said. He explained that she didn't want her other two kids now and that she wanted to abandon them at the hospital with us now as well. Because Joshua's not around anymore, she says she can't make money to take care of everyone. Apparently, she used to get a lot more support out of sympathy when they would see Joshua and his condition. She went on to tell us that she wanted to get rid of them all and just wanted to be free. How heart breaking to see these other two beautiful and adorable children just disregarded and tossed to the side.

Minutes later, things got even crazier. One of the interpreters came over and was giving Joshua's mom some lip. He mentioned something about calling the police or something and set her off. She threated to kill of one her children right there on the spot if anyone did anything to get in her way. This is just about the time I had returned to the scene. There was a mob of people starting to grow. I pulled Joshua's mom away from the group of people and focused on primarily de-escalating the scene. Beth, another translator, the mom, and I went over to a shaded area and started to talk a bit more rationally. We got Unicef on the phone and were able to connect some dots. I got some food and water for the mom, we tried to start re-establishing some trust with her, gained assurance that she was not planning on hurting any of the children, and made arrangements for her to meet with Unicef tomorrow morning at the hospital. It's just amazing how someone could do what she is doing. I suppose I have no idea what it's like to have three children to provide for in a world where there's hardly enough to support one. How do you go find rice with three little people strapped to your side? I just have to try and convince myself, even if it's not true, that she thinks she is doing the best thing for her kids. Perhaps she knows that the life she is giving them is inadequate and unfair, so for their best interest, she is willing to give them to someone who can provide for them as they deserve to be taken care of. I sure hope that's the case at least.

Back at Quisqueya, the day is winding up. The temperature feels like a warm summer night with a cool breeze blowing through the air. I can hear the rebound of a soccer ball in the distance as folks wrap up a game on the field. The laughter and chatter of various medical teams carries through in the distance. My eyes are starting to struggle to stay open, and I think I'll call it a day. Back to 5th grade... good night.

A Day Off in Paradise

Sunday
Finally, a day filled with no work and nothing but relaxation! Victoria, Chantel and our translator Maxim met us at the compound today and we all walked to Church. It was another Creole service, so we couldn't understand much of what was going on, so it is sometimes hard for your mind not to wander. The Church was so packed that people were setting up chairs outside surrounding the Church, so we had to sit on the steps of the Church as well. It's good to see so many people grabbing on to their faith during this time.

After Church, Chantel's cousin Donaldson came to pick us all up for the beach. We drove about an hour up the shore. On the way, we nearly ran out of gas because every station we stopped at was out of diesel. Finally, we found a little roadside makeshift gas station with a woman and her family selling diesel out of about a dozen yellow gas cans. She filled the truck up with a giant funnel with a cloth filter over the top. It made for some great pictures too. As we continued our drive up the shore, we passed a pretty neat stop. A UN military truck was pulled over on the side of the road. Behind the truck, dressed in full military gear were Middle Eastern men just getting off their mats from finishing their afternoon prayer. I liked seeing that cultures and religions of all kinds come together to help create relief for the Haitian people. I like seeing how they stopped in the middle of the day to embrace their faith. Faith is so important, it's what keeps us alive when it seems like hope is gone and it's what gives us motivation for the future yet to come.

Finally, we arrived at Wahoo Bay. This is a little beach resort up the shore where for $10 dollars you can use the entire resort facilities. We went swimming in the perfectly warm ocean, laughed, layed in the sun, jumped in the pool, and had a wonderful time. The enormous green mountains were to the East and to the West was an endless body of water that disappeared on the horizon line. It amazes me that you can be amid such poverty and destruction, drive an hour away and feel like you're in paradise. We had to laugh at all of the light-skinned people at the resort. We were joking around how we should make a video called "NGOs (non-government organizations) Gone Wild!" There was a DJ spinning beats on the shore, people out riding jetskis, and the smell of food being grilled. There's not more that I can say other than today was a great day.

Monday
At work today I spent part of my focus in triage. It's amazing what these patients come through the doors to be seen for. You start gathering a history and a clear patient complaint. By the time your done, their eyes are dry, their stomach hurts, they can't sleep, they have blood in their urine, their big toe hurts, their hair is falling out, their skin itches, and they think they might be pregnant. It's really amazing. Many of these people have never seen a doctor before and they are just quickly trying to get as much checked out as they can. Very little of what we are seeing now has much to do related to the earthquake... unless, it is psychological. What we're starting to see more of is GI problems and now Gynecological problems. Many of the women here practice douching and use a mixture of water and bleach. It kills off all of the good bacteria and they end up with big problems. One doctor is now recommending they add baking soda to their mixture to cut down on causing imbalances.

On a completely separate note, we had something sad happen today. Joshua's mom showed back up- that's never good. Joshua takes a nose dive whenever she arrives. He gets quiet, depressed, stops smiling, puts his little head down, and sometimes starts to cry. The entire camp has become so defensive of him and when she shows up, the patients's claws come out. She arrived with her two other children by her side. We didn't understand why she had them with her until the translator shocked us by what she said. He explained that she didn't want her other two kids now and that she wanted to abandon them at the hospital with us now as well. Because Joshua's not around anymore, she says she can't make money to take care of everyone. Apparently, she used to get a lot more support out of sympathy when they would see Joshua and his condition. She went on to tell us that she wanted to get rid of them all and just wanted to be free. How heart breaking to see these other two beautiful and adorable children just disregarded and tossed to the side.

Minutes later, things got even crazier. One of the interpreters came over and was giving Joshua's mom some lip. He mentioned something about calling the police or something and set her off. She threated to kill of one her children right there on the spot if anyone did anything to get in her way. This is just about the time I had returned to the scene. There was a mob of people starting to grow. I pulled Joshua's mom away from the group of people and focused on primarily de-escalating the scene. Beth, another translator, the mom, and I went over to a shaded area and started to talk a bit more rationally. We got Unicef on the phone and were able to connect some dots. I got some food and water for the mom, we tried to start re-establishing some trust with her, gained assurance that she was not planning on hurting any of the children, and made arrangements for her to meet with Unicef tomorrow morning at the hospital. It's just amazing how someone could do what she is doing. I suppose I have no idea what it's like to have three children to provide for in a world where there's hardly enough to support one. How do you go find rice with three little people strapped to your side? I just have to try and convince myself, even if it's not true, that she thinks she is doing the best thing for her kids. Perhaps she knows that the life she is giving them is inadequate and unfair, so for their best interest, she is willing to give them to someone who can provide for them as they deserve to be taken care of. I sure hope that's the case at least.

Back at Quisqueya, the day is winding up. The temperature feels like a warm summer night with a cool breeze blowing through the air. I can hear the rebound of a soccer ball in the distance as folks wrap up a game on the field. The laughter and chatter of various medical teams carries through in the distance. My eyes are starting to struggle to stay open, and I think I'll call it a day. Back to 5th grade... good night.

A Day Off in Paradise

Sunday
Finally, a day filled with no work and nothing but relaxation! Victoria, Chantel and our translator Maxim met us at the compound today and we all walked to Church. It was another Creole service, so we couldn't understand much of what was going on, so it is sometimes hard for your mind not to wander. The Church was so packed that people were setting up chairs outside surrounding the Church, so we had to sit on the steps of the Church as well. It's good to see so many people grabbing on to their faith during this time.

After Church, Chantel's cousin Donaldson came to pick us all up for the beach. We drove about an hour up the shore. On the way, we nearly ran out of gas because every station we stopped at was out of diesel. Finally, we found a little roadside makeshift gas station with a woman and her family selling diesel out of about a dozen yellow gas cans. She filled the truck up with a giant funnel with a cloth filter over the top. It made for some great pictures too. As we continued our drive up the shore, we passed a pretty neat stop. A UN military truck was pulled over on the side of the road. Behind the truck, dressed in full military gear were Middle Eastern men just getting off their mats from finishing their afternoon prayer. I liked seeing that cultures and religions of all kinds come together to help create relief for the Haitian people. I like seeing how they stopped in the middle of the day to embrace their faith. Faith is so important, it's what keeps us alive when it seems like hope is gone and it's what gives us motivation for the future yet to come.

Finally, we arrived at Wahoo Bay. This is a little beach resort up the shore where for $10 dollars you can use the entire resort facilities. We went swimming in the perfectly warm ocean, laughed, layed in the sun, jumped in the pool, and had a wonderful time. The enormous green mountains were to the East and to the West was an endless body of water that disappeared on the horizon line. It amazes me that you can be amid such poverty and destruction, drive an hour away and feel like you're in paradise. We had to laugh at all of the light-skinned people at the resort. We were joking around how we should make a video called "NGOs (non-government organizations) Gone Wild!" There was a DJ spinning beats on the shore, people out riding jetskis, and the smell of food being grilled. There's not more that I can say other than today was a great day.

Monday
At work today I spent part of my focus in triage. It's amazing what these patients come through the doors to be seen for. You start gathering a history and a clear patient complaint. By the time your done, their eyes are dry, their stomach hurts, they can't sleep, they have blood in their urine, their big toe hurts, their hair is falling out, their skin itches, and they think they might be pregnant. It's really amazing. Many of these people have never seen a doctor before and they are just quickly trying to get as much checked out as they can. Very little of what we are seeing now has much to do related to the earthquake... unless, it is psychological. What we're starting to see more of is GI problems and now Gynecological problems. Many of the women here practice douching and use a mixture of water and bleach. It kills off all of the good bacteria and they end up with big problems. One doctor is now recommending they add baking soda to their mixture to cut down on causing imbalances.

