Jitterbug

Northwest Haiti Plans

2011-01-09T16:21:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone, Josh, Alex, and I had a chance to make it to Church this morning at Quisqueya. It was a nice way to start the day. To update you on our mission to the Northwest, we were set to leave Monday morning on our 10 hour trek over the mountain range, but our driver backed out. We have a tap tap (the equivalent of a Haitian covered pickup truck) available to take on the journey, but it is likely not to make it to our destination without complications and at the very least a bottle of ibuprophen. These roads have massive potholes and moguls. They are steep and can only be traveled on a with a 4x4. We've heard that at one point there's even a river to ford. Other than a more reliable vehicle, we've got all the other details squared away... translator, route, etc. Another option... once again, the possibility of taking the UN chopper on Monday has opened up, but the MINUSTAH (Ministry United Nations Stabilization Mission in Haiti) has been sending out warnings that we can likely expect political violence to start tomorrow, Monday morning. This causes problems for two reasons: The UN stops flights when these protests (or manifestations, as they are called here) begin; secondly, if we are going to leave in the morning, it is going to make getting out of the city very difficult and travel through Gonaives (a town halfway between here and our destination) very dangerous considering it is already an unsafe town that some describe as being shrouded in a dark light. That being said, though, I've got contacts there as well, so if something happened we'd be close to help. I'm all about stepping up to the plate, taking some semi-calculated risks and trusting that God's got a plan worked out and trusting it. But, as we are beginning to run low on time, I'm going to have to trust that the work we can do here in Port au Prince will be just as important. I have truly done the footwork here and the fact that we are still getting such resistance in our plans, makes me have to believe it may not actually be what God has planned for us. It just drives me crazy though to know that at this very second, there could be people in this remote area dying from a disease that's very easy to treat because they are potentially being turned away from the local hospital. If we had more time here, I'd be sure to get up there and I would setup a cholera treatment unit (CTU) from scratch, so these people could get the help they need. In the meantime, it looks like we will likely be staying in the capital and get back over to St. Damien's cholera treatment unit. Truly, though, tomorrow's announcement will determine a lot. We may very well all end up on lockdown!

Back In Haiti 2011

2011-01-08T18:09:00.000-08:00

Just wanting to update everyone on our progress. Our plans here right now are rather complicated. To start with, several of the medical teams into the area have cancelled due to the recent political violence and instability. At this time, things appear to be fairly stable. Rumor has it, however, that on Monday the government will be announcing the results of the election. We can almost certainly expect that there will be conflict coincididing with that announcement. We are currently safe staying at gated compound with an armed guard. The second wrench in our plans involves a major decrease in the number of new cholera cases at our originally planned site. There has recently been a sharp decrease from about 150 new cases a day in the Port au Paix and Saint Louis du Nord area to only about 15 new cases a day. It is now manageable for the Haitian staff in the area that have been trained to do the work and the UN has stopped the flights into the area. Truly, this is great news. It not only means that the disease spread in this area has diminished, but it means the education programs that prevent it to begin with are working. However, that being said… the disease continues to pop up and ravage through small towns which are unprepared for the strength in which it hits. One such town is about 2 hours west of Port au Paix. Reports from the area indicate there are large numbers of patients who are symptomatic and further word seems to indicate the hospital in the area might be turning the cholera patients away. What we are currently trying to organize is a mission into the area to 1. Assess the current needs 2. Deliver relevant supplies 3. Put our hands and minds to work in the trenches. That all being said, this is taking quite a bit of logistics, which is what we are working on now. In the meantime, I’m praying for some discernment from the Lord regarding our options. We were at a cholera treatment clinic (CTU) here in PAP at St. Damien’s children’s hospital. Fortunately, the cases here in the capital are diminished for the time being as well, so the wards were not packed, but there were plenty of children hooked up to IV lines getting fluids. The decontamination process is rather interesting as well. Upon entering and exiting the CTU, you must wash your hands with a chlorine solution, walk through a chlorine soaked sponge, and then have the soles of your shoes sprayed with additional chlorine. Really, it’s rather eerie to be honest. Anyhow, I’ll try to keep everyone posted prior to heading out.

Goodbye Haiti... I Leave Forever Changed

2010-04-13T21:43:00.000-07:00

Monday
Today is my last full day in Haiti. It's so bitter sweet because while I'm so ready to go and get back to the life I left behind, I also know there is so much to be done here. More than even that, I've build a life for myself here now with friends, favorite hangouts, knowning my way around, and getting used to the culture, the language, the people, and the food. There are so many things I have learned since I've been here. There have been new things I've picked up and other things I'll leave behind.

For the day, I made my final rounds through town on my motorcycle and found a home for many of the things that I pass on to others who will use them. Among those items were the instruments that brought my groups to life... the instruments that my little Katura with the amputated leg first decided to dance to. They will go to the Quisqueya Christian School where other children can play with them for years to come.

The most important way I could spend my day though was with the people here I love and am sad to say goodbye to. I wanted to get away from the noise and chaos at the compound, so I went with a friend to what looked like a pretty decent little hotel. However, as the expression goes... you get what you pay for. The building was half cracked on one side, the electricity came and went, and there was no water. I got in the shower to get cleaned up, went to turn on the faucet and nothing. The lady downstairs brought me up a 5 gallon bucket and a scoop and said that was my shower. It worked alright, and reminded me of how excited I am to return home to warm, running, clean water. I had to brush my teeth with toothpaste and a bottle of Sprite. Yum! When it came to eat dinner, the "restaurant" downstairs didn't have any food. Some young boy went down the street and bought us fried bananas and some kind of fried root. We ate on the floor while watching a fuzzy French soap opera. It's experiences like these that make me so grateful to have the life I will be returning to.

Here's a list of just some of the things that come to mind... things that we take for granted that I am so grateful to have: Continous power, clean water, reliable transportation, my SUV, relatively cheap gas (compared to $5 a gallon here), cold milk, hot showers, short lines, quickness and efficiency, phones that work, safety, clean air (at least in Minnesota), emergency rooms where you can get care no matter what, sanitary hospitals, free education, access to student loans, clean streets, 24 hour stores, fast food, street lights, air conditioning, entertainment like movie theatres and theme parks, parking spots, trustworthy police, functional democracy, ambulances, no earthquakes, sturdy buildings, minimum wages, my home, animals that serve as pets not just food, green trees, clean rivers and lakes, washing machines, cable tv, green grass, garbage cans, recycling, community, barbeques, my church, reliable and quick internet access, microwaves, good plumbing, paved streets, nice sidewalks, landscaping, bookstores, coffee shops, hiking trails, bike paths, welfare, food stamps, community support programs, libraries, taxes, parades, sturdy construction, beauty salons, massage parlors, yoga studios, gyms, playgrounds, flavored coffee, flavored coffee creamer, American currency, camping as a vacation and not as a living arrangement, bubble baths, toilets that flush, interstates, atms, carpet, wood floors, neighborhoods, common language, traffic rules, post offices, pizza deliver, Chinese takeout, public transportation, shopping malls, gumball machines, Dr. Pepper, lottery tickets, bowling alleys, free refills, of course my family and my friends, and the list could go on and on.

The bottom line is that we are so blessed, beyond belief, yet we so easily want to whine and complain and get upset when any one of these things in our perfect little life doesn't work the way we expect it to. Maybe you run out of gas, but at least you have a car. Maybe your toilet gets plugged, but there are 24 hour plumbers that you can call. Perhaps, you get sick, at least there are doctors that can treat you. Maybe you hate your job, but at least you have one. The truth is that we are blessed probably beyond what we really deserve. If we had less then places like Haiti would probably have more. If we consumed less, shared more, spent less, contributed more, reduced waste, and increased productivity, then perhaps the world would be a bit more equitable of a place for everyone. Perhaps the whole planet would be covered in green grass, everyone's stomaches would be full, clean water would be in abundance, and every child would go to sleep feeling loved. I don't know what the solution is, but I do know that it's certainly not about a better life or a worse life, just a different one. It's not that those of us who have need to feel guilty for the sake of those who have not, but rather that we treasure the things we are gifted with and remember to thank our Lord for providing us with abundance. It sounds silly, but you know how its a tradition for many to say grace before eating and thank God for your food? What if we said grace before we took a hot shower, before we got in our cars and went to our jobs, before we went to watch a movie? What if every moment of our lives we treasured as if it truly were our last, as if it were a gift, as it were an enormous blessing? Perhaps then we would be more conscious of what we have, how we use it, and how we share it.

Tuesday
Today I leave Haiti. I close a major chapter in my life and await to find out what God has in store for me next. What a long, strange, amazing, challenging, and unforgettable experience this has been. I cried today as I said goodbye to some of those I have come to love the most. I don't want to say farewell, but I know it is time for me to return to the life I left behind. There are responsibilities and new opportunities that await me. But, I leave here a new person with new perspective on life.

I leave here changed. It's been an enormously long 2 and a half months. I've seen dead bodies line the street, seen babies born, watched babies die, held mothers who have lost their children, treated gunshot wounds and children hit by cars, watched children cry, helped children smile, been in several earthquakes, been scared to go to sleep, and grateful to see another day. I've seen the worst in people and the best in people. I've let myself buckle with both grief and joy. I've been on planes, motorcycles, boats, and crazy bus rides with baskets of chickens at my feet. I've celebrated Easter with a group of parentless children. I've watched amputations and seen many regain the confidence to walk. I've seen tragedy and I've seen miracles. I've prayed for others and been the one others prayed for. I've been sick, I've felt recharged, exhausted and motivated. I've eaten everything from goat to lobster fresh from the sea. I've crawled beneath the rubble of fallen homes and walked atop the flattened roofs of multistory buildings. I've felt unsafe at times and other times felt at home. I've met some people I'd be happy to never cross paths with again and others I hope to walk beside for a lifetime. I've experienced frustration, inspiration, dedication, and constipation. I've been angry with God at times and yet amazed at his love, compassion, and grace. I've been a follower of his call and a leader for others to join. My bed has consisted of everything from a tent inside a crumbling house, a hammock,the floor of a 5th grade classroom, to a CT-scan machine. I've had IVs, given IVs, sedated patients and wished I could have been sedated. I've been through the slums and stood in the back of the palace waving as president Bush and his convoy arrived. There have been moments I've had to step outside my comfort level and opportunities to offer comfort to those without. I've walked through cemetaries, sanitoriums, abandoned hospitals, and rum factories. I've been a counselor, a nurse, a doctor, an anesthesiologist, a mother, a friend, an organizer, a teacher, and a student of life. I've rescued children, transported orphans, and watched people take their last breath. I've learned a little Creole and French and taught a little English. I've taken nearly 10,000 pictures and been in quite of few of others as well. I've been frustrated, rewarded, experienced community and other days felt alone. I have been changed forever! I look forward to returning to my life I left behind and merging these lessons learned with my life that awaits me. I also look forward to one day returning to Haiti to find a stronger, sturdier, more hopeful country filled with people who have continued to allow themselves to have God's grace showered upon them.

Motorcycles & Pickup Truck Obstetrics

2010-04-11T19:16:00.000-07:00

Tuesday
It was great to get back to work today. Not only was it great to be back working, but it was nice to step back from the psychological support and back into more of a hands on medical role. I joined the Vermont team today at Operation Hope. This clinic is setup right across the street from Adventist Hospital. We are a part of the triaging system where we can treat those less serious more acute conditions and help filter the more serious cases into the hospital. The clinic used to be a large home that has been converted into a functioning medical facility since the earthquake. When the team found out I was an RN, they were ecstatic! They said, "Good, we'll have another person to see and treat patients!" Turns out we were about an hour out of town where services are more limited and there was only 1 doctor on site. So, myself another RN, and a new med school grad were asked to step into the role of primary care. It was great! It's just the way things go around here, you do what you can. Sometimes that means stepping out of what you're used to doing, but you do what you feel comfortable with, consult with your peers when need be, certainly don't do anything that could harm the patient, and know that if you don't step up, they may never get the care they need... or have to wait weeks or months to receive it.

I have some pretty incredible resources on my Ipod. They are easily accessible and convenient to use. It allows me to searching correct dosages, confirm diagnostic criteria, and review treatment options. I'm learning so much. Today, I ended up with one patient who I suspect had malaria, another patient that I got to tell she was pregnant, and another with a severe case of impetigo. I really enjoyed the autonomy today and the challenge of analyzing, synthesizing, and playing the role of investigator in sleuthing what might be wrong with each person's individual case. It was complete reassurance that the Family Nurse Practitioner courses that I'll return to next week are exactly what I'm supposed to be pursuing.

Wednesday
Again, today was a day in the field that really challenged my analytical skills as a nurse. I was on a team with one doctor, a PA, and myself who had to treat a line of hundreds of patients. We went up into the mountains to a village called Belot. I had heard from someone on the campus here that there was a resort in this town that they had converted into a relief center/clinic of sorts. I had ideas of this nice clean facility with a pool in the back, etc. When we finally arrived at the site, I realized my expectations were very far off. To start with, we had to take a special car to get to the site with about 12 of us stuffed in the back or a Land Rover. The roads were so treacherous, bumpy, pot holes, and a cliff that dropped a couple thousand feet to the side. We were so high that the clouds were rolling past us and through us in the road. Truly, it is beautiful up here. The mountains are green, the foliage is lush, and the air is clear. It's quite a shocking contrast to the scarred city below. When we finally arrived, we got to the top of this one mountain and up ahead we could see the site. Clouds rolling past, there was a small shelter constructed from bamboo and tarps. This was the "resort" I was so excited about. There was no running water, no electricity, and no toilet... not even an outhouse! At one point, myself and a couple of the girls had to pee so bad and all we could do is walk a few hundred yards away from the "clinic" to a bush along the side of the road and "pop a squat". People come walking by to see these three girls in scrubs taking a pee. Corrine and I are just laughing out heads off, and the best part is that none of the passerbys even batted an eye. This is what people do here, it is completely normal for them. As I continued back at the clinic in my more professional role, I was seeing a lot of cases of scabies. This continues to be a major problem here. As a side note, for people wanting to send supplies, the needs are constantly evolving. Right now, we are in need of permethean cream to treat scabies, any sort of vaginal creams, Diflucan, and adult/children vitamins. At the end of a tiring day, we packed everything up and took the cramped ride back down the mountain. We got back to camp with a good dinner prepared for us... you'd never guess... rice and beans! I've had so much rice and beans in the last 2+ months that it has probably ruined them for life. I'm so sick of rice and beans, but yet I am truly grateful that God is putting food in my stomach each day. I try to say a quick prayer before each meal just to thank him for blessing me with sustenance and energy to keep going. After dinner, I had a friend come over. We watched a movie on my ipod, and then got to bed.

Thursday
I slept in this morning, and by sleeping in I mean that I woke up at 6am. After a cup of coffee and some bread, I started planning my day. A group of people here at Quiskeya are headed up to this remote place about 7 hours away in the mountains to provide care to groups of people who have yet to receive any. About a week ago, a group attempted to do some outreach there and on the way up the mountain had an accident. The truck carrying 7 medical professionals flipped, and rolled a couple thousand feet down the mountain. Everyone had to be airlifted to the hospital. Many were in critical condition, but latest I have heard, everyone is fine now. If I went with this new group, I wouldn't have been back until Tuesday, when I'm supposed to leave and that didn't sound like something I wanted to do. Besides, I really wanted to take a few days of wrapping up loose ends around here, dropping off some extra supplies, spending time with my newly forged friends here in Haiti, and having an adventure or two.

My friend Chantel and I decided to hang out for the day down with the guys living on the roof at CDTI. I took a nap in a hammock on the porch of the compound while I waited for her to arrive. Then, I had my first real Haitian cross-town transportation experience. We jumped on the back of a moving tap tap and about 15 other people piled in. You never really know where these "tap taps" are going either. If it's going in the direction your headed, then you just hop on until you need to go another direction. It only costs about 10 Gould, the equivalent of about a quarter. For those of you that don't know what a "tap tap" is, it's basically a pickup truck with benches lining the sides, a topper on it, and it stops for passengers when they tap on the side of back of the window... hence the "tap tap". All of these vehicles are decorated with bright colors and say something about Jesus or religion on them. It's a superstitious thing for many of the drivers. They don't feel their vehicle will be really protected until it's properly decorated and adorned with something reassuring their faith. Anyhow, after that long side note... we finally needed to go another direction so we hopped off and waited for a taxi. Now this was interesting! As we drove in the taxi, we continued to collect more passengers. This was a small little sedan that myself and 6 other sweaty Haitians piled into. Complete strangers are sitting on each other's laps and such. I kept looking out the window, just laughing at how this country and culture never ceases to amaze me.

Finally, we got to CDTI where we met up with the roof crew... Alan, Cory, and the Pauls. It was so great because I was able to finally meet Cory Gould. She is a nurse from New York and one of the biggest supporters of my organization. Before coming down, she made it possible for me to bring about 800 doses of antibiotics into the country. Once here, she was able to coordinate with folks back home so I could pickup a shipment at the airport of 2200 more doses. This amazing woman was finally in Haiti and we were on the same team!

We all just hung out at the hospital for a while, made some plans for the coming days, tried to organize some supplies in the back and so forth. This older lady we are friends with showed up and asked if we wanted to come over and hang out for a little bit. Chantal and I agreed and we arrived at the woman's cracked house. She was very lucky it did not collapse as major support columns are buckled in places. We sat on the porch drinking sparkling fruit punch and then we got a lengthy tour of the entire house. She took us through every room, pulled out picture after picture, told us stories about everything from a trophy to a candle. Even though I had nowhere else to be today, I started wanting to pull my hair out. The show and tell went on for at least a couple of hours. Then, she started talking French and Creole because I think she forgot that I only speak English. So, not only am I entirely bored out of my mind, but I have no idea what she is saying. I thought we were only going to be here for a quick stop by and now the sun was starting to set.

Suddenly, the woman's servant comes up from the basement and says dinner is ready. She had prepared a massive spread of food for us all. There's no electricity in the house, so they lit candles and we sat around eating beans and rice and other interesting side dishes. Just as we were finishing up, Victoria called from the place she was staying and wanted to come over. We went to pick her up and brought her back with us. We had already been here for about 5 hours now and I was so tired. As we sat there waiting for Victoria to finish eating, every time I thought we were going to get up and go, they would start talking about something else. I looked down at my watch and thought, we'd probably be there for another 45 minutes... 2 and a half hours later we were finally getting in car to ride back.

That entire I was sitting there at the table listening to everyone talk in a language I didn't understand, staring at the clock, and completely restless I had the worst anxiety attack I've had since I've been down here. I was sweating, my heart was racing, had a headache, and was entirely restless. I had to go take one of my anxiety pills because I thought I was going to lose it. The thing about the Haitian culture is that it is unbelievably slow. Nobody seems to be in any sort of a rush here ever. When it comes to completing a task, instead of going from A directly to B, they start at A, divert to D, then M, N, O, P and finally make their way to B for no logical reason. For instance, at the hospital you need a key to get into the back room. The man who holds the keys has to go to get a key to open a room upstairs, where there is a lockbox inside on the wall to get a key to go downstairs to open the back room. Every time he needs to get in there that's what he has to do. It's so frustrating because I'm all about efficiency, effectiveness, and momentum. Another thing that's interesting here is the lack of attention to body language. I've noticed that people here keep talking and focus on what is being said rather than how it is being said... or how it is being received. In the U.S., I'm pretty sure that just about anyone would have easily picked up on my restlessness and lack of enthusiasm in the conversation after about 15 minutes. They would have become self-conscious that they were being taken as boring or non-interesting and changed the subject or something. It's such an interesting place here.

Anyhow, Just as I'd think we were about to get up and leave, she would want to start telling us about her great grandmothers sailboat or where the silverware came from. There would be little pieces of English that I could pick out of the conversation, but the words were few. Finally, as we got into the car to leave, she said, "where are you going?" We told here were headed to our friend Dominique's house to stay the night. She said, "Why don't you just stay here?" Everyone else seemed happy with the idea, so I just went along. If I had known we were going to be staying here tonight, I would have gone upstairs and gone to bed much earlier.

From here on out things just got more bizarre for me. We did another tour of the house, the lady pulled out about 10 pairs of sheets for us, and then pulled out this cord that she had rigged into the neighbor's power source and turned on a light bulb in the hallway. She truly was so excited to have guests at here house. I think she is probably a really lonely woman. Next, she wanted us to have something to sleep in. She went into the closet and started pulling out silk "grandma" pajama dresses left and right. She gave us a whole pile of them with matching robes for us to wear. I thought to myself, "somebody already forced me into a skirt this week, there's no way in hell I'm putting on grandma pjs now." :-) There I was sitting on the bed and glanced up at the mirror on the dresser. I instantly reminded myself of my little sister. I looked just like her and had the same confused semi-amused look on my face that she would have had on hers. I suddenly really wished she was here with me to laugh about this situation with. I know we would have both really gotten a kick out of the whole thing. Over in the shower, we had to bathe out of a big bucket of cold water. That was interesting. The old lady then starts walking around in her underwear and bra and keeps walking into our room asking if we need anything else. The servant brings in water and glasses, and I decided I was done for the night. I was ready to check out of the Twilight Zone for the day.

Friday's List
Today, I am realizing how much my serenity level is wrecked. My focus here is pretty much gone. I'm ready to go home. I'm tired. I'm getting restless. I've checked out. And, I've got a pretty bad respiratory infection brewing. If I can just get through the next few days with helping a couple more people and having an adventure or two, I'll be fine. One nice thing today is that we started the morning with the servant bringing us hot coffee in bed. After we got up, I made this delicious oatmeal I brought down here with me for everybody, and the servant (by the way, that's what they call them here) brought me some special flower tea to help clear my lungs.

Once we were able to get the day started and get out of the house we walked our way down to CDTI to meet with the roof crew. The old lady we had given the tent to was no longer there on the sidewalk. Instead, the sidewalk was filled with rubble being cleared from the house nearby. I wonder where she went? The rubble from the professional school that completely collapsed is all gone now too. We walked through the new construction site and it was very refreshing to see things being built differently. Instead of using concrete and cinder blocks, they are rebuilding the school using wood. The joints are all reinforced and they are using a tin roofing. This is great to see because it appears they are using lessons from the past to help prevent further tragedy into the future.

When we finally got to CDTI we met up with the roof crew and hung out for a little bit. I don't know where the day has gone, it just flew by. I started myself on a course of Augmentin today from the massive pharmacy that just sits overflowing with medications that are not being used or moved. It's the same story with the rest of the hospital. There are thousands of pounds of supplies that are just sitting and not being used. It makes me sick.

Later on in the afternoon we headed down to the port. Along the way, I noticed something interesting. There are no real imports coming into the country right now. There are certainly no exports going out of the country. The only money coming in is really from the NGOs spending money on food and lodging, but other than that, the economy here is stagnant. What people are doing is attempting to create economy from the very thing that ruined the system. Locals have gone through the piles of debris and are reselling everything. It's become a rubble economy! Everyone has a niche. One guy sells pieces of wood torn from buildings, another sells steel railings, and down the way there's a guy selling broken furniture. They are even selling salvaged concrete blocks! Its nice to see how people are making the best out of the situation. They certainly are doing everything they can to survive right now.

I have been trying to get a sample of the sand that poured out of the massive fissures in the earth. As the plates rubbed together and cracked open, they spit up piles of ground up earth that was "digested" in the grinding. I'm going to use the sand to add texture to paint for a project I'm putting together when I return. While down along the coast, we came upon a fleet of old rickety wooden sailboats. They are all stacked with layer upon layer of charcoal being brought in from the town of Jeremie. It's about an 8 hour boat ride. We talked with a few of them and they agreed to take us along on their boats to the island for 50 Haitian dollars, that's just over $7 U.S. We'd camp out overnight and then take another sailboat back in the morning. We are considering the adventure, but it seems like I'd be cutting things too short with leaving on Tuesday. If we had a day of bad weather that delayed coming back, I'd miss my flight and really make a lot of people upset.

We continued down to the main sea port. It's very difficult to get into. I had to go speak to about 3 different security officers, sit down in the office with one and explain what we wanted to do, tell them about the sand, etc. Finally, they allowed us to enter the port with a security escort. It wasn't the first time I had been down there, but it was the first time the Pauls and Cory had seen the place. They were amazed at the damage and the extent of how the earth just shifted. I crawled down into one of the cracks and got my sample, everyone got their pictures, and we headed back to CDTI.

By the time we got back, the truck had a flat tire. The boys had to swap it with the spare and a few of us returned to the roof to just hang out. That night it rained as hard as it ever has here. I was sitting in the back of the pickup as they were driving Victoria, Chantal and I to our friend Dominique's house for the night. Boy, did we ever get soaked! We came inside the house to now power, soaking wet, and tried to navigate our way through the halls. Luckily, I had an MRE with me, so I was able to cook some food for us. It was the meatball and marinara packet, not bad... kinda like Chef Boyardee. Once you choke down the packaged wheat bread and cheese spread, you can convince yourself that you are actually full.

Falling asleep tonight was kind of difficult. There have been small earthquakes the last 2 nights in a row. You get kinda scared when you start expecting there to be a trend. What freaks me out about this place is that they lock the doors to get out with a set of keys that the servant sleeps with. So, if the house starts to shake and we need to get out, we are trapped. All of the windows have steel bars covering them. Victoria asked if she could sleep with the keys tonight and that left me feeling a little safer.

Sat.
This morning, I woke up to make everyone some of that yummy oatmeal with cinnamon and brown sugar. Fortunately, we had power, but unfortunately, the microwave plug-in did not fit into the kitchen wall. We had to take the microwave and put it on a stool in one of the rooms. Even then, the buttons didn't work. The only way we could get things to cook was to plug it in, time it out for about a minute, it would shut off, and we'd have to replug it in and it would start the process over again. It was like the possessed microwave, but it ended up providing us with hot food in the end, so that's all that really mattered.

Finally, we were all ready to hit the road this morning and we headed down to CDTI to meet with the "roof crew". They are headed up to an orphanage in the mountains today to assess the facility's needs. On the way, they were going to drop me off at a friend’s house that was going to let me rent his motorcycle for a couple of days. Well, the driver never showed up. The truck the boys had wasn't going to make it up the treacherous part of the mountains they had to go to, so they had to cancel their plans. We all sat around saying, "Well, everything happens for a reason, there's probably a good reason things didn't work out."

Meanwhile, the owner of the motorcycle came with the bike and met me down near tent city. Chantal was with me, we hopped on the bike and a little nervous we sped off onto into the crazy Haitian traffic. We stopped by the Plaza hotel to grab some breakfast and ran into who, but Cory and the Pauls! I also ran into the girl who was on my original charter flight into Haiti more than 2 months ago. After breakfast, we went and sat by the pool for a little while we drank our coffee and checked out internet. Again I started thinking to myself, am I really in the middle of a disaster zone? We hopped back on the bike, I dropped Chantal off at her mom's house and I headed back to Quiskeya.
I was alone in one the Haitian streets now... alone on a motorcycle in the middle of one of the craziest places to drive! I was loving it! Everywhere I go on this bike, people stop and stare. First of all, most of the time I'm the only white person around in my vicinity at any given point of my day. Secondly, I'm a girl. Third, I'm on a motorcycle. The combination of being a caucasian girl on a motorcycle in the city just blows people's mind. Guys wink, kids shout "blanc, blanc", and I just keep moving head up, focused on the road, with the occasional smile. I'm feeling very comfortable here in the city now. It's probably a good thing that I'm going home soon because many would probably say I've gotten to feeling too comfortable. It's a long stretch from when I first got here. I wasn't familiar with the language, the culture, the city, the situation and I wouldn't even go outside the gate of the hospital alone to get a Sprite. Now, I feel pretty connected to the situation and people around me enough to fend for myself. Plus, I always have mace on hand.

Anyhow, let me get to the real guts of the day's events. So, I'm sitting here at Quiskeya planning for my day when I get this phone call. It was my friend Justin from the Kenscoff clinic up in the mountains. You may remember stories I've written about this group. It is the same people who encountered the strange voodoo ceremony in the middle of a woman giving labor on the roof. Well, Justin calls me and explained that they are in the middle of helping a woman in labor deliver her child. Meanwhile, another woman pregnant with twins was at the Farmount Baptist Mission hospital experiencing placenta previa. She needed to get to a hospital in PAP capable of providing her with a cesarean. They needed a medical team to get to her and transport her down the mountain. I got off the phone, called Cory and the Pauls and explained the situation. They were game right off the bat! We suddenly understood the reason things hadn't worked out earlier in the day, it's because God had bigger plans for us all.

They met me here and I led the crew on my motorcycle up the mountain to the hospital. Halfway, we stopped for a moment and I got a phone call from Justin that now we weren't just going to be transporting one woman to the hospital in labor, but two! Things just got even more exciting. Marilyn and her son had been working on the woman at another location. She had been in labor since yesterday. The woman had a bulging vein ready to rupture at any minute and the baby was pinned against the woman's pelvic bone which wasn't spreading. We zipped up the mountain and arrived at the mission's hospital. The father was waiting for us outside, crying and led me inside to his wife in the middle of having a contraction. We gathered their things and got her to the back of the truck.

