MISSION TO HAITI: UPDATE

The top photo is Big and Little Paul loading the 17 year old with the skull fracture into the back of our Toyota pickup. Three days later he is resting comfortably with his mother at the University of Miami 'Hospital'. This is a nice story with a happy ending.

MISSION TO HAITI: POST SCRIPT

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."
--Margaret Mead

I am overwhelmed and it is hard for me to contain my tears. It is impossible to have an experience like this and not feel profoundly changed. Over the past few weeks I have witnessed brutal and relentless suffering; most of it senseless, preventable and inexcusable. My heart was and is, constantly breaking. I knew to work efficiently and to capacity I would have to deal with my emotions when I got home and boy oh boy, I am. While in Haiti, I needed to be sharp and on my toes.

One of the many problems in Haiti is that the donated medical supplies, medications and food are being warehoused, hidden and stolen: most often, by those in authority. One of the many objectives of my little team was to find these supplies and distribute them. We were very successful at it. We were also the only local ambulance as well as the acting nurses, medics and even doctors when we needed to be. The only training you need to become a doctor in Haiti is to work in a hospital for 7 years. How scary is that. An anatomy and physiology class would be nice. I am no doctor, not even close, but I am a nurse and there were many occasions, I was all they had.

While writing to you at night, it was virtually impossible to remember everything that happened during the day and for brevity sake, I combined days and I now realize, left things out; important things. I worked with two guys. By now you should know their names; Big and Little Paul. Big Paul is a medic and fashion photographer. Little Paul owns his own construction company and is a carpenter by trade. He is also one of the best drivers I have ever known. To drive in Haiti is a feat unto itself. There are no rules and no laws. It's every man for himself: a life-threatening activity – trust me. But I never even flinched. They are both wild and crazy but fiercely dedicated to helping the Haitian people. There is simply nothing they won’t do and in one of the most dangerous places on the planet right now, they guarded me with their lives. I always felt safe. They are 2 unlikely heroes but they are heroes non-the-less. I feel honored to have worked with them.

I want to share a couple of things that did not get worked in to my earlier blog entries:

Soon after the earthquake, the Haitian government made a plea to its citizens to donate blood. There was a significant response and thousands of pints were collected (whether it was screened properly or not is another story but the blood was collected). When it came time to distribute it, when the clinics were requesting blood and desperate for it; it was nowhere to be found. Big Paul drove around until he found what looked like a door to a refrigerated closet. He opened it with the big key he brought from home; the one at the end of his leg. He packed the blood up in a cooler and got it where it was needed.

Premature births are common in Haiti and during the weeks after the quake they were happening with even more frequency. There are not many incubators in Haiti (I never saw one). But when a baby was born prematurely on Little Paul’s watch, he responded by building one. Using some wood he found, plastic sheets, duck-tape, a light bulb and pieces of PVC piping, he made a fully functioning incubator. Power is inconsistent but the baby was warm when it went on. And when he discovered that the kids in one of the orphanages we were working with were sleeping on the ground with rats, he built and enclosure and secured some Yoga mats for them to sleep on. The structure also functions as a classroom. Kola is one of the few 'orphanages' with a school.

The stories never end and degree of dedication, competence and resourcefulness is something I have rarely seen in my life. I have witnessed dedication and self sacrifice of monumental proportion. Relief workers in Haiti have put their lives on hold and have willingly thrown themselves into a situation that is very close to hell on Earth. It is hot, humid, and the tents where some of them work are not ventilated. There is no sanitation and the smell is overpowering. Drinking water is scarce and good food is nonexistent. There is so much need and never enough supply. Even those who have done relief work in the past, admit, nothing compares to this.

Proud kids at Kola

The incubator
The working conditions in Haiti are unimaginable and yet, I never heard one person complain. To the contrary; the doctors and nurses, the medics and everyone in-between, work 12 to 20 hour shifts without grumbling or whining. While in the ER picking up the 2 critical patients, the doctor who just called it quits on resuscitating the 5 month old, realizing that everyone was traumatized said, “Stop, take a breath, relax for one minute”. He paused for a few moments and then said “back to work”. Amidst all the chaos, he was sensitive to everyone’s needs. He is a remarkable human and although I only met him a few times and only for brief minutes, I will never forget him. His name is Rob (I don’t know his last name). He is meek in appearance, but highly skilled and unflappable.

Rob telling us what supplies he needs to work with any kind of effectiveness. We are standing in one of the few indoor spaces deemed structurally sound.As stories and events come to me, I’ll continue to share. I went to work the minute my plane touched down and some of the first few hours were eventful but a blur. I was shell shocked from the scene at the airport and the ride into downtown Port-Au-Prince. The total devastation is hard to comprehend and the true third-world nature of this country is mind-boggling – especially after a short, 3 ½ hour plane ride. Who knew?

For those of you who don't know, I went to Haiti without a group and without any solid connections. The hospital I intended to work at, Centre Hospitalier du Sacré-Coeur (CDTI), closed the day before I arrived. I knew it was crazy but I felt confident I would be guided to where I was needed the most. Through the grace of God, I was. How fortunate am I.

I want to thank everybody for your support and constant prayers. You're the best. And a special thanks to Ralph, Junior and James, my translators and bodyguards who never let me out of their sight. They also kept my backpack zipped up (I went to Haiti with all my bad habits).

Port-Au-Prince was a city of 2 million before the quake. Approximately 250 thousand are dead. Another 100 thousand or more will die from disease and infection. One million Haitians are homeless. It is a desperate country in need of our constant prayers.