On a completely separate note, we had something sad happen today. Joshua's mom showed back up- that's never good. Joshua takes a nose dive whenever she arrives. He gets quiet, depressed, stops smiling, puts his little head down, and sometimes starts to cry. The entire camp has become so defensive of him and when she shows up, the patients's claws come out. She arrived with her two other children by her side. We didn't understand why she had them with her until the translator shocked us by what she said. He explained that she didn't want her other two kids now and that she wanted to abandon them at the hospital with us now as well. Because Joshua's not around anymore, she says she can't make money to take care of everyone. Apparently, she used to get a lot more support out of sympathy when they would see Joshua and his condition. She went on to tell us that she wanted to get rid of them all and just wanted to be free. How heart breaking to see these other two beautiful and adorable children just disregarded and tossed to the side.

Minutes later, things got even crazier. One of the interpreters came over and was giving Joshua's mom some lip. He mentioned something about calling the police or something and set her off. She threated to kill of one her children right there on the spot if anyone did anything to get in her way. This is just about the time I had returned to the scene. There was a mob of people starting to grow. I pulled Joshua's mom away from the group of people and focused on primarily de-escalating the scene. Beth, another translator, the mom, and I went over to a shaded area and started to talk a bit more rationally. We got Unicef on the phone and were able to connect some dots. I got some food and water for the mom, we tried to start re-establishing some trust with her, gained assurance that she was not planning on hurting any of the children, and made arrangements for her to meet with Unicef tomorrow morning at the hospital. It's just amazing how someone could do what she is doing. I suppose I have no idea what it's like to have three children to provide for in a world where there's hardly enough to support one. How do you go find rice with three little people strapped to your side? I just have to try and convince myself, even if it's not true, that she thinks she is doing the best thing for her kids. Perhaps she knows that the life she is giving them is inadequate and unfair, so for their best interest, she is willing to give them to someone who can provide for them as they deserve to be taken care of. I sure hope that's the case at least.

Back at Quisqueya, the day is winding up. The temperature feels like a warm summer night with a cool breeze blowing through the air. I can hear the rebound of a soccer ball in the distance as folks wrap up a game on the field. The laughter and chatter of various medical teams carries through in the distance. My eyes are starting to struggle to stay open, and I think I'll call it a day. Back to 5th grade... good night.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Peeing In the Trunk, Musical Parades, & A New Home

Saturday
The house I've been staying in since the beginning of last month now is due to start repairs. The repairs are actually supposed to start today, so we had to be out of the place. I am pretty bummed out because I've really settled in to this cracked house and it was really starting to feel like home. We are heading tonight to Quisqueya Christian School where we will get re-setup. They will transport us back and forth between the hospital in the mornings and night, so it will be convenient.

i was thinking about my French and Creole language skills and how they are coming along today. I started writing a list of the words I'm getting familiar with and realized I know about 70+ words. That's a lot for coming here only knowing how to say Bonjour. When I first had arrived, I had no desire at all to learn French. Now, that I've learned some, I kinda have some interest. I think it's kinda like a game. When you don't know how to play a game very well, it's easier to just not play. Not only is it easier, but it's more fun. If language skills were like a game, then I was not very interested in playing French becasue I wasn't very good at it. Now, I'm still far from good at French, but I'm starting to understand the rules of the game, the structure of the game, and starting to take a turn every once in a while. Maybe one day I can play in a round all by myself.

After Victoria, Corrine and I finished packing, we said goodbye to the Operation Rainbow team who was headed back to the states and headed over to Christine's across the street for some morning coffee and a quick morning chat. Then, we had to throw 2 great big boxes of scrubs in the back of the truck, pick up an old woman who had to get to the hospital immediately for some blood work, and raced to the hospital riding Haitian style in the back of the pickup.

Before heading to General Hospital this morning, I rearranged the supplies in the back room, put shelving in there and now it is *sparkling*. My translator met me later and did our trek down the hill. We have a completely new group of folks today down at the hospital. This group is a great one. They seemed more eager to be involved from the beginning than the first group ever did. We made it through the first module and the group was excited about me coming back tomorrow to continue. I always ask them if they would like to continue so that they feel like this is something that they are empowering themselves to participate in. It gives them more ownership over their self-care rather than feeling forced into doing something they aren't interested in.

From General, we did the usual stop at Mars & Kline Psychiatric Hospital and then took a new and different route home. Along the way, you can see big bulldozers in the canals trying to clear the massive piles of rubble. It's a good sign of preventing massive flooding as the rainy season continues. As we continued along the road, I had a hilarious sight. This guy was driving down the road, stopped, opened his trunk, pulled down his pants and started peeing in the trunk. Then, with no hands, he just continued peeing in the trunk and down his leg as he pretended to be doing something in the trunk. Then, he just zipped up his pants, shut the trunk and kept driving. I was thinking maybe I had seen him at the psychiatric center, lol! When he stopped again and passed by the hood of his car, I was worried he was going to try and take a dump! Oh, the things we see here. About a block later, I tried to take a picture of this guy with his sidewalk full of dead roosters, and he about freaked out on me. I guess this guy must think his birds are camera shy.

At the hospital today, I was able to do some more nursing care and a little bit of networking. I sat in the shade with my favorite little Katura for a little bit. She loves to just curl up in my arms and try and fall asleep. It is truly the most precious thing- you know that feeling when a little baby just completely trusts you and lets go in your arms. It's just like that. To be a set of safe arms for a child who's scared the ground will shake and fearful that now with only one leg they might not escape... to be a loving voice... to be kind words... to be a source of joy... why would I possibly want to be doing anything else in life?

Finally, it was time for group with the kids. Today, I walked out in the courtyard with my big box labeled Jitterbug's Therapy Fun Box and the kids came swarming like as thought I had just busted open a pinata for them. Everyone was very good at getting situated today. We went around and checked in with how everyone was feeling. Two of the kids had not such a good day. They were able to identify the feelings they were having and tell the group what they did about them. The kids then all got a chance to go around and give some support to the kids that were having a rough time. One of the kids is really having a rough time sleeping at night. I think he's worried about the earth moving and probably just has a lot on his mind that makes sleep difficult. Next, I reminded the kids about the chalk drawings that we had yesterday. It rained overnight, and I explained to them that all of our messages were sent deep down into the earth. We're literally filling the cracks with empowered messages and words of hope! After some more discussion with the kids, it was finally that prized time... music time.

Because of some of my friends back home, I was able to give each kid their own plastic recorder flute today. The kids were so good, they each sat there quietly without fighting over them while I pulled each one out, one by one and wrote their names on them so they won't be sharing them and getting each other sick. You would have thought I had given them a million dollars. Joshua especially loved having something he could do just as well as the rest of the kids. As the music got rolling and people got more into the sounds, the kids started to pull on me and point to the tents. They wanted to go spread the joy! We got in a big line and started to march our way through the tents in a big parade! Wheelchairs, walkers, flutes, drums, rummble instrumments, and singing. As we passed by the tents, we'd see smiles light up the shadows, some would start to sing, and a couple of other people joined. The kids were loving things so much that they wanted to go to some of tents below past the rocks and mud. I agreed and we went down to put on a concert. At one point I glanced over at about five kids in wheelchairs with their friends behind trying to push them through the off-road terrain. They were laughing so hard I thought they were going to pee their pants. It was like children who were made innocent again, as though there had never been an earthquake, as though their bodies were never damaged or injured... it was beautiful.

As grouped wrapped up with about 20 of us holding hands in prayer, a peaceful evening descended upon the camp. I went over and spent some time with one of my other patients Meliciennie. Propped up against a crate, I quietely sang the Hallelujia song with Melicienne and her mom. My Haitian buddy Chantale, Katura and myself later spent some time together and finally, my new ride arrived. I was on the way to my new Haitian home.

Here at Quisquiya, everything is taken care of for us. They cook 3 meals a day, wash our scrubs, provide us with showers, a dry place to sleep, and even Internet access. Really, it feels very much like medical summer camp. The Christian School closed after the earthquake, but it has reopened as a relief center. It is a major distribution point here in Haiti for medical supplies. The 82nd Airborne was occupying a large part of the space until just recently. It is really very nice here. I have settled into a little space on the floor of a 5th grade classroom. I'm right next to a shelf of Harry Potter books, across from a chalkboard, and next to the fractions sign. I've got several roomates now from all around the world and various medical disciplines. At dinner tonight, we had a big plate of beans and rice which I shared with a very friendly and hungry kitten. It rained later and I laughed at the group of guys continuing their game under big Haitian raindrops. I took a shower in the outdoor shower right under the stars and came back to my cozy little dry room to finish writing and get some sleep.

To the Top of the Mountain!

Thursday
I've not been feeling so good today. I've got some intestinal stuff going on that sucks, but I still haven't puked. That's a plus! I opted not to head to General today and work with the kids because I don't want to faint or get stuck feeling crappy in the middle of my 4-5 mile walk. I laid some blankets down in the back on the CT Scanner and took a long nap. That has been the excitement of my day... rest, fluids, rice, and relaxation.

Friday
I'm feeling just fine today, no more feeling sluggish and no more stomach issues. We started group at the CDTI early this morning again. By about 8:30, the kids were circled up and starting to share. Katura was having a rough day and was very quiet. She had a few tears rolling down her cheek and didn't want to share. We all went around and told Katura good things about why we love her. Then, we talked about helping to spread throughout our family and friends some of the hope and happiness that we have cultivated in group. For our activity today, I had everyone sit on the ground and take a piece of sidewalk chalk. Then, I had everyone give the ground a message. In big letters we wrote "No Tremble!" meaning "No more shaking!" Kids wrote the words God and hope and love. It was a neat activity and I explained that when the rains came today, it would wash all of our messages deep into the earth. A couple of the kids then got playful and drew of big hopscotch board with the chalk. In the back of my mind, I got kinda concerned because I thought it would end up singling out people like Katura with only one leg. But, with the same kind of swift progress she has been making, she proved me wrong. This little girl got up out of her wheelchair and hopped over to the beginning of the hopscotch board, went all the way to the end, turned around and hopped back! She's starting to gain confidence and take new risks.