I threw a line in the first lady and we got fluids running. Paul taped the IV fluids to back window of the pickup. Minutes later, our other pregnant lady arrived in the back of a car from higher up the mountain. We laid the two mothers side by side in the back of the pickup and Marilyn, Cory, and I sat at their feet. As we're riding down the windy, bumpy mountain roads the woman are contracting and trying to push. Marilyn and I are checking the woman's cervix as we fly down the road. I can feel the top of the baby's head and the bulging vein ready to rupture at any minute as we cruise down the mountain passing cars, whizzing along faster than we should. Meanwhile, Alan who was riding back behind us on my motorcycle wiped out on a puddle of water and got some pretty bad road rash. But for the most part, he and the bike are fine.

As we cruised down the road, it hit me. By complete coincidence, things had come full circle. The antibiotics that Cory had given me months ago to bring into the country had gone to Marilyn and the girls up at the Kenscoff clinic. Now, here we all were. Cory, Marilyn and myself... 3 women whose connections came full circle sitting in the back of a pickup helping 2 moms through labor! We are trying to get them to change positions, roll them on their side, Marilyn is talking with an OB specialist in the US who's telling us to put them on their hands and knees- yeah right! Not under these circumstances! We continue checking their cervix, taking their blood pressure, and I sang to them Bob Marley's famous, "Don't worry... about at thing... cause every little thing... is gonna be alright." The women smiled.

Finally, we arrived at Medishare, the Miami University hospital by the airport. We pulled up to the hospital, one of the only places in town suited to take cases like these, and we explained the situation. At first the hospital didn't want to take them because there were no OB docs available. We didn't care. There was a general surgeon available. These women needed a cesarean. And if they weren't going to take these patients, then they were going to die in the back of a pickup. Finally, the doctors agreed, brought the two women into the hospital and immediately gave the mom at risk for hemmhoraging and with the baby malpositioned an emergency cesarean. We stood there watching, changing out IV solutions for the team and praying everything would be alright. Before we knew it, out came the baby... first a bit quiet, then came the beautiful sound of the baby's first cry. The entire operating room erupted in applause and cheering. I cried a bit. It was such a wonderful thing to see this new baby girl come into the world. Meanwhile, mom number 2 was on another operating table getting an ultrasound and prepped for her cesarean. I ended up having to leave because it was going to be getting dark soon and if I didn't follow the Pauls and Cory out on the road, then I was going to be lost in the dark in Port au Prince on a motorcycle alone... not something I really wanted to do. We left the moms in the hands of Marilyn and her son, watched the sun set, bandaged up Alan from his little spill and set off knowing that we had a part in saving a handful of lives... some of those new faces in the world.

The next adventure... the motorcycle ride home. OMG! If I ever had any doubts that I can ride a bike, or that I have earned my motorcycle endorsement... let me tell you, driving in Haiti should earn you a lifetime permit to ride. It had gotten dark by the time we left the hospital, I had sunglasses on, and I have no idea where I am dark. All I'm doing is just following the roof crew's bumper through the packed streets. The traffic here is god awful! Cars going every which direction, trying to cross, pass, backup, turn around and all in one big cluster. A few times, I had cars pushing me from behind against my back tire. Another car came and the side of my bike got hungup on their front tire. People are honking, pedestrians are trying to weave through the cars, and the occasional goat or dog shows up. It's a mess. On top of the traffic, you have massive potholes in the road, places where the road is completely warped and bulging from the earthquake, rubble lining the streets, and then the rain. The sky opened up and it started pouring. There I am stuck in the middle traffic, pouring rain, a red bandana around my face trying to mask the smell of diesel, and a stethoscope still hanging around my neck from the previous adventure. The roads here get slick when they get wet too. Several of the cars were spinning out just trying to get up the hills. Although far from it, this whole thing felt like a video game. It was like a cross between Frogger, Xtreme Motocross, Super Mario Brothers, and some racing game. If I had only had video game music playing in the background, I would have thought I was in the middle of some virtual reality game. Anyhow, I kept praying to God that I'd be alright and that I wouldn't end up hurting anyone else. The last few miles, the roof crew went one direction and I had to go the other. I was so relieved when I finally passed into the gates at Quiskeya with both myself and the bike in one piece. What a long and crazy day it has been. After a cold shower and some beans and rice, I sit here typing and can hardly keep my eyes open anymore. I am exhausted.

Sunday
I woke up this morning and headed to Church here on the campus. I didn't sleep well last night, so I only made it through about an hour of the service before I had to go crawl back into bed. I think I was just too wound up last night from the day's events. Once I woke up, I had lunch with one of our translators here named Desert and planned my day.

I decided I would make use of the last full day I had the motorcycle and go exploring all the things I had yet to see. I geared up, threw on my Ipod, hopped on my bike, and headed downtown. Of anywhere you could be in Haiti right now, it's the creepiest place you can spend time because it still looks like a complete war zone. On my way down Delmas (a major road through town) I had a scary experience. I was flying along at about 40 kph when a car ran a red light and then stopped right in the middle of the road to avoid hitting another motorcycle in the other direction. Meanwhile, I had to slam on my breaks and rapidly downshift to avoid broad siding him. It was like complete slow motion. The bike fishtailed left, then right, left, right, about 4 more times… every time I thought I was going down, it was like there was someone on the side of the bike that lifted me back up. I was sure I was going down and yet I didn't. Finally, I was stopped and the people on the sidewalk nearby were like 'whoa!' Some of the cars behind me passed me and gave me a big thumbs up. I looked over at the one guy standing next to me and said, 'hey, you believe in Jesus? I'm sure I do now!' He laughed.

With a grateful heart, I continued on my journey downtown. I stopped at the ice cream shop and downed a chocolate cone, walked over to the outskirts of tent city to talk to some folks about the conditions, and then lit up a Haitian menthol and smoked before hopping on my bike. I don't know what it is about third world countries, but I always end up having to smoke a menthol or two while I'm there. I think it's because I don't drink or do anything else and it leaves me feeling a little like a rebel.

I passed the palace, and as I got deeper downtown, one of my favorite places to be, things still appeared to be pretty messy. It's crazy down here. Fires continue to burn in the road as people dispose of their trash, one of the buildings had a fire burning inside, I had to weave through piles of rubble, navigate around and under downed power lines, and keep a sharp eye on the people around me. Meanwhile, I had my favorite song to listen to while in these parts, the theme song from the "28 Days Later" soundtrack and "It's a Mad Mad World." I passed by a group of Asian contractors who I stopped by and chatted with. They were so excited by the fact I was riding a bike around that they all had to each get a picture with me in front of the rubble on my motorcycle. It was so cute. I caught up later with some guys with the 82nd Airborne and chatted with them for a little bit! They said I was brave, gave me the thumbs up, and told me I could come down the the base and hang out with them all any time I wanted.

Eventually, I got tired of aimlessly driving and headed back to Quiskeya. I caught up on some journaling, met a friend later at the bakery Ipador, packed up some supplies that I'll be forwarding on to a pediatric hospital, ate dinner, and am laying in a hammock on the porch listening to the rain drench the city. I hope my friends and patients are dry tonight.

Easter in Haiti- The Ressurection of Hope

2010-04-05T20:01:00.000-07:00

Sunday
It's Easter Sunday and I'm sitting at an orphanage wearing a skirt in the northern jungles of Haiti. Everyone got up at 5am this morning and headed out to the courtyard for an EARLY morning sunrise service. Kids and families from the village all came into the compound to attend the big service. I made a cup of coffee, wandered up to the roof, and had my own little talk with God as I watched the sun creep up from behind teh mountains casting bright yellow rays of light to the ground and ocean below. What a great sight. I then went downstairs and joined in on the morning serivce. I went and got Josh who had just been washed and dressed. They put him in a pair of khaki pantst and a bright blue colllared polo shirt. He looked more adorable than I've ever seen him. He actually hada shirt on that fit him! Once he saw me and realized that we were still there by his side, he got that big smile upon his face and started to reach for my hands. I sat by the little guy's side for the rest of the service.

We keep checking in on Joshua throughout the day. We are all trying to make our visits further between and for shorter lengths of time, so that he can start getting use to the other children and his new routine, so that when we don't show back up after tomorrow it won't be quite as painful for him... and ourselves. He seems to be doing pretty good. I've seen him already get at least 3 baths, several changes of clothes, the ladies here are already starting to try and get him used to using a toilet, and he looks fairly content. I know Carmen had a problem when she tried to leave after sitting with him a little this morning. Joshua started to cry and wouldn't let her go. This is going to be hard for him.

After the kids had a little easter egg hunt and got little bags of easter candy, I came upstairs for some breakfast and worked on some more journaling. Suddenly, I found myself unbelievably tired. I went to lay down and fell asleep for a 2 hour nap. It was great! Funny thing is that I dreamt that we discovered a secret part Haiti that had everything modern like McDonalds, a semi truck of Dr. Pepper, Pizza hut, and tons of stores that were open and functioning like normal. In my dream I couldn't stop taking pictures of the "golden arches" (and I'm really not much of a fan of McDonalds, it's just so symbolic of America to me... sadly). This woman then comes over and tells me that I was never supposed to find this place and that she was going to have to kill me because others already saw I was here. She led me off into the woods and then told me to run, that she would spare me, but not to ever tell anyone I was here and to never come back. I woke up covered in sweat, thinking "what in the hell did that just mean?" I still have no idea and I try not to overanalyze too many of my dreams. It probably just means I miss home and the comforts of a modern country.

It's so strange for me to be here today because the last 2-plus months have been filled with not a moment's rest. It's been working away, organizing, caretaking, scrambling, surviving, etc. What a perfect way to spend Easter Sunday, just having nothing to do but relax! It's almost uncomfortable not having something to distract myself with and be busy with. However, after my nap, I'm really starting to appreciate it. We got a fuller tour of the campus. There is an eye clinic, a nutritional program, a school, an OR, an ER, a pharmacy, a maternity ward, the equivalent of a nursing home called "Grand Moun". The home for the elderly has a big row of rocking chairs along the front. It looks just like a Cracker Barrel restaurant and somebody has the logo painted above the framing of the building. The old people here are so sweet. Every one of them came up to us and wanted to hug us, kiss us, or shake our hands. Their smiles broke into a thousand pieces and it's nice to know that these folks have someone to take care of them. Just down the way there's also a place called the "Rat Hole". When they cleared part of the property, a bunch of rats were un-nested. They found a new home in a giant tire and the rats are apparently the size of cats! We didn't see any, but I can only imagine.

We went for a hike up the mountains today. The view was gorgeous, and the company of the many local children that followed us along the way was even better. It's so sweet how these children just run up to you and are perfectly content holding your hand and walking to wherever you are headed. They'll look up at you with a big smile on their face and just keep following. One kid came over, grabbed my hand, asked me my name, asked me if I loved God, and then asked me if I was his friend. How precious that those would be the first 3 important things he would want to know with his limited English. We stopped at one of the scenic overlooks and a few of us got together with the kids for a big group picture. I had this sudden stark realization that I am in the midst of doing exactly what I was always supposed to do. I settled into that very moment and nearly wanted to cry at how blessed I feel. Bed bugs, dirt, and skirts aside, I'm more at home out here with these people in these foreign lands than I am anywhere else. When your doing the work you know God has planned for you, it feels good. It's like being a top that's spinning on a perfect axis, when you start to stray from that purpose, you start to wobble until you eventually fall. The energy to keep spinning comes from the love that surrounds me and the love from above.

Back onto the topic of Easter and it's significance for the people of Haiti. I can't help but feeling so much hope for the country today. Paralleling with the Easter celebration, Christ was crucified, died, and rose from the dead three days later. Now, three months later from a major disaster and this country is too starting to be resurrected from heartache, devestation, and destruction. The spirit of Easter is alive and well here in Haiti today. It is a time for new beginnings, a time to erase the country's tainted slate and start anew. I believe that this country is on the verge of a major rebirth and a significant renewal of spirits. Conditions may be slow to change, but these people's faith and belief is ever-expanding. Spring is right around the corner, a time of new birth, new life, fresh flowers and fresh starts. The last few months have been dark ones for Haitians. Now they can look forward to the coming spring with hopeful hearts and brighter expectations. Instead of continuing to mourn the dead they can continue to joyously celebrate life, the survivors, and the ability to feel alive.

Tonight, we ate some dinner, played some cards, and then had to go and say our formal goodbyes to Joshua. We went in pairs with a translator and explained to Joshua what was happening. I was able to tell him about the school he will be attending, about his new brothers and sisters, and about what would be happening to us. We had to tell him that we would be leaving, but that we would try to return one day. We told him we were proud of him, that we love him, that this is going to be a safe place for him to start his new life, and that we will always be in his heart and his memories. It was really hard to do, Carmen and I were both crying and he just didn't want to let us go. Justine and Beth came in next and said their goodbyes and once we were all out of the room, the wailing began. He knew. We could hear him screaming and crying from upstairs in the lounge. It was heartbreaking, but this being difficult for him was inevitable.

Monday
This morning I woke up early enough to attend part of the morning devotion. It was actually pretty cool. It compared our lives to the geyser "Old Faithful." The woman talked about how valuable it is to be able to stick with a committment. She talked about sticking to your task even when you want out, even when the world's against you, and compared it to Easter.. even when they nail you to a cross. She went on to say, "However small your assigment, however tired you may feel, however unappreciated you are, stay faithful." Make sure that at the end of the day, the man upstairs can say, "I can count on her. I can count on him." It was a nice practical thing to focus on today.

Then, just as I sat down to a cup of coffee, the director of the mission came over and said, "We gotta leave in 15 minutes." None of us were packed, dressed, etc. We ran to the room, got ready, said our final quick goodbye to Joshua and were shortly in the back of the pickup on our way to the airport. It had been a nice couple of days here at this special place where we finally leave our little boy. Oh, it is hard letting go sometimes, isn't it?

We got to the airport and had to wait a bit for the plane to arrive. There was this great old man playing a handmade guitar. He was using wires for strings and whittled wooden pegs to anchor the strings. The thing was really a piece of junk, but so incredibly resourceful and beautiful that it was probly priceless. The man sits there in his best suit, smoking a cigarette, playing the same song over and over, something about "mama, oh, mama." He was fun to watch and listen to. Then, I realized that I had a harmonica in my bag from my kids groups. I don't know how to play the thing, but I took it out, sat by the guy, and played away with him and his music. It was hilarious. Then, I got him to stand up and we marched through the airport, him and his guitar and me with the harmonica. He wanted to dance then with me as we played our instruments. I couldn't stop laughing.

Finally, the airplane arrived, we unloaded a bunch of new medical supplies for the mission and we hopped aboard. I got to be in the co-pilots seat for this flight and I loved it. As we went down the old gravel runway, I realized that the runway was the same road that went right into the middle of town. If we had not gotten air, we would have been in the middle of downtown. Amazing, along the runway walk donkeys, people, goats, and more. I hooked up my Ipod and listened to all of my favorite tunes. My favorite song to fly with, especially in rickety old planes is U2's "It's a Beautiful Day!" I like to time the song so that right as I'm lifting off the ground the chorus breaks in singing, "It's a Beautiful Day, Don't let it get away!" It certainly is a beautiful day. We were fortunate enough to fly right through and in between some great fluffy clouds, the kind that really make you feel like your in a dream. I must have been smiling the entire time. I kept wishing I had a parachute to go skydiving over the beautiful terrain below. What a great jump that would be! Perhaps next time...

An Extension, CDTI Closes, & Joshua Gets a New Home

2010-04-04T10:26:00.000-07:00

Tuesday
I'm starting to get sad because I only have 2 more full days left in Haiti. It's been such a wild journey here and I'm not looking forward to it coming to an end. Truly, I'd extend my stay here by at least another month if it weren't for grad school that I had to go back to. Today, I conducted my final group with the kids at General Hospital. I was just finishing up with a new group of kids here who were much easier to work with than the others had been. They were older, healthier, and more engaged. Hivelt brought his guitar today and we made some real music with the kids. They loved it. When I got back to the hospital, I had to say goodbye to my translator who has been so incredibly helpful over my time here. Without him I would have never been able to communicate with the kids and my program would have been pointless.

When I got back to the hospital tonight, I learned some bad news. I found out that CDTI would officially be closing as of tomorrow. We all knew that things were coming to this, but I think we all had an enormous amount of faith that things would just work out. The healthcare system here is really starting to fail. There's a ton of NGOs in the country, a tidal wave of medical support, but the money is not reaching the hospitals themselves. Many of these hospitals still have to pay their Haitian employees. Because of red tape, many relief organizations are unauthorized to provide financial support to cover administrative costs, especially when it comes to private facilities. While there were extenuating circumstances surrounding CDTI, what is happening here is indicitive of a larger problem happening around the country. The ER up at Daquini hospital had to close, over at Canopy Vert they have had to drasticaly cut services, and rumor has it that April 12th, emergency services at General Hospital will cease. The supplies are here, the people are here, but the financial support to keep the lights on, pay for the diesel, the Haitian salaries, and everything else just is not coming in. Will this be the beginning of the collapse of the healthcare system here in Haiti? Will the country be forced to rely on NGOs support of the country's medical needs. What happens then when the NGOs finally have to pull out? Will the government be ready to handle the burden all on its own? I don't know the answer to these questions, but the reality is a cold one.

Knowing that this would be the last "normal" night at CDTI, I decided to stay the night with the patients. After all the medical staff went home, I settled into the courtyard with all my new friends. I sat with my favorite patients over in Tent 11 and gave them a little heads up that things would be closing tomorrow. We were able to talk about it a little because of my friend there who can translate. "Mama" was talking and then just suddenly broke down sobbing. She was so sad, and was so worried about what would happen particularly to Joshua who she had come to mother herself. I consoled them and reassured them that all would work out and that we would do all we could to help them all find arrangements.

I found a French MRE I had tucked away a few weeks ago and brought it out. It was so sweet. These MREs have just about everything in them and the food is nearly gourmet. Myself and about 10 of the other patients sat in the courtyard, started the little fire stove the comes with the packet and amid the glowing of the embers we cooked dinner. The hospital ran out of food a couple days ago, so many of these patients have not been eating very well. I pulled out some paper plates and after we would cook each new piece of our meal, we'd all get about a spoonful on our plate and have a taste. It reminded me of that scene from "A Christmas Carol" when they are so poor they are cutting peas in half and sharing them. It was really quite adorable. We'd laugh as we'd try a new piece of our meal, and get excited about what was going to go on the little stove next. It was like we were on our own little camping trip. When we made the asparagus soup, these guys were so cute. There were no bowls, so each person just put our their hand and made a little cup. Then, one of the moms went around and poured soup that they just drank right out of their hands. Aside from the sanitary problem here, it was really adorable. After our little meal, we sat around singing our calm melodic hallelujia song and then I stayed up and hung out with one of my friends who has been at the hospital for the last 2 months sitting by her sister and nephew's side for support. When it came time for everyone to go to bed, the kids said, "Jitterbug... sleep?" They kept saying this and pointing to the wooden palate in the tent. The kids wanted me to totally join their little slumber party for the night. I agreed. I went inside, covered myself in bug spray, and headed to the tent where I curled up and slept the night away on my little palate. It was such a sweet night. Probably one of my favorite night memories here in Haiti. I truly felt like they had taken me in as family.

Wednesday
This morning was the start of what was going to be a long day here at CDTI. The administration got to the hospital particularly early, made a sign, and posted it on the outside of the hospital. It said basically that "CDTI is now closed, we regret the decision, but all services are ceasing from here out." The doors were locked and patients were standing outside the gate with sick children in hand, obvious injuries and just staring at the sign wondering what to do next.

Each tent was privately notified about the hospital's closure, and the process of discharging and tranfers had officially begun. I started to notice a growing sense of restlessness and dis-ease among the patients and I decided it would be good to bring everyone together for some prayer. I rounded up all those patients that wanted to participate and about 50 of us came together, hand in hand, to pray for the days that come ahead. I told them how much we all loved them, what an honor it had been for us to work with them, how special they all are, that they have changed our lives, we will never forget them, and that although this transition is going to be painful for them all after building a community and home within the safe walls of the hospital that they would not be alone. I reassured them that while we will do all we can to find them safe arrangements, that God is really the one who has brought them this far and does not plan on dropping them now. I talked about how God is really the papa of us all here. That he has great plans for his children and that he is going to guide each one of these patients into new opportunities, continued healing, and fill their hearts with hope. As I said my prayer, Maxim, one of our translators, translated to the patients. It was so emotional, he started crying as he translated, patients were crying as they listened, and you could tell everyone's hearts were just torn. Beth shared some beautiful words, a few others did too, and then I told the patients that while today will have it's obstacles that we should focus on the joyfulness of our time together, that we should celebrate the last 2 and a half months of life, healing, and community that has taken place in this hospital. I got us started singing the melodic version of Hallelujia and it turned into a beautiful version of the song, with everyone chiming in. Then, we started to do some celebrating. I ran inside and got the instruments, quickly distributed them to this massive crowd we had attracted and we started to sing loud and joyfully. Many of us jumped around and danced, Katura hopped on her one leg with a big smile, it was beautiful. Everyone gave each other hugs and then we got back to the business of clearing the hospital.

This entire day was extremely emotional. It was the most emotional and difficult day I have had here. Joshua has known something was going on all day and was acting very withdrawn and distant. Throughout the day, he would just break out in a wailing cry. I'd hold him and rock him, but he still was very shaken by the commotion and sense of uncertaintly surrounding the camp. It was so sad watching people like mama and her family pack their stuff and leave. Our little miracle girl with the pelvic fracture walked her way to the car, Ippolita with the beautiful smile had her dad take her away, Joseph was sent to live with his uncle, and several other of our precious patients had to locate tents, tarps and shelters as they prepared to move themselves into a new tent city. Oh, how I cried today and cried several times. It's one thing to leave your patients and know they are still in good hands, safe and well taken care of. It's another thing to come to love these patients and watch them all have to leave you. You're left with uncertainty wondering if they will eat, if they will be dry at night, if they will be safe, if they're injuries and illnessses will improve. Fortunately, we were able to coordinate with several other NGOs and rehabilitation facilities to transfer most of our more serious cases, but they couldn't take everyone.

I left the hospital late tonight, spending as much time as I could with the patients still left. My friend Stephanie came and picked me up and she and her husband and I went out for dinner. We had seafood pizza- pretty good stuff here! I finally pulled into Quisqueya and settled into my tent where I instantly fell asleep after my exhausting day.

Thursday
As I was walking out of compound today to head down to the hospital, a lady pulled me aside and told me how touched she was by her 20 minute stop in at CDTI yesterday. She and her group had just decided to stop in really quick and see the facility. Boy, did they ever walk in at the right (or wrong) time. She explained how she was so incredibly touched by what I had said. She told me that I was truly being the voice of Jesus and that she was inspired to have more of whatever I have working in me. What's crazy, is that I don't really even know what came out of my mouth or where it came from. I've never been one that is good at praying out loud before in my life and here I am praying outloud for the whole hospital. Certainly, it was God using my flapping mouth to carry his message, because is sure ain't me doing the talking.

I was supposed to leave to head back to the U.S. today. It's really been weighing on my mind for the last 24 hours. The timing of having to leave right now is really crummy. As this hospital closes and we say goodbye to these patients, I feel like I really need to be here during their transition. I've been with many of these patients since the beginning of February. It's April 1st now and as I have been here from pretty much the beginning of the relief work at CDTI, I want to be here through the very end. Some of my favorite patients still don't have arrangements on a place to go. I debated it all morning, shot off an e-mail to my grad school professor and some of my family members, and board of directors. In the end, I decided that I needed to extend my time here for another week or two. It would give me a little bit more time to wrap up things at the hospital, get patients transferred and into new living arrangements, and help with inventorying our supplies and distributing them to other facilities. In addition, I would be able to reach out to a few more of the kids around here in such desparate need of psychological support.

By about 2pm, it was time for one of my utmost favorite patients and children in the world Katura to leave. An organization had donated she and her mom a shelter box and transportation to get to the tent city they would set it up in. This was one of the real hard goodbyes. If there were ever a chance or thought that I'd ever be interested or capable of adopting a child, it would certianly be little Katura. She has a mom and is just fine, but I have grown to love this little child as though she were my own. Although she has come along just fine since her leg was crushed in the rubble and had to be amputated, I worry about her rehabilitation. She's just starting to learn how to use her crutches and gain confidence to continue using them. She usually falls about once a day and that's on a nice solid piece of ground with no obstacles in the way. I fear that the dirt, mud, rocks, trash, and shoulder width space between tents will hinder her progress and lessen her confidence in walking. Oh, I just pray that this little girl gets to have all the things in life that little girls should get to have. Next, it was time for our patient Karl and his mom to start getting ready to go. His aunt Chantall had to depart with them as well. I was so sad to see them all go. Things here just wouldn't be the same.

As more patients left, more tents came down. We were rolling the massive canvas tents up, moving big cinder blocks, piling up the tent poles, and pulling massive rivets out of the ground. We had piles of mattresses and cots that once kept our patients safe and warm at night. In between tearing down the compound, we'd discharge another few patients, help some pack, comfort those uncertain of their next chapter in life. By the end of the day, we had only one tent standing.

One interesting observation today was the growing sense of uncertaintly among the patients. Yesterday, it was like we saw the best in everyone. They were all being grateful, appreciateive, cooperative, and compassionate with each other and their impending transition. Today, it was like everyone was overcome with this last ditch effort to get things for their new life. Several people were going around asking for money, diapers, food, tents, tarps, and more. As soon as we'd give them something, they'd go to another person and ask for more diapers or more money. The stockpiling, hoarding, and neediness was kind of exhausting for many of us.

Later in the afternoon, we were able to set up a Skype session between Joshua and his godfather Josh in Wisconsin. He has come to learn that when the computer comes out, it means he gets to talk to Josh. We wheeled him in and up on the screen popped Josh. I wanted him to be able to say goodbye to him one last time before he left the hospital. As usual, Joshua doesn't understand that video of Joshua doesn't mean he's not actually there. He'll extend his hand and try to touch Josh's face by touching the screen. It's really precious! After a little chatting, the lights started to flicker, and we could hear the hum of the generator wind down as the hospital's last remaining diesel was burned away. The reality sets in even more that this is it, the hospital is closing. Finally, it was time for Joshua to be transferred to his temporary facility at an orphanage in Port au Prince. We met with an amazing woman named Carmen who was sent over by Safewater Nexus. She would be in charge of his transition before transit. We had to get him to a secured orphanage before transporting him to his final home because no one could stay at the hospital any longer. Carmen assured us of his care, I had no worries, and we loaded up Joshua and his small bag of things, buckeled him in the backseat of a car, and waved goodbye. We'd be seeing him in a couple of days for the big move north. As the day wound down, we all locked the doors and headed back to the compound at Quisqueya. It was another exhausting day for us all.

Friday
Early this morning we discharged the last 3 patients to their new facilities. Entering the hospital compound today was disturbing. What was usually a lively scene in the mornings with hundreds of patients lined up for primary care, the tents full of patients, and the sound of the kids running over in the mornings saying "Jitterbug, Jitterbug", was now a quiet parking lot full of cinder blocks and trash. There were no sick patients, no lively kids, no buzzing nurses... nothing. Today would be a day of closure for the staff.

I had two Haitian cell phones, mine and the one that Josh had given me that still had minutes on it. Because my secondary phone has really become my primary now, I gave Ketura's mom my original Haitian phone and we have been keeping in touch with them since they have left.
I was able to speak with Katura and her mom on the phone I gave them and felt comfortable that they were settling in well. They had stayed their first night in tent city and while I know it wasn't the safe comfortable community of being at CDTI, Katura still had a spark in her voice.

There is so much inventorying, sorting and distributing of supplies at the hospital that now needs to be done. It's an overwhelming task. Just think of the number of supplies that has come in here over the last 2 months- 7,000 pounds from the Mexican embassy alone! All of the organizing, shelf building, and sorting that has already been done now has to be undone and redistributed to other facilities in need. I think that most of us were too overwhelmed by the task and the reality of the hospital's closure that instead of doing too much work, we spent more time just enjoying each other's company and doing some minor cleaning. I sat on the rooftop for a little while with my friend Alan, a photographer here on assignment. we sat up there eating MREs while he told me stories about shooting the aftermath of Jonestown, being in Vietnam, and his extensive travels around the world. As we talked, we realized that we had a mutual friend, Corrine Gould, the amazing woman who has been of enormous support in my organization and in my efforts to bring antibiotics into the country. Again, it's such a small world.

Later on in the day, I had a great surprise. I found a little tiny market that had... DR. PEPPER! I'm completely addicted to that stuff and haven't had one in way too long. It was $2 U.S. for a can, but I didn't care. It was ice cold and it was good! It's amazing how those little things can become so exciting. As part of our lazy day, the translators threw a big celebration for all of the staff. They went out and bought cake, pizza, pop, and champagne. We put all of the chairs in a giant circle and the translators went around and told us what a difference the hospital and the staff had made in their life. A few of those of us who have been there since the beginning share a few of our own words as well. Desert got up and said a beautiful prayer and then the guys popped the champagne and started to celebrate. This celebration was really significant for me because despite all that we've gone through together in the last couple months, we were finally closing together just as much of a team as we had to operate together when we were open. Some of the translators had made a few cards for a us with their hand traced, some wrote poems, and I realized how much of an impact we really had ended up having on not just the patients but our translators as well.

Following our day at the hospital and some drama I had about getting back to the compound at Quisqueya, I settled in for a night of reflection. Today was Good Friday, the day that Jesus was cruficied and died. It was the day his life ended, as an innocent man, all because he loved the world so dearly. I was thinking about the Haitian nation, the earthquake, the hospital having to close and thinking about the hope that perhaps out of the ashes will rise a new stronger country, healthcare system, and Haitian people.

Saturday
Today was a big day for Joshua. We were transferring him to his new permanant home in Northern Haiti, near Cap Haitian at the Northwest Haiti Christian Mission in the town of Port au Paux. We arrived at the airport to find out that we weren't going to be able to return until Monday. That meant we would be celebrating Easter at the orphanage instead of with our friends in Port au Prince... I was kinda bummed, but trust that it's where I'm supposed to be. We met up with Carmen at the airport to find Joshua smiling and happy wearing a pair of Strawberry Shortcake pajama pants.

We put him on the plane, buckled him in, and you could tell he was very curious about what was going on. As the plane took off, his eyes widened as he realized we weren't on the ground anymore. He looked out of the side of his head, curious about what was going on. As long as he was holding all our hands he was okay. Justine, Beth and I just comforted him and gave him lots of love the entire way. When we'd hit a patch of turbulance, he's really get wide eyed. We tried to get him to color and he took the crayons, put them back in the package and closed the coloring book, and regrabbed our hands. This kid really knows what he wants and it's adorable. A couple of times I glanced back at him and saw a face I've never seen before, I looked up at Beth and said, "He's gonnna puke all over you!" I was kinda laughing and she jokingly grabbed one of the "sic sacs" and just as she opened it, poor little Joshua hurled. Having never traveled in a plane before, I'm not surprised. Fortunately, it was towards the end of the flight when it happened.

We landed at a small airport with a gravel landing strip and found a pickup truck waiting for us. We had to load 12 people, one being our special needs child Joshua, everyone's luggage, a wheelchair, and a giant bag of diapers into one small pickup. It was crazy! I held Joshua tight in my arms as we made the hour long bumpy ride to the orphanage. Riding through town, I'm witnessing a whole other level of poverty. While the earthquake didn't cause any damage here in Port au Pauix (sp?) it looks like a bomb went off. There are dead dogs in the road, mud, green sludge, trash lining the streets, homes made of cinder blocks or steel panels, and all dirt roads. It's pretty bad and the only disaster that has happened here is the tragedy of inequity and poverty. It's really very sad.

Finally, we found ourselves at the gates of what would be his new home, the Northwest Haiti Christian Mission. You go from the dirty, less than poverty stricken village into a compound filled with volunteers, smiling patients, and clean facilities. Instantly, I thought to myself, "this place will be good for our little boy." We were welcomed by the volunteers and staff. They gave us a tour of the facility. Joshua was smiling and appeared to be excited by the excitement. We saw the room that will be his along with about 6 other kids. He will have his very own bed. There is a big shower room where the kids can go and bathe themselves, which gives them a little more independence. The name of the facility Joshua will be living is Miriam's Place. It' attached to the rest of the mission center and named after the daughter of the donor who provided the funding to start it. Next door is what's called "Heaven's Waiting Room", a sort of children's hospice.
It has a sort ofdining room and a physical therapy space in the back where it is completely padded and filled with toys. Kids can roll around, scoot, crawl, and not worry about getting bumped or injured. Justine sat with Joshua for a while and played with some toys. It was amazing to see how smart the kid actually is. He has reasoning skills and the ability to analyze and make the appropriate adjustment far beyond what any of us ever thought. In the group room, I took the prayer flag kids had made and been hung at CDTI and rehung it now inside Miriam's Place. It added a nice splash of color and happiness.
After our little tour, we went upstairs where there was a big plate of spaghetti waiting for all of us. It was the most hilarious thing to watch Joshua try and eat a plate of spaghetti. He couldn't get it down fast enough. He'd put his whole face in the plate and come up with a mouthful of red noodles and that big grin on his face, waving a fork in the air. It's very comforting to see him so content and acting just like himself. Following his big meal, we found a big red tricycle we put him atop of. Someone had sewn a felt horse head on the front of the handle bars and Joshua looked like the Lone Ranger as he tried to balance himself upon the seat.
As the rest of us settled into what would be our home for the next 2 days until we would be able to return to PAP,we learned some of the realities of staying here that were a bit frustrating for me. No one was allowed to leave the walls of the compound alone or after 6pm, there are bed bugs in the facility, and we all had to wear skirts around the compound. Yuck! Bedbugs and skirts! Not my thing. It's kinda old fashioned around here, but we are guests in their facility and so we will follow the rules, attend the daily morning and evening devotionals, and be respecful of their cultural standards. While this seems like an amazingly wonderful facility that really is doing some great work, I think I'd feel like it was a sentence if I had to stay here longer than a couple days. Carmen and I have been having a good time sticking together and laughing about the silly things that leave us both our of our comfort zone. We are like trouble and trouble! It's nice to have someone around who's on the same page and finds more spirituality stepping out on the rooftop at sunset praying as we listen to beautiful music, take pictures of the moment, and cast off all fears and hopes to the Jesus that rests in our hearts as much as the mountaintops.

Before dinner, Beth, Carmen and I had a translator take us out to see the city and the coastline. We walked down the dirty roads and met a plethora of children excited to see new faces in town. The water here along the coast is absolute turquoise blue. It's fabulous! However, as you approach the shoreline you see it is covered with mounds of decomposing trash. The children came and walked along the beach with us, excited to have their pictures taken, doing back handsprings and back walk overs like a team of little acrobats, running down the beach, and laughing. At one point, Beth and I found a group of kids that let us hop into a game of jumprope. Then, we came across a group of kids who wanted to show us their homemade tops. These kid take pices or orange of mango wood, whittle it down, stick a nail in the bottom, and color it. Then they spin the little top on the ground, and flip it up into their hand. It's pretty neat. Carmen and I both bought one from the kids for a copule bucks. It's a pretty special souvenier!

By the time we got back from our little excursion that left me feeling more grateful than ever for the life I have back home, we were all able to sit down for a nice warm dinner. We had potatoes, chicken, and vegetables... not too bad for an orphanage. Following dinner, there was a little devotional service. While it was very stiff, it was hard not to appreciate the efforts of the whole family who had traveled to the mission together and were leading the service. There was some solemn singing and announcements and then day was finally closed. Carmen and I went downstairs to tuck Joshua in for the night. He was already in his little bed, sound asleep, tiny little hands grasping the sheet close to him. He looked peaceful. One of his new friends came over and tapped him on the shoulder, waking him up. He looked up, saw us, got a huge smile on his face, and reached up his arms to us so that he could give us a hug. We sat quietly with him for a moment and then told him goodnight. He smiled, rolled back over, and went right back to sleep.

To catch up on the enormous amount of journaling that I am behind on, I came up onto the rooftop under a canopy of perfectly clear and bright stars and let my fingers dance on the keys. I reflected on the day and thought abotu what Joshua must be feeling. Does he understand that today's entire trip was all about him? Does he know this is now his new home? Does he feel safe? Does he know that he might never see his mom again? Does he realize these children around him will watch him grow up and become brothers and sisters to him? Does he realize that we can't stay? I wonder all of these things. As we were getting all the details pieced together earlier today, the woman was asking about his birthdate. None of us, including the mom, have any idea when he was born so I suggested that we pick April 4th as his birthday, the day Easter falls on this year. It would be very symbolic of the death of one life and the rising to a knew and beautiful one. We all agreed and it was settled. He's our little Easter boy!

A Day Off in Paradise

2010-03-29T19:40:00.002-07:00

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

2010-03-29T19:40:00.001-07:00

A Day Off in Paradise

2010-03-29T19:40:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-27T21:01:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-03-27T14:02:00.000-07:00

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.

Efforts Underway To Keep CDTI Hospital From Closing

2010-03-25T14:21:00.001-07:00

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.

Kidnappngs, Tremors, Presidents, and A Dead Baby

2010-03-23T07:03:00.000-07:00

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.

Back in Haiti

2010-03-19T15:39:00.000-07:00

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.

A Month of Tragedy & Miracles

2010-03-07T08:30:00.000-08:00

Tuesday
Every once in a while, we'll take a detour from our regular walk into the hospital. Today, I was walking with the Russian girls and we took a side road to see the back side of a collapsed building. We ended up finding a little flower shop in the back. Many parts of the building were ruined, but there was a little corner the lady managed to set up her bins of flowers and start to sell them again. It was nice to see fresh tropical flowers in a building and neighborhood so devestated. As we kept walking we found a completely crushed car and a pretty funny accompanyment... a group of Haitians sitting on top of it as though it was still a working car. We joined them and I gripped the imaginary steering wheel pretending we were driving, which gave them a pretty good laugh and made for a fun picture. Continuing our journey, we got to our usual cross standing among the rubble. We stopped and said our usual prayer and were joined by a sweet Haitian who added her own little prayer at the end.

At the hospital today, we had an interesting group of filmmakers show up. Hollywood actress Claudine Oriol has been spending time in her home country Haiti working on a documentary that shares the other side of the Haitian people not conveyed in the media. She says the French come in and do a documentary on the French, the Americans come and do films on the American workers, but she wants to come in and do a documentary on and about the Haitian community in Creole. This film is going to be aired all over in Hollywood and go to a few different film fests as well. She has big plans for it. We started talking a bit about the country and so forth and she decided she wanted me to be the voice of America in her film. I was pretty shocked and honored. We did a nice interview in the back room about the people here and it was interesting for me to gain additional insight through her perspectives as well.

Before arriving, I had this idea in my head that stepping outside the airport would be like stepping into a cage of pitbulls with a handful of steaks. Instead, I found a fairly docile scene (at least compared to what I had expected). Since the day, many of the misconceptions I've had about the Haitian people have changed. Compassion. These people take care of each other. When Joshua Emmanual was left at the hospital by his mom, our Haitian nurse we call Mama came in to take care of him, bathe him, and love him. Many of the others in the tents look out for one another, get a nurse for their tent mate when something's not going right, and protect each other's space. Faith. These people have an enormous amount of faith. While many associate Haiti with Voodoo, nearly everyone I've met seems to be a Christian. When the earthquake happened, they started calling out "Jesus is Coming, Jesus is Coming!" Even the Voodoo doctors were shouting it. These people love to pray, every night in Tent 8 there is a service. It's like they have a good grip on the concept of believing in something that you can't see or touch. They put their whole hearts in it. Gracious. We work our butts off at these hospitals and none of us are getting paid, actually it is costing us. We don't ask for anything in return, but when a patient comes up to you and tells you how much they appreciate what you are doing for them and how they love you and give big hugs, it makes all of the sweat and long days worth it. Resiliance. The conditions that these people are living in day after day, before and after the earthquake are a true test of willpower. Among the blistering heat, the poor sanitation, lack of food and water, torn economy, incredible loss, and filthy conditions, these people continue to move on and still find hope. This resiliance was particularly evident when it came to some of our patients at the hospital. Many of them would come out of major surgery for things like compound femur fractures and massive tunneling wounds leaving bone and muscle hanging out and exposed. You go ask them if they are in pain and need some medication and they just smile and say, "no, no pain." In the states, someone sprains a toe and practically needs morphine. Haitians are tough, weathered, they've experienced pain much greater than a fracture in their life and know how to deal. Lastly, the big thing that stands out to me is their resourcefulness. I've seen incredible creations made from what most of us would just consider trash. In some of the tent cities, rubble from the earthquake has been formed into fairly sturdy construction and loose tiles have been pieced together like a mosaic making tile floors in the middle of their tent city in the park. They squeeze the clay grout in between the tiles so it will set and stay hard. Another area of the tent city, some folks were resourceful enough to build a tent city restaurant. You can go in the little hut with space for 2 tables, and they will cook you food on a little charcoal grill on the outside and then serve you. Other resourceful things I've seen include water bags that turn into dancing puppets when you squeeze them, using wheelbarrows to move the front end of a car with no forward wheels, a soccer net made out of string and broken planks salvaged from the rubble, making homemade charcoal from the slashed wood, modifying the playground into an abstract looking shelter, and using leaking water pipes as blessings that allow them to drink- leaking we would mostly see as a hassle. We saw kids make kites out of tin cans, plastic bags and strings, and jumpropes out of rope threaded with plastic pop bottles. These people can make something out of just about anything. Overall, the Haitian people are strong... and I have faith that they will continue to endure.

Getting back on track, after the big interview I took my little 5 year old friend Katura to over the shade under the palm trees with a bag of cookies and we had a little picnic. It was so sweet because when I finished my cookie and she still was finishing the last of hers, she realized there were none left and reached up to put part of her cookie in my mouth to share. To see someone with so little want to share what little they have was very touching. Oh, she sure is a cutie! In between doing medical stuff, I also took the time today to go spend some time with the folks in Tent 8. Somebody donated these little books of Bible verses that are translated into Creole. One of the patients in this tent is a pastor and he leads a service with them each night. We all sat around and read the versus out loud, everyone reading and following right along. It was a nice break from the heat and busy pace.

Towards the end of the day, I noticed some commotion going on behind the service entrance. I was curious what all the racket was all about. Turning the corner I saw a big semi truck unloading bags upon bags of rice and water. The Haitian workers were so excited and really got into the process of moving the bags. They were hurling them through the air like footballs and creating an assembly line of people to move them back. It was fun to watch and it was good to know that the patients would be fed and hydrated come tomorrow. Also, Kevin Connell with Real Medicine has officially installed a water filtration system at the hospital so that patients can refill their containers and keep up their fluids.

Wednesday
It's Wednesday, and I'm making plans to head home for a bit coming up here. I need to recharge and reassure people back there in person that I'm doing well and still alive. Mostly, I just need to recharge though. A cruise through WalMart and a Big Mac will probably be just what I need to start feeling American again. We were able to book a flight for Saturday and Josh will head to Florida with me before he jumps a plane to head to Wisconsin. I'm thinking about returning to Haiti after a few days.

We got a new person at the house, a hilarious freelance photographer who also passes as a good maician. His name was Russel and he would use the magic to help make kids smile. Many of the kids here haven't seen anything like it and are truly amazed. He was doing this one trick where he makes 1 ball turn into 2 and then into 3. Each time before a new ball appears he blows on his hand. Just as he was "adding" another ball, he got the kid involved by having him blow on his hand. The kid smiled and agreed, but instead of blowing, he spit in Russels hand. The kid was confused and thought that was what he was supposed to do. Guess there might have been some mistranslation going on there.

Anyhow, Josh and I did some exploring on the way into the hospital today. We did our usual prayer at the cross, and then explored the campus of a technical school that was ruined. We found massive piles of desks and benches, remnants that were salvagable. We found broken records, report cards, and more. It was interesting.

At the hospital today, I realized many of the patients had gotten a haircut. Somebody had come through to donate their time by going around giving kids haircuts and today they were going around doing people's nails. Later in the day, my little buddy Kendrick got sick. He's so cute. He was sitting outside the door of his uncle's office and I asked him if he was okay. He shook his head and I asked him if he was sick. In the most adorable 12-year old response he said, "No, I'm sick with intoxication." What?! I asked him what he meant and told him that when your intoxicated in English that means your drunk. He laughed and explained that he was having GI problems. I got him some medicine and helped him lay down.

A little while later, Josh and I had walked downtown to get a newspaper and came back to find out everybody had been looking for me. Kendrick's dad Alex, the hospital administrator, wanted me to put an IV in Alex. He only wanted me to do it, which was very flattering, especially when your dealing with someone's kid. It was kinda nerve racking having everyone watch as I go after such small veins, but I popped it right in there on the 1st poke, and got the fluids running right away. I felt proud of my work.

Many of the extreme medical needs here are starting to diminish. The severity and urgency of medical care is slowly turning to normal Haitian triaging. Most of the victims of the earthquake have already been treated, stabilized, and their wounds are healing well. As I notice this happening, I've been feeling like perhaps my mission here is wrapping up. Afterall, I've been here now for a whole month now. Last night I was praying that I would be reinvigorated with a new sense of purpose in regards to something. Today, I woke up and I knew what I needed to do. It's the perfect transitional time to begin addressing some of the psychological concerns these people are facing. This will be the most difficult to treat because there's no antibiotics to heal a broken heart or a weary soul. Emotions are much less obvious than fractures, and addressing the fear and loss means re-exposing the wounds. I was suddenly overcome with this desire to develop a program catered to children and adolescents to help move them through the grieving process to a place of hope.

Thursday
I stayed up unbelievably late last night designing the grief therapy program that will hopefully start getting implemented where it's needed. It's almost like the program wrote itself, I have kind of no idea where it came from, but I like what I built. My background degrees in Chemical Dependency Counseling and Psychology really worked out well. After I put my touch on it, I sat down with some local Haitians for French and Creole translations where appropriate and then we went through and did a cultural edit as well. I learned some interesting things in the process. I learned that most Haitian have very limited language skills. It was explained to me that their educational system is based on more of a repetition system than an analytical system. The teachers say phrases and the kids repeat them back. As a result, many of the kids never learn how to read or write the language. I also learned that the Haitian people are very superstitious. They believe in the supernatural and even now many of them still believe that the earthquake was an act of God, and not a natural occurance. This is something I tried to address in the program as well. In my cultural edit, I also learned that the anger the Haitian experience goes back much farther than January 12th. There are some very deep seeded resentments that have been carried forward from generations ago.

After my master version of the program was completed, I printed a copy to bring down the General Hospital. Josh and I went with a translator to distribute the program and to hunt down a newspaper. I've been looking everywhere for a copy of their newspaper here from the day the earthquake happened. It wouldn't have anything about the earthquake, but it would be the last one issued before everything changed. Unfortunately, we had no luck finding one. We proceeded to General Hospital and I met with the Pediatric Physician there and discussed the great need for this to start being addressed. I handed her a copy of the program, she was enthusiastic and said she would look it over. I got an e-mail from her later saying she thought it was amazing and would try to start integrating it into the pediatric ward. As we walked through the ward meeting some of the children, I was greeted by a joyous little boy who had a major head wound and was missing one arm. He ran up to me and hugged my leg with his one little arm so tightly. It made my heart melt. I knelt down with him and he held up a little tiny pinwheel. We both blew it and made the pinwheel spin and he would just look up at me and smile. He might just be one of my favorite little kids I saw the whole time down here.

Our translator Jyvon took us through the tent city downtown to show us where he has been living since the quake. He took us past the playground that was overtaken by a family and covered in tarps. As we slinked our way through the tent city, we saw people sleeping in the shade, a wheelbarrow resting in a grocery cart, an impromptu restaurant, people bathing, getting haircuts, shaving, cooking, and playing cards.

As we edged our way out of the crowded tent city, we passed by an area where a little old woman was inside a dark room sewing away on her antique looking sewing machine. Somebody called us over asking if we could help them set up a tent. We agreed, thinking it would be fun and it was. These poor guys really needed help too. They had fished the poles along the whole bottom of the tent and were trying to push metal tent stakes through the asphalt in the road. They had probably never put one toether before. People send in these tents, complex ones or not, and most of the Haitians have no idea what to do with it. That's another reason I think the tarps are better. I've set up plenty of tents in my life, but this one was the strangest. Poles aside, there were about 5 seperate section of the tent, a separate floor, a separate inside screen, another inside screen, a top, and then a little flap top. We did get er done though.

Friday:
Today was my last full day before heading back to the U.S. for a few days of reprive. I woke up with the first real to do list I've had since we got here. There was so much I wanted to wrap up today and do, and so little time to do it. I'm hoping to get back here in a few days, but in case I don't, I want to make sure the majority of things on my list are done.

I started off my day with an awfully wrinkled pair of scrubs and wishing I had an iron. I went to make my oatmeal with the coffee pot I usually use. That coffee pot has been great- it's made my coffee, oatmeal, and I even made a hotdish in it. This time, I used it as an iron! I let it warm up with some water in it, placed a napkin underneath, and then let it glide along my scrubs giving me a nice cleaned up look. It worked. I think a tiny coffee pot may perhaps be one of the most valuable things you can travel with.

One of the most exciting things I got to do today was give things away. Because of the generosity of folks in the northland we were able to make some Haitians feel awfully loved. On our way into the hospital, we dropped off the water filter off at a little makeshift tent community that was providing water to the 40-some people living there with water from a broken pipe. I was able to show them exactly how to use the filter and they were very grateful.

Trailfitters had donated a really nice tent that I've been waiting for the right person to pass it on to. After some prayer, I decided to hand off the tent to a very sweet old lady down the road. She looks like she must be 80 years old. For the last month on our hike to the hospital we have passed her. She has been sitting in the same place everyday and every night. She's always there, and waves to us in the mornings. We passed her the other night in the pouring rain, and still she was just sitting there in the same place with all her belongings. I decided she was the one I was supposed to pass the tent on to. A few of us stopped at her little corner of the sidewalk and I had a translator explain to her that we see her in this place everyday and that if it was okay with her, we would like to help her with some things. We told her that we just wanted to show her how much God loved her. She smiled, and we started to shower her with love. Josh and I pitched the tent for her and anchored it down. While we were putting it up, we started cooking a Beef Stew MRE so that we could give her a warm meal as well. We gave her some water, some clothes, and I handed off one of my favorite shirts to her, "Love God. Love People. Period." She pulled the shirt on, we fed her a bite of Beef Stew and she peered into her new little dry home and smiled. We attracted a whole crowd with the whole thing. People were standing around watching and cheering when we'd pull out a new piece of clothing for her. At one point, it was a little overwhelming because everyone wanted a tent and some food, and we just had to tell them we didn't have anymore. The best part of this little moment of getting to share our things with someone in need was when I motioned for many of those standing around watching to come join our hands in prayer. We held the little old lady's hand and I started praying out loud. Something just hit me at that moment and I couldn't continue the prayer. I had a long pause, fighting back tears. Where I was and what I was doing just kind of hit me all the sudden. I'm thinking to myself, "I'm in Haiti, following an earthquake, holding hands with people who have just lost everything and continue to look up, and just got done making one of these people feel loved, not forsaken, and blessed. The simplicity of it all is profound. We changed 1 person's life by providing them with shelter and a few other goods. I wish I could provide tents for all of these people, but I felt so blessed to be able to do what I could. The presence of God on that sidewalk in the rain this morning was undeniable. It was as though he was sitting right there with us, hand on her shoulder, giving her peace. Now, perhaps she can get rest and stay dry. It continued to pour through the night. We drove by and for the first time we didn't see our old lady friend in the same place she's been for the last month. Instead, she was inside her tent. We knew she was resting dry and warm.

After setting up camp for our new friend, we finished our way into the hospital and then met up with Jim from Hope 4 Haiti to head down to an orphanage over by the airport. We ended up at the New Life Children's Home. The orphange houses about 85 kids of all ages, some of whom have found shelter at the home after losing both parents in the earthquake. The orphanage is completely self-sustaining. There are vegetable fields that the kids weed, water, and tend to each day. There are rabbits that are used for food, then their pellets are fed to the tilapia tanks. The tilapia eat the pellets and then provide a number of nutrients in the water. That water is then recycled back to the garden for fertilizer, which is then used to feed the people and the rabbits. Amazing, hugh? On top of all that, they have chickens and eggs, and other animals too.

Over in the special cares ward at the orphanage, it will absolutely take your heart and break it in two. There are about 15 kids living with severe disabilities ranging from cerebral palsy to hydrocephaly. One of the girls looked to be about 13 or 14 and had to be in 5-point restraints. These children sit in the shade on the porch, secured in wheelchairs, drooling, and staring off into the distance. As soon as we walked up to say hi to them all, the children go so excited. They smiled, reached up their hands, and waved. One kid actually pulled himself right out of his wheelchair and tried walking towards Josh, his little legs barely supporting him. Once he could brace himself with Josh's arms, he started to sort of dance with those legs. I came over and we sand and danced up and down while he just laughed and smiled. It was very neat.

We stopped by the Miami University medical tents that are now surrounded by a fence and razor wire. There is more organization and the increased security felt almost militant. It defnitely had more of the feel of an American establishment. The great outcome of heading there was that I was able to speak with a pediatritian about implementing the my grief therapy program. They were very receptive and interested in utizing it in their patient care.

Leaving the army, we spotted what looked like the Blackwater outfit escorting an important looking vehicle through the streets from the airport. We wondered what they are doing here and who was so special in the car. We pulled into the army diesel fuel site where the military is helping American non-profits gain access to free gas. We filled up Jim's truck and got into a good political discussion. We were talking about all those who will stand to really benefit from the aid pouring in and that those with the greatest need will likely be neglected. We've heard statistics that say 14-cents of every dollar actually comes into the country and only about 3-cents of that actually ends up making it to the people.

Finally back at the hospital, I put together the paperwork and supplies to get out and start our first group today. It was a very big day because I was warming the kids up to begin their first full module for therapy starting on Monday. I am so regretting having booked my ticket because now I have to fly out in the morning and I want to stay here with my little kids and continue their therapy. However, if I'm supposed to come back here mid March and do that, I trust that God will make that possible. Anyhow, back to the session... it went very well. The kids were very receptive and excited that they were going to talk about the earthquake. We did some warm-up, icebreaker stuff, and moved later into some more serious stuff. Kids all picked out crayon and took a piece fo paper. On one side of the paper I had them all draw their life before the quake. Their pictures were happy, with bright colors, flowers and smiles. The kids remained pretty engrossed drawing these pictures. Then, everyone folded their paper in half and I had them draw a picture of how life is now... after the quake. It was obviously more difficult for the kids to complete this task- their attention shifted, some of them became distracted, and one Joseph who lost both of his parents in the quake decided he wanted to go listen to his music. The drawings that resulted from the group in the end were profound. Instead of smiles and bright colors, there were pictures of people upside down, cars smashed under rubble, and houses crooked and crumbled. I asked one child what the person at the bottom of the page was doing and she said, "the house is on top of them". Little Katura described her picture as being her mom. I asked her what the circle was on top of her head and she said it was concrete. There was a scribbled dark mess to the side of that and she told me that was her house... very powerful stuff. Lastly, our little boy Joshua Emmanual participated in the group as well. Eventhough he can't talk, he understood the point of the exercise. His before the earthquake picture was mess of thin lightly drawn scribbles. His after the earthquake was the same picture, but with much thicker lines and harshly drawn. I asked him, "Joshua, this is after the quake?," he nodded, "It looks a lot darker and harder, doesn't it." He agreed. So, did everyone else. We ended our first group with a little surprise. I had called our Haitian friend Hivelt to come over with his guitar and play some music for the kids. They loved it and we all sat around singing for a while and enjoying his music.

Meanwhile, Josh had walked back downtown with our translator Jyvon for one last attempt to find me that newspaper I've been searching for. Can you believe they came back with one in the end. They surprised me. It's eerie, because this edition of the paper (a weekly paper) was issued for the 13th- 19th. You can tell it was the last thing off the press the day before because there is not a single thing mentioned about the quake. There was no time to make it the headline. I also was able to get a few papers from the days following the quake where it was in the headlines. I'll integrate these papers into my upcoming art project. Our translator Jyvone and our friend Chantel then pulled Josh and I aside in the ER and told us that they were sad we were leaving, that they were going to miss us, and that they had gotten us a little something for our departure. The two of them had put their money together and bought Josh a handmade wooden chalice and bought a handmade wooden bowl for me as well. They had our names written in caligraphy along the side. On mine, he spelled my name "Jiddurberg", which is a way I've never seen it spelled, but entirely perfect in every way!

After saying goodbye to Chantel and Jyone, I had to take on the task of saying goodbye to the rest of my patients. I may or may not be coming back and if I do, many of them might not be there anymore. I never anticipated it would be as difficult as it was. First, I went over to say goodbye to who I knew would be the hardest... Joshua. I went into his tent where he sat in Josh's arms squeezing his neck. I picked him up for a little while and just rocked him and held him. Josh and I both cried. We cried becasue we didn't want to say goodbye, because we didn't know what his future held, and because he had so profoundly touched our life. Little Josh was like the theme, the center point, and the miracle of our time Haiti along with so many others who knew him. We had been the strong one's for this little sweet boy when we first found him and now he was being the strong one for us, as he lifted his little hands to our faces wiping the tears from our eyes. Then, he's squeeze our neck and just nuzzle his little face on our shoulder. He'd smile, laugh, and we had a translator tell him how much we loved him and that we would always remember him. When he got sad and lonely, we told him to just close his eyes and remember his days at the hospital surrounded by those that loved him. We must have sat there with him for 30-minutes before we finally had to part ways, waving back at each other, blowing kisses, and turn him back over to God's ultimate care.