My friend Alison Wright stopped by the hospital today. She is back in town to do a story on the Haitian art for the Smithsonian Magazine. It was nice to take her around the tents and update her on many of the patient's significant progress. She had known them all when they were new patients. Later this week, Alison and I are planning on heading out to one of the remote villages. It should be a nice little adventure.

Instead of heading down to the General Hospital today, I headed up the mountains to the Kenscoff Clinic. I went with Chantell and her cousin Donaldson. He was so kind to bring me up there and the three of us really had a great time riding and laughing. The drive is about 45 minutes uphill. On the way, we stopped at a "zoo". This "zoo" has caged pidgeons, rabbits, goats, a monkey, and a crocodile. It's a pretty sad zoo compared to those in the U.S., but it was still fun to see. I'm always mesmorized by the monkeys. The was pretty close to a big Baptist compound where you could see a Billy Graham bus rolling out, a little too over the top for me, but we decided to walk around anyhow. We passed a little Haitian museum where you could go inside and see everything from generations of Haitian currency to real voodoo dolls. Shortly thereafter, we came to Fort Jacques. This is a massive military fort from the days when Haiti first gained it's independence... more than 200 years ago. It withstood a war and the weather for more than 2 centuries, but it was no match for the earthquake. Cannons have toppled down the hill. The sides of the fort have crumbled, tunnels have completely collapsed, walls have caved in, and what stood as a sign of a strong Haiti is now very symbolic of a force that has finally brought this nation to its knees. It was a very humbling sight.

Continuing uphill, we passed massive green rolling hills, towering pine trees, lush farm land, and at the very top... an antennea garden just like in Duluth. We walked over behind the towers to a place where at your feet you are surrounded by lilies and in the distance you can see Port au Prince. We were so high up that the air had turned cold, we could see our breath, and we were in the middle of the clouds. At some parts, we were looking down at the clouds! I kept thinking to myself, "Am I still in Haiti?"

Finally, at the Kenscoff Clinic, I rounded the corner to surprise the girls! They seemed very excited to see me. Big hugs were exchanged, we quickly caught up, and then they gave me a big tour of the compound including a garden and a forest of thick green bamboo. This place really is a piece of heaven. I'd love to just linger here for a while. As we sat around talking a big beautiful rusty colored horse and his owner swaggered their way into the clinic. A little boy there got to get on his back and enjoyed the ride and the attention. Finally, after discussing some future plans and possibilities, we had to depart. On our way back to the hospital, Chantel and I grabbed some chocolate ice cream, which was a refreshing treat. We got back to the hospital with time left to still wait on the surgical team to wrap things up. As we waited, I went out in the courtyard to show the kids pictures of our day. They get so excited to see pictures of themselves or anyone they know for that matter.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Efforts Underway To Keep CDTI Hospital From Closing

Tuesday
I walked to the hospital this morning with George. I could have rode the bus with Operation Rainbow and the Dominicans from Esperanza, but I wanted to walk with George for old time's sake. At the hospital, we had some more discussions about the hospital's fate. It truly may have to close this Saturday or by the end of the month at the latest. There is no money to pay the hospital's employees and without the support staff, the administrators say the hospital can't stay open. The employment laws here make it so that after 60 days, workers must be released with severence pay. The only way to do that will be by selling the hospital's capital, including equipment and property. Additionally, we don't know if we'll have any diesel fuel to keep the lights on and the power up. We go a day at a time on our fuel predictability. Relying on outside funding is this hospital's last hope!

Before heading to General Hospital this morning, I worked for a while in triage. I collected vitals, gathered a history, and gave a brief physical exam and assessment. One of my patients we believe may have been bit by a rabid dog last night. He approached the dog, it was foaming at the mouth and attacked him. He's been febrile, aching, legs cramping up, and having strange symptoms since. We started him out with a simple tetanus shot and will follow up on his progress to see if we should start him on a rabies series.

At General Hospital today, it was a tough group. Inside the tents it was so hot, so everyone was a bit distracted. This group in particular has some challenging dynamics because of a few things- there is more of a consistent turnover which leaves makes it difficult for the group to get much past the forming stage, with about 15 kids the group is just too large, the acuity of the patients is more severe limiting many kids to their beds and leaving us with a wide open space instead of a tight safe-feeling circle, many of the parents choose to participate in the group which adds a strange age incongruity, and the nurses continue patient care while the group is in session. It makes for a very distracting environment. Today we focused on the emotion of sadness and depression, the kids did some coloring activity, and we did a discussion. Here, I was able to pass out more cards made by 1st graders from my childhood elementary school "St. Joseph's Catholic School" in Winter Haven. The patients were so appreciative of their cards and after they read them, we hung the cards over their beds. As the group energy was finally starting to build today, we decided it was time for the music. We got out the instruments and started to play. Hivelt, my translator, brought his guitar today so we got a real treat. He played, we added the rhythm. Then, I played for the group for a bit to the tune of this sone Hivelt and I made up. Finally, we started seeing the smiles come out.

After group, I swung by the IMC, International Medical Corp, organization's central command at the hospital. I spoke with them about my Grief Therapy Program and about how they are organizing their psychological care at this point. I gained some good insight and left with some new contacts and a new possibility for implementation. Just a couple buildings down from their headquarters is the hospital morgue. You may have seen images of this morgue featured on an episode of 60 minutes. Behind the morgue there were literally thousands of bodies stacked up, bloated, and covered in blood and gore. They were using dump trucks and bulldozers to transport the bodies by the hundreds to mass burial sites. Certainly, all of those bodies are now gone, but the air is heavy with the stench of leftover remnants of bodies Truly, the smell is overwhelming. You have to breathe shallow to avoid puking. As we approached the building, a new body was rolled into the building and another body was carried away in a hurse. People are still dying here in relatively high numbers... unable to keep fighting against what the quake did to their bodies. Walking through the morgue was a reminder... stacks of steel coffins piled atop oen another, a tower of stretchers piled up to the ceiling covered in dried blood and flesh, an autopsy room filled with the intense sense of doom. We had to leave. It was too much.

Leaving General Hospital, I had two more stops to make for the day. First, we stopped by the Ecole Nationale des Infirmieres (National School of Nursing) in Port-au-Prince. This was one of three official nursing schools in the country that was entirely destroyed. This quake hugely damaged the country's medical population as thousands of healthcare workers were killed. At this particular school 150 nurses were buried in the rubble. Robbed of their dream to administer to the sick and ill, they now had become the injured and dead. Reports I have read indicate that 150 second-year nursing students and two professors were killed when the school collapsed. Actually, we just happen to currently have one of the surviving nurses at our hospital at CDTI. Anyhow, I was able to go on the grounds of what's left of the campus. The multistory building that collapsed has all been cleared. There is a row of empty lockers separating the tent where surviving students are now conducting their classes and the empty plot that once was the foundation for their classrooms that housed their friends and trusted teachers. I sat with the nursing students and had my translator explain to them that on behalf of myself and the College of Saint Scholastica, where I am currently attending Grad school in Minnesota... that we send our deepest condolences. Something about this just really choked me up and fighting behind tears, I told these women how important their role will now be in a country where the demand for caring professional nurses is at an all time high coupled with the enormous toll taken upon the nursing population as a result of the quake and the many nurses killed. I told them to be strong, stay focused on their studies in less than optimal conditions and that whatever they end up doing to be great at it. The girls seemed to really appreciate that I had stopped by to share a message with them, and I felt so proud to represent my College.

Last stop for the day... Ministere De La Sante's Centre De Psychiatrie Mars & Kline. This psyhological facility is really one of the only standing mental hospitals in Port au Prince. {For a good article regarding this place read, http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/20/world/americas/20haiti.html } I sat down with one of the directors and talked about my Grief Therapy Program. I inquired about the current needs of the hospital and how I could best be of assistance to them during this time. The doctor explained that they are seeing high numbers of PTSD, extreme psychosis, and schitzophrenia. He welcomed me to do return and do some grief counseling with some of the patients. I agreed. He gave me a tour of the facility and while parts of the main building have been abandoned for safety issues, a large courtyard remains occupied by about 20 male "criminally insane" and inpatients in lock down. The men are walking around looking dazed, some of them naked, others hidden in the shadows. It looked like a very lonely and empty place to live. I'm sure my experience here should prove very interesting.

Finally, back at CDTI, I tried getting some work done finding out details regarding the potential closure of the hospital. We're currently working on a press release to get the attention of the American people. Perhaps somebody could find a way to step up, become the hero, and help restore a hospital and a staff. It will break many of our hearts to see the hospital we have worked so hard at over the last couple months have to lock its doors. What will be even more painful is having to watch the patients we have come to love be discharged back to the streets without a full recovery.

Unfortunately, just as I was setting up for the kids therapy group at CDTI today, I found out the Operation Rainbow bus was leaving. I really didn't want them to leave without me becasue that would have meant having to hike back through the pitch-black streets at night. I did that once and vowed to never do it again. I had to explain to the kids that I wouldn't be able to do their group today, but would make it up to them tomorrow. Just as we were leaving, an older woman was wheeled into the hospital, she was placed upon the guerney and we suddenly realized that she was dead. Myself and a couple of the docs searched for any trace of a pulse, or breath, but they were both absent. The woman's eyes were fixed, her skin was cold, and her body was lifeless. The doctor called it and told the woman's family she was deceased. They cried. We moved the woman into a quite area where we covered her and the morgue was called. The Operation Rainbow team then did a quick little tour around town so their folks could get a feel for the damage, and we headed back to the house.