I went over to Tent 7 to say hi to the kids there. I wasn't expecting that to be nearly as difficult as it was either. Immediately, I walked in and John Baptiste hobbled over to me on his crutches and kissed me on the forehead, sqeezed me, and told me he loved me and will never forget me. It was tearing me up. Then, Melissa with the right arm amputation came over and softly touched my face smiling, hugging me with one arm, saying "love you". Joseph, the now orphan after both of his parents were killed in the quake, came over and wouldn't let go. He started to cry and it just tore me apart. He's already had to say goodbye once too many times in the last couple months. Ippolita in the meantime had figured out what was going on and was wailing. She kept saying, "You have to go? you have to go? I won't forget you, Jidderboog, thank you for taking such good care of me, I won't forget you. I love you, God bless." Even Dieula at the end end who I had sang songs with as we sedated her for her dressing changes, reached up to hug me. Never would I have thought that 30 days with these patients would have left me so attached. Truly, they are in the most challenging time in their life and we had the honor of sitting by their side sharing their pain with them for the last 30 days. I hated that me leaving had to be the source of additional pain for them now. I also hated knowing that most of them I probably would never see or hear from again. Once they leave the confounds of the hospital, they go off into a world now consisting of tents and rubble to deal wth their injuries and loss of limbs on their own. Lastly, I went over to say goodbye to Melicienne, the girl we threw the birthday party for, and Katura, the little one with the leg amputation. Saying goodbye is so hard to do. The only consolation is leaving knowing that we made a tangible very real difference in their lives and helped them move through this most horrible time in their lives with grace, compassion, and love. They believe it was them who was the lucky ones... I beg to differ. It was us who were the lucky ones. They have changed my life in ways I will never forget. The rains started to fall as we wrapped up the rest of our goodbyes, and my heart grew weary. What a long full day it had been.

Saturday:
I woke up this morning and had to say goodbye to the rest of my housemates and goodbye to people like Dr. Reynold. There were so many I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to and that made me sad. Hopefully, I will be back in a week or so and be able to properly say goodbye to the rest of those I missed. Reynold picked us up at the house today and brought us to the airport. It certainly was not the same airport we had arrived at with military presence all over the tarmac, humvees, and military planes. American Airlines, Air France, and many other major commercial carriers were now on the ground, there was an organized line of customers, and it felt just like any other airport. This was a dramatic change from the way things were when we first arrived.

Sitting at the airport today, I ran into my friend Laura from the Kenscoff Clinic. She told me an amazing medical story. Last Wednesday she and Marilyn got a phone call that Haitian woman was in labor and needed help. They arrived at her house to find the woman in labor on the roof and found out she had been carried 5 kilometers down the mountain on a stretcher to get there! On site was a male Haitian midwife that was covered in dirt trying to deliver the baby, but she was only dilated to 8 or 9 and he was already having her push. The Kenscoff ladies slowed things down and got her to stop pushing until she was fully dilated. When it was time to push, the pushing went on for about 2.5 hours before the Haitians present insisted they perform a voodoo ceremony to get the zombies out. Yeah, you read that right. They thought the woman was posessed with zombies. Things got stranger. They took a bottle of alcohol and poured it all over her, rubbing it in everywhere. Then they lit candles around her. A guy came in with a broom, handed it to her, and made her sweep the entire roof... IN THE MIDDLE OF LABOR as she dragged an IV pole behind her! As she swept they slapped her and hit her trying to chase away "the zombies". Next, they took the broom away from her and started to sweep her with the broom. The slapping and stuff continued until finally one of the other ladies popped her a good one and the lady just snapped on her nearly starting a cat fight... IN THE MIDDLE OF LABOR! This is all true, I saw the video with my own eyes! Finally, it was apparent that the voodoo wasn't working and the nurses were able to convince them to head down to a hospital to see a surgeon. By the time a surgeon was available, the woman had been pushing for 7 hours. They couldn't even pick up fetal heart tones at this point and they thought the baby was dead. Finally, the surgeon put her under and did a cesarean section. The second the baby came out, it started to cry and so did everyone else in the operating room because the baby was alive and well, and so was the mother. Laura says it was the strangest delivery she's ever been a part of and I'd have to agree.

As I've gone through my travels throughout the day, I've had much time to reflect and catch up on my journaling efforts. There have been many changes over the last 30 days that are pretty huge compared to the way things were when we arrived. Much of the city looks just the same from a birds eye view... the crushed rubble still remains left to be removed. They estimate it will take 1,000 dump trucks 1,000 days of solid work to clear what needs to be removed. The city just hired about 86,000 workers to start moving the rubble and that will certainly be a start. When they work on a project they look like a swarm of yellow ants with yellow shirts and yellow hard hats. They just chisel, hammer, and haul away the rubble one block at a time.

Other changes I've noticed in the last 30 days is that there is more trash on the streets. This has made me really grateful that we have trash cans. In fact, we're so conditioned to wait until we find one to throw something away, that I'll laugh as I find myself walking over a pile of trash holding a napkin, waiting to find a dumpster, when I could just as easily just toss it on the ground with the rest of the trash. But, it's that mentality that has made the streets of Haiti such a mess. There's no such thing as recylcing here either. I don't think there's even a place where you could take your recyclables if you wanted to.

Since the last 30 days there are less "homes" made from sheets and more homes constructed out of scrap steel and sturdy material. There a less tears and more smiles, less hungry stomachs and more successful distribution efforts, less severe wounds and injuries and more discharges and recoveries, less sun and more rain, less military presence and more Haitian-based security and organization, there are more markets opening, more street vendors selling their wares, more traffic on the road, and more organization amid the chaos. However, this nation still has a long way to go before it ever can return to even the poverty-stricken state it was in before the earthquake ever happened. It's good they don't have to do it alone.

So Much Makes It Hard To Stay Caught Up

2010-03-05T19:09:00.001-08:00

Saturday
We came in this morning to find out that there was another shooting this morning. A Franciscan Priest from Costa Rica had been going to the bank this morning when he was shot and robbed on his way out. He was here with a group of other priests and nuns doing relief work. That's just so sad to see someone like that targeted in such violence. People around here continue to grow in their restlessness and desperation. It's not that the supplies aren't getting here, it's just that they are unequitably being distributed. The government has been accused of taking numerous donations and selling them the people to make a profit. That is appauling!

By mid-afternoon, it was about time for our day and a half break. The Russian girls Victoria and Lilya, Mel, and myself went along with Kira and her family up the shore to their beach house. It's beautiful along the coast here. On one side you have huge mountains. On the other is the clear blue ocean and coral reefs. It rained throughout the night once we got there, but we ended up knowing it would be full of relaxation.

Sunday
I woke up this morning to freshly brewed coffee. AT&T has been so amazing about their phone service allowing call to and from Haiti to be free- that also includes Internet service. Mel has AT&T service, which meant I got to drink hot coffee on the beach and read all the local news back in Duluth. It was nice to feel so connected to home and relaxed all at once.

Mel decided to head up the mountain with us. We had a local guide lead our adventure that was steep. On our way up, we passed a church where Sunday services were going on and we could hear their singing. The singing followed us the entire way up the mountain. We went about 2,000 feet up about a 60-degree angle. When we got to the first cave, we were greated by a snowy white owl. Up further, we reached another cave. This one had a trail of bat bones leading up to it and the inside was covered in bat poop. It stank pretty bad. I had to wonder what kinds of ceremonies went on in this place and how it must look at night inside the cave when candles are lit and the shadows and reflections bounce off the musty walls.

On our way back down the mountain, we passed a few goats and took a few spills on the loose gravel. We passed back by the Church and by this time, everyone was standing outside in one great big circle waving their hands and singing. At the end of the service, everyone started to shake each other's hands and hug one another. Several of the Haitians came over to us and gave us hugs saying 'Merci, Merci'. The children were enthralled at seeing people with different colored skin than theirs and stayed close by looking up in awe.

By the time we arrived back at the house, we were sopping wet from our workout and the heat. We quickly changed and then jumped into the refreshing Caribbean sea. Several of our friends floated out a bit from shore on a giant floating saucer while I busied myself with a mask and snorkel. I swam out to the reef and did some snorkeling, saw lots of fish and beautiful corals, and then ventured over to a small shipwreck resulting from the last hurricane. That kinda scared me because baraccuda apparently live inside the ship. I don't want to mess with those little guys. In my little underwater adventure I found several dead sea urchins that I put in my little treasure pouch and a beautiful bright orange starfish. For 2 hours I stayed in the water. I was competely waterlogged. Meanwhile, music played, the Haitian sun beat down, and I got fried.

By the time we were done searching for shells, a beautiful lunch spread was served. We had spaghetti, baked lobster and crab with a garlic butter sauce, fresh bread, and hot dogs. It was all quite good and I was sad we were starting to wrap up our time here. Our time at the beach passed as quickly as it arrived and we suddenly found it time to come home. That night, I was so dehydrated I had to give myself an IV with some fluids. I was pretty proud of myself that I got it and did it on the first try. With fluids infusing I played a few hands of rummy, and then settled off to sleep to prepare myself for the start of another week.

Monday
I walked into the hospital today and was attending to another medical worker who had thrown their back out. I must have been standing there for a couple minutes before looking up and realizing Josh was back from his Dominican Republic adventure. Around the hospital today, things were business as usual. We discovered we desperately need diapers- for both adults and kids. We had to put a 6 month old in a diaper the size of the entire baby. It was like a hammock! Something neat today that happened was that Outside Magazine came by the clinic to do a photoshoot with some of our patients. They set up a white backdrop, a light kit, and the folks shooting photos were exceptionally friendly and compassionate with the patients. It was great to see a man come from the tent, ragged, disheveled, missing a limb, and just come to life with the lights and the camera. The photo shoot really made for some fun for the patients. It was something new, exciting, and interesting going on. I got some really good shots of my little Joshua and I together as well.

As I was walking through the tents today, greeting everyone for the day, I had one of the patient's aunts come over and give me a bracelet that they had bought for me. It was so sweet because these people hardly have anything to give. They're just trying to do what they can to take care of themselves. Another similar situation happened today in the infamous Tent number 7. The folks in this tent are mischevious, charming, and a lot of fun. They've also become like a family to one another.Well, today was Victoria's birthday (an aspiring nurse on the team)and somehow that tent knew it was her birthday. They brought her into the tent, sang her happy birthday, and then pulled out a bunch of little trinkets to share . They gave her cookies, crackers, a little beanie baby, and other little trinkets that most would consider complete junk back home. Tat day, we were dropped back off at the compound where Kira had made fresh brownies and ice cream. Yum! That was good.

The Miracle We Were Waiting For

2010-03-01T18:55:00.000-08:00

Friday
I was standing in the ER today wrapping things up, when I heard all of this singing going on outside among the tents. It was loud and I was curious about what was going on, so I stepped out from the ER for a bit. In the middle of the "courtyard" was a huge circle of people all dressed in white. They were singing up a storm, smiling, and had their arms all up waving in the air. In the middle of the circle was a group of guys dressed in these beige choir robe/ pocahontas looking outfits. They were running around shouting out words of praise, some of them were kind of shaking, and another guy was crowing like a rooster. I was a little bit confused. Then, they started inviting the patients to the center of the circle. A slow herd of wheelchairs and walkers made their way to the center, carried by the hymns of the people. Some of these patients are people who I've never even seen get out of bed, so it was profound that they were finding their way to the center. I looked up and saw that someone had placed our little boy Joshua in the center and he was sitting on the floor not able to see what was going on. I went to the center, picked him up, held him, and just rocked him to the music.

To see patients with their arms in the air, eyes closed, and so full of hope that maybe... just maybe... they would be touched by something greater than themselves was beautiful. I looked over the man with the amputated leg, singing to the music. The little girl in the red wheelchair was waving her arms hoping for a miracle too. Then, I looked over and saw one of our patients with a pelvic fracture encased in a steel fixator walking to the center. My jaw dropped. She was using a walker, but it was still the first time she had walked. Her mom was standing behind so excited and crying. I realized at that moment that I was experiencing the miracle I had been praying for. The best part of it all was that none of us had to pick who was going to get their miracle- everyone there was experiencing one. This was the big miracle that Mel and I had been praying for last night. Tears... tears from many started to flow. The man dressed in the choir robe came over to Joshua and I, grabbed my hand and Joshua's and started to pray in French. He pulled out this bottle of oil and rubbed it into our little boy's crippled legs. Joshua threw back his head in joy. Oil was placed on his forhead and mine. By the end of the music, all the sick and injured in the center had received a moment with God. It was a very emotional for everyone and full of beauty. Then, just as gracefully as the group came into the courtyard, their circle peacefully slinked back out the courtyard gates. The girl with the pelvic fracture had her mom bring her a cake that night to celebrate.

Two other things I wanted to mention today was that we started using honey in the ER today to pack wounds. Apparently, honey has some incredible healing properties that have been shown to increase healing time and reduce the occurance of infection. It's pretty interesting how something so simple can help save lives and limbs. The second thing that was big news today was the news that came in over dinner. Just after finishing up we found out that 2 of the security guards at the Port had been shot and brought into the hospital. There was only 1 night nurse on duty. We were 20 minutes away, so we paid the bill quickly and scooted out the door for what was expected to be a long night. On the way, we found out the guys had been transported to General Hospital downtown. The adrenaline could drop a notch.

Miracles and Faith

2010-03-01T08:56:00.000-08:00

Wednesday:
I went to bed last night with one simple prayer, 'God, please let me wake up'. In the morning, my prayer was just as simple, 'thank you God for another day.' There were no tremors throughout the night, although I did sit straight up in bed a few times in the middle of the night after I'd hear something and get braced. It makes it difficult to wake up feeling very rested. I can't even imagine how hard it must be for those that live here.

On our way to the hospital today, the road was blocked because of this huge crushed car in the middle. No one could get either direction and it was the only way to get in. It took about 20 people trying about everything they could do to move the car. A tow truck couldn't get it over and up the hill, people trying to lift the car didn't work, hooking up another SUV didn't work, and by the end it was quite humerous... almost like a cartoon. We ended up finding another way to get to the hospital.

At work today, I was back to working in the ER. We were back to doing a number of pretty intense dressing changes. I'm so glad that the medical community was able to get sedation meds in here right after the quake because there's no way some of these people would have ever been able to get their wound care without it. Some of their injuries are flat down to the bone, sometimes you get in there and big chunks of bone are completly missing.

One of our patients has a leg that received a major fracture. It was a complete break, leaving him with a triangular piece of bone missing, and the rest of the bone completely exposed. Unfortunately, it doesn't look like his body or the antibiotics are doing a very good job of kicking the infection. It's now starting to travel up his leg and ooze out of the superior pins on his external fixator. If that infection continues to travel upwards, then this man could get completely septic and die. Yesterday, it was recommended that he get his leg amputated. We explained this to the man and he was so heartbroken. He's a big strapping strong man who probably is used to providing for his family. An amputation will mean they will have to provide for him, and that he will have all sorts of frustrating obstacles in life. He decided that he wanted to speak with his family about the operation first. Before we left, we all joined hands around him and prayed that if God willed it, he would save this man's leg, take all infection away, and provide him with a miracle. And, if he should lose his leg, we prayed that God would give him the grace to get through his loss with peace and courage. It was a very touching moment, seeing a group of scientific logical thinking minds of doctors, anesthesiologists, and nurses turning to faith for this man's last hope.

When we got back to our compound tonight, I had a nice talk with my roomies about miracles and faith, and what all God is doing down here. It amazes me how I can be so steadfast, strong, and brave walking through destroyed homes, dead bodies, and such blatent tragedy. I can see all of that and maintain that wall around myself that allows me to not have to process it all at once and keep walking. But, when God comes into the picture and we start to pray, talk about faith, talk about how God really has this country in the palm of his hands, I just break. He penetrates right through that wall and just explodes my heart. It's kind of paradoxical because he makes me suddenly so weak to everything going on around me, but at the same time provides me with the incomprehensible strength to keep my head up, stay strong, and continue touching lives. I've never been one to need evidence to prove the existence of God, but just being down here alone and experiencing how something so intangible and invisible can pierce through a wall that even tragedy and disaster can't... is evidence enough for me for life.

As Josh and I were just chatting away, we started hearing this loud singing coming from down the street. We decided to go see what the kids were out singing. When we arrived, it was so precious. the kids were standing outside their tent city laughing and singing. I walked over to the kids and started to dance with them. Then, I got all the kids in a big congo line dancing down the street. Everybody was smiling, laughing, and the singing continued. Josh and I stayed down there with them for a good half hour before returning to the compound with big smiles. It was a good close to the day.

Thursday
Today at the hospital Joshua's mother who's been missing again for the last 4 days, was expected to be dropping by to take him, despite him not being ready to leave yet. It was as if Joshua knew that she was coming for him and that he was going to have to leave. He was clingy, would wrap his little arms around our necks and not let go. We brought a translator over to him and asked some questions about his living situation. Apparently, the mom rarely feeds him, she doesn't give him hugs, she hits him, he doesn't feel safe, and he doesn't want to go back with her. Unfortunately, there's so little we can do. However, if the mom will agree to it when she returns, we have a major orthopaedic surgeon coming in within a couple of weeks who could do the surgery to release the tendons in his legs from his Cerebral Palsy and help give him a chance to walk with assistance. Right now, he can't even stand up. By the end of the day, his mom had showed back up with a whole slew of guys. We explained that he wasn't ready to go yet because of his condition and the wound on his arm, and fortunately, she agreed to come back next week again.

Other stuff today, big Josh took off to the Dominican Republic this afternoon for a few days. He's going to go hang out with some guys at a mission down there doing food distrubution and construction. The change of pace should be nice for him. Mel from the hospital came and stayed here at the compound in his place for the night and we had fun. She brought a deck of cards and I got to play a game of rummy. It was a nice distraction from everything going on here. I so value the friendships I'm making down here. Mel and I talked about how we'd both love to see a real dramatic miracle happen, one where someone's fracture just instantly heals, or someone who can't walk just stands right up. We were talking about how do you know who would be the best person to see a miracle happen to? It seems silly to go so radical and pray for an amputee to get their arm back, but then if you shoot really low for someone with a sprained ankle, it could be just by their own willpower that they are walking and not by a miracle alone. It's an interesting thought, ya know, who qualifies for a good modern day miracle. In the end we decided that God's going to do what he wants to do no matter what, and when he sees it fit to provide healing he'll do it regardless of what we think. His power cannot be underestimated. Mel and I went to sleep deciding we'd just say a little prayer about who God would wish to see receive a miracle tomorrow, we let him do the picking, because it was going to be him that would do the healing.

Over dinner tonight, a woman came up to us and warned us about a bulletin she had just received on her phone about mudlides. The weather service is predicting 3 days of intense rain. That accompanied by loose gravel, rubble, and an already fragile earth could make a bad combination. The doctor with us said, we could be seeing a lot of patients if the rains pan out. These people in Haiti certainly don't need anymore trauma or loss in their lives. They've been stripped of enough already. Unfortunately though, the relentless rains are inevitable soon.

More Haiti Blogging

2010-02-24T07:01:00.000-08:00

Thursday
Today was a relatively slow day at the hospital because got 10 new nurses in from the Dominican Republic today. They have been taking over the tents, leaving some of the more interesting tasks to some of us who have been here for a while. Today, I got to do the procedure on my patient Joshua's arm. The anesthetist sedated him with some Fentanyl and Versed, and then I was able to flush and debrid the inside of his arm, pack and dress the wound. I felt like a doctor today! It was great! Later in the day, the ladies from Kenscoff (a midwife and a nurse) who are trying to build a clinic with a specialty in women's health in a small mountain town came by to meet me for some medications. I was able to pass on all of the supplies that were gathered by family and friends to them to start their clinic. With 2,200 doses of antibiotics, we were able to give them a pretty good start for their supply. I think I'll end up there during my time in Haiti to help them set things up and treat some of the incoming patients. As a matter of fact, as I write this in retrospect, we just found out that a man came in after being attacked with a machette on his head and the stitches we had donated were the ones that provided closure on his head laceration.

At the hospital today, things went pretty smooth. It's great to start seeing the patient's progress in their healing and therapy. We are lacking in physical therapists, but the ones that are here are doing the miracles. They are getting the people up and out of bed and giving them the confidence to walk with crutches and walkers. Our little boy Joshua is making great progress too. He is smiling and laughing. I continue to debride and pack his wound every other day. Between that and the rocephin he's getting, he's completly coming around.

After work today, Alex came and picked our team up for a little sight seeing. He drove us out past Carrefour to the epicenter of the quake in Leogone, which is 95% destroyed. It looks even worse than Port au Prince. On the drive there, passing through town, you'll spot plenty of roaming animals... dogs, goats, cows, horses, and giant pigs. One of the horses was just hanging out in the median. Other things you'll see on the ride between PAP and Leogone are the city buses that are filled to the brim with travelers. People travel however they can, holding on to the back, in a seat, or on the room. I just have seen about 50 people on the roof of the bus at one point.

On our way to Leogone, we stopped at a Rum Distillery. This factory is one of the two out of 60 factories still standing since the earthquake. We ate some fresh sugar cane straight from the fields and watched the process of taking the cane, processing it, taking the sugar and boiling it, letting it ferment, and then getting distilled into world-class Haitian rum. The rum here in Haiti is well-known to be some of the best in the world. After our little rum farm tour, we plucked some fresh mangos from the trees and chowed them down. We tore into them exposing the bright orange pulp on the inside. The juice was all over our arms and faces and none of us cared. It reminded me of when I was a kid and would crawl up under the tangerine tree with the neighborhood kids eating tangerines while they dripped down our chins after a long day of playing in the orange groves.

Anyhow, this trip to Leogone was short because we had already worked a days work and it was starting to get dark once we got there. The town was so interesting with rubble and destruction that we decided to head back in a couple of days. Driving back at night was interesting to see the candlelit sidewalks sihloutte the figures of wandering Haitians in a cloud of dust from the dry clay roads.

Friday:
This morning we took Elizabeth and Victoria to the airport for their flights out. It was sad to see them leave because they've been here with us nearly since the beginning. It's interesting at the airport because there is a noticable decrease in US military. Instead, the Haitian police have started taking over parts of the airport. Perhaps that is because the commercial flights in and out of PAP resumed. The roads to get to the front are being rerouted and detoured. Police are out directing traffic and moving things along. However, it seems to be causing more confusion than good. It is nice to see that order returning to the country though. Even at the hospital, some order is beginning to return. We're using official medical administration records now instead of scribbling on the back of a piece of cardboard or something. With the rules and order comes greater responsibility for all.

I've been feeling pretty tired and sluggish throughout the day and been fighting a nagging headache. Overall, though, I still feel pretty good though- not like I'm getting sick, just worn out and probably a little bit dehydrated. After work tonight, the ladies from Kenscoff called wondering if Josh and I wanted to go down to the palace for a concert. I wreally wanted to just go home and get to bed early, but I figured that it would be good for me to get out and have a little fun and I also had a sneaking suspicious that there was something I was supposed to see or learn while I was there.

The concert was being held just by the palace. An organization has come together to help start rebuilding the moral of the Haitian people through music, spoken word, videos, cartoons, dancing, and more entertainment. There was a stage with 2 large projection screens. Our friend Justin from Kenscoff got up on stage and spun fire for a while. The crowd loved it. Folks got a chance to talk to their people into a microphone while their image was projected on the big screen. There must have been at least a couple thousand folks out enjoying the entertainment. It was a really special night because it was the first night of these hope spreading concerts. Instead of doom and gloom everywhere you go, there was music and smiling and people getting to speak their minds and feel heard.

At the end of the live music, they played the new music video for Haiti, "We Are The World". It was really beautifully put together by about 80 various music artists. Some of those artists include: Michael Jackson, Pink, Wyclef Jean, and more. As we were watching it and chatting, Josh and I looked up at the same time and then over at each other and said, "did you just see that? that looked like Joshua!" When they replayed the video again later we recorded the part where we thought he came up in the video and sure enough, there was the little boy we rescued from the side of the road. It was his wheelchair, his smile, and his eyes! It was our little boy! I started crying immediately, one of the first decent cries I've had since we got here. What are the odds of that, truly, that we would rescue the little boy in that video and then be there at the palace square that night to see it. That's God working! I feel like it's him saying, "you are exactly where you are supposed to be, doing exactly what I want you to be doing... keep it up." The rest of the song was so meaningful, standing in the palace square with thousands of raw Haitians singing along to we are the world, arms around one another, and for that instant feeling hopeful and not so alone.

Saturday
I had my first real entire fun day off today since I've been here. Josh, Shane, Marissa and I went back to Leogone for a day of adventure and picture taking. It was fun driving through before, but it was almost painful for me because we'd see something completely amazing, but not be able to get out and get a shot.

Before departing, we were all meeting at the hospital. We really wanted to show Joshua and get his reaction to his appearance in the new "We Are the World" music video. We carried him into the office area, sat him down beside the computer and played the clip. When he saw himself in the wheelchair, his eyes lit up. He knew it was him and he was happy about it.

On our way out of town, we stopped by the Port. The ports have been pretty much destroyed. It's no exageration. The docks leading into the water have massive fissures running through the concrete and asphalt. I stood in one and it came up to my waist. Giant cargo containers are upturned like carelessly scattered legos. Some of the cargo containers are still laying toppled into the harbor and one sat anchored on a reef several yards off shore. We crawled over a few of the cargo containers off the side of a warped warehouse to get a better view. There's no activity, but plenty of boats anchored off shore. In fact, it looks like we're in the middle of a war or something. There are enormous naval ships like I have never seen before... one's where aircraft can land, one's with massive steel encasements like something you'd see only in pictures, and of course, the US Comfort hospital ship. Getting to shore to see these boats up close is nothing short of amazing. As we were leaving, the guards didn't want to let us out because we were apparently supposed to have a badge to have gotten in. They had just flagged us through when we arrived there, so we weren't sure why we were having problems leaving. It was a bit unnerving, but then they just said, 'okay, you can go'.

Continuing our drive Southwest to Leogone, we passed a number of tent cities that have popped up along the beach. This is where I would want to build my tent if I had to stay. The water is aqua blue, the breeze is refreshing, and your on a transportation route. We stopped off to see the tents and accomodations along the beach. The locals were selling a lot of local food delicacies including friend plantains and goat. Goat? Yes, goat! I ate me some goat! Surprisingly, it didn't taste like chicken, but more like beef instead. It wasn't too bad. I'd like to try goat jerky next. The kids were also selling little plastic cups with some sort of sea creature in them. We found out they were baby conch shells and when I looked over along the shoreline I realized it was littered with thousands of little bright orange conch shells about the size of my fist. There again is some beauty amid the chaos. We also stopped off along the way at the Rum farm so that Shane and Marissa could see the operations and try some of the best mangos in the world. It was a nice little pit stop along the way.

The closer you get to Leogone, the worse the roads got. Driving along, suddenly the road would just drop a couple of inches. Entire slabs of road have sunken, shifted, and massive fissures now like the asphalt. In one of the more hazardous crevices, locals have stuck palm fronds and plants to warn people. The plants were also accompanied by several signs that profoundly expressed the state of the community, "We are angry," said one. Another read, "People are dying". Still another one, in several pieces after getting run over by a vehicle pleaded "We need help!"

Continuing into the city, you see the police station destroyed, an 18th- century church collapsed, and a bank reduced to nearly dust. One thing I noticed that was pretty interesting as I looked through the rubble is the enormous amount of coral used in construction. Many of the key structural supports are formed using massive blocks of hardened coral. I would have never guessed that coral would form a strong enough material for construction. However, by the looks of things, it apparently wasn't strong enough.

We ventured over to the main graveyard in Leogone and had some real eye-openers. The cemetery is a mess! With the way the earth shook and warped beneath the burial plots, entire tombs and crypts have either crumbled, been knocked over, or completely unearthed. There are wild goats running through the cemetery as well, one I saw trapped inside one of the crypts. Gravediggers tirelessly work under the hot Haitian sun repairing and piecing the cemetery back together. Leaving behind an enormous death toll, the earthquake has created a problematic situation of where to place the dead. Space is limited. In one instance, we saw where a man's coffin had been removed from his tomb and replaced with a new body, resealed with freshly poured concrete, and inscribed with perhaps a stick or something in the cement the day Haiti changed forever 2-12-10. It was a very eerie sight. The efficted coffin that lay next to what should have been its final resting place, lay completely open, the skeleton inside exposed. You could tell it was a man, he was wearing a suit that was nearly disintegrated, a pair of rotting socks, and was holding a silk flower that had lasted longer than he had.