Right now I'm laying in my tent catching up on my journaling and experiencing some real caregiver fatigue. I've been fighting a headache that nothing will ease for about the last 5 hours. Honestly, this is very draining work to sit and talk with kids about their dead parents and constant fear their world will fall apart again. It breaks your heart and you do all that you can to be strong for them. The most draining part is what I call, "carrying the light." It takes a lot of energy to keep the group focused, attentive, and enthusiastic about participating... especially with the patients at General. Communicating through a language barrier adds and additional challenge. I'm walking about 4 miles a day, which doesn't help with the dehydration issues, but I can't drink enough water fast enough it seems. Please, oh please, headache go away!

Wednesday
We had to say goodbye to George, the cop from New Jersey, today. It was so nice having him back, but was time for him to leave. At the hospital today, we had a new visitor. Out in the courtyard sitting on the curb was Sean Penn! This Hollywood actor that starred in films such as Milk, Dead Man Walking, and I Am Sam, is now featuring his skills as an incredible relief worker both financially and physically. He has been down here in Haiti for a while now. He's getting dirty right alongside the rest of us, doing what he can. He's our last hope for saving the hospital. He stopped by to the hospital today to get a tour, and I was able to shake his hand and meet him. I wanted for him to see how happy the kids could be here and how much they glow when they are playing their music. I got all the kids together and setup our music, but we were too late. He had already left. That was okay, we just flipped our group slot to doing the CDTI kids earlier instead of later today.

At General Hospital, our group went much better than yesterday. We had a couple of the "Debbie Downers" that had left the hosptital and created a group more willing to listen and share. I also moved everyone closer today and tried to create more of a circle in the limited space we had. These factors led to a much richer group expereince and a much deeper level of sharing. At the end, we did our usual music therapy group, then prayed together.

Leaving General, I headed to my next destination for the day at the Ministere De La Sante's Centre De Psychiatrie Mars & Kline. This is basically, the only inpatient lockdown psychological center in the area. I met with one of the main psyhologists who then motioned for a few security guards to come over. Before I knew what was going on, these three security guards were unlocking the secured courtyard at the hospital and motioning us to move through. We do, and I hear a big clunk of the lock behind me. There I am standing in the middle of a locked nut house, surrounded by about 20 men... half behind bars, and the other half buck naked just walking looking to the sky aimlessly. Some of these men are here because they committed crimes and are deemed criminally insand. This was certainly out of my comfort zone and not what I had in mind when it came to grief therapy counseling, but I knew it was where I was supposed to be. I was able to get some of these guys to sit down and color with me, to talk about how they are coping with their life and feelings. In the end, the guys wanted to pray with me. I was a little apprehensive to put my hands behind some of the bars, but I did and we just praised Jesus for the amazing work he is doing here and asked him to continue to provide everyone with the strength and needs to get through this rough time.

On our way back to the hospital we swung by the completely collapsed and already cleared Louis Pasteur Institute of Nursing. This was sad to know many nurses died here as well. Back at the hospital, I tried to get some stuff finished on the Internet, met with the kids for a bit, Kira came and picked Victoria and I up at the hospital, we went home, showered, got fixed up and went to the Pizza Garden for dinner.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Kidnappngs, Tremors, Presidents, and A Dead Baby

Friday
We woke up to rain today. I threw on my rain gear and hiked over to General Hospital with my translator. It was pretty gross walking through the mud, scum, and trash that lines the streets. Now that the rains are starting to come more frequently and fall harder, we're starting to see plenty rubble start to make its way into the roads. At the General Hospital group today, we continued our discussion about feelings. The kids here did their activity about drawing pictures of their life before the earthquake and pictures of their life after the earthquake. Again, the images tug at the heart. Kids before pictures had flowers, sun shining, smiles, sturdy houses, kids playing with each other, dogs running in the yard, and a general happy feeling to them. Drawings after the earthquake showed more dead people, power lines laying in the roads, houses crushed, limbs missing, people living in huts, and a feeling of loss. We continued to walk though the images with the children as they talked about their pain. We closed group with a big prayer in the tent lead by a Haitian nurse, and then sang our hearts out. We gave the kids stickers and candy, which were well appreciated.

Back at CDTI today I did a little bit of nursing care, ate lunch that consisted of some white rice, bean juice, and a packet of honey barbeque sauce from Chick Fillet in the U.S. Yum! Before group, I pulled out some facepaint for the kids and we ended up getting some good laughs in. What started with red hearts and blue stars on cheeks turned into a clan of kids sporting mustaches. Another nurse and I joined the club with curly staches of our own. We were all just being silly and enjoyed lots of laughter. It was another nice activity that pulled the group dynamics a little closer.

We began our therapy group shortly thereafter. Today's topic for this group was dealing with the earthquake blues. We wanted to focus on the sadness component of grieving. Although these kids can laugh and joke around, there is still a very thick layer of sadness and loss underneath it all. I wanted to dig into some of that today. We had a good discussion and activity that followed. The kids drew pictures of the things they lost today. Those images included a picture of half a leg missing, two broken legs, a doll, houses, people, and believe it or not... someone's Playstation (and he was not an American ;-). The next drawing was about things that the kids had gained since the earthquake. Although they have not gained very much, I wanted them to start seeing some of the changes that are starting to take place. One got new glasses, another new friends, one child got a new car, another got a watch, and the girl who had lost her doll had already gotten a new one. We wrapped group up with our usual little group cheer and then got out the instruments to do some music. The kids just come to life when they get to make noise and sing. We got around to realizing everyone knew the words to Felize Navidad. The Mexican Navy was wrapping up their deployment with us at the hospital, and so we pulled them over and my little group put on a impromtu concert for them. Everyone with their little mustaches pained on their face, got their instruments out, and we sang Felize Navidad to the Mexican Navy. It was so very random by all accounts.

After the day was pretty much over and I was able to connect to the wireless service at the hospital, I had a message pop up on my computer that my little sister Anna in Portland, Oregon was on Skype and available to talk. I sent her a video message and she responded. All of the sudden, there she is clear as can be on my screen, moving and talking in real time. It was hard to believe that I was all the way over in Haiti and could see her and talk to her so clearly! I was able to walk through part of the hospital and the main yard with all the tents and show Anna around. Then, I brought the therapy group over to meet her. The kids were so excited to see this kind of technology and excited to meet my sister. Anna showed them her cat and made him dance. Her fiance Jarod, a medical student at OHSU who I dearly wish was here to provide his expertise, got on and said hi to the kids too. Then, all the kids got around, holding hands and connect to the computer screen where Anna and Jarod were holding hands and from thousands of miles away and across the ocean blue, we all said the Lord's Prayer together. Technology is so amazing! The kids were then able to get their instruments back out and give a little concert to Anna and Jarod. We finally all had to tell Anna and Jarod goodbye and I wrapped things up at the hospital before heading back to the house, eating dinner, and am now laying here on the floor under my bug net writing about the day.

One thing that is bugging me right now is the increased security measures going on around here. Last week there were two members of the Doctor's Without Borders group who were kidnapped at gunpoint, held hostage for a ransom, and then later released. Apparently, another kidnapping was attempted or something along the road outside our hospital. This has everyone on edge and making policies about not walking anywhere alone and so forth. Granted, I'm not going to start walking places alone, but I will continue walking back and forth between General Hospital with my translator so that I can carry my program to the kids. I walk with mace strapped on my shoulder that I can easily access it in a one hand grab, change up my route, and walk between parked cars and the surrounding walls to sort of hide in the shadows from one of these suspecting cars with masked gunmen should they decide to target the street I'm on. I am continually aware of my surroundings, who's passing, and where people are in relation to me. I walk confidently, greet those whom I pass and make eye contact with, and stay in the populated areas. I also let people know where I'm going and when I should be back. It's a choice I make as an educated and independent adult. I'm not under the liability or care of anyone's organization or relief team, but my own. Sure, there is risk to my decision, but my gut truly feels okay about this. Jumping from an airplane is a really stupid idea too, but you do it with a parachute you can jump confidently that you will land unharmed. God will provide me with the protection that I need to get the job done. My mace and local Haitian translator is my chute. Sure, I could still crash, but I'm graced in confidence that my chute will open. Besides, I'm on a mission from God and he has my back. He's protecting me beyond anything I could imagine. Certianly, that doesn't mean I'm invincible, but he will provide the protection I need to get the job done and that means walking to General Hospital and back every day. For me, this is me like Peter stepping out onto the water. It's not necessarily safe to do, but God gives me the ability and confidence to do it. In addition, there are probably about at least a dozen other cities I've walked through in the last years of my life that were probably a lot more unsafe than PAP. Soldiers don't stop doing their job when it comes time to go to war. They don't rest when the bullets start to fly. No, they get up and they fight. They push the line forward and continue the mission that they set out to do in the first place. This is my crusade. It's a crusade for healing the children of this nation. This is no holy war, it's a healing war.

Saturday
There are certain things you do in Haiti that you would never imagine doing back home. We don't flush our toilet paper and instead put it in bags next to the toilet, we eat eggs that have been left out for days, and I just did something new that I would have never done back in the states. I brought this delicious 12 grain hot cereal that I savor every morning. This morning I went to eat it and found it full of little weavels... I think that's what they are called... those little tiny bugs that get into bags of sugars and grains. Well, I just decided, the hell with it- a little extra protein won't hurt. I took the whole box and zapped it for a couple minutes in the microwave to kill the ones that were still in there moving around and went ahead and ate what was now 13 grain hot cereal. Nothing like a little weavel oatmeal in Haiti to start the day!