A few plots down from his, there was a huge pile of bones. The crypt keeper explained that you only get a lease of 5 years when you die here. Then, they can exume your body, pile up your bones and personal affects, clean out the grave, put your remains at the bottom, and pile a new person on top. That's what was being done here. Three skulls lay atop a pile of bones, resting on a tomb next to that was a pile of dentures and other small personal affects like a flask, a comb, and a little bottle of perfume. What an eerie thought to know that many of these graves are recycled over and over again.

As we were leaving the graveyard, we saw a much lighter sight. Some guys had just got back from fishing with 3 huge spearfish. Each one was about 4 or 5 feet long. The guys pulled the fish from the top of the tap tap (a sort of bus/taxi here) and put them on the back of a motorcycle already carrying two people. The motorcycle took off, the fish got bumped by the tap tap, and all the fish went flying. We were all laughing, it was such a random sight. You just never know what your going to see down here.

On our ride back into town, we stopped at an old tuberculosis sanitorium. It had suffered major damage in the quake. This is perhaps one of the eeriest places we've seen since being down here. Respiratory medications, nebulizers, and inhalers sat scattered throughout the rooms. Tuberculosis is still endemic to these parts of the world and it's still just as deadly and contagious as ever. As we walked through the various wards, we were amazed at the damage. Entire walls now laid on patient beds, a pile of diapers and pill bottles filled a back room, and sharps containers now had plants growing out of them. One thing that was rather hopeful though was that every room had a faded picture of Jesus on the wall. It was another little piece of hope among the rubble.

Continuing our journey back to town, we stopped off at a massive river bed where despite being filled with trash and rubble, children ran around as though no tragedy had ever happened. Several kids had made kites out of plastic bags, a tin can, and string. These are some of the shoddy kites I've ever seen, but boy could these kids fly them. Some of them floated so high you could barely even see them anymore. Down a ways, was a dozen or so kids buck naked swimming in the little water that still flowed through the river bed. I suddenly realized I was walking through a national geographic movie. It was entirely sureal. The kids were splashing, and running, and jumping, and laughing. It was really sweet to see them all so happy.

One last stop on our way into town, we stopped along one of the slums along the shore. We had to navigate our way back through the houses and rubble to get down to the shore. The view was amazing, as we could see the US Comfort up close and the many other boats that lined the harbor. However, the shore line was anything but pretty. It was cloudy, merky, and smelled. A few yards away, a girl popped up her head from a makeshift steel port-a-potty that hovered over the ocean. This is where they poop and pee, and suddenly I understood why the water was so murkey. A neighborhood of people stood back a few yards amid the damaged homes having a huge community bathing party. Everyone was scrubbing up from and cleaning themselves from what looked like a broken pipe. Can you imagine taking community showers with all your neighbors? Things are so different down here. While walking back to the car, we passed a few baby goats. I was able to pick one up and hold it... so sweet. Suddenly, I felt guilty that I had eaten goat several hours earlier.

Last highlight of the day, we pulled into downtown Port au Prince on our way back to the hospital and our driver went to do a U-turn in the road becasue there was a parade of some sort approaching from down the way. Just as he got perpendicular to the road, his car died. Of all places to have your car die, in the middle of the road for an approaching parade is one of the worst places for it to happen. I was laughing so hard as the parade approached and started going slower and slower, and then suddenly realized we weren't going anywhere and marching around us. It was pretty funny and eventually we got the car started after a few of us pushing it and popping the clutch, and our first real full day off was a wrap.

Sunday
We were extremely short staffed today. In the ER sedation room, it was just me, another nurse, and an EMT to take care of all the dressing changes. It was very nerve-racking. We sedated them, removed staples, opened up some massive wounds down to the bone, debrided them, repacked them, and dressed them. It was intense, but at the end of the day we didn't kill anyone and everyone had fresh dressings.

After work tonight, it was about 8 o'clock and our ride never came to pick us up, so Josh and I had to walk a mile and a half up the hill to our place through the pitch dark. I was totally freaked out because I didn't have my mace on me and was carrying a bag with my laptop, ipod, and all my money in it. I picked up a big piece of rubble in my hand and I was ready to use it on somebody's skull it they tried to mess with me. Some parts of the town still don't have electricity and the parts of town we walk past that are just rubble certainly are dark... pitch dark. Fortunately, we made it home safe and sound, but I won't ever do that again- not unless I have no bags and a container of mace.

Monday
At about 4:35 in the morning, I was awoken from a deep sleep to my first earthquake I've ever felt. It was like someone was just gently shaking the floor. It took a couple seconds for me to compute what was going on, coming out of a dead sleep, but once I realized it was a tremor I jumped out from under my bug screen, grabbed my passport, and went running out the front door in about 2.5 seconds! It woke everybody else up too and they all came outside as well. Fortunately, it was just a little tremor at 4.7 so no damage here, but you always wonder if it was much bigger somewhere else for some other town. How scary that must have been for these people January 12th.

At work today, everybody was abuzz about the earthquake last night. Everyone was going around talking about how it had josteled them awake and how it was kinda scary. We had not heard of any injuries from it, but we did hear of a few houses that finally gave up and fell to the ground. Around 10 or 11 am, some additional tremors started happening around the hospital. They were very small, but enough to evacuate the operating room on the top floor and close it off for the day. Emergency repairs are being made on the hospital as we speak, repairs that should make it structurally safe at least enough for another big one. However, until those repairs are finished, the hospital is simply unsafe.

Guess who showed back up today? Joshua's mom. She and the grandma showed up wanting to take Joshua away. He still is getting heavy duty antibiotics and on an every other day dressing change under anesthesia. He's got a gaping hole in his arm that has the potential to cause major problems if he goes back to the lifestyle he came from. She explained to us all that she didn't care for him or like him, but that they needed him in order for the family to eat. She explained that they used him to get money from people so they could feed the family. I'm standing there taking to her through a translator and a few other nurses are standing around and we're so frustrated. This child is being neglected, if not abused as well, he's completely vulnerable right now fighting an infection and open wound, and we're supposed to just give him back to the mother?! That's like taking a goldfish and throwing it into a pond of sharks. The frustrating thing is that there are no systems in place here to protect children. If a child is being abused or neglected, then it's just too bad. There's no social services, HRS, or crisis hotline you can call. There's no one to report anything to. Even if there had been some sort of a system before the earthquake, it's not in place anymore. It seems so messed up to me that it's just as acceptable here to neglect and abuse a child as it is to abandon it in a dumpster as we have already seen. Where is the protective services? Where is the court system? Where are the advocates for those that can't advocate for themselves? I seriously contemplated the idea of just taking him to a good orphanage and heading back to the states, but realized that would be wrong as well. If there was anything I could do it would have to be through spreading awareness of the problem that exists, being part of solving the greater issue at hand, and perhaps before Joshua leaves us providing his mother with some education and training that will allow here to be more competent in her care of him. Other than that, it's a sobering reality of the problems that still exist in the world today and the gratitude we should have for the systems that we do have in place back home. I talked the mom into coming back to take Joshua on Thursday, but I know he won't be ready even then.

That afternoon, I went with Josh for a walk down to the palace to meet a couple his friends on their way to the Dominican Republic. We stood outside the palace gate chatting with them and the locals. Seeing such a great huge palace cracked and crumbled was so humbling. Many say the pride of the country went down with the palace when it fell. One man told us a very eerie story from the day of the big earthquake. He said that in Leogone, the epicenter, that in some places the ground actually opened up swallowed up houses and families whole, and then closed back up. He said people ran over to start to dig for the family, but not the people or the house could be found. Isn't that an unsettling though that the ground just swallowed structures whole? Who knows if it's actually true, could be the start of disaster laden urban legends, but either way, it scares the crap out of me.

Walking back up to the hospital, we passed the Plaza Hotel. We decided to go inside and check it out. This is like one of the nicest Americanized hotels in Port au Prince. It's also where all of the journalists are staying. Inside, you would have never known that an earthquake had happened. It felt tropical, had a huge swimming pool, a restaurant and bar that was opened, and a courtyard that was shaded and cool. It kinda caught me off guard because this one lady came over to me and said, 'hey there, I know you, aren't you that news anchor that quit her job to come down here?' She even knew my name! What a strange experience to be minding my own business in a third world country and be recognized by someone I've never met!

Back to the house tonight, again I started trying to type away journaling and found it difficult to keep my eyes open. I used to be somebody who could easily go to bed at 1 or 2 in the morning every night, now I'm out by 9:30 and up by 6.

Tuesday
Speaking of getting to bed and waking up early down here, this morning had a particularly early awakening. For the second day in a row, more earthquakes rattled the city. At 10:30pm I woke up to a quick tremor that got me up on my feet and just enough to get totally freaked out and not want to go back to bed. I laid back down anyhow, and again at about 1:30am, awoke to another quake. This one was another 4.7 like the night before, but it shook a lot harder. All of us went running outside the house, completely freaked out. We waited for a bit, then went inside and got all our bug screens, sleeping bags, and stuff quickly, counted off paces of the height of the house to the distance away the house could fall and tried to lay back down to sleep. Then, we started getting phone calls and text messages from locals. Josh found out someone in the Dominican Republic had felt this one, Alex up in the mountains had felt it too, and suddenly we started to really worry that a much larger quake had happened somewhere than we realized. We got a text message from someone at the hospital saying the 5 people had been dragged in with major crush injuries to their limbs. Apparently, several structures toppled in this one and caused some injuries to people inside or nearby. We decided we needed to get down the the hospital right away, as there would probably be more coming in. Alex's daughter dropped us off down there and it was rather quiet yet. The injured had left and gone to General Hospital because there was no one at the hospital to treat them when they had arrived. We stayed up through the night checking on other patients, treating a little girl with sickle cell anemia that was in pain, and waiting for the next trauma to walk to walk through the gate or for the ground to shake again. Finally, we all crashed on hospital stretchers for an hour or so and waited for the morning shift to come in. We had done our shift for the day and headed back to the house to get some rest.

It's getting more and more difficult to get rest around here because I keep getting more and more paranoid about the quakes. It was cool at first, but not I've been there, done that, and don't want to really do it again. I'm getting tired of being worried about falling asleep that I might not wake up. Every little noise now has me on edge. Speaking of noise, earthquakes do make a sound. They sound like distant thunder. There's a distinct sort of rumble that accompanies the shaking- it's very unsettling. As we were waiting around at the hospital this morning, a big piece of heavy machinery went driving past. It made the ground shake a bit and had a similar rumbling sound. It was interesting to watch the faces of the traumatized Haitian people. Even though we all knew it was a truck of some sort, their eyes got big and wide, they started to look around at each other, and it was as if a part of their minds were all re-living January 12th.

More Healing in Haiti

2010-02-20T16:56:00.000-08:00

Sunday:
Overnight, some more rain came and got our little boy we rescued yesterday's document's all wet. His name was washed away and nobody remembered what it was. We knew he was 12, but that was all. Since his mother had left, there was no way to find out either. Some of the other guys around the place suggested that I should be the one to name the kid since I had found him. I liked that idea. I put a lot of thought into it and decided to name him "Joshua Emmanual". Joshua means "God Rescues". I started planning his baptism, including a downloaded script and baptism certificate.

I was the charge nurse today and stayed very busy. I was busy coordinating the ER, OR, and tents. We only had 2 other nurses doing individual cares on like 70-some patients. We did get a new nurse today from Florida. She works as a prison nurse down there. When she showed up, she brought toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo and more stuff for us all! I was so excited not to have to brush my teeth with only half a toothbrush anymore and to have some conditioner finally!

In the ER today we had some highlights. One guy came in with a hole in his head that went entirely through his skull and to his brain. You could even see the gray matter! This man is a living miracle becasue he has been walking around with this hole in his head for the last 10 days and not gotten an infection. Another highlight of my day was passing by one of the tents only to see this young girl sitting on the edge of her bed, singing to herself and crying. She was alone and was coping with a rather fresh leg amputation. I can only imagine what was going through her head, what kind of loss she's experienced in the last month, and how she must envision her future to be. I sat down beside her quietly, put my arms around her and just rocked her. She continued to cry and sing softly. I cracked a little big here. Her pain chiseled away at the wall I'm having to reinforce around my heart to stay strong. I cried with her for a bit, we sat in quietness, and although we could not speak in another's language, the message of compassion and empathy were clear.

Monday
I noticed on our walk into the hospital today that my boots are finally broken in! This makes me very happy because I was worried about my feet getting wrecked in the process. When your in a place like this, you just can't afford to have your feet fail you.

The big highlight of today surrounded our favorite little "Joshua Emmanuel" who we had rescued from the streets last week. It was his baptism day! I went around to the different tents gathering families and visitors, we set Joseph up with a fresh new sterile gown, got out some baby oil, and clean water. We had one of the translators read a whole little thing about baptism in French to Joshua and the crowd. Then, we explained to Joshua that he was so very special and reminded him of how much God loves him. We went on to tell him his new name and why we chose it. He was smiling so big and was so excited. Everyone started singing together and clapping hands.

I've married couples before, but I've never baptised anyone before. I wasn't really sure how to do this, but I figured I didn't really have to know because it's about letting God show up and do his thing. I took the bowl of baby oil and made a cross on Joshua's head and told him that he was God's own. Then said a few words, took a scoop of fresh water and poured it over his little head, saying "I baptise you in the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit." I cracked on that last line a bit becasue it was pretty intense! There were some others crying too. Then, everyone started to sing and clap again. Joshua was so happy about all the excitement and attention. There were angels in that tent! After the baptism, one of the women who had come to participate said she wanted to be his mom! Then, some of the other ladies were arguing about who would be his godparents, it was so sweet. This kid is so wonderful. He's got cerebral palsy,can't walk, can't talk, and looks like he's 4 when he's really 12, but when he smiles... he lights up the entire room. His face is filled with joy, innocence, and excitement for the moment. He's special alright, and he truly has touched my life.

Tuesday
Being here on a long-term mission is challenging in many ways, but one way that's particularly difficult are the continuous hellos and goodbyes. Just as soon as your getting to know someone really well, it's time you have to say goodbye. It's a sort of up and down roller coaster. Today, we had to say goodbye to three of the best guys we've had down here. Doc Bjorn and his medic staff Shannon and Adam are incredible. These are the kind of guys that if I'm every in a trauma incident, I want treating me! We had to send them off to the airport today, riding in the back of the truck, wind through our hair and laughing the whole way.At the airport, we were able to check on our options for flights out of the country when its time. We learned that the military has been "evacuating" any medical professionals on military planes for anyone wanting to return to the U.S. over the last few weeks. However, now that the commercial airlines are starting to reopen, they've been complaining that they aren't getting any business becasue the medical professionals keep taking the free flights out. Apparently, they ceased operations. Bummer. While leaving the airport, we saw dozens of soldiers escorting many orphans out of the country. It was quite a contrast seeing strong uniformed officers holding sweet, young and fragile children.

Back at the hospital, we got lots of new nurses today, about 6 of them. That was a real relief for us because we've been running ourselves ragged. I got everyone orientated and assigned to tents. For the rest of the day, I was in the ER with Doc Marty and Emergency Med Nurse Bob doing major dressing changes. We found some old speakers that hooked up to my Itouch and did our work to the sounds of Frank Sinatra and Michael Bouble in the background. We were dancin' and the patients were smiling. It was a productive day of work. During a lunch break, I went out to the back with the French Medical Team. I've had a few different types of MREs down here and can confidently say the French have the best taste when it comes to their rations. In one box there is a little stove, matches, water purifying tablets, coffee, tea, milk, hot chocolate, rehydration packets, Salmon entree, some sort of pate, sweet and salty crackers, fruit chew bar, nouggut bar, jelly, and chocolate pudding! It's really pretty neat! The French guys helped me get my little oven set up and then we had a little gourmet French ration picnic on a warm afternoon in Haiti.

Wednesday
Walking into the hospital today, we passed a church service that was going on in someone's front yard. It was packed, there were hundreds of Haitians pouring in to the crowd. I went over with a friend of ours, waited in line with everyone else and we went up to the priest and got some ashes on our forehead. It can't already be "Ash Wednesday" can it?

At the hospital today, everything was flowing pretty well. We were having trouble moving patients in and out of the ER where wounds are dressed and debrided under anesthesia. However, as always things end up working out in the end. On a positive note, Joshua, the little boy we rescued last week had his mother show back up. After she said those hurtful things about her son and left, we thought she had completely abandoned him. Turns out she has 2 other kids who she went back to and found out that a bunch of their stuff had been stolen. She says she had been trying to sort it all out, but her son nearly died and she disappeared for 5 days. I just can't fathom doing that! Either way, it's good that she came back because if she hadn't showed up by Friday, we were going to start making arrangements at one of the orphanages. However, it was a bittersweet day though because as Joshua's mom came back, two girls came in with a newborn baby found in a dumpster. The newborn had been abandoned by the mom.

Josh and I took off a little early today and went for a hike through town for some photography. We ended up getting way more than we could have hoped for. We went on quite an adventure! As we were walking, we started chatting with a Haitian guy with pretty good English. He was there with a couple of his relatives and gave us a few pointers on places to check out that were pretty intense. He ended up coming with us to translate and navigate. We went into the deepest of the slums. To get there we had to go through alleys, through some people's houses, and crawled over rubble. We finally got to the middle of the Haitian ghetto called what sounds like Sofu.

Just steps into the slum, we encountered a chilling sight. To our right was a small dead baby laying on the burnt-through coils of a mattress. Our translator explained that the house had exploded from a gas line. The corpse just laid there partially melted and deflating and everyone just kept walking by as though it was just another piece of rubble. I wasn't sure if we should do something with the body. Should be bury it? Take it somewhere? Cover it? What was the culturally appropriate thing to do here? If we did do something would if be offensive and be interpreted as pompous Americans who don't think the Haitian people know how to take care of their dead? We decided it was best to just leave the little body where we found it and keep moving. I said a quick little prayer for the baby's soul and we continued our journey.

We slinked our way through tiny passageways among a maze of makeshift homes constructed from sheets and salvageable remnants of the rubble. At about 3-feet wide, these parts of the slum only accomodate two-way foot traffic. In the broader areas, children can be seen bathing in the streets; goats, pigs and dogs eat left over garbage that litters the road or smolders in big piles creating a cloud of smoke. People piss and defecate in the middle of the streets and pathways, on buildings, and anywhere they can find becasue toilets are few and far between. The sanitation issues are paramount. With people living no more than an inch from one another in the middle of a sea of tents, the posibility for disease spread is inevitable. Here, some of the animals limp down the road as many of them too have lost limbs and mobility and now have ribs showing and are suffering from mange... many from rabies as well. Battered and worn, it just breaks your heart. I think about my little puppy back home and imagine him with no one to take care of him in such a mess and it makes me sad. Side note, it's only the dogs you really see here. I've only seen one cat and it was on a leash because cats are a delicacy here on the Haitian menu.

There is really nothing left in some of these slums. When one house would fall, it would take out 3 or 4 others. Those houses build on slopes and mountain would tumble down like dominos. Many of the bodies are still in the homes among the rubble, we saw various appendages and heard the stories of many of those affected by tragedy... entire families dead, 20 dead from a church collapse, 200 nursed killed in a nursing university, 50 kids dead in an elementary school, another dozen or so killed in the nursery. We walk among this rubble everywhere we go, knowing full well we are surrounded by death... the smell often permeates through the dust laden air.

We met this guy Ali Deschamps who is the sort of chief of this particular slum. He was very kind and his English was good. He took us around with our interpreter and introduced us to many of the locals. He showed us his house collapsed where 2 of his children were killed. Later he introduced us to a man who's family started to run out of the house to escape the shaking, but as soon as the shaking began the entire family couldn't get out of the house fast enough before it collapsed killing them all. Ali then took us to another home where we had to actually crawl into the pit of rubble beneath a collapsed house (I know, I know, very stupid decision and one I won't make again... heaven forbid we would have another aftershock, ya know). Inside, we found the body of another crushed child. You could still see the hair on its little head. It was very disturbing because it was very close and Ali even cleared some 200 pound pieces of cement to get to it. It was one of a whole family that had died in the now pulverized rubble and foundation surrounding us. Right then, I asked Josh and the other 3 or 4 Haitians with us if they would like to say a prayer for the family lost in tragedy. We all held hands and prayed to give their spirits peace and blessings into the afterlife. We prayed to just bless this particular slum and for God to heal the hearts of the people who survived. Strange, holding hands praying to Jesus beneath the earthquake rubble surrounded by the mangled dead. After our little prayer, we quickly hopped out of the rubble and moved on. Only a few hundred yards away, we found a group of men digging a hole. They were digging a grave for the body of a women who was killed in the quake. We didn't see her until we noticed the sheet tied like a bag... she was inside.

What amazes me is the magnitude of how these people have been stripped of everything they've worked so hard to acquire. If you lose everything in the U.S., there are systems, programs, insurance, and organizations available to help you rebuild. Your house burns down, Red Cross gets there while the house is still smoldering with food, water, shelter, and assistance. Insurance companies write checks to replace loss, should anyone be injured medical care is easily accesible, and should someone die... they receive a proper funeral. The more you talk to these people, the more you realize how bare they really are. Everywhere you go, children lift out their hands for money, point to their stomach and beg for food, and in order to not create a mob scene and protect yourself you have to just shake your head and keep walking. It breaks your heart. The sad part too is that Ali explained that there has been no aid in these slum areas becasue many are too afraid to go in. In asking Ali what his people really are in need of, he explalined to me the importance of tarps, or as he referred to them as umbrellas. Everyone knows the rain is slowly coming in and they are terrified.

The last thing I'll leave you with on this impressive day were some of Ali's final words. He said that before the earthquake, not too many Haitians believed in God. After the disaster, people are now walking around and can't talk enough about Jesus because they know he is real. Instead of dwelling on disaster, those who survived the quake are now being floated by faith.

It Looks Like the Apocolypse

2010-02-17T09:46:00.000-08:00

Saturday:
I woke up this morning with one thing on my mind... go exploring! I had been so sheltered and focused in the hospital that it wasn't until our drive through downtown that I realized the world that awaited me. Josh and I decided to work a half day and then go exploring. Let me tell you about Josh Weirich. It's crazy because he's from Hayward, Wisconsin- about a 2 hour drive from my house. He's an EMT for the county ambulance and runs a snow shoveling and grass cutting business "Josh's Clean Cut" on the side. Before he left, one of his EMT buddies told him, "Hey, did you hear Julie Pearce from the news is going to be down there, I wonder if you'll run into her." Josh doesn't even own a tv, so he had no idea who I was, but we ended up crossing paths anyhow. He is here for a flexible length of time as well and has very flexible plans. We look out for each other. When it comes time to part from CDTI, we might travel together to another location where we become needed. It's nice because I've made a friend down here with more in common than just the northland- the two of us are always shooting off like a couple hundred pictuers a day, love adventure, and have strong faith.

We put in only about 6 hours at the clinic today. The owner and administrator's moms organized a mass in the middle of the compound for the patients. The priest spoke into a bullhorn in French for the whole thing. When they had communion, I had the priest come into my tent so that a few of my immobile patients could receive one. After we could get away from the clinic for a while, we paid a translator and cab driver to drive us around downtown for a couple of hours. We wanted to get amid the rubble and get out and walk with the people and snap lots of pictures along the way. It worked perfectly, we'd drive until we saw something we wanted a picture of, the driver would stop, we'd get out snap a few or keep walking and then get picked up at the end of a few block strip. I cannot even hardly describe what it is like to walk amid the rubble and what little remains of downtown Port au Prince. It's one thing to see pictures, it's another thing to drive through it, but it's entirely more profound when your feet hit the ground. There are fires burning in the middle of the roads, the only way they can dispose of the mounting piles of trash. Thousands of Haitians walk around aimlessly and leave you wondering where everyone appears to be going. The insides of buildings are exposed, power lines dangle over the street and curl themselves along sidewalks. 4 story buildings are completely collapsed with each layer of flooring now touching the other. You wonder how many bodies have yet to be counted. Throughout the air, a thick dust remains suspended as the rubble continues to settle. The smell reminds you there are still many left. When you look closely, deteriorating bodies could be seen. In one building, we found a man crushed amid the rubble at a sort of nursing home. With his disabilities, he probably didn't even have a fighting chance of getting free. Another upsetting sight was a school where a man nearly was free, but was smashed between two floors of the building and flattened to only a couple inches thick. His leg dangled over the side. Seeing these things is very upsetting. I've seen death before, but it's always been very reverent, very peaceful... not so twisted and traumatic as this. These people probably died filled with fear and pain. Its hard to see. Walking through the slum areas, we saw people living in some of the most horrific conditions. They were selling things like live chickens, charcoal, ice that's insulated by sawdust, and even pig's tails.

Finally, our translator had to get back to the hospital and our cab driver wanted more money, so Josh and I felt safe enough just walking by ourselves. It was a bit intimidating now because we no longer had a translator and we had a long walk back. We were certainly the minority too. In the whole day of walking through downtown and the slums, we were the only two white people around. We stuck out like a sore thumb. Once we got inside General Hospital, it was like a cultural melting pot. Medical staff from around the globe lined the tents and compound.

General Hospital is like the main public hospital downtown. The building was structurally damaged, so everything is functioning outside under several big tents. Josh and I wanted to explore the empty building, so we went on a little adventure. I've been inside many abandoned hospitals before, but this one topped them all. There was the most upsetting and unsettling feeling of being inside. It smelt like complete death. There was a room filled with gourneys and stretchers that were still covered in layers of decomposing blood and tissue. Afterall, thousands must have died here in the hospital that day. It was the closest facility to the worst of the damage. I've never smelt death like this- it is very distinct. Among this room, a patient had found refuge and was nearly dead. Dozen of flies feasted on his open wounds, a plate of food was flipped over, he was lying in his own vomit and feces, and yet so peacefully oblivious, sleeping probably his last few days away.

Throughout the rest of the hospital, it's obviuos everyone left in a big rush. Equipment is strewn about the rooms, there are big cracks in the walls, IVs that were probably ripped out in the chaos that still hang with the medicine attached on IV poles, medications sitting on countertops still waiting to be administered, and patient records scattered across the floors as entire filing cabinets and shelves tipped right over from the shaking. We went through the children's ward, the operating room, several other adult wards, the delivery room, and more. We found this one room that smelled like death times ten and found a refrigerator filled with unused units of blood dark and looking slightly cooagulated as they probably sat without power inside there for several days. Finally, we made it to another building where they were doing all of the operating. It was all open flow air, probably patient wards previous to the quake. There were a few bays they had set up where surgery was taking place. I believe this is the place I saw on the Nightly News where they were cutting limbs with actual rusty hack saws.

As we made it back out to the streets, I continued my trash collecting. I'm going to make a really neat art project when I return home, so I'm picking up interesting pieces of papers and documents for it. We were over at one of the fallen government buildings where identification cards, passports, and debt slips were weaved through the rubble. I had collected a few id cards and cool looking documents before getting a tap on the shoulder from the UN police asking what I was going to do with this trash. I told them I was going to make an art project and they said no. I quickly emptied the bag and apologized and they quit hassling us. I've collected several other neat things throughout the day though.

Josh and I were both wearing our scrubs, so we weren't really bothered by anyone unless it was a medical concern of some kind. Over by the Palace, we had a mother pull us over to check out her two small twins. I bent down and listend to their lungs and heart which sounded fine, only to look up and see a whole crowd of Haitians gathered around wondering what "the doctors were doing with the babies". Throughout the day, we'd randomly have people stop us and ask us to listen to their heart and lungs, even a crew from the Haitian Police Department and some guys with big rifles. I'll tell you, if a guy with a gun wants me to listen to his heart, I'll listen to his heart! As we continued our walking journey that took us past the fallen cathedral where the bishop died, past the big banks now destroyed, and past the tent city, we came upon a mom who saw my stethascope and asked me for help with her child. She didn't speak any English, but pulled me over to the sidewalk where there was this big blanket on the ground covering something. I pulled back the blanket and found this 44 pound little boy covered in sweat, frothing at the mouth, and covered in tears from crying his eyes out. He was burning up too and I knew we needed to get him some help immediately. We didn't have any supplies on us, so we decided to bring him back to CDTI. I hoisted him up into a wheelchair and we started pushing. The mom was lagging behind unthusiastic about the whole thing. Then we were able to stop this big SUV driving by and asked for help getting this little boy to the hospital. The man was very kind and spoke some English. Turns out we had just been picked up by the Palace architect! What are the odds of that? He drove all of us right to CDTI and I carried him into the compound and laid his little body on the closest stretcher.

He had a fever of 102+, a hand and wrist that were swollen like a balloon and was crying in pain. We had no idea the background on the boy at this point because we had no translators. When our hospital translator showed up, we discovered the 44 pound boy was actually 12 years old. He had suspected Cerebral Palsy, was born with clubbed feat, and his mom explained that he had been trampled by a crowd on the day of the earthquake because he could not get away fast enough. Immediately, we started a line in him, started running fluids, got him some Tylenol, and splinted his wrist until the morning for an xray. That night, the mom told our translator that he was nothing to her, that he does nothing, and that he's like a dog. Then, she left... leaving the child behind. She hasn't snown back up yet. Heartbreaking...

As it turns out, the boy's swollen arm had x-rays come back clear, and his CBC came back with a WBC count of 46,000!!! His arm was swollen because he had a significant infection. There was a little abrasion that was starting to fester and the suspected point of entry. This boy was septic. The doctor had told me earlier today that if we had not gotten him to the hospital, that the kid would have died for sure. I realized what a huge deal that was at that moment. I said to him, "So, does that mean we really saved a life?" He said, you've saved at the very least one life today. That hit me as so profound at that moment because I realized how if we hadn't been at the right place, at the right time, wearingthe right attire, we would have never passed the boy, the mother would have never flagged us down, and he would have never been rescued. This is truly a wonderful path that God is waking me down. I wake up, throw my feet on the ground, and he does the rest. I'm just so glad I get to be a part of his plans. Right before we had passed the boy, we had passed by the cathedral where we took pictures at the foot of the cross of another standing cross despite a devastated Church.

Friday- Out of the Cage

2010-02-15T06:54:00.000-08:00

Friday:
Today marks the 1-month anniversary of the earthquake that devastated parts of Haiti and claimed the lives of at least 225,000 people. We were awakened at 5am to the sound of singing. The Haitians wasted no time getting an early start to remembering the dead and celebrating the living. They are in the middle of their carnival weekend too. Everywhere we have been today there have been services, parades, and ceremonies honoring the day. Later in the day we actually ended up driving right through the middle of one of the parades of people. It was called a Thanksgiving March where they were offering praise for their blessings and asking for salvation. Some were singing, some were dancing, and nearly everyone was waving their hands through the air. They have these vehicles here that are like announcement trucks. They creep me out because they remind me of something in an armagedom movie or war scene or futuristic disaster film. The trucks have massive speakers on them and drive around with this loud creepy voice emiting from them saying important messages and sometimes playing music. They are loud too. One of these little trucks creeped its way along with the herd of people in the parade.

We got to see this whole little parade on our ride to find a package that was shipped here for me. A friend of mine got me 2200 doses of antibiotics that were coming in on a charter flight today. I had the tail number and the ETA, but not more information than that. We had been walking down towards the hospital from the house when Alex the hospital administrator drove by in the bus. We waved him down and he told us to get on the bus and he'd help us get the package and show us downtown. First, we had to go to the airport to pick up some new medical staff coming in. While we were there waiting for them to arrive, Nancy Pelosi's plane came flying in for her visit. They kinda secured the airport for her arrival. Meanwhile, a bunch of us were able to head over to the University of Miami's medical tents. This is quite a setup. They have massive air-conditioned tents filled with hundreds of patients. The cots line every piece of space in the building and cards, posters, and drawings are hung around to cheer things up. It's really quite a sight.

Finally, Alex came back with the new med staff, and he starts talking about this package that he has to pick up. He says he doesn't know when its coming in or what the tail number is, but he said that he might just have to go pick up his package at the Ruuska Village later. I nearly jumped out of my seat... the package I had coming in with those 2200 antibiotics were also coming in on the plane bringing crew and cargo to the Ruuska Village. It turns out that randomly, both Alex and I had our packages coming in on the same plane with the same pilot at the same time. Indeed, we did head out to the Ruuska Village where there was a package waiting for me and him. This was definitely a God thing... way too crazy for it to be purely coincidence. God wants those antibiotics to get to the people.

Another crazy coincidence happened today too. The group that was leaving us on their flight were picked up at the house by a driver and the pilot through Samaritan Air. My roomate's husband was piloting some of their flights as well. We got to talking and once them mentioned Samaritan Air, I thought why is that so familiar? Then, it dawned on me. It was one of my backup plans to get here to Haiti. I ran to get my list of contact information and sure enough, there was Samaritan Air, the name of the pilot Brian was listed as my contact who was now standing in front of me, and name of the church on my contact list was the one both of these guys go to. Later on at the airport amid all of the chaos, we ran into them again! What are the odds. Now, I might be doing little 1 or 2 day outreach missions with these guys around the region cruising around by helicopter! This little strange happenings are tiny reminders that I'm on the path I'm supposed to be. If anyone has ever read the Celestine Prophecy (I think tha's the title), you'll understand what is going on in my life right now. I keep having these moments that are way too strange to be coincidence and realize that in following what is laid out of front of you brings great joy. As Jill in my small group described in prayer before I left, was that I would find many "happy accidents".

On our way to get this package Alex drove us through downtown PAP, the area that received the most damage. It was unbelievable. In parts it was like an absolute ghost town, empty streets, trash burning in the middle of the road, rubble lining the sides, complete buildings collapsed... it was haunting. It looked like the armegeddon. We even passed a bus that said Apocolypse painted across the side in big letters. We learned that the energy exerted in this quake was the equivalent of 4 megatons... Hiroshima was only 1. That puts things into perspective! We passed by the palace and saw it in ruins. You can only appreciate what a big deal this is when you see it in person and realize how big the building is. It's like the 10 of the white houses collapsing! All the other government buildings are collapsed too; the house of justice, the ministry of finance, the ministry of etc. The important tax documents, passports, identification, court records, strewn about the street and piled atop the rubble.

Finally, we had to return to the house so some of our friends could get packed for their departing flight. We settled in at the house and Kim gave me an ice cold orange Juicy Juice. I might go so far to say it was the best thing I've consumed since I've been here. Again, we had to say goodbye to our newly made friends and it was a quite night in the house with only Josh, Elizabeth and myself.

More Long Days in Haiti

2010-02-13T18:51:00.000-08:00

It rained again last night, another sign of what is to come.I had to go and clean up our old friend known by most around the hospital as "Papa Poo Poo". He came in on my first day there, passed out in a wheelchair. Everyone thought he was drunk and put him to the side. Turns out he may have suffered a stroke or something and was definitely dehydrated and malnourished. He's at the back of the compound and not really assigned to any one nurse, but we all go visit him and take care of him throughout the day. Papa Poo Poo was covered in feces and flies. I went over to him with some soap, water, a fresh diaper and gown. I bathed him, got him some fluids, and fed him some rice. As I was leaving, this young guy came over to me and was saying something in French. I asked the translator what he was saying and found out he was saying, "You are so gracious... I love you." I nearly started to cry. I think about people like Papa Poo Poo and the elderly lady who sits beside him in the corner. They have no family. Where will they go when they leave the hospital? They have no home to return to, there are no homeless shelters, board n lodges here. There is no medicare, medicaid and no such thing as public nursing homes. If you can't pay to go into a nursing home and don't have any family, then you are destined to die on the streets alone. While there are plenty of orphanages here, the elderly seem to have been forgotten about. Aren't their lives just as valuable as the young ones being saved? This leads me to the other issue of discharging patients in general. It's a very difficult thing to do here under the circumstances. There are patients with amputations and external fixators who are just a few days post-op, but well enough to leave at the cost of freeing up another valuable bed for the next person who's post-op that would have to go without. These people don't want to leave. At the hospital they are being cared for, fed, given water, medication, shelter, safety, and plenty of love. The only thing they have to look forward to once they leave the compound is a makeshift tent, the rainy season, and trying to now provide food and water for themselves while healing. It's really heartbreaking to have to tell a patient, "I'm sorry but you have to leave now." Many of them don't even have the transportation to get picked up. It's hard to balance where the patient care shifts into patient housing, and at what price one bed should be abandoned to make room for another. Because the severity of cases is diminishing, that urgency is changing as well.

The day was a pretty uneventful one until it came time to leave. Just as we were walking out and passing the ER, a baby wrapped in a sheet being hung like a hammock passed by. It was a 3 year old that had come in earlier for failure to thrive. He was malnurished, had that protein deficiency condition where the belly swells, and was dehydrated. His little body just gave up and died on the table. We followed the body out. I laid my hand on his little chest and said a little prayer, wishing him peace on his journey to heaven. It's just so sad to see first hand, children who are flat out dying because they don't have the resources to keep their bodies running. After the baby died, there was a different mood around the hospital. Everyone was rather somber. It was like a kick to the gut.

Thursday:
On our walk in today we passed kids who had made kites out of plastic trash bags and string. They actually flew in the air and looked like kites. Really sweet to see how they can make something out of nothing. On our way in, we stopped at the Church to do our little prayer and ended up having this Haitian woman and her child come and join us. We all prayed together and it was very sweet.

The clouds were rolling in again today by about 4pm. Fortunately, the rains never came though... but that's going to change very soon. This was a great day, it started with a good laugh as I looked over and noticed my roommate Kim's sheet had two holes in the middle of it. We figured out the two holes were placed perfectly in line with your eyes. We laughed because we realized the creativity and resourcefulness of the Haitian people to make a Halloween costume out of a sheet. It was a ghost! On our way out today, we had to say goodbye to some of our new friends New Jersey cop George, California nurse Debbie, and Haitian native Margaret. It's hard to see you're new friends leave, especially in such a lonely place.

At the hospital today, I met a nice lady at the hospital today who was so sweet and took my pile of dirty sweaty clothes and did a load of laundry for me. It is so nice to have clean clothes! The day was one of the best ones yet. I'm really getting to know and care for my patients. I look forward to seeing them and taking care of them. One of my girls was turning 23 today. It was her birthday and I was determined to make it special for her. I rounded up nurses and docs from around the hospital to find little trinkets that we could give her for her b-day. We ended up with a box of kleenex, hand lotion, deoderant, body wash, and crocheted little teddy bear that was handmade by our nurse Susie. She made it on her flight here and has been waiting for the right person to give it to. I found some sterile drapes that we wrapped the presents in with medical tape. We got a protein bar for a cake, took a cutip, dipped it in alcohol, and lit it for the candle. Also, we made a card for her that an interpreter helped us write in French, "Happy Birthday, Feel Better Soon, We Love You." Lots of us signed the card, huddled up, and then started walking to her tent singing "Happy Birthday" in French. She looked up and got the biggest smile from ear to ear. She and her family and everyone else in that tent was so excited. This patient had her left leg amputated a few days ago and still might lose her right leg before it's all said and done. Just for a moment, she forgot about her legs and was counting her blessings. We all watched her open her presents which she was so grateful for. When she got to the teddy bear she held it up and hugged it and pulled it close to her. She was so happy! It was the highlight of the day for all of us and such a reminder that joy can still be found in the midst of tragedy and loss. Later in the day we got another happy moment. A group of about a dozen Haitian Boy Scouts showed up to pay their friend a birthday visit. The leader of the troop was waiting for me to be the one to crack open her bottle of Champaign for the "party". They even brought cups and ice. I wasn't strong enough to pop the cork out and we were all laughing and smiling. Finally, the troop leader helped me out and champaign went flying through the air. Everyone cheered and was poured a little portion into a cup. I then joined the scouts as they circled around their friend and started to sing for her and pray for her. It was really beautiful.

On a break today, we walked back down to the Church to go inside what was left. It was hauntingly beautiful. All the pews were covered in dust, the Nativity scene and Christmas decorations scattered amid the rubble, the heads of wise men and angels separated from their plaster forms, and broken stained glass. I tried doing some search and rescue for the little baby Jesus, but had no luck. We even found pairs of shoes in the pew aisles, as though people shook right out of their shoes. The whole thing was amazing! On our way back, we passed the woman who had prayed with us earlier. She was holding her baby who didn't look very healthy and was very weak. Another woman came up to us then with her baby who was as limp as a wet noodle. The baby was totally unresponsive. She was breathing shallow and had an irregular pulse. We told the woman we needed to take the child to the hospital right away. They whole crew of us walked back to the hospital with the baby and tried to assess what was going on. Suddenly the baby was responsive and looking around, appearing fine. We brought him into the urgencies room and kept for monitoring for a couple of hours while we fed her pedialyte out of a syringe. After getting some nourishment and hydration, the baby was appearing much more responsive and content.

A couple of other exciting things today... I got a Haitian cell phone. I added some minutes to it and have about 50 minutes of local calling for making connections, etc. It's already been very useful. Other interesting stuff is that the Mexicans finally joined the team today. Their crew came in and started at the hospital today. They are super friendly and much easier to communicate with because I know a little Spanish. Although, it will be a bit more confusing to now have Spanish, French, and English in the already messy writing in the charts. Lastly, I got to call home to both sets of parents tonight. It was nice to update them on what has been going on and get some nice encouragement to keep moving.

Medical Relief for Haiti Earthquake Victims

2010-02-10T07:28:00.000-08:00

This has just been one of the longest and most mentally exhausting days of my life. I don't even know where to begin... I got up this morning (Thursday) at 4AM in order to make it to the airport for my flight. Upon arriving at the dark hanger out of Melbourne Airport, several of us from our team and others came together to meet for the first time and match faces to names from many long phone calls. Cherie was so wonderful. She had McDonald's breakfast waiting for us. I quickly discovered I was flying all the way to Haiti on a Cirrus plane! Those from Duluth will appreciate the irony of this knowing that cirrus planes are made in Duluth. Those familiar with Cirrus planes will recognize amazement that a plane that compact can easily fly that far away. There were only 3 of us in the cirrus and 5 in the other plane . We all joined together before taking off and prayed for a safe trip, for safety, good judgement, relief, compassion, and praised God for leading us on this adventure of a lifetime. I took the co-pilot's seat, next to our trusty pilot Troy and Robin in the back. After about 3.5 hours and a getting to watch a beautiful sunrise along the horizon line, we landed in the Turks, a country not far off the coast of Haiti, to get refuelled and wait for our landing slot. The community here has mobilized and created a depository of additional supplies that we were able to stuff the rest of the plane with... mostly things for kids, diapers, formula, food, etc. They also had supplies for the aid workers. They had several handmade sandwiches to choose from, chips, and drinks. There was a big comfy couch, air conditioning, and a chance to meet with others coming through and just start to prepare ourselves for what lie ahead. By the way, the Turks are beautiful! There's blue water like I've never even seen before there and even more beautiful people.

Finally, we reboarded and took our flight into Port Au Prince. We had to sit on a holding pattern for a while until we could finally get onto the strip. Of course, Murphy's Law, just as we're coming in to Port au Prince with this amazing overhead view, my video camera died, and has not been working since. Oh, well. I'm really bummed, but know it's probably for a reason. I do still have my regular camera and am just hoping that the low quality video on there will be adequate for memory sake... perhaps the video camera will just start working one day again too.

As we passed overhead PAP, you could see the massive destruction. What looks like whole sides of the mountain are just landslides of cement. Many of the other houses are hard to tell they are collapsed from the air because everything so compact and smashed together. As we were coming in for our landing, watching the Marines, the herd of rescue boats and everything else, I listened on my headphones to the background of airport landing personell, the song from U2 "If God Will Send His Angels." There were many angels descending upon the city both from the ground, water, and air.

Once landing, there was a massive effort of relief and military installations to provide security and distribute rations. Although, it must be noted that the majority of the supplies and rations just simply sat on the tarmac not moving at all. That was rather disturbing. It was neat to be amid a swarm of military from around the world, all decked out in their uniforms and AK47s, big planes, helicopters. I looked over at the small Cirrus plane that we flew in on and realized we looked like a little mosquito amongst a flock of birds. I suddenly was amazed that we had traveled so far in such a reliable plane. It made me proud to know these planes are made in Duluth.

After much shuffling around, we got our passports stamped, got through customs, and our pilot was told that if he didn't pay about 200 dollars that he would be jailed. They called it some sort of airport fee (no one else had to pay this) and we're pretty sure the money went right into the airport authority's pockets. Once we were secured on the ground, our pilot went to meet the 6 orphans that will be taking our empty seats back. They will finally get reunited with their parents who adopted them several years ago, but who have been waiting to have adoptions finalized.

At this point, things had come together and I had officially joined the CDTI Hospital Team because the director of the hospital was on one of our charter's fleet where we had all left together in the morning and asked if I would like to join them. It's amazing. I'm now joining forces with Dr. Rod an internist from FL, Nurse Linda Kubiak from FL, and Dr. Michelle Henderson an orthopedic surgeon from FL as well. We were picked up at the airport by the owner of the hospital, went to the UN Promess medical supply ware house, and were taken to his relative's house where there were mattresses and pillows waiting for us. There is a 12 foot security wall and guard that protects all the medical staff inside. The house is not entirely structurally safe, but it's adequate... and certainly nice for now until I move on to the village and am in a tent. There are huge cracks going up the walls and ceilings. We keep jump bags by our sleeping bags in case another earthquake comes and we have to run out. Although, it's kinda disconcerting because the windows around me all have bars on them, so kinda scary. Everyone here has been expecting the aftershocks to continue and just recently, the locals were being told an 8.0 might be expected. A seismologist who had given a conference here last year warning people of the quake's imminence was telling me that the plates were backed up by about 250-some centimeters, and even after the earthquake, there's still about 140-centimeters to go. Those movements could come a little at a time, or all at once. I think it's past that happening, but taking safety precautions is certainly important. That includes being aware of the nearest exit wherever you are, always keeping your passport and water bottle on you, and not going into dangerous locations. Not to freak anybody out or anything, but I'm so happy with my life right now and where my path has led that if it would be my time, then I could be okay with that. I would have gone doing what I love and taking care of the people he loves. I'm not afraid to die... but I'd rather not and get to continue my work into the future.

So, as far as the drive to the house, things around the airport didn't look too bad. I didn't see people rioting, fighting, and few buildings looked very damaged. I was thinking that maybe it wasn't that bad here after all. As we got closer to downtown PAP and into the neighborhoods, it was a complete change. Suddenly, it looked like a warzone. Entire cafes, grocery stores, banks, hotels, homes, and businesses reduced to nothing by rubble. The nursing school lost 200 nurses in the collapse. Even a 7-floor hospital collapsed to a pile of dust. Can you imagine that... you get severely injured and are able to get to a hospital only to find it gone... including all the people inside who you know would be your only chance of survival. Some people even arrived at hospitals already fresh amputees from the chainsaws they had to used to cut pinned limbs from the rubble. Sorry for the gory details, but it is the reality for these people here and the reality of the type of psychological trauma that hasn't really even been addressed. We talk about a nation of amputees, but how about a nation suffering from severe PTSD and depression. It's another area that needs to be addressed. If you think reading about these things are hard, imagine having lived through them!

It's sad to know that there are many bodies still under the debris as well. The locals are saying 225,000 confirmed dead and another 150,000 expected dead beneath the rubble. Then, there are the tent cities. You'll turn a corner and see blocks upon blocks of homemade tents. People are using sticks, branches, poles, sheets, and tarps to provide themselves with shelter. It makes me smile knowing I will leave behind a tent that will become someone's home... especially with the rainy season around the corner. There are pigs, goats, and dogs running in the road. We even saw a big cow on the sidewalk the other day. I'm actually surprised they haven't turned to bacon yet! Surprisingly, the smell is not too bad. It comes and goes. In some areas, things smell just completely normal and in other areas the smell of trash and feces. There's a haze around the city still, just walking down the road, it's hard to not get the dust in your eyes. It permeates the air. The sounds are not as I imagined them either. It's loud, but there's not really people crying and shouting... unless it's throughout the day at the hospital where some are moaning and wailing.

Everyone is just sleeping on the streets and in these massive "tent cities". These cities consist of about an inch of space between one tent to the next. The people have constructed homes using sticks, branches, and sheets. It looks like a massive quilt from above. Once it rains, the sheets will be pointless. Right now, the sheets just help diminish the hot Haitian sun. There's one tent set up that has 200 orphans living in it. They have no food, no water, and are just trying to stay alive, and figure out what next... like everyone else. There's a real need for huge humanitarian efforts here to provide safe and dry housing for these people. It frustrates me when I think about the hurricane Katrina response. When FEMA brought large trailors to live in and some decided to complain that they were not good enough... well, there's no FEMA here, no clean water here, no food rations here, and most of these people aren't complaining.

Next, the process of rebuilding and recovery. I've been speaking with a few structural engineers and controlled demolition teams that are working with the buildings affected. The Israeli's apparently have some sort of rubble-eating machine that they will use to break down the rubble, re-mix it into a cement, and use it to rebuild with. Talk about rising from the ashes! One day they should rename this country Phoenix.

There is already some hope, markets are starting to open. In fact, there are lots of street vendors returning to business. Some sell egg sandwiches; others are selling things like luggage, belts, and cell phone chargers. I have no idea where they got all this stuff from, but it's nice to see the economy returning.

What has struck me as disturbing is the number of people I see throughout the drives and walk of people who literally are walking around with a zombie-like look on their faces. Many of these people have lost everything... their homes, their families, their livelihood, their friends, and their hope. It's just a look of complete despair, aloneness, and trauma. I'm reminded by some in the movie 28 Days Later, where the deadly rabies plague wipes through Europe. I actually listened to the unnerving 28 Days Later theme song on my walk into the hospital today, I felt like I was in a movie. Another fitting movie for where we are is "I Am Legend". Very depressing. It's also kind of scary because many of these people are in the anger stage of the grieving process. They've gone through the denial, the depression, and the negotiating, but the anger phase is stewing. Many feel they have been forgotten, that the world doesn't care. They're getting testy and desperate. We hear gunshots every night, there have been 2 reported kidnappings that we know of, and the looting is still going on.

The military presence here is enormous. The U.S. appears to have complete control of the airport in PAP. Everywhere you go, there are humvees, tanker-looking vehicles, and soldiers in uniforms armed with large guns. It's interesting because we are seeing soldiers from around the world. This truly is a global effort, whether that be from the medical front, the supply front, or the security standpoint.

Back to the story, we stopped by at the location we will be staying. It is the house of a relative of the hospital owner. There are about 30 us living in it right now. We sleep on the floor. It's a shell of a house, no furniture or anything, but it is dry and safe. The mosquitoes fly through and get pretty bad because none of the windows have any screens. I’ve actually got my tent set up inside the room without the fly to keep the bugs off. The room I'm in looks like a cell block, surrounded in metal bars. The house has an armed security guard that watches a 12-foot wall that surrounds the property. Just over the wall, people are living on the street in makeshift tents. Electricity and water come on and off sporadically. There's a toilet to use, but we sometimes have to add the water in order for it to flush. There's a shower that trickles down, but a broken pipe off the side of the house that works pretty good. All of this is still pretty rugged conditions and certainly not the way I'd choose to live, but I've never felt so blessed! When I found out there was a sheet for me to use, it was like winning the lottery. I like this simple gratitude swelling inside of myself. It feels good.

After dropping off our stuff at the house, we went to visit the hospital. Upon arriving, we were greeted by a nurse standing outside emphatically smoking a cigarette and crying, saying, "The French have left and there are no nurses or doctors here. They didn't leave any orders. We can't do all this alone! There's nobody here." I went over and gave her a big hug and just said, "I'm Jitterbug, I'm a registered nurse, and you’re not alone anymore. We're here to help, what do you need." That woman has become of my favorite people here since. She's a real hoot and an incredibly strong individual. I've been holding it together really well since I've been here actually and been staying pretty emotionally strong. However, when we finally got to the patients at the hospital, the reason I'm here, it hit me. I've never seen such collaborative pain. I started walking into the tents and holding patient's hands and praying for them. The tears started to flow, and I realized at that moment that this was going to be more of a challenge than I had anticipated. But, I do know I'm ready and prepared for it. My whole life has been preparing me for this moment here right now.

The CDTI hospital is huge. It's 4 stories tall and has everything from CT scans, to Ultrasound, to patient suites, to an OR, ER, and pharmacy. However, it is very much lacking at the moment, including structurally. One half of the hospital, the wing with all the patient rooms has been deemed structurally insuffient. That's where we store all of the supplies and stuff now. The patients are all being placed in the open area surrounding the hospital and living in tents provided by the French. They have also been lending their medical staff which is relieving a large burden of the work. However, it's very confusing because you'll go to read a patient's "chart" (which we call their dociae and consists only a scrap piece of paper or cardboard) and it will half be in French and half in English. This is also a problem with the supplies and the medicines coming in. Supplies are coming in from around the world... I've unpacked boxes from Morocco, Israel, France, and more. Many of the drugs have different names that we are not familiar with here. Many of the supplies are incompatible with one another. It's frustrating. As far as the global effort of medical professionals, I'm working with docs and nurses from Israel, Russia, France, Haiti, the U.S., India, Philippines, Canada, and Holland. As a matter of fact, the Israeli docs say in all of their wars, they've never seen anything this bad.

The hospital has received little support from the Haitian government. In fact, the government is more often an obstacle. For instance, when the hospital opened the ER department, all the equipment sat at the airport on palates for 3 months before being released. Now that part of the hospital is at risk for collapsing should another shake come, the government is certainly not helping to keep it standing. It will cost about more than $75,000 alone just to solidify the main support pillars so that the space can be used safely. The rest of the repairs will be upwards of a half-million dollars. Insurance doesn't cover things like this because it's exempt through disaster status or something. Some people are saying the hospital should just shut down so the owners can cut their losses and stop hemmhoraging With no income coming in, daily operating expenses exceeding $8,000 a day, the funding will certainly end up running dry. However, what will happen to the people still needing care? The earthquake left an estimated 400,000 people injured. Every day we're seeing 3-400 patients alone... and those aren’t all runny nose, diarrhea cases. Many of the cases are severe wounds and infection.

While I've got your attention on the hospital, let me explain some of its great need. For the most part, we are doing great on supplies. We've got tons of medications, wound care, and protective equipment. But, there are still some orthopedic needs. The director of the hospital and U.S. orthopedic surgeon Dr. Michelle Henderson says on her wish list of hospital supplies most needed would be SYNTHS, large and small frag sets, femoral and tibial rods, external fixators, other orthopedic supplies, and anesthesia drugs including Propophal and Ketamine.

Regarding staffing, the hospital is in need of Orthopaedic surgeons with experience in non-union, mal-union, and osteomyelitis. They would need to bring hardware for surgical fixation of fractures with insertion devices and instruments as well as a cast saw with blades. They need plastic surgeons to perform split thickness skin grafs and local notational flaps. That department is in need of dermatome, dermatome blades, and mesher. Other doctors needed include internal medicine, family practice, and pediatric doctors who can also bring medications that would be used in clinic. If you are a surgeon, come as a team with anesthesia and an RN. IF your an emergency medicine doc, bring and RN or a paramedic. If you’re a Family Practice, Internal Medicine, or Pediatric medicine, CDTI suggests you bring your own RN or MA as well.

Lastly, the infectious disease department is in major need of vaccines. The drug companies could not get any vaccines here quick enough. I spoke with hospital administrators today and discussed public health concerns of the upcoming rainy season. Port au Prince without the earthquake sometimes gets 2 feet of water downtown. Now that the drainage systems are clogged, people are living within inches of one another, and thousands of dead bodies lay beneath the rubble, the rain will cause big problems. The medical disposal containing blood products and bodily fluids will mix with the water, rains will filter through the rubble and drain the decay from the dead bodies into the streets, the mountainside that's composed mostly of sand will likely have mudslides, and if any disease breaks out, it will spread like a wildfire. Just regular old influenza could cause enough of a problem, but then add the posibility of Cholera, Typhoid, H1N1, Dysentery, Tuberculosis and we have another disaster zone on the way... yet it is one we can predict and prepare for. I'd like to see the WHO stepping up to produce mass quantities of vaccines and health care workers just going into tent city, tent to tent to adminsiter them. There's basically another disaster on the way and unlike the earthquake, this is one we can anticipate and prepare for.

On our ride home that night, as we passed the candlelit sidewalk filled with Haitians with no home and nowhere to go, I was filled with gratitude to be here and blessed to know I was being provided for.

Friday:
It was our first full day at the hospital today. Throughout the night we got our first exposure to the gun shot sounding around the neighborhood. We wake up at about 6:30am, get dressed and then hike about a mile and a half to the hospital. On our walk we spotted the collapsed church and saw an amazing sight. While the building was collapsed, the cross was still standing. I don't think there was even a scratch on it. It speaks volumes; the body of the church is not in the building, it's in what it's all based on. In the midst of all this chaos and rubble, to see a sturdy reminder of the importance of faith was profound. My friend Linda and I always try to start and end the day with prayer. This has become our new place we pray in the morning. Now, we've got others joining with us as well. In the mornings, we stop at the cross, hold hands and just lift up our hands, feet, decision making, and guidance to the heavens. It's beautiful! It's also the only reason I don't think I've lost my sanity yet. Apparently, there are 3 other churches around PAP that had the same thing happen. The church collapsed, but the cross is still standing. People are all freaked out. Even many of the voodoo doctors around here are flipping out. When the earthquake happened, many saw them should out "Jesus." Now, when people come to them, some of them are saying, "I cannot help you anymore, but Jesus can." Let me get kinda sappy here... what I like about this whole thing with the cross is this... when you come to the cross, you come exactly how you are. You might be man or woman, rich or poor, desperate or hopeful, diseased or healthy, ragged or clothed, but God meets you exactly where you're at. When everything around you is falling apart, he can be the one thing that will always be there to look up to, and the one thing that can gently take you by the hands and lift you off your knees. That is hopeful.