We had a slow start to the day this morning. Because we didn't leave until about 9am, I was able to sit under a tree with my feet up on a rock reading a book, drinking a strong cup of Haitian coffee, and enjoy a cool breeze that wisped past my cheeks. Once at the hospital, my translator Hivelt met up with me and we went over and did some entertaining for the patients. He let me use his guitar and as I made up the melody, he added some words. I couldn't hardly believe it that I was singing out loud in front of all these people. Maybe in the back of my mind I was thinking, "since they don't speak my language, they must have no idea that my voice sounds like crap?!" I don't know what I was thinking, but I was having fun and singing with my heart. Hivelt even showcased his "hand flute" skills. He's able to play a tune using the crooks of his hands and his mouth. I've never even heard od this before.

Finally, a bunch of us headed on our way to a new orphanage today. This orphanage is in Iccar, a small village here in PAP. There are about 200 kids living here, most of them with no family at all, but some of them have parents living out in the tents but they come here during the day to be fed, educated, and to be safe. It breaks your heart looking around knowing that most of these kids have nothing more than the safe walls that surround them though- no one to hold them, no one to tell them they are loved, and everything will be okay. At night they sleep on the hard concrete floors. Their bathroom is a hole over in the corner. Part of the building did collapse during the earthquake, so in the midst of the orphanage buzz, there are men with hammers and pick axes clearing the rubble.

When we arrived at the orphanage today, it did not feel like a sad place though. The kids were all sweetly lined up along the corridor sitting on little handmade benches and they were singing to us. They sang a song so beautiful and in unison. Altogether in French they said welcome and clapped. I think they were genuinely excited that some new faces with smiles had arrived. You half wonder to yourself if the kids deep inside are hoping to themselves, "pick me, pick me, please pick me." Getting adopted means freedom, escape from this life, and that you were so special that I picked you. I'm sure many of these children will never get this freedom, but making them feel special is something I can do. My translator Hivelt had brought his guitar and he pulled up a stool in the middle of the children and started to play them a song. The kids clapped in unison to the melody and sang along. I went through the crowd and started to dance to the beat. I pulled a couple kids up with me and we did the merengui. It was joyful.

We set up a little triage area and gave each of the kids physicals. We still have to go back tomorrow to finish them up because there are just so many of the kids. When our pediatrician found a child who was a good candidate for therapy, she would send them my way. We started doing therapy off a ways in the only quite place we could find, right on top of the rubble. Talk about an awfully profound place to talk about loss from an earthquake! My first patient was a little boy who was tachycardic and has been suffering severe anxiety since the earthquake. In particular, the little boy experiences severe anxiety when he hears loud noises now. The child was only about 3 years old and spoke very little. He has been speaking even less since the quake. I told him that I had a very special little bear that he could hold if he wanted to. I told him that this little bear was a magical bear that helped keep little boys safe. The little boy took the bear, held him in his arms, and it marked the beginning of what became a dialogue with the child. The majority of the session was done with me talking through the little bear and boy talking to the bear. It was pretty neat how everything turned out. I had him do some coloring and we practiced some breathing techniques he can practice when he hears noises or starts to get scared. Mom helped him count to ten as he did his breathing. In the end, the little boy said he felt better.

Finally, the sun peaked in the sky and the heat became intolerable. We had to relocate to a more shaded area. So, we went right outside the walls of the compound where we found a little unoccupied steal vendor booth. We settled in here and I posted a little sign made from crayon that read Jitterbug's Therapy Hut. The kids would come in here to visit me and we'd get out the little bear, do some coloring activities, talk about what was going on, and provide caretakers with some coping skills they can use to help their children in this time of adjustment.

One of these kids had lost his whole family in the quake. He and another little boy who had lost his best friend both comprised a small group with myself and my translator Hivelt. The two boys were able to share about what happened on the day of the earthquake. I gave them a chance to tell me a little bit about their loved ones that were killed. We did some drawings of the earthquake damage and I had them tear the drawing into pieces and handed them a new piece of white paper and told them that now they get to start fresh. It was a neat analogy and it brought both of them a smile.

Some of the children I counseled today still had parents that were alive and involved in their lives. I was able to teach the parents some very important coping skills to help their kids move through their fears and grief. We talked about the importance of re-establishing routine in the kids lives to give them predictability and the importance of providing the children with opportunities to be independent by giving them the freedom to make simple choices. Additionally, I was able to tell the parents about some of the behaviors they can expect from their kids with what they are going through.It's completly normal for them to be acting out or going to the other extreme of withdrawing completely. I also told parents to provide the children with opportunities to talk about the earthquake each day, so that the children could slowly start to sort out, process, and separate themselves from the details. Perhaps the biggest thing that I was able to emphasize though was the extreme importance right now of parents and loved ones making a point of reminding their children they are save and loved. One little girl in particular was nearly mute. She could reach out and hold my hand and nod her head, but not do much more. She came over and sat on my lap and I ended up just picking her up and rocking her back and forth. For just a moment, I wanted her to feel safe and loved.

Later I went into tent city village of Iccar with my translator and a few of the locals. We went around doing a tour of some of the homes through the winding maze of tents. Some of the passageways between the makeshift houses here are only wide enough for your shoulders to pass. We found a tiny malnourished baby covered in ash and concrete dust. She has laying there crying so hard I thought she was going to pass out. I had no supplies or equipment other than my stethascope, so all I was able to do was offer some nutrition advice to the mom and explain that this baby who was covered in the filth from the ground sludge and urine soaked clothes and diaper that she needed to practice some more hygiene with the child to prevent illness. As we'd go along, we'd find person after person who would want advice or be concerned about a loved one. They would welcome us into their little huts and lead us to the sick and ill. None of the patients seemed to be having anything serious going on. I was able to identify some sprains and strains, dehydration, orthostatic hypotension, and a few other minor issues. It's just so hard though when you have nothing on you to treat them with. I could only give practical advice... drink more water, get some salt in your diet, eat a bananna for some potassium, stand up slowly, take some ibuprophen, lift with your legs not your back, and more. It's such simple stuff, but was all I could offer.

Upon returnning to CDTI today I was able to fit in the kids therapy group. When I arrived, they all started wheeling over to me in their wheelchairs saying, "group! group! tambo! tambo!" They wanted to have group and they wanted to play music. It was so sweet to see their enthusiasm. Today's lesson was about moving into acceptance and starting to look in the direction of security and optimism. It really turned out to be one of my favorite sessions. We passed the little comfort bear talking about some of the ways that they can see life improving, we talked about self confidence and each person shared something they liked about themselves. I had the children share with each other things they liked about their neighbor, we went around and did some positive affirmations in Creole. The translator would read the statements, things like "I am a strong person and I can get through this.", "Things will be different now, but I will adjust," "Sometimes I feel alone, but there are a lot of people who love me," "I am confident and capable of healing," "I am healthy and strong". The kids repeated the phrases back with enthusiasm and we would clap and get excited together about each one and then do our little stir the pot thing and throw our hands into the air and say "Awwwwwww, Suki, Suki!"

We ended up having a growing number of spectators on our group. Some of the nurses and doctors who had been wrapping up their day came around and lingered in the background to watch what we were doing. Honestly, I got a little nervous with them watching because I suddenly felt like I was a bit vulnerable to looking silly, unprofessional, or incompetent. At the end of the session, their reactions were quite different. It absolutely made my day. A few of them came over and said what a wonderful thing it is that I'm doing and how much they could see it making a difference in the kids lives. And another, a youth pastor and medic came over to me asking me if I had designed this program. I told him yes, and he went on to say it was the most amazing thing he has ever seen. He said that he's never seen a group go so seemless, get to the point, move through the group process, and produce the kind of results that he had just witnessed. He was eager about getting a copy that he could start implementing and sharing the program. What a boost to my confidence in running these groups. I must give the credit to the big guy upstairs though. It was him working through my fingers at the keyboard when I started to design it and him using my voice to carry compassion and words of counsel and understanding to those who are so hungry to heal.

Following group, we got out the musical instruments and we had some good singing therapy. Everyone is starting to learn the words to more songs (including me), and getting more in unison with their instruments. We even had some of the spectators come over and join us in our music. It's such a joyful event when people start singing around here because it just lights up the whole camp. People playing the instruments are smiling, people watching have life suddenly in their eyes, and people back in their tents listening find comfort in the joyful music.

Following group, I headed back inside to try and post some pictures online. Just as I started uploading some shots, Beth came in and said, "I need to you run a medical transport to General. We just had a little girl come in who was hit by a motorcycle." I shut my computer lid and went running out to the ER. The little girl had been unconscious for about 10-15 minutes, woke up and started seizing. We gave her some ativan, put in a line, and the girl quickly went post-ictal. She had a laceration on the back of her head that was dermabonded, the docs cleared her neck and chest, but the girl was still in need of some neuro and wound follow-up beyond what we had the capacity to do, especially at this time of the day. So, IV in hand, following a blood soaked dad, we laid her in the back of the SUV. Holding the IV bag in one hand and listening to her heart and chest as we drove through the streets of PAP to get to General was an intense situation. I had a bottle of Ativan in my pocket and a syringe ready to go if she started to seize again.

Once we got there, the General Hospital staff took over, and I was able to get away for a second. I went over to the transfusion bank for the second time this week to give blood. However, my blood pressure has been so low from the heat and trying to stay hydrated that I couldn't donate. The first time, my BP was 70/40, this time it was 90/60. That's better, but still too low to give responsibly. Blood donors are so badly needed here though. The line to receive is much longer than the line to give and the supply they have now will be gone in the near future if it cannot be replenished. Back over the the little girl who was now stabilized, her father told me he could drive me back to CDTI and I agreed. He spoke great English because he lived in the states for 30 years and worked a large portion of that time as a bus driver for the school system. We got to the hospital and I asked him if he wanted to say a little prayer for his daughter. He was very excited that I would want to pray with him. To see a father still covered in blood praying under the street light for his injured daughter is touching to say the least.