Once we got to the hospital for our first day, we found out there had already been at least 3 cases of tuberculosis, 2 cases of tetanus, and a case of rabies. We heard a story about a 2 month old baby that was found in a pile of trash in the woods. Someone heard a baby crying, found the baby, and brought them to the hospital. The Haitian nurse who found him and has been unable to conceive a child for 12 years now wants to adopt him. He was baptized and named Noah. Another story about a patient I have here is this young boy named Joseph. Both of his parents were killed in the quake and he has nowhere to go. He's got a fractured leg and lays on his bed crying in French, "Why? Why? It's just not right!" Once he can ambulate with crutches, we'll have to hook him up with an orphanage somewhere.

The layout of the hospital is shared with the French medical teams here. They have one area and we have another, but yet they are mixed. You just don't touch their patients or else they will get upset. People come in through the front secured door and get triaged. Some go to the French, some come to us. Those with more serious conditions are housed in the tents we have set up. These tents are not very big, but they can house about 8-10 cots. There are 9 tents up in the front, and then there are more post-op tents with patients in the back. If patient's need x-rays, ultrasound, emergency care, or surgery, those things are available inside as well. Sometimes the lights flicker and sometimes the OR has no lights leaving the docs to operate with headlamps, but it is working for now.

I discovered the rooftop today. You can climb on the roof and get a broad 360 degree view of the city. You can see the dozens of boats in the PAP harbor providing supplies and care, you can see the damaged mountainside, and you can look below at the hospital tent city and see the healing being done. It's now where I like to go and decompress. You can catch a beautiful sunset over the mountains from there and the breeze feels good.

Just as we were about to finish a 12 hour day, we quickly realized we weren't going anywhere. We had a guy get brought in with a gunshot wound to the chest. He had been an innocent bystander when a looter decided to steal something. As people were scrambling, the innocent guy went running. The looter thought he was coming after him and popped him in the chest. This was intense! I was one of the nurses in on the case. The guy was laying on the gurney coughing up blood, getting the death gurgle, and his eyes weren't responding to light or accommodation. I was suctioning his airway and holding his IV bag above his head all at once while we're trying to wheel him into radiology. He needed surgery right away, but all of the surgeons had already left. We ended up having to get him to another hospital with surgeons, but had no way to get him there. We're all standing in the street with this dying man and no one would pull over and stop. People just kept driving past. Then, once someone with a truck did stop, no one would help lift him into the back of the pickup. My New Jersey cop friend was screaming for people to help. I threw some gloves out of my pocket towards some guys and finally we were all able to drag him into the back. It was the most pathetic transfer I've ever seen, especially considering the fragility of his condition, but it was the best we could do. No one would step up to the plate. We all just stood there quietly on the street after they zoomed off, covered in bloody gloves and looking at each other blankly saying, "What just happened?" It was surreal! Then, a girl came in with a fractured leg and another man is dragged in amid a grand-mal seizure. We put him in the ER, got a line in and tried to suppress the seizures with some valium. It wasn't until 25g IV that he finally started to calm. That was my first full day at CDTI and it was exhausting. But, I must say.... I love this stuff!

Saturday:
Today was just another day of work. We put in another 12 hours in the sun and treated anywhere from 300-400 patients. About midday, I heard a couple singing in one of the tents. I went over there to find a Haitian nurse leading the patients in this song. I joined in and started building the energy. Before I knew what happened, we had a full blown hospital tent revival! The patients were smiling; the nurses and I were dancing with some of them and their families. People were clapping their hands, singing praise, "Amen, Amen, Amen, Alleluia!" It was so inspiring because for the short bit that song lasted, those patients forgot they were victims of an earthquake. For a short while, they forgot about their loss and embraced the moment. I was very touched to be a part of the whole scene.

On another note, I was in on an interesting case today with a patient getting their leg amputated. The tools used look like something out of a medieval movie- lock cutter looking pliers, a chisel, mallet, and hacksaw. This poor patient had been fighting the recommendation to amputate for 2 weeks now, but the infection was going to kill her if she didn't. To watch someone's leg get cut off and then placed in a bag is pretty gruesome, I must admit. I just wonder how the doctors who had to do 20-30 a day in the beginning are feeling now. That takes a toll on your emotional bank account.

Sunday:
On our walk to the hospital today, we passed a religious ceremony going on. Hundreds of people were gathered either because it was Sunday or perhaps as a funeral service for those thousands lost. We worked along tediously throughout the day and got off a little early. We drove to an opened place called the Pizza Garden. We got to have pizza and watch the Superbowl. It was so American and fun. There was lots of laughing and some of us even got up and danced after it was done.

As we retired at night, it started to rain. That was the first time this area has seen rain since the devastating earthquake. I do think it was God's welled up tears. It's also an uncomfortable reminder of the rainy season that lies ahead. Perhaps it is making its arrival sooner than we had planned.

Monday:
I finally connected with Anne-Kary of the duluth-based Kako Foundation. The program is a music school created in memory of a boy named Kako who was kidnapped and murdered 2 years ago in Haiti. His family wanted to create a music program in his honor and that's exactly what they did. The children there were so sweet. Two of the students had died in the earthquake, many fled town with their families, and the rest were still in the area. This was their first day of classes back. Anne-Kary picked us myself, New Jersey cop George, and Dr. Rod the internist from the hospital. We rode to the Kako Foundation and met the children. We were able to give all of them and some of the parents complete physicals. Everyone checked out and appeared to be pretty healthy too! During the physicals, the kids were taking part in a therapeutic support group that the program will continue. Anne-Kary talks to the kids about what happened the day of the earthquake, how the kids were affected, and how they are dealing with it now. It's such a crucial part of the healing that needs to happen in this community and I applaud the Kako Foundation for not wasting time getting there. Once done with physicals and therapy, the kids got to pull out their instruments for the first time since the quake. They happened to be in the building that did not collapse and were intact. It was the neatest thing to witness... children managing the "after-shocks" of extreme stress and trauma pull out their instruments and start to make music. The trumpets were going, the saxophones were humming, a flute delicately added to the mixture, and a set of drums kept the rhythm. The music provided a sort of invisible barrier from the outside world. It was a distraction from knowing that within a 1-block radius there are probably still bodies buried and buildings demolished. George, Rod and I just stood there feeling some peace. Amid all the doom and gloom this place was actually happy. I remember doing a news story on the Kako Foundation a couple years ago, and never did I think I'd actually be in Haiti standing in the Foundation! After the music, the kids got a snack and I was able to give them some balloons from the CSS Cultural Anthropologist and some cards and pictures from a 1st Grade Class in Duluth.

After work at the hospital today, we got to go somewhere very exciting... a grocery store! We had to drive a little ways to get there, but once we arrived, I was in heaven. I love going to the grocery store to begin with, but it's so much better when all you're eating is rice, beans, and granola bars. I was so excited to get peanut butter (that was one thing I left behind in order to pack more medical supplies), jelly, dried cereal, tang, and bread. The imported brands there cost an arm and a leg. A container of Gatorade costs $20 american!! Usually, you can find a locally produced equivalent though.

Following our little grocery field trip, I returned to the compound, changed out of my scrubs, and went with Alex (the brother- in law of the hospital owner) on his motorcycle up the mountain. I have never been on a ride quite like that. It's dangerous enough driving in a car through Haiti, but a motorcycle is even crazier! There are practically no rules. He was flying about 90kph through town and then weaving through the windy road up the mountain. I was holding on for dear life, but those who know me, know I loved the adventure. The only ride crazier than that was when I was on the Snowmobiles driving across the lake in Moose Lake. But, there you didn't have to worry about rubble in the middle of the road, pedestrians, night lighting, or other cars. We went to one of Alex's friends houses and had dinner along with a structural engineer, a controlled demolition expert, and a couple guys from India doing work in the orphanages. It was a nice time and the nightime view above PAP was wonderful.

Tuesday:
I got in late last night from my motorcycle ride. I woke up and had to say goodbye to my original crew. Michelle, Linda, and Rod had to leave today to fly back. It was so sad to see them go because I've really grown to care for them. When you're out here working together, seeing the kinds of things you see together, it is a very bonding experience. Plus, most of us are cut from the same thread because it takes a different sort of person to just pack up, leave, and find a way down here. Everyone I've met here has become a friend and what's even better is that I'm starting to build my medical relief team that had been established prior to leaving. The word is spreading through camp that it's something I'm doing and I'm having doctors, nurses, and transport people come and ask me if they can be a part of it. I tell them all, 'Of course, yes you can be!' It's exciting to watch it building.

It's about time for a day off for me. Today, I decided to stay home. Alex was supposed to come and pick me up on his motorcycle this morning at 9am, so I got dressed quick, sat out on the porch waiting for him, and he never showed. We were supposed to ride out to Leogone, a city that was like 85-95% destroyed. I waited for about an hour and a half until he called and said he was still coming and he'd be here in an hour... waiting on the hot porch alone, sad that my friends left this morning, and now pissed off because I just got stood up! I tried taking a nap later in the afternoon, laid around and watched "I Am Legend" on my iTouch. The thing is that perhaps there was a reason I wasn't at the hospital or on the motorcycle today. Perhaps I would have got poked by a needle, or perhaps the motorcycle would have crashed. Again, it's one of those things that didn't go my way (like the videocamera breaking) that I have to just continue to trust in God's higher purpose and plan. In the end, I think he wanted me to just rest, relax, get my mind off of the tragedies I'm experiencing and just simply be. Perhaps he does have plans for me to stay here for a month or two and is just trying to keep me safe, relaxed, and well rested. Either way, I can't be too upset about the situation anymore because as it turned out he had been in some sort of an accident, something happened to his bike, and some friends of his that were an SAR team at the Market trying to recover dead bodies. The whole thing then collapsed and now there may be some rescue workers either dead or injured. Now, I'm not so upset that Alex never arrived. Instead, I got to just relax. The Mexican medical team is coming in tomorrow and the French are slowly fazing out; things are going to be changing with this new group. I'm headed to sleep.

Headed to Airport for Haiti

2010-02-03T19:30:00.001-08:00

Wow, things have been so busy here and so much has happened in the last week, but everything is working out. After the news got out about my departure from the news desk to the disaster areas of Haiti as a nurse, everything just snowballed. I've done national live interviews with:

The Today Show,Fox News,and even as a live guest on the NBC/CBS station I'm departing from.

In between running erronds, packing, saying goodbye, collecting antibiotics and supplies, I've had the phone glued to my shoulder doing interviews with everyone from the Tampa Tribune to Reader's Digest Magazine! Needless to say, it's been overwhelming, but the business has been distracting. When I get too quiet the reality of everything starts to settle in and fear starts to tug at my kite suspended in faith. That's when I have to real myself back in a bit and get focused.

I'm not sure if I had updated it on the blog yet, but last Sunday I found out that my commercial flight supposed to head out on Thursday was cancelled. I was fretting about it because there was so much riding on that flight. I was supposed to be meeting with my team, everything was so perfectly laid out and now everything was changing. However, an inner peace took over me and I knew I would be provided for. There was already a seat on a plane that belonged to me, I just had to be patient and find out with who and when. After my first national interview, I had calls start coming in. People from all over the country were calling with suggestions and ideas about getting me down there. Then, last night as my very kindered spirit best friend from childhood was over having a goodbye meal with me, the phone rang and I got my seat confirmed! I waivered for a minute at some weight constraints, looked over at my best friend who's finishing a career in the military and fought in Iraq and she said, "you make a decision and you commit to it!" That's what I did and that seat will be mine. I was so blessed to have the opportunity. I'll be taking off on a charter plane with a group of other doctors and nurses at 5am from Melbourne airport in Florida. While I was so excited, it came with a smack of reality. I'm thinking to myself, "okay, you're not just talking about it anymore, your back to being committed!" God also provided and because I'm a pretty small fry at about 115, I am able to add more weight to my gear... ringing in at 72 pounds I'll be toting around. I've got MRE's, Water, a ton of medical supplies including nearly 1,000 doses of Amoxycillin, sutures, IV tubing, bandages, gauze, gloves, surgical prep equipment, my otoscope, stethascope, BP cuff, scrubs, tent, sleeping bag, global phone, pepper spray for safety, and so much more. There's some really neat things I've made room for in my pack as well... they are not essential, but were gifted from some to the children of Haiti including balloons, cards, and more.

After much coordination and contact making, I've got my plans pretty much organized. However, I know that even upon arrival my expectations will have to be at a minimal and I'll have to remain flexible and fluid. Once on the ground, I'll be connecting with the Ruuska Village (which Amazing Grace coffee shop in Duluth is having a fundraiser for mid-month). There, I'll be working in the clinic providing triage for refugees. This is in the city of Bon Repos, a town a few miles outside of PAP that was destroyed at about 60-70%. I'll then be connecting with a group coming out of Turtle Lake, Wisconsin at their location which will be a medical clinic setup outside a school and orphanage. From there, I'll be heading over to the compound for the Kako Foundation in PAP to triage some of the young students... many now orphans. Once some of those immediate goals are reached, I'll be either headed to work out of King's Hospital or CDTI hospital in PAP or head to the Mission of Hope just outside of town and work out of their clinic. There's also a possibility of heading North as originally planned to Cap Haitian and working out of the hospital there. I've got so many people that have poured out their support, phone numbers, contact info, home offers, and team recommendations. Among those... Doc O., if your reading this... your help has been invaluable! You are truly a beautiful spirit and an angel!

We're almost to the hotel where I'll grab about 4 hours of sleep before getting up and driving up to the tarmac to load up the plane. If I had to describe in words how I'm feeling right now, I'd just say actually pretty peaceful. Granted, there is such fear of the future days to come, the comforts I leave behind, the heartache of watching human suffering, the fear of disease and illness myself, the possibility of another earthquake occuring, and the uncertainty of what God has planned for me, but overall... there's a calm presence that surrounds me. That's why I know this is supposed to be.

Lastly, I wanted to update folks on some other great news that unfolded today... the paperwork was finalized for completion of 501c3 status. This means I'm officially the president of a non-profit agency, with a board of directors and everything. Right now, we're just calling it the "Julie Pearce Medical Relief Team", which will probably later be changed, but for now it's great. It means that anyone that donates now will be able to make it tax deductible! This is a big deal and I'm still shocked that it was able to unfold so smoothly. It sets the stage as the cornerstone for much greater work to be done in the future. Perhaps the arrangement of local teams that can respond in disaster, or the roots to the Clinic/Church I want to build in the jungles of Belize. If perhaps, you're still interested in supporting my efforts and the team I'll be joining with in Haiti or future missions, you can send checks to:

Julie Pearce Medical Relief Team
8430 Bay Springs Drive
Orlando, FL 32819

Anyhow, we're getting to the hotel now. I'm gonna wrap this up... turn off the computer, turn off the cell phone, turn off the tv, and any other distractions and start to get in the zone. I'm going to relax and get centered because 6 hours from now, it will be game time!

God bless everyone and just hoping I have access to keep you posted upon my arrival and my first impressions when I get there.

Following My Heart... I Quit My Job As News Anchor & Booked a 1-Way Ticket to Haiti to Join Medical Team

2010-01-28T21:25:00.000-08:00

Yep, it's true. I stepped down from my role as the weekend News Anchor and booked a 1-way ticket to Haiti! Call it crazy, but following your heart is rather liberating! Below are some answers to some recent questions I've been asked.

1) How long have you been a nurse and what's your experience?
At 29-years old, I graduated from St. Scholastica’s post-baccalaureate nursing program last August. I passed the Minnesota boards shortly after and officially became a licensed RN. I have currently been working on Grad school at St. Scholastica in the master’s program for Family Nurse Practitioner. While I am still pretty green in my nursing career, I have had some wonderful experiences at St. Mary’s hospital in Duluth and HCMC’s Emergency Department in Minneapolis that I hope will have prepared me for what is to come. Additionally, I have experience doing medical triage and setting up clinics in third world environments. Just two weeks ago I returned with a group of Students from St. Scholastica from a humanitarian medical mission in the jungles of Belize.

2) Why quit Newscenter? Why not just take a leave of absense and come back after awhile?
This weekend will be my last weekend as a news anchor for the NewsCenter. This has been a hard decision for me. I’ve been with the NewsCenter now for about 4 years. I work with some amazing people and have truly enjoyed my time there. I will equally miss working beside my dear adopted mom Michelle Lee.The big bright studio lights, the cameras, and deep connection to our community have been extremely rewarding and exciting. My leaving is truly bittersweet. So, I still haven’t answered your question as to why quit and not just take a leave of absence. The answer is partially related to how long I will be gone. I’m not sure how long I will be spending in Haiti. I booked a 1-way into the country and am not sure when I will return. After just having been gone to Belize for 2 weeks and now this, I’m discovering that my heart is truly with serving those people most in need. It seems unreasonable and unfair to the NewsCenter and my peers there to just continue popping back in and out every time my next nursing “calling” seems to surface. Stepping down from my role as weekend anchor not only gives others the opportunity to advance, but it also gives me the opportunity to advance my career as a nurse, whether that be just through my time in Haiti or upon returning to Duluth. I have discussed the possibility of doing freelance work with the NewsCenter when I get back and I may be able to provide some interesting first hand reports from the field live through a global phone or following my journey. Afterall, there will always be part journalist that runs through these veins. However, right now I have got to follow my heart into an open-ended journey to where I am needed most… and that is as a nurse administering to those undergoing great suffering. I guess it boils down to knowing that deep within my core, there is a longing to serve people on a more intimate and deep level. As a registered nurse, my audience will be one patient at a time and the news I will be delivering will be directly related to their body and health. My media background will hopefully one day provide for a nice blend of direct patient care as a nurse practitioner and the ability to provide medical correspondence to the community. For, now, it’s a new chapter.

3. Maybe the answer leads into the next question: how long do you plan to stay in Haiti?
I have booked a 1-way ticket into Haiti and will stay there until I am needed or until I have nothing left to give. I do understand that there are certain responsibility constraints here that I must attend to, so I can’t stay forever. I have pets, own a house, and am currently in the middle of Nurse Practitioner School that is all being put on hold. When the time is right, I’ll return.

4) Some of the logistics: Who/what will you volunteer with? Where will you live? Will this be volunteer work?
The logistics… this is the piece making my head spin. I’ve spent the last few night up till 2am getting details put together and organizing the who, how, when, and the where of the mission. The what part is pretty clear J Everything is very fluid and changing daily. At this point, I leave on a 10:15 flight from Duluth on Monday. I will stage and get briefed on everything there. On Thursday, bright in the morning at 6:45 I will be boarding my flight from Miami to Port au Prince. Once in Port au Prince, I will be rendezvousing with a group called Team Rubicon. http://blog.teamrubiconhaiti.org/ This is a group of completely unpaid, self-financed volunteers that’s composed of former marines, soldiers, firefighters, medics, RN’s, doctors and PA’s. Their base camp is with Jesuit Relief Services and each day they venture out to the supposed “denied” areas of the Port au Prince, treating, triaging, evacuating patients, and providing direct care to those still waiting for medical attention. (More about Team Rubicon… from their website “What's with the name? Simple. The Rubicon was a small stream that separated Gaul (France) and ancient Rome. On January 11th, Caesar crossed the Rubicon, and it marked the point of no return. This Sunday, January 17th, our 4 man team will cross the Artibonite River, separating the Dominican Republic and Haiti, carrying crucial medicine and supplies to the people of Haiti. Once across, we will be irrevocably committed to our task.”) As I cross the border into Haiti, so will my task be… a devoted commitment to the people of Haiti. I will be with this team for about 4 days before, bringing along my own food, water, shelter, and a supply of medical equipment.

While in Port au Prince, I will also have another mission. One of our northland ties to the country is the Kako Foundation (http://www.kakofoundation.org/ ). I have been speaking with some individuals up here who are connected to the Haitian music school, which lost its structure in the earthquake. I am happy to say they have already secured an outdoor school to reopen their education program. None of the children have been seen by a medical professional yet. One of my tasks upon arriving in Port au Prince will be locating the outdoor school and beginning triage with the children there. Hopefully, I will be able to bring good news of health back to their foundation members here in Duluth.

Once done in the capital, I will be traveling north to the city of Cap Haitien. I will join forces with EFCA's TouchGlobal Crisis Response team http://efcacrisisresponse.blogspot.com/ and Vision of Hope Ministries http://www.vohmhaiti.com/ operating out of the hospital in Milot called Hôpital Sacré Coeur. It has become the major source for refugees fleeing the epicenter. (http://www.crudem.org/ ). I’ll be meeting with my cohorts there where we will have access to food, water. My sleeping arrangements are a bit unclear at this point. I will either be living out of a tent or staying in a barrack style-building that is shared with a number of the now post-earthquake orphans. I’ll be living out of 3 pairs of scrubs, a pair of boxers, and 4 clean shirts. I’ll have a water filter, a weeks supply of water, high protein/calorie food, a global phone, a camera, and a plethora of medical supplies. Camera aside, (because there will always be a part of me that’s a journalist at heart) everything that I’m packing has great significance. Every piece of space and weight in my pack is highly valuable… for instance, I snapped my toothbrush in half because the whole thing takes up unneeded weight. Right now, the most important things I can fill my pack with are antibiotics, wound care supplies, and sterile surgical equipment for the hospital in Cap Haitien. I finished my series of vaccines today at the Travel Clinic including Typhoid, a Hep B booster, and prophylactics for Malaria. I’ve already got pretty much everything else from my other foreign travel. Hand sanitizer and use of protective barriers will be crucial once down there to prevent getting sick myself among the rampant disease. That’s the basics of the logistics and there are certainly still more questions than answers. In a news career that has been filled with carefully pieced together stories, detailed press releases and meticulously planned shows, this is one story that is certainly unscripted and yet to be written. There’s no teleprompter to get me through this one!

5) And then there's the why: why do this? And why now? Why Haiti and not another country that needs medical help?
This is the best question of them all. Why? My answer, is why not? I sit at work comfortably at my desk, reading the latest wire updates on the quake, cruise through the video and the stories, and then go sit on the set in the studio and read the headlines on the latest death toll numbers and the incredible medical needs of the people there. In good consciousness, I can no longer sit back and read those headlines knowing I have the skills they so desperately need right now and the ability to make a difference. Sure, it will take some sacrifice… everyone down there is sacrificing something when they leave to serve, but what we leave behind will never be even close to what the good people Haiti have lost, and they didn’t volunteer for it either. In a matter of seconds, their entire lives have been uprooted, shaken to pieces, their family members are gone, their homes, jobs, livelihood, and health have all been destroyed. All I’m giving up is my comfort for a little while. My faith at this point in my life is at an all time high. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve experienced. It’s as though I am taking the pieces of my life, throwing them up into the air, and trusting my God that they will all land exactly where they are supposed to. I know that God can move mountains, I’ve seen him do it in my own life before. But, I also know you have to show up with a shovel, ready to help dig. That’s what I’m doing… suiting up, showing up, teaming up, and looking up. I know that there will be times that I’m hungry, but I trust I’ll be provided with a sense of fullness. I might not have the best sleeping conditions, but I will certainly wake up rested. I may be confronted with fear, but I will be given courage. I may be exposed to doubt, but I will be given relief and assurance that I am exactly where I’m supposed to do, doing exactly what I was made for. I have never been so proud to be a nurse or a follower of Christ.

I also want to make note of the power of spiritual healing that is taking place down there right now. There are miracles taking place at this very minute, miracles that the world has never seen, miracles that I want to be a part of. I truly believe in the enormous power of what God can do. Although many of these people surely must feel forsaken, they are in the midst of seeing the global community lift them back up, fill their hearts with love, provide them with hope, and remind them that they have not been forgotten, they have not been discarded, and in fact there is a God that loves and adores them... and who’s heart breaks for them. That hope only comes from above. It is because of his inspiration that ordinary folks like me here from the Northland will be able to do big things. We will be his hands, we will be his feet that carry us to where we’re supposed to be, we will be his gentle heart to remind these people that they are in fact not alone. I suspect that when it finally starts to rain down there it will finally be God taking a step back and weeping for his children. However, those very tears that he sheds will continue to bring hope and healing to the people because with the rain it will bring access to water to areas still dry and barren.

While I travel down there alone, I travel with a team of supporters here in the Northland. My faith group at the Vineyard Church is providing a ton of prayers and spiritual support. Jeff Sorvik with Anchor Point church has helped with a lot of the coordinating. The folks of Trailfitters graciously donated a lightweight tent that will be able to house myself, medical teams that will follow, and eventually become a temporary house for a family in need. The College of Saint Scholastica is helping to arrange the accumulation of medical supplies and I suspect that will be just the tip of the iceberg of support flowing in from our area. Know that the support will need to continue. It will be years and years before Haiti can rebuild its government, food system, water system, housing, transportation, educational, and medical system. It will only be through the financial and service efforts of the world that they will begin to see prosperity. After the wave of us medical professionals starts to ebb, a new wave will be needed… one of removal. Removing the rubble and clearing the slate for a new and more prosperous Haiti. Then, they’ll need the rebuilders. I suspect there will be many from the Northland that we will eventually see sharing the ideals of Minnesota nice and general human compassion with the good Haitian people, long into the future.

You bring up a good point about why Haiti. Everyone has Haiti on their mind right now, it’s right in our faces. Aside from this being the site for one of the world’s worst global disasters it’s also the poorest third world nation in the Western Hemisphere. Right now, their need is immediate. It’s crucial, life and death treatment that needs to be performed. An entire country needs to be rebuilt. That being said, there are certainly long lists of other countries throughout the world that are in dire need of aid and support. There is part of me that does fear some of these other needy countries will suffer as the attention shifts to Haiti. My hope is that these countries at least have food and water systems available to keep them sustained for the short term. My fear is that their medical support including volunteers and supplies will become greatly diminished in the short term as well. For right now, Haiti is where I’m needed, but trust me, I have long term goals in place for other third world locations, including the country of Belize which holds a very special place in my heart. There’s a growing undertone within me to build a clinic that also serves as a church down there one day. Perhaps that will be another chapter in my life at some point.

If anyone is interested in supporting my efforts down there and the team I will be working with, your donations would be greatly appreciated. What I am able to bring is fairly limited because of weight and size limits. However, your cash donations will go a long way. Many of the still healthy Haitians are being utilized as drivers, interpreters, and navigators. When possible, they are being paid for their services, which will be helpful in starting to reboost the nation’s economy. Donations can be transferred or deposited via credit card to my Paypal account at: tsjitter@hotmail.com, or checks/cash can be sent through the mail to:

Attn: Julie Pearce Haiti Relief Fund
Checks made payable to: Duluth Vineyard
1533 W. Arrowhead Rd., Duluth, MN 55811

I still have room for any large quantities of antibiotics, wound care, or surgical supplies. What I don’t have room for can be shipped to the team that is flying out of Ft. Lauderdale that I will be meeting up with in Cap Haitien. Lastly, if all you have are prayers, we’ll take that too. Keep all of the rescue workers, medical personnel, Haitian people, and various others supporting the relief efforts in your thoughts and prayers.

I am hoping I will have access to providing updates while I’m gone. If that be the case, then those updates will be posted on here on my blog. You can also follow things through facebook. Also, if you are interested in joining in some unity for all the people of Haiti, there will be a benefit concert sponsored by the College of St. Scholastica this Wednesday, February 3rd, 7pm at the Mitchell Auditorium. Check with the college website for some additional workshops being offered.

Thank you for the privilege to serve as your local news anchor for the last few years and thank you for giving me a place called home that I know I will be grateful to return to. For now, that same generosity and loving spirit I have so freely been given will be extended to the people of Haiti.

Blessings, Julie “Jitterbug” Pearce

"...I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through Him who gives me strength." Philippians 4: 11b - 13, NIV.

My friend JP summed my departure up in a sweet James Taylor Song...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KXxJHk3vWvo

There have been some really nice articles put out there regarding my decision, see below:

NBC & CBS, Northland's NewsCenter-Duluth:
http://www.northlandsnewscenter.com/news/local/82998627.html

FOX9-Minneapolis:
http://www.myfoxtwincities.com/dpp/news/duluth-anchor-quits-job-to-help-in-haiti

West Central Tribune:
http://www.wctrib.com/event/apArticle/id/D9DH4N0G0/

CBS- WCCO- Minneapolis:
http://wcco.com/local/duluth.anchor.haiti.2.1456518.html

Back to America...Big Visions For the Future

2010-01-20T13:17:00.001-08:00

Thursday came so quickly and most of us were pretty sad that it meant we all had to pack up and go home. I could have stayed for a much longer time. After a quick breakfast, we loaded up on the bus, made our way to the airport, did some last minute souveneir shopping, and then boarded our planes. I was lucky because I got to take the Miami portion of my flight with the group by flying standby instead of waiting around 4 hours until my flight was scheduled to leave. On my flight, it just so happened that I ended up sitting next to a guy that was part of a construction mission down there. Our group had run into him and his peers while they were out in More Tomorrow. He and his team had been passing out rice to all the families there. I told him I had big plans to build something here in the future and asked if it would be something he and his team would be interested in helping with. He eagerly agreed, and I got his contact information.