Back at the house, we had some new housemates. A large number of the Operation Rainbow crew had headed back to the U.S. Now, their second deployment had arrived. They have been getting settled in and we have all been getting acquainted with each other. This team of orthopaedic professionals appears to be a lot of fun, very kind, and well-trained. Shortly after I crawled into my tent tonight, I was at my computer going through some of my pictures I had taken for the day when the house started to shake. It's the first aftershock we've felt for at least 3 weeks. I stopped typing, shouted, 'Oh no!", unzipped the tent, grabbed my jump bag, and bolted out the house. A group of our new housemates followed. I'm too freaked out by shaking houses to sit around inside and wait to see if it's going to shake more. I felt so bad for one of the girls who was really freaked out by the shake. She moved her matress to the front of the house and I had to give her some anxiety medication so she could sleep. Welcome to Haiti!

Sunday
We found out today that our translator saw two houses collapse after last night's shaker. We don't see it registered anywhere on the USGS website, so it's undocumented, but many of us felt it and it was enough to do some damage. Now, the Domincans that are staying at the house with us and helping to coordinate logistics for the Operation Rainbow crew are sleeping out in the bus. Even they are too freaked out to sleep indoors.

At the hospital today, Victoria and I decided that we wanted to go to a local Church. We got together a translator, one of our friends Chantel, and the orphan Joseph and took a taxi to the Haitian Community Church. The entire service is done in Creole and French, so we had no idea what they were saying or singing, but it was wonderful nonetheless. We all knew we were there for the same reasons and no matter what is being said, God speaks the same language in our hearts. I sort of had fun making up in my own head what was being said. My own translation I'm sure was far from accurate, but it made me smile. After Church, we went to the Quisqueya Christian School. Many of the NGOs in the area are staying here, sleeping in classrooms and in tents. This facility has become a major distribution point for materials coming into the country. They are distributing medications, tarps, food, water, and just about any other relief supplies. They are providing shelter to volunteers, hot meals, spiritual direction, transportation, and more. As a matter of fact, Sean Penn was in the country a few weeks ago and made of tour of the facility. It is very clean, shaded, and secure. We stuck around for a while, were treated to a hot meal of Chicken, rice, and beet salad and then had fun taking photos of each other under the bogenvillia trees. I played a pretty funny prank on our translator. I discovered this new function on my camera where you can swap out colors. I swapped out the color of his skin for a deep purple and told him that he wasn't looking too good. I asked him how much of that beet salad he had eaten and whether he was allergic to beets or not. He asked why and I told him that his skin was starting to turn a shade of purple like the color of the beets. I told him I'd take a picture so he could see what I was talking about. I snapped the picture of what was altered to look like a bright purple face and his eyes got all big. He started feeling his face and asking if it was starting to swell. Finally, I couldn't mess with him any longer and had to tell him the whole thing was a joke. We all got a good laugh out of that!

From Quisqueya, we walked over to Ipido. This is a bakery that has opened back up and it is great! There is ice cream, crepes, pizza, burgers, pastries, cakes, and fresh baked bread. The five of us sat around eating ice cream and cake while we laughed, took pictures, and practiced our Creole. I was so glad that we had been able to bring Joseph the orphan with us today because he wore a smile all day long and we knew it must have been nice to have gotten out of the compound and feel like he is not alone. We had no idea how we were going to get back to the hospital which was like 20 minutes away. We saw a private car pulling out from Quisqueya who ended up being a distant cousin of the President here. He kindly piled all of us into his car and drove us back. On the way, we swung by the CanopeVert Hospital, which apparently is known as the green couch hospital because of the green mountain it is nestled in. The hospital was quite clean and calm. It was nice to see another facility up and running.

Back at CDTI, we arrived to a herd of kids wheeling over to me saying, "Jitterbug, tambo, tambo, group, group!!!" They had been waiting for group all day and were excited to get started. Because it was a little bit later in the afternoon, a Sunday, and I had a little surprise for them, we went straight to the surprise and the music making. One of the orthopods daughters works for the J.K. Living Foundation. It stands for Just Keep Living. This is an organization founded by Matthew McCaunehay (sp?) to help promote responsible living by young adults. The organization had donated dozens of shirts to the hospital that say J.K. Livin on them. One by one, I took a kid into the back and sized them for a perfectly fitting shirt. They were so excited. Before long, my entire group was a troop of brown wearing shirts emblazoned with the message Just Keep Living. Pretty soon, everybody in camp wanted one too. The kids in my group went over to a pile of rubble that remained from a collapsed house and we had some fun with photography. I did a little photoshoot with them atop the rubble. My translator came over and we helped set the kids up on the rubble so that everyone could participate. We brought Joshua over in his wheelchair and lifted it atop a little heap, held Katura in our arms with her one leg, the other kids all gathered around, sitting on blocks, holding a piece of concrete, and we smiled, laughed, threw our arms up, and suddenly I realized this place of saddness... these symbolic remains of what was home, security, and a life they once knew was now being replaced with memories of happiness and love. What a blessing! The sun was setting at this point and the lighting was perfect, I took aside some of the girls who really love getting their picture taken and did some head shots of them in the perfect lighting and they smiled when they looked at the screen and saw how beautiful they looked!

Next, it was time for the group's music therapy session. Our group is growing as new patients come into the facility and as other patients start to gain interest. Today we had more people than instruments and I really wanted everyone to get to participate. Then, it hit me. I told everyone to hold on for a moment and I disappeared over to a heap a rubble from a collapsed house and started to dig. I pulled out a piece of rebar that looked just like a triangle. I ripped the string off shoe to hang the triangle, and got another piece of rebar and suddenly we had a musical instrument. Then, I grabbed a piece of bathroom tile and a high heel shoe. It made a great clicking sound. Next, I dug out a piece of shelving that was ridged and textured... add to that a square piece of tin and suddenly, we had a washboard instrument. I found a metal light fixture that when held by one end upside down, it became a bell that one could ring. Over next to the bathtub I found an old bottle of rum and a broken leg from a table. This made a nice clamoring sound. I grabbed an empty pop bottle, filled it with pieces of the rubble and we had ourselves a nice maracca. In what was probably the kitchen area of the house before it fell I found the lid to a pot and a giant red plastic comb that fit nicely together for a good sound. A rock scraping against an old broken record added a hint of dj remix to the whole melody as well. I ran back to the kids with my newfound musical toys and their faces just lit up. From the pit of the rubble, came beautiful music. The very thing that had crushed some of their family members, taken their limbs, and put many of these patients in the hospital to begin with... it was all now the source of new happy memories and smiles. Suddenly, the kids were more excited about playing with the high heel on the bathroom tile and the makeshift triangle than they were about playing with the real instruments. This is perhaps one of my fondest memories of being here and so very deep and profound. Talk about rising from the ashes! This was a true example of finding beauty amid the brokenness. It was symbolic of the hope that was starting to surface among this community. I decided I'd just let the kids have fun and tie the lesson back into their session tomorrow.

As the music carried on, some of us got up and started dancing. Then, my friend Chantell looked over and said, "Look Jitterbug, Katura wants to dance today!" I glanced over and saw 5-year old Katura who had lost her leg in a crushing injury from the earthquake, stand up on her one good leg and start to dance. It brought tears to my eyes because I remember this sweet little girl not even having the confidence to get out of her wheelchair and use a set of crutches! Here she was dancing with the help of my friend. I walked over to her and held her hands, told her how proud I was of her and started to dance by her side. I bent one of my legs and danced with her on only one leg as well. We hopped, bounced and twisted to the music. With tears in my eyes, I got some additional empathy as I realized how much extra work it is on the body to try and dance and have free movement with only one leg. The rest of your body has to work twice as hard at balancing and strength. During our dancing, I looked up and saw Duluthians Cory and Jennifer Dufault (sp?) and their other friend from Walker Minnesota. They had stopped by the hospital for the day and it was great to have that northland connection in such a special moment. I handed Jennifer an instrument so she could participate and experience the same joy we were all living. At the end, I asked Cory to give our final wrap up prayer. He praised the lord for Life and the Life we all have and for Joy! It was beautiful. Nothing else can beat a day like this one.

Monday
I've been fortunate enough to start the last few mornings out waking up feeling refreshed by about 5am. I'll make hot coffee, take my laptop out under the mango tree, put in my headphones and start journaling to the sounds of Vivaldi's Four Seasons. It's really a magical moment of the day and I think I finally understand why "morning people" love mornings. The air is crisp, there is a slight cool breeze, it's quiet, and the day is like a fresh canvas. While mornings are nice though, I don't forsee me becoming one of these "morning people" long into the future.

By the time I got to the hospital today I was feeling a little bit nauseaus. I have not gotten sick this whole time I've been here and don't want to start now. Several people around me have dropped at least once during their time here and I really don't want to join the Haiti Vomit Comet Club. I gave myself a shot of an anti-nausea med in my quad and it quickly subsided. My translator showed up, I helped him setup a Facebook account, and then we were off for the kid's session at General Hospital. On our way, I said, "Hey, let's go over here by the Palace and see if Clinton and Bush are here yet." They were supposed to be coming to town today. They were going to stop at the palace and then take a tour through the tent city at Champ Mars. We walked over towards the palace and got to a road where there was a security checkpoint. They waved us past. Another checkpoint, we were allowed to keep walking. A third checkpoint, and we were suddenly standing in the backyard of the Royal Palace. Moments later, everyone stepped over to the sidewalk and a massive motorcade started to pour its way into the driveway. Holy crap! Somehow, we just happened to be here at the Palace in absolute perfect timing for the former presidents's arrival. There, in a big black SUV passed George W. Bush waving at us from behind the window. It was dark, but my translator and I both could make out that it was him. We stood down for a little bit, before then trying to go and get into the press conference. Finally, a military personal asked me where my press pass was and I just told him I didn't have one. I didn't even have my passport on me- nothing to identify that I am who I say I am or even an American citizen. Now, I was kinda freaked out. They came over and asked us if we were on the list. They started to go through the list and thought I was Nancy Schneiderman from NBC (which was an honor because she is certainly one of my heros) and I said, "No, no, I shouldn't be on any list." They then appologized to me that I had arrived too late to get into the press conference and that I should have called earlier to make it on the list. We left and my translator and I both once a block away finally looked at each other with big grins on our faces knowing that we had gotten to see way more than we could have ever hoped.

Finally, at General Hospital, I went back to the transfusion center to see if my blood pressure was good enough for my donation yet. Still, my BP was way too low. This heat makes it just about impossible to raise it. However, it was a complete "God thing" that I couldn't donate today because at just the timing I stepped out of the clinic, a woman passed by who was screaming, wailing, and completely out of control. She was shouting in Creole and crying uncontrollably. My translator told me she was wailing about having just lost her baby and that it was her only child. Immediately, I turned around and knew that I was supposed to go administer to this woman. I didn't know how or what, but I just knew that I was supposed to be there at that moment for a purpose. I went over to her just before she was about to step out the gate. I have no doubt that she would have been hit by a car in a matter of seconds. I just grabbed her and held her. She was so uncontrollable at this point that she was becomming a hazard to herself. She had collapsed to the ground, was thrashing her limbs, wailing, and nearly smashed her head into the ground had I not caught it. I had my translator protect her head while she continued and ran into the ER, shouted for some Ativan. They were out. I found some Versed instead and filled the syringe with the sedative as I was ran back to the woman, braced her, and popped it in her bicept. Already on the ground at this point, I just held the woman now collapsed in my arms and tried to keep her from hurting herself while I waited for the two and a half milligrams to kick in. It was one of the most intense moments here. I just held this woman, enraptured in grief, tears flowing, voice piercing through the air, body thrashing, and just rocked her back and forth, back and forth. I was covered in dirt and her sweat and I didn't even care. As she struggled to fight against the medication and her grief, her control would slip in and out. One minute she'd be calm and docile and the next minute she'd flail back and nearly hit her head on the concrete. I braced myself behind her to protect her head and just waited for the medication to gain the upper hand. The woman's wail turned into a song of misery. She started singing behind tears, "Oh God, why have you forsaken me? Why have you given me such misery? Why have you taken my only baby? God, please be with me! God please come near! Can't you see my pain and misery?" Oh, man, this was just too much for me. I couldn't help but not start crying with the lady. I was overcome with her pain. Certainly, when I came here today to conduct my Grief Therapy Program, I was not expecting this! Finally, the medication won over and we were able to lift the woman up onto a stretcher and the rest of the staff was able to take over. Later, we saw the dead baby still wrapped in its blue blanket, still laying in the nursery of other babies still filled with life and holding on by a string. You have to wonder how this affects the rest of the mothers as they sit by with their children watching, waiting, and wondering if theirs will be next.

Whew! Off now to the grief therapy session in Pediatrics that I had planned on being a part of. Today's focus was on anger. In this session, I have this activity I engage the kids in that I always feel a little silly about getting them to do. However, it always turns out very successful. Today was no exception. I have the kids blow up a little balloon or a rubber glove, we draw a sad/grimacing face on it, and I explain to them that this is Mr. Earthquake. They get to tell him anything they want and let him know why they are mad at what he did. They are allowed to yell and scream as loud as they want, and anything they want to say is fair game. When they are done, they get to exert some control, pop the balloon, and make "Mr. Earthquake" go away. It encourages a healthy dialogue and allows the kids to embrace getting to be angry. It also gives them something to be angry at. At the beginning of the session there were two mothers participating who said they weren't angry. They asserted that they weren't mad about what they had lost, that they just simply stay distracted, try to forget about it and move on. This is exactly why I'm doing these groups. It's way to easy to just bury this crap, bury the feelings right alongside the rubble and not embrace the anger, sadness, and fear. It takes just as much effort to clear the concrete blocks and steel supports as it does to mend a broken heart. If you don't clear away the pain, then you'll find yourself stuck with it for life, reliving maybe not the memories, but the sideways repressed feelings and behaviors over and over again. It's my goal to be the foreman on the emotional construction site. I'll help them remove the rubble, peel away the layer of pain one by one, so that they can start reconstruction efforts on a clear solid site. The two women I was talking about a second ago who denied being mad, sure had a lot to say when it came their turn to talk to Mr. Earthquake. It was great to see. In fact, they could be mad. They were mad. And, they had a lot to say about it. In the end, when they popped their balloon with their bare hands, they had a true look of relief on their faces. We would all smile and clap for the person each time. It was like a celebration of Mr. Earthquake no longer winning.

Back at CDTI, I found out that the hospital might be closing at the end of this week. There are simply not enough funds to keep it open. The money is gone and the diesel has nearly run dry. However, the patients continue to flow in. We must have had 300 patients just today, and another 55+ living in the tents. Right now, Sean Penn was able to help connect us with 150 gallons of diesel fuel for the tank. But, even that will only last about a day and a half. Right now, Sean Penn, a corporate or private donation, or a major financial miracle is our only hope. Otherwise, the doors will shut, patients will have to be discharged, and it will be the end for CDTI. It would be a very unfortunate ending, especially considering how hard we have worked here over the last 2-plus months.

At the CDTI grief group today, we had another really good one. Now, we're starting talk about acceptance and looking more to the future rather than back at the past. I'm trying to get these kids to start focusing on what could be, rather than what has been. We went around and talked about who the kids can trust, feel safe talking with, and commit to regularly talking with regarding the earthquake and the feelings involved. The group shared about one place they felt they could go and still feel safe. Many said, under a tree, in a tent, and another kid said wherever his mom and dad are at. We talked about what these kids want to do when they grow up. If they had it their way, we'd be looking at the next generation of doctors, nurses, engineers, teachers, and policemen. Unfortunately, the reality is that many of these kids will be held back by circumstance and a broken system. When we talked about what the kids need to feel safe once again, the children said, "for the ground to not shake, to have a hosue again, and a number of kids were really concerned with the 'bad' people who do 'bad things' being on the loose. They were adament about wanting these thugs and gang members locked back up.

Finally, we moved into the music therapy part of the session. All the kids were so excited. Now, I tied things back in from the previous day's introduction of the rubble instruments. I told the kids that although the rubble holds many bad memories from January 12th, that we are slowly going to take those pieces of brokenness and replace them with feelings of happiness and cheer. I told them that I have been here to help show them how to do it and get the work started, but once I leave it will be up to them to keep doing the metaphorical digging. We practiced removing some of that rubble and replacing it with happiness today by getting the instruments and starting to play again. It was another great music session, and I'm continually amazed at how much the kids realy love getting to play! Our friend Alex (not the CDTI administrator) did our prayer today for our group. It was beautiful.

After group, little Katura kept telling me that she wanted to do the video. I didn't understand what she was saying until I remembered the last time we had gotten online and Skyped with my little sister Anna in Portland. I asked Katura if she meant that she wanted to talk to Anna. She got excited and said, "Yes, Anna, Anna, Anna!" This is so sweet that thousands of miles away over the internet, these patients are starting to build a relationship with my little sister in Portland. We got online and Anna wasn't on yet, so I started showing them little videos of the kids making their music. Chantell told me to play one video in particular. I clicked on the icon and it was a video of all the kids talking to me. Each kid one by one, said their name, their age, thanked me for being here, and told me they loved me. It was so precious!

By the time we finished watching everyone sing and dance, an alert popped up on my screen that Anna was on Skype. Everybody got excited and started chanting Anna, Anna, Anna. Suddenly, there she was, sitting at her computer in Portland at her desk. She asked the kids where all their mustaches were, as she had seen the latest pictures. We asked her where hers was. Having fun with the kids, Anna took a sheet of paper, drew a mustache, big funny eyebrows, and a big red nose. She cut them out and taped them to her face. The kids sure got a kick out the the whole thing. She made them smile from thousands of miles away. The kids then to show Anna the pictures they got that were made by kids at St. Joseph's school where I grew up attending. Anna, showed them a new piece of art she had just gotten too. It was like show and tell over the net. Oh, how I love my little sis! It was a perfect way to end a long day.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Back in Haiti

Saturday- March 6th- Back in the U.S.
I've been fortunate to spend the last few days in Florida recharging, relaxing, and resupplying. After much thought, I decided to head back to Haiti to continue implementing my grief therapy program. I booked my ticket, started making arrangements, and am gathering supplies.

Tuesday- March 16th
Well, here I am back at the airport with a backpack twice the size of me. Again, it's full of protein bars and supplies to bring into the country. This time, it's particularly full of vitamins and diapers- two things we are running out of here. I find myself particularly tired and not nearly as enthusiastic as I was the last time to come to Haiti. Then, everything was unknown. Now, there are feelings and experiences attached to the pictures and memories. While many of those emotions are beautiful ones, there are many memories that you do not wsh to linger, let alone re-experience. It's a real headtrip to be thrust into a place like this, jump back into the U.S. where you appreciate the safety of non-shaking ground, no gunshots at night, convenient transportation, and a refrigerator full of food... just to jump right back into a third world disaster zone. From the land of plenty to the land of none, it's fitting with the general theme of contrast this country reflects. You're either rich or dirt poor here. You're home is either standing or reduced to rubble. You're family either survived or has died. Your'e either educated or illiterate. Truly, though, that is the theme of most poverty stricken nations- countries of contrast.