Here's the deal... what originally felt like a calling to just build a clinic in the jungle has evolved into a much bigger vision. I feel like I am supposed to find land, and construct what primarily serves as a clinic but also serves as a church! Am I really being called to be a hand in building a church?! Where is this coming from?! I can't deny though that it is very real and something I can't seem to ignore. I can see the blueprints in my head, I can see what it looks like inside, and I can see it actually happening. My vision is this.
The facility will serve primarily as a clinic. It will be open free to the community on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On Mondays, it will serve as women’s empowerment program for battered and abused women, or simply women wanting to regain their feminine power as mothers, wives, or potential business women. On Wednesdays, the clinic will serve as an outpatient drug rehabilitation facility. Patients can enroll in a quarterly program that takes them through all 12-steps. Fridays and Saturdays I would spend doing outreach in the villages including home visits and raising funds and finding volunteers to support the facility. On Sundays, all the benches from the front porch and lobby will rearranged to form what will become the Church. The reception desk will become the altar and the lobby tables will hold the communion. As far as a description of the facility, it will be made primarily out of concrete with a tin roof that overhangs above the front and back porch. The back porch will be fenced in for privacy of the staff. It will accommodate anywhere from 5-7 staff members. Those may be permanent staff or housing for individuals serving on a temporary basis. There will be 2 full bunk beds and one half bunk bed, under which there will be a couch that can convert into a queen sized bed. An additional 2 chairs will be available for relaxing. In the residency area, there will be a simple desk with computer access for correspondence. There will be a bathroom with a sink, toilet, and shower. In the kitchen, there will be a refrigerator, a stove, a sink, and a kitchen table. The clinic side of the facility will host an exam room with cabinets for storage as well as a small side table and sink. The office is where I will do any outreach and fundraising efforts. It is also where patient records and such will be kept. There will be a bookcase for resources and there will be an area with a couple chairs in the corner for individual patient counseling regarding diagnoses, concerns, etc. Next to the office will be a laundry room. We can wash sheets, towels, and scrubs. There will be additional storage in this room for medical supplies, church supplies, and group supplies. There will also be an autoclave in the room for any necessary sterilization. Lastly, there will be a simple bathroom with a toilet and a sink for the public.

When I sometimes get frustrated that I didn't just take the shortcut straight to nursing when I began college, I'm starting to see there might be a reason I had to accumulate so many other degrees along the way. Perhaps my Chemical Dependency degree will be needed here for the recovery center, my psychology degree will be needed here for the women's empowerment groups, my liberal arts degree for envisioning and designing it, and finally my nursing degree to run the clinic. Perhaps I'll have to find some other willing soul to come and run the church, but then again, maybe that's something God is calling me to do as well. I certainly have learned not to underestimate him by now!

So, I now I have to return to the states to get patient about my vision. I need to patiently get ontop of learning my spanish so I can become fluent down there. I need to finish my Nurse Practitioner licensure. I need to start gathering support, funding, and more. While all that goes on, I must continue each day to ask myself what am I doing that's taking me one step closer to this dream.

What's funny is that this is not how I planned my life. I planned that I would be come an advanced practice nurse, make lots of money, pay off my student loans and my house, travel around the world, live it up, have a kid or two, and then settle down and live comfortably and raise them. I didn't plan on wanting to live in a bunkbed out of the back of a clinic in the jungle eating God knows what, countries away from the closest McDonalds, barely able to keep the lights on, and serving the poorest of the poor. But, ya know, the coolest thing about the whole calling is that there's little fear accompanying those dreams. I know that when you step into God's army, he takes care of you. Things might not be easy or comfortable, but the internal satisfaction that I would find from knowing I'm doing the right thing and for the right reasons would be all the comfort I would need. So, we'll see how things go over the next few years. Ineviteably, I'll return to Belize a time or so before any construction would begin and in the meantime just listen quietly for the directions of where, how, and when.

Wednesday- Last Full Day

2010-01-13T07:45:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm still not feeling very good this morning. I got up and had breakfast, but I can't seem to shake this high fever. Everything just aches and my head throbs. Fortunately, I came fully vaccinated against things endemic here plus got my H1N1 vaccine a week before as well. So, I stayed back today where we're staying alone. I'm just sleeping, relaxing, and reflecting on my time here. I could look at this two ways: One, I could get really upset that I'm missing the last day with everyone in the clinic. I could start feeling left out and end the trip on a bad note. Or, two... I could use this last day off to really reflect on what I've learned here, what lessons and insight I want to bring home with me, and what fears and hopes I can leave behind. Afterall, Belize is a place that has my heart, so I know this will not be my last time here. Perhaps I can talk some of the students from this year to return with me.

After the group got back from their long day they filled me in on the details. Everyone went to the newly build San Ignacio hospital and helped to refill their supplies with the bags and bags of donated materials we had brought. The hospital was very grateful.

They also stopped by the Belize Marketing & Development Corporation. This organization helps get families the resources they need to be self sustaining and I believe may help individuals with starting businesses. Anyhow, today they were giving out a ton of rice which the group was able to assist with.

From there, everyone went to visit a cousin of our driver Alberto. Upon arriving at their house, it was evident that the family was struggling.

The children had bunk beds that they slept in, but there was no mattress, only flat steel bottoms. Our team decided that was just unacceptable. Everyone put in 5 dollars to contribute to the purchasing of 2 twin sized mattresses, and 4 sets of sheets so those children could rest well. The mother got teary eyed and said, "no one ever gave me a gift like this before." The children were very happy with their new beds as well.

The last clinic for the day was in Los Flores. The students say it was a good day for patient care. There were also quite a few patients that had to be taken to the hospital as well. Since the kids have returned to school this week, we get the joy of playing ball and running around with them outside on their breaks. It's really a treat for everyone... everyone except for Pete today. He was running to catch the frisbee and fell into a tree... a very sharp and prickly tree...

Suddenly, Pete went from nurse to patient. He was cut and poked from his arms down his side all the way to his legs. Luckily, we had plenty of gauze to fix him up. Now, he's half way dressed as a mummy and ready for next Halloween.

Upon returning back, we had a special dinner and then our cook played music for everyone to dance on the patio to. The highlight was when two kids who couldn't have been more than 8 or 9 got out and started doing Michael Jackson impressions. It was hilarious and they weren't half bad.
On an entirely different note, my heart hurts for the thousands of lives lost and suffering right now in Haiti from Tuesday's earthquake. I've ready conservative estimates at only 30,000 people dead all the way to estimates as high as 500,000. One life lost is too much as far as I'm concerned. It's such a tragedy to aflict a country already burdened with probably the greatest poverty level in the Western Hemisphere. I think about what we're doing here and imagine all those who have been working so hard to do the same in Haiti. All of the homes, shelters, schools, churches all just gone in the snap of a finger. I just pray that those who survived the quake will find the refuge and comfort they need as they begin to rebuild their lives and locate their family and friends. I pray they will find the strength and endurance they need to press forward, avoid illness, and find hope despite their loss.
Part of me wants so badly to just hop on a flight and head straight there to offer assistance (in fact already looked into tickets). If I wasn't sick right now, I probably would just go ahead and do it! The cool thing about being a healthcare worker is that you posess a renewable resource. It's the gift of knowledge that you don't just run out of. You can only feed a person for as long as the food is there, you can only build things as long as there are materials available, but the knowledge that can be applied in health care never runs out. You don't even have to save room in your luggage to pack it along. Truly, becoming a nurse has been the best thing I've ever done.
As I have been laying around here today relaxing and trying to get better, I walked to the resort across the street. I walked into the main lobby to inquire about the place and made a really neat connection. As it turns out, the owners are a couple who have been married for more than 40 years! The wife Lordes used to be a registered nurse. In fact, she worked with the United Nations and was part of the Public Health department here in Belize working to develop the community health outreach program. She helped write the manual for integrating preventative health teaching into the communities. Lordes has worked with our pharmacist Daisy Codd and our diabeties specialist Rose Anderson. It is amazing how you end up meeting just those you should and how there's often a much greater purpose in life than we first see. This woman was very interested our enthusiasm for our mision. You could tell she had a good heart as well. I discussed with her the possiblity of coordinating future outreach groups, utilizing their accomodations and insight. She said she might be willing to get out with us in the clinics as well. I love seeing the relationship with the people here grow and develop. Just yesterday, while bringing a patient to the hospital we connected with a young woman Maya Ken, who's specializing in linguistics. Her dad is the chief of staff at the hospital there, her mom and aunt are also doctors. She was willing to join us in the village today to assist with translating.

When I look at how much these clinics have evolved in just a year, it is amazing. For our second time at doing this, we have gone from ideas of a small blood pressure and blood glucose screening clinic to something much greater! Because of the relationships we have forged with the communities and professionals here, we are able to offer so much more. Now, patients can come and receive pelvic exams, pregnancy testing, on-site HIV testing, heart and lung assesments, ear nose and throat exams, vision screenings, and access to everything from cold medicine to antibiotics. We've even made connections with a local orphanage, the battered women's shelter, and the recovery center for addicts and alcoholics. It's such a beautiful thing that I feel so blessed to be a part of and am so eager to see how it will yet evolve. It is true that one person truly can make a difference! As I watch it all unfold before my eyes, I am humbled and grateful to see the knowledge I've gained through my nursing education at Saint Scholastica, the compassion I've learned through my faith, the enthusiasm that is kindled by my friendships, the serenity I have been blessed through my recovery, and the love I have been given by my family all come together to help me fulfill what I believe is God's purpose for me in life.

Day 9- Tuesday

2010-01-12T19:35:00.001-08:00

We only have one more full day left after today and most of us are pretty sad. The time flies by so fast when you're having fun! Instead of having two clinics today, we had one crew of nurses and another crew of construction workers. Half of the team worked on building some structure that would help support a soon to be constructed orphanage. It was really hard work they say... mixing and moving loads of concrete. However, they say they got a lot done. Plus, it's nice to leave behind such a tangible difference.

The rest of us went to the village of Billy White. On our way there we stopped at a private hospital in San Ignacio to get pictures of where Patra had stayed on her visit. It was the strangest thing ever. We were all in there walking around for at least 10 minutes and I never saw but one staff in the very back of the place. It was eerie. There were no lights on in the Emergency Room, and you could walk all around. We peaked in the exam rooms, the delivery room, and even the surgical suite! It was like an old abandoned building! Once in the village, we got to work immediately. I've never been there before, but it's an interesting village. The homes are very spread out and the level of poverty seemed to be up a notch, yet still far from poverty the way we know it in the U.S. We had some interesting cases today. It was also busy. We saw a ton of patients in one day, mostly children from the schools coming to get their physicals.

The most interesting case was a woman who brought her daughter in with the chief complain of having a cold and a runny nose. She didn't seemed concerned that the whole front of the girls face had scalding water burns. It turns out the mother had been boiling water and the little girl pulled the pan down, splashing the boiling water all over her. Once we got her shirt off, we saw a host of 2nd and 3rd burns all down her trunk and on her shoulder. It was the saddest thing and you just have to know it was painful. Fortunately, someone had donated some Silvadine creme that is perfect for healing burns. We also had some non-adhesive Telfa pads we were able to put on the girl. It just broke my heart to see the pain she was in and made me even more sad to realize that the mom didn't appear concerned. This was also a good opportunity for some teaching with the mom on instructing her to turn the handle away from the edge of the stove or fire, and explain to her girls that things up there are hot. This poor girl will be lucky if she doesn't end up with some serious scars.

Another interesting case was a boy who's tooth had rotten its way through the roof of his mouth. If you look at the picture below very carefully, you will see that the flesh has tunneled away to the root of his tooth. I wish we could have done something for this poor boy, but when it comes to things like this, our resources are limited. The hospital wouldn't be able to do much either. He desperately needs a dentist.

We saw some pretty bad skin infestation problems as well. Impetigo, scabies, and fungal infections are the most common.
We thought we were going to have a short day today, but 140 patients later and it was already almost 4 o'clock. On our way back, we stopped off at a house that had a pet spider monkey. It was so cute and it let me hold its hand and scratch its back. Monkies are the coolest animal ever. They are like little furry people!
Once returning back to the hotel, we were greated by a group of construction workers doing a project who had brought in one of the helpers from the village. He had been bitten by some kind of bug that burrows into your skin and starts to eat away at your flesh. It had developed into what looked like a huge cyst on his back. Using all of our sterile hospital supplies, we were able to attempt lancing the wound and draining anything that looked purulent. The man was very strong for what he was able to withstand.

From there to dinner, and a little surprise desert... a brownie and ice cream! Everyone was very excited for our yummy treat! I'm getting to bed early tonight cause my fever was peaking and I'm wiped out. We'll be up for another exciting day tomorrow, and it sadly will be our last full one.

Day 8- Monday

2010-01-12T18:59:00.000-08:00

There's several things that I would like to update everyone on, but by the end of the day I'm usually too wiped. Plus, I've come down with something and have been running a fever and feeling pretty crappy. On Monday, we had one group go to the village of Springfield. It is a community of traditional Amish folk. They are the real deal. This was a first for any medical team going in there. They have allowed government officials to come into the community, but up until now, they have not had a team of healthcare workers come into the village and offer assistance. It's truly groundbreaking for the organization we are with Pro Belize, and an honor for us all. Unfortunately, we don't have any pictures. Apparently, they believe taking a picture takes a piece of your soul, so we didn't want to start a collection.

The other half of us went to the village of Armenia. This is the second time I've been to this village. It was one of my favorite villages and it is also one of the poorest. As you get further from the main roads and easy transportation to jobs becomes more scarce, the level of poverty grows. We treated a ton of patients here and because school was back in session we started teaching in the schools as well.

Halfway through the day, I brought two students with myself and Adrian and we went for a follow-up visit in the village of Santa Marta (otherwise known as St. Margarets). Here, we came to visit the woman I've encountered in several dreams and whom I've had this great need to go and see. Bonificia has been blind for at least 30 years. She's got pretty severe diabetes that even with her medication isn't being properly regulated. That's why she went blind in the first place. I went believing sincerely that we were going to see a miracle. I thought that if we just prayed hard enough that we would see some healing take place and see God do something radical. Myself, the students, and the family all laid hands on the woman and started to pray with her. I wasn't sure really what to say, but I knew God knew what my heart was feeling. Several of us, including Bonificia and her husband started crying. Adrian said many beautiful words, and we kinda wrapped things up. Unfortunately, the woman didn't regain her vision back or anything, but she told us how good she felt and how happy she felt. She thanked us profusely and told us we were always welcomed back. While I went to this woman's home convinced that we were going to see a miracle, it would be ashame to dismiss what God has in store for her. Perhaps the vision being restored is not that of her eyes, but a vision of hope, a vision of love, a vision of connection with something much greater than any of us. Maybe God is working on his time. Maybe we started something moving that will reep results beyond what we will see. I'm not quite sure what happened there, but I do know that there was some healing that took place. It was beautiful and I was so proud of the girls Steph and Justine for taking the leap of faith with me. It was a blessed moment.

Later in the day, we transported a patient to the hospital with a blood glucose level of 454. She got on an insulin drip to get her levels normalized. Meanwhile, this guy comes limping into their ER with blood pooring down his leg. He had sliced his leg open with a machette. These types of wounds are very common down here because people use their machettes as a primary tool to do so many things. This guy, just whacked himself in the process of doing his day's work. It was amazing to see though. He just barely missed the artery that you could see pulsing in sync with his heart. The doc stitched it up, gave him a tetnus shot, and he was good to go. By the way, the only thing he got for pain was a lidocaine injection around the site... no painkillers!

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Anyhow, that's how Monday looked. It was a busy one and a productive one. I skipped dinner and settled into bed around 7 because I was feeling so crappy. But, I did wake up Tuesday morning feeling a little better.

Sunday... Weekend Recap

2010-01-10T15:59:00.001-08:00

Hi everyone, when I had left on Friday several of the students were getting "quarantined" for their food poisoning. Our one student nurse is out of the hospital and doing great. As of today, everyone is feeling wonderful and they all went to the ATM adventure through the jungles and had a blast.

We suspect E. Coli was the source of the troubles and everyone was treated accordingly. I guess it worked! While I didn't end up getting food poisoning like some in the group, I did get the perfect remedy for the adventure bug. Well, where do I begin... it's been a busy couple of days for me. I made my way down to Belize City on the chicken bus on Friday.

On my bus ride down to the coast, I met the coolest guy. His name is Abner. This 23 year old kid grew up in Guatamala and was involved in all kinds of gangs and stuff. He came to a point where he decided he wanted to get his life together and make his mom proud so he left the gangs, the drugs, and the crime and moved to Belize. Of all the people I could have ended up sitting next to on the bus, this guy just happens to work for a tv station out of Belmopan! He's their camera man and takes his job so seriously that its amazing. When the floods came through here, he tied a rope around his waist and waded to the middle of the river for a good shot. He says, "if there's a really good shot from the middle of a pile of mud, then I'm going into the mud because I want the best shot possible." This theme of people taking such pride in the work that they do here is very common. People truly value having a job and work their butts off. I had pictures on my camera of our studio at the station in Duluth and was able to show him. He was amazed and said, "Wow, it's so big!" Abner also volunteered for the Red Cross. He said he often found himself conflicted with his roles whether to document a critical situation or to help offer assistance. I can sure relate to that with my dual role as nursing newslady! I'm also just going to plug this band he's created. He's the oldest in a band called Hawksworthe Field. The drummer is only 13 years old and they are a rock band down here to covers old rock like Guns and Roses and such. They call themselves Hawksworthe because that is the name of the bridge that separates the towns where the band members live, the "Field" part is because that's an open grassy area where they all come together to play ball and jam out and be united. I just thought that was a sweet way to name the band. By the time Abner had to get off, he had told me his whole life story and it was pretty intense. I felt honored to have made this new friend.

Once in Belize City, I had to navigate through the taxi scene to find a driver not wanting to screw me with American pricing to get to the charter airport. Finally, I found an honest driver who charged me what the Belizeans pay. Once at the airport, it was so bizzare. Compared to the rigorous screening checkpoints that we have in the U.S., I didn't even have to show an id to get onboard. I just told them my name and they gave me my boarding pass... literally a laminated piece of colored paper! There's no metal detector or screening either. While I was waiting for my flight, I walked over to the deli and found some taxi drivers playing gin rummy. I lit up a clove cigar and joined them in a hand. I also got to try drinking this strange cola that tastes like health cereal. I can't remember the name, but I don't recommend it. The whole moment with these guys was good fun!

Finally, arriving on the island, I was greeted by warm weather. I took a long walk on the beach, passing resorts filling the air with reggae music, dogs chasing one another, and folks just returning from their long days of diving. I got to see a man and his pet raccoon hanging out on the beach and a giant eagle ray cruising along the shoreline. On my walk I met this man named Steve. He had given up his life in Connecticut to move here and open up a pizza joint called Pirate Pizza. His family had told him he was crazy when he decided to do it, but he says he is now ten times happier than he ever was. Nice guy and nice little pizza placed if your ever in town. I explored through the town and got some freshly caught red snapper for dinner (by the way, so many of the restaurants down here are so expensive it's ridiculous. Bring your own food if you ever come to San Pedro on Ambergris Caye, but the atmosphere of most dining spots is pretty splendid. One place I walked into had the feeling of an Olive Garden, but the floors were all made out of sand like a beach... strange). Later, I went to check out some music at a local club, got myself some handmade ice cream, and then found an outdoor game of Bingo going on that I randomly decided to join. What a fun day I had experienced so far. That night, I met a cool young guys Miguel and Ali who captained one of Island Sun's ferries. He and I made plans to go take kayaks out on Sunday and go spear fishing. He said we'd be able to catch some sting rays and lobster and such. Too bad a front rolled in on Saturday afternoon and gave the city record lows... we didn't end up going on Sunday. I cracked myself open an ice cold Fanta and sat on the dock beside 2 awesome dogs just chillin' as we watched the sun trade with the moon.Finally, I headed back to my hotel room. On my way, some guys were cat calling me to come over, and I just politely ignored them and went up to my room that overlooked the main road. I had shut the door and then heard footsteps and heard knocking on my door. One of those creepos had followed me up to my room and was trying to get me to come out. I wasn't really scared, just irritated. I kept telling him, "no, leave me alone, I'm going to bed, goodbye!" He eventually left, but I was still ill at ease because I was staying in the grossest hotel room I believe I have ever stayed in. Nice picture, huh? Thank God it was only 2 nights and thank God it was cheap! If you ever stay at Ruby's Hotel there, make sure you get to see your room before you book it... otherwise you might be sorry. Off to bed I went that night to get ready for my big day of diving that lay ahead.

Saturday morning, I woke up wondering what all the noise was outside and wondered what time it was because my alarm had not gone off yet for me to head to the dive shop. I looked at my watch and the time was 5:54am. I was supposed to be at the dive shop at 5:15am! My alarm had been set but never flipped to on. I jumped out of bed, threw stuff in a bag and went running down the beach to the dock. I made it just on time and everything was okay, but talk about an early morning jolt! They fitted me in my gear and we were all off. I've done all my dive training through to Rescue Diver in Lake Superior. I had never seen a fish (except one that was dead) and never swam in warm water. This was going to be a treat for me! I was headed out to conquer the Great Blue Hole. The near perfect circle is about a 1/4 mile wide and more than 400 feet deep. It's shaped kind of like an urn as you can see here.

It took us about 2.5 hours to get to the site. I slept the whole way there, so did most everybody else. Finally, with the help of some coffee, we geared up took the plunge and rapidly descended to down into the abyss. After a sandy bottom, you go deeper to the cave like area of massive limestone stalactites and stalagmites. Apparently, they are some of the largest stalagtites in the world. We also get to see at least 11 sharks. We saw Bull Sharks, Reef Sharks, Black Tip Sharks, and in a later dive a nurse shark. These sharks were huge... at least about 7 feet long! Once I got to around 140 feet deep, I started getting "narc-ed out" a bit. Nitrogen narcosis happens at extreme depths and you lose your judgement a bit and get feeling similar to the gas at the doctor's office. I remember thinking, "oh, pretty shark" and swimming towards it, while the part of my mind not narc-ed out was saying, "bad idea, leave the shark alone, bad idea." One girl didn't even remember the divemaster playfully coming over and grabbing her around the neck. It's things like that that make diving with a buddy so important. Anyhow, the dive was phenomenal and breathtaking. I'd recommed it to anyone.

The second dive of the day was at another pristine reef known as the "Half Moon Caye Wall". There are huge verticle walls and beautiful colors and wildlife. Here, I got to see a massive eagle ray below me about the size of a small car. It's amazing how beautiful things can be underwater. God was definitely feeling creative the day he made the oceans. I think he was playing with his paintbox as well. It was this dive that I ended up getting burned all up my arm from fire coral. That stuff hurts! All the sudden your skin will start burning and feel like its on fire. At 60 feet deep, there's not much you can do except try and distract your mind. My arm is all red and welted now, but at least I didn't have a worse reaction as some do. We didn't have any vinegar onboard, so one guy was going to pee on it! Gross! But, I wanted to try and wait to see if the pain faded before that and it did.

Following that dive, we visited the island of Half Moon Caye for a big chicken lunch. A bunch of us hiked over through a jungled area to the Red Footed White Faced Boobie Bird sanctuary established by the Audubon Society. We could see hundreds of these crazy looking birds who look like they're carrying around red balloons.

Finally, we did another wall dive called the Aquarium. The water for all these dives must have been at about 50 feet of visibility. This dive is located off the coast of Long Caye. It was here where we got to see our last shark... very appropriately named, a nurse shark! I was most excited about this guy than anything. Upon resurfacing, we saw that there was a storm coming in. The water had already started to get rough making getting into the boat a bit of a challenge.

As we started our charter back to Ambergris Caye to call it a day, the front came in even worse. While it was nice getting to see dolphins flip and twist their way out of the water because they like to ride the waves, it was very unsettling for many people's stomachs. We were in the middle of this front in completely open water where you can't see land anywere around you. The waves were cresting at about 10 feet and the boat was just getting tossed. Two guys had to start puking over the side of the boat, everything had to be secured down after a dive tank went flying, and several of us were on the floor of the boat holding on to each other as not to go flying. It was fun at first... kinda like a big ride at the fair, but after 4.5 hours of it, I was miserable. We were all soaked and cold and our stomach's were churning. Other than the ride back, it was a great day of diving and it was also nice meeting new friends.

We finally made it back, and I was able to take a hot shower and warm myself up. I got bundled up and went off to find a hot cappacino and internet access. Once my core felt like it wasn't going to freeze anymore, I found a hot meal as well. I met up with some of my dive buddies later that night. We spun around town in the golf cart they had rented and looked for a place to go do some dancing, but no one was out yet and I was too exhausted from my adventure day to really care. That's when I headed back and hit the sack.Sunday morning, I was able to sleep in! That alone felt so good. I went over to an oldskool Roman Catholic Church for mass. It was interesting hearing some people speaking in spanish for it and others in English. The reading stunned me... it was all about giving sight to the blind (an calling regarding the blind woman I talked about earlier). This was very reaffirming. After mass, I ventured out to find some breakfast and settled at a place where all the locals go. It's tough sometimes in a foreign country because you have all of these local options for food to choose from, but then something American based that offers comfort and familiarity. However, we get to eat American food everyday, so challenging yourself to at least try something new is important. It's also scary worrying about getting sick from something you eat that wasn't fully cooked, etc.

My day ended with swinging back by the dive shop to check out the pictures from the previous day's adventure and heading to the airstrip for my return back to San Ignacio. I got on the plane and found out that... get this... I got to sit in the co-pilot's seat! After we got in the air, we had to land at a few other airports to pick others up. On our final route into Belize City, I tapped on the pilot's shoulder, looked at him with a grin, and pointed to the "steering wheel". I asked him if I could put my hands on it and he said, "I don't care, here you can do all the flying yourself!" Suddenly, I found myself in control of the airplane and flying it on my own... the best part... there were passengers! Can you imagine that ever happening on Delta?! It was the highlight of my day. Three of the guys from the day before's dive were also aboard, including my golden shower guy, I think they got a kick out of it too. Back in Belize City, we all took a taxi back to the terminal, hopped on the chicken bus, and I returned to our resort. It has been a wonderful and memorable weekend!

Day 6- Day Off on Islands

2010-01-09T19:40:00.000-08:00

Just wanted to say to anyone who's been following the blog so far that we had a day off today. I'm not sure what the group is up to or the status of any of the sick ones, but I will be back into San Ignacio tomorrow. I took a full day for myself here in Ambergris Caye to enjoy the island pace and get to see some amazing underwater life. Tomorrow I'll write more about the sharks and other exciting pieces of my adventure! Much love to all, me

Day 5- Friday Blues

2010-01-08T08:36:00.000-08:00

I ended my last blog talking about food and eating... well, something we had to eat has given some people the major blues today. When I arrived to breakfast, not everyone was there. Candace asked me right away how I was feeling and I told her I was feeling just fine. We then learned that our group had been hit hard by some sort of food poisoning. One of our girls had to go to the hospital to get rehydrated. Five of the others here at the camp have been up sick all night. We haved moved them into an area all of their own where they can sort of be quarantined for a bit. Candace and PZ were up all night with the sick ones and have been taking care of everyone. We were able to get some medicine today and some pedialyte that will help them bounce back pretty quickly. A historical record of symtoms, food, etc. has us thinking they might have contracted either E. Coli or Shigella. If anyone is reading this blog getting worried, know they are in good hands. Everyone is already feeling much better and they are getting the best care possible. Not often you can get sick and have more than a dozen of your own personal nurses. We cancelled setting up the clinic at the market in Belmopan today. Everyone is staying close to camp and some are going to sit around today reading and watching a movie perhaps. If it is Shigella or E. Coli then we have about 36 hours of a window to find out who else might drop on us. Meanwhile, all of the sheets are being changed, bathrooms being fully scrubbed down, laundry being done, and everything being sanitized just to be safe.We're just all a little paranoid at this point, but everyone figures it is just part of the journey, and something that will make things just all that more memorable in the future. I'm kinda nervous because I'm headed out to the coast today for the weekend and don't want to get there and then find out that I was a carrier as well. I'm just hoping that I'll stay feeling healthy and energized. I'll try to update this blog later when I get a chance, but if I don't have access to the Internet where I'm going then, I'll be able to update things on Sunday. In the meantime, don't worry, everyone is in good hands, doing better, and being well taken care of. We'll all be rebounded as a strong team in no time. Talk later...