Despite my personal contrast in the feelings surrounding my departure, I know it's still the right decision. I still feel that God has work for me to do here. I'm comforted by some of those cliche expressions we often rattle off... "God doesn't call us to a task he doesn't equip us with the ability to complete", "I can do all things through he who strengthens me", "God never gives you more than you can handle", and "Where God is for me, no one can be against me." All of those little slogans really start to mean something in transitions or decision like this. So, here I am... headed back into the hot zone, and all will be provided for.

I had to stop in Ft. Lauderdale for a 12 hour layover. I stayed at a hotel close to the airport and found myself more comfortable and at peace than I have in the last month. I was sitting outside in weather that was comfortably neutral... not hot, not cold, just perfect. I was typing away on my computer and along came a little creature tapping on my elbow. I turned around to see an adorable raccoon that was more interested in my Cliff bar than he was of me. He actually climbed up on the chair with me, and I shared my snack with a smile. Sure, he could have had rabies or something terrible, but a raccoon hardly seems like a threat compared to the place I've spent the last month. The furry little thing made me smile. This was one of the first nights I've been able to spend to myself in the last several weeks. It was peaceful, quiet, and refreshing.

Wednesday
Although it was a peaceful night, I couldn't fall asleep. I was perfectly comfortable and resting right on the verge of sleep, but I couldn't actually doze off all night. That made this mornign a bit rough, but a complimentary breakfast of waffles and biscuits helped perk me right up. The flight into Haiti was smooth and without glitches. You'd never believe it, but as I got on the plane, someone said, "Aren't you Julie Pearce?" I looked up and the person introduced themselves as someone from Duluth. It was Cory Dufault and his wife Jennifer. Cory had deployed a couple weeks before I first ever did and was coming back with his wife and team. They also had a guy with them from Walker, Minnesota. It's such small world and it was nice being able to bridge that gap between Haiti and the Northland.

At the airport, we all struggled to get our bags and get through customs. There were probably at least a thousand people packed into the airport hanger and they were throwing the bags through a little door one by one from about 5 different commercial carrier. Nobody knows which pile of bags is from which airline, everyone is pawing over the next to try and find their piece of luggage, the heat was intolerable, and people's patience was shrinking. I was worried I'd never find my bag, and then it popped through the hole and I was a happy girl! As I was walking out from the airport, I heard, "Jitterbug, Jitterbug!" It was my friends at the airport waiting in line to pick me up. I was doubly happy now.

From the airport, we went to grab some food and then headed to the hospital. ­At the hospital, I finally remembered why I had left. As I made my way through the tents, I got to suprise patient after patient that I was back. They cheered, smiled, gave me hugs, some put their hands in the air, and some of the little kids just clung to me. I've never felt so loved. I must have been glowing! The best was seeing Joshua. He let out that ever so happy excited wail he does and throws his head back. He put out his arms, grabbed on to me, and just about broke my neck by the time I finally tried to pry him off. These are good people, patients who I truly love.

One of the things I brought back with me this time were duplicates of some of the photos I took so that some of our patients and translators could have pictures of themselves- something many of them have never owned. I went through the camp handing out pictures of kids to themselves and pictures of kids to their moms and dads. They would get really excited and want to go start showing people. Soon, we had a whole crowd around who was interested in seeing the photos. I sure wish that I had printed more! Later in the day, I continued at the hospital with the group I had originally started the group therapy with. We didn't get too indepth, but I told them explained to them what they could expect and we decorated the "Therapy Box". They don't know about the insruments I brought yet, and I can't wait to bring them out!

Back at the house I was settling in. It's quite a change from the last time I was here. At the end, it was just myself and 4 other people. Now, the house has about 20 people! It's packed. The little front room I had settled into was taken and the only space available was on the floor upstairs. I did what I could to make things cozy and get settled in, but I'm honestly terrified to be on the second floor. Truly, if a building collapses and you're still in it, your odds of surviving are better if you are higher up. However, I don't plan on being in the building if it collapses because I'd hope I would have run out fast enough to watch it fall. On the first floor, I was able to just dash out the door in within the 15 seconds your supposed to be able to have. However, on the second floor, there's no way I'd make it out in 15 seconds unless I jumped out the window into the swampy pool below... probably not a good idea either. Before falling asleep I was talking with the guys about the escape plan and fell asleep feeling very disturbed. That night I slept well, but had terrible dreams. The first dream, I escaped a house and watched it buckle on top of the rest of my medical team who had made it outside but not stepped back far enough. We had to go rescuing them from the rubble and it was terrible. The rest of the night, I dreamt about at least 5 or 6 other houses that collapsed which I was inside. In every dream I was unharmed, but had to figure out a way to escape. I did everything from tie sheets together to make a rope, to a zipline from the top, and crawling out hand over hand. I woke up seriously disturbed. What must it be like to be inside the dreams of the Haitians who were actually here on January 12th? What I've experienced so far has been such small earthquakes compared to the big one they survived. I think I may know why Haitians seem to go to bed so late now and wake up so early... sleeping brings on dreams, and the dreams bring to life the nightmare they lived. God bless these people!

Thursday
We did the traditional hike into the hospital today. It was nice to take our usual route, see the familiar vendors, neighbors, and our little old lady friend who is now dry because we gave her a tent. Once we got into the hospital today, I started getting organized for today's therapy groups. One of the logistics coordinators and myself went on the roof and did some morning prayer. We talked about how amid the brokenness, there is rebuilding and healing going on. We prayed for the people still suffering and that opportunity would continue to spring up for all around. It was a solid way to start the day.

I gave my friend Hivelt a call and he agreed to be my translator for my work outside the hospital. He came and met me and we walked a couple miles to General Hospital downtown. I met with the chief of Pediatrics briefly and we began our first session at this hospital. I had about 16 people in the group and it was pretty neat because some of the parents participated with their children. Since this was the first time this group had met, we did more of an overview of things today. We all got to know each other by passing around a little stuffed bear and sharing things about ourselves. Everyone shared briefly about where they were then the earthquake happened and what happened. We talked about feelings, what different ones look like, and did an art activity to compliment the lesson. The kids seemed to enjoy it, but I think I'll split the group up tomorrow so there are 2 groups with less kids in each one. Too many people in a group hinders the quality of sharing and increases the distraction factor. At the end of this session, it felt appropriate with this group to end with a prayer. Everyone in the big tent joined hands and we prayed the "Our Father" together in Creole and English. It was beautiful.

From General Hospital, we went into tent city to visit a few people. On our way winding through the maze of homes, we passed some kids jump roping and we joined. In another spot, there was caribbean music playing. Hivelt taught me how to do some dance and then we got some others involved and we had a little impromptu waltz. A bunch of kids then came over and we all started dancing together. It was like a little party! Crossing the street, I saw a young Haitian man wearing a clown nose. I looked over at him, ducked behind my backpack that Hivelt was carrying, put my own clown nose upon my face, and peered back over at the man. It was like two misfits who had found each other. I ran over to him like a scene from a movie and we gave each other a big hug as we laughed. I feel so blessed to be able to spread happiness and cheer throughout this town and then go back and do some real medical work as well. As we traveled to our next spot, we came upon the Champs de Mar (sp?) square where there used to be these huge fountains spraying water into this cauldron. Now, it's like a stagnant cest pool. People's tents surround the terraced concrete stairs that lead into the murky bottom.

Back at the hospital, I did a bit of regular nursing work and went to grab some lunch. I ended up at a little "restaurant" on the sidewalk at the end of the block. It's the craziest thing, you order and they give you a chair and a tray. You just sit there and eat the food on the tray in your lap on regular glass plates and metal forks as cars pass about a foot behind and the smell of diesel exhaust graces every bite. Meanwhile, your eating a meal that was prepared in a giant cauldron, a vat of hot recycled grease, and from jars of mayonaise that have probably never seen a refrigerator and congeal in the warm Haitian sun. This was one meal I think I'll go chase with some Cipro for dessert, so I can avoid getting sick. I'm not too sure about what it might end up doing to my stomach.

Grief Therapy for the kids at CDTI today was very productive. This group is a little further along than the other group. We are focusing on anger. It's one of the main stages in grieving and there's a lot of people here angry at what happened to their country. The thing that makes their anger difficult is that they have no one to be angry at. To address some of their anger, we made balloons out of the latex gloves, put an angry looking face on each one, and had a dialogue with who we now referred to as "Mr. Earthquake". The kids went around and got to tell Mr. Earthquake why they are angry. Everyone together then looked at the face on their balloon and said why they were mad. It was sad to hear some of the things the kids had to say, "I'm mad at you Mr. Earthquake because you took my leg... because you took my mom... because you ruined my house... because you broke my legs." Loss. It's the theme around here. At the end of this activity, we went around with a pin and each kid got to tell "Mr. Earthquake" that they are done with him, that he can go away, and they symbolically popped the balloon. As the pieces of latex flew into the air, each time the children would clap and celebrate the next person's release. It was nice to see.

At the end of the group, I told the kids that I had a surprise for them. I went and pulled out the pile of instruments that I had brought into the country with me. We had tamborines, maraccas, bells, a triangle, and a drum. The kids started to play their instruments, some of us clapped, and we all sang. We gathered quite the crowd as well. A local Haitian doctor was at the hospital that day and made a comment to one of the ladies that it was "the happiest he's been and the happiest he's seen everyone else since January 11th." That spoke volumes to me and reminded me that I was supposed to be here for this very reason. God is working here. Healing is happening.

I ended the day back on the rooftop overlooking the mountains on one side, the harbor full of ships on the other, and utter destruction all around and in between. The sun was just setting, so things were starting to cool down a bit and it was just barely starting to drizzle. I sat up on a AC vent and started typing away doing some journaling. It was another good day in the hot zone and I am blessed to be here.