XOXO,
Cory

THE SWEETEST WELCOME HOME

My friend Louises' 5th grade class in Florida. They prayed for me everyday and followed my Mission to Haiti. How sweet is that!
Thank You guys. I always felt your prayers.
Blessings,
Cory

MISSION TO HAITI" 11 +

I am leaving Haiti tomorrow. I have a 2 p.m. flight. I will try to write before I go but I doubt I'll have Internet much longer. There is no more gasoline in Haiti. The truck has just enough to get me to the airport so we had to stop work early. We got as much done as we could, working around the problem with gas and the craziness that has started because of it.

Never mind all that: We got an emergency call from General Hospital. Two critical patients need transfer to the hospital near the airport. General has an emergency room but they cannot handle critical patients. It's 8 p.m. We are on empty. One patient is a 28 year old women with a fractured pelvis, broken leg and multiple lacerations. The other is a 17 year old boy with a fractured skull. That's all we were told. I'll write the rest of this incredible story when I get home.
Me and Little Paul driving around looking for gas.

A beautiful Haitian child

Paul and Alan, the 'overcrowded orphanage' owner, getting the party started They don't know what to make of me

Just a beautiful, beautiful girl and me, sweating.

So sweet but hungry and sad.

This is Mike. He is very proud of the kite he made.

Nightmare in Haiti. The patient on the left, the skull fracture, is covered with a body bag. It's all we had.
The Emergency Room at General Hospital
Moving the 17 year old boy back inside to be suctioned

Big Paul getting the logistics down on how to work this.

It’s odd, writing this entry in the comfort of my home, no worries about power, Internet service or bugs. I’m not squinting, trying to see the screen. I’m not sticky with sweat and covered with DEET and grime. The air smells good and for the first time in weeks, so do I. There are so many things we take for granted. Imagine, a third world country just a 3 ½ hour plane ride from New York. It’s really and truly, unbelievable.

Wednesday started out with a few goals; find gas for the truck, find propane for Kola (one of the orphanages we have been looking after) and get to a party at ‘the overcrowded’ orphanage by 2. We discovered that the gas situation is dire as is the situation with propane. Propane is something that makes Haitian lives easier. They can cook with it rather than coal. But it is expensive and since the earthquake many Haitians have gutted their ovens and converted them back to coal. For decades, they have burned trees to make it. They have ravaged their countryside harvesting trees. That’s a whole other story, very telling of this culture. Haitians do not think about the future, just one minute to the next. But this gas restriction is some kind of manipulation by the government. I have no doubt about that.

We got to the party at about 3. One of the great untapped resources on this planet are Haitian children. They are so bright, resourceful and animated (when they have food in their stomachs). They are beautiful, loving and always ready with a big smile despite their dismal surroundings and difficult lives. And boy, do they love to have their picture taken. They love the technology; I snap a photo and they can see it right away. They’re amazed. For that matter; so am I! The children here will have to be moved. They are jammed into a very small space and the conditions are horrific. My teammates will work on it after I leave and it will get done. It will simply take time.

We went back ‘home’ feeling a little disappointed about not accomplishing much but we were resigned to hanging out and regrouping. And I’m not gonna lie, I was worried about having enough gas in the truck to get me to the airport. No one else seemed worried but then again, I’m a neurotic New Yorker and Jewish, no less.

But as I mentioned in my initial post for the day,” hanging out” was not in the cards. We got a call from General Hospital asking us to transport 2 critically injured patients. We race out, tank on E (anyone who knows me knows that never phased me), arrive at General and it starts pouring. The stench there has gotten worse. It hits you like a ton of bricks as you drive in. We pull in front of the ER tent, run in and are struck by the sight of 4 people working hard at resuscitating an infant. I soon found out it was a 5 month old girl, dying from complications of Malaria. The child looked like a newborn – so small. She was gone before we got there but it's hard to stop trying, especially when the mom is standing right there, hands clasped in prayer. It was another one of the many senseless deaths that happen every minute in Haiti. Who can work like this? "Did anyone clock the time of the baby's death" I heard someone shout. How could it possibly matter.

Our patients were at opposite ends of the tent. The woman, a 28 year old, who was in a car accident, was lying on a gurney with her leg splinted with a broomstick. There was a 4x4 piece of gauze covering a deep laceration and her pelvis was shattered. Easy enough to stabilize her and get her strapped onto one of our transport boards. The young boy was another story. He’s a 17 year old who fell 20 feet. His skull was fractured, blood draining from his ears, he was unresponsive and as soon as we began getting him prepared for transport, he began seizing. Everyone starts calling out “Valium, Versed or anything like it”. We got some Versed, someone yells “sharps out” and within seconds his body relaxes. I whisper “shhh” in his ear. “It’s OK. It’s OK, we’re gonna get you out of here and get you help”. I say it in English but kindness and reassurance are a tone-of-voice.

We tie him to a board and rush him out to our pickup. As soon as we get him secured, he vomits up blood and the entire content of his stomach. “Unstrap him”, I said. "Let’s get him back inside and get him suctioned out”. Good thing we took him out first otherwise the woman would have been lying in the back of the truck longer then she had to - and in the pouring rain. Dear God. His face covered in vomited up blood, he has aspirated and it is looking like he might not make it but Big Paul, understanding dignity, takes 30 seconds and wipes his face clean. We suction him, get him intubated, take a few syringes with Versed drawn up in case he starts to seize or wake up, start bagging him and get both patients secured in the truck. Three of us are in the back of this little pick-up (and one of us is no light weight -sorry Paul) with the 2 patients and the rain is coming down so hard it hurts. The woman’s husband is yelling at me in Creole to keep her covered and telling me she wants to turn on her side. I have my translator explain that her pelvis is broken and she can’t be moved. He does not understand why. We drive toward the gate (the area is gated for security reasons) and the security guard will not let us out. “Where is your paperwork” he asks.” PAPERWORK!!” I scream, “ARE YOU @%#ING KIDDING ME??” In a country that throws every piece of paper on the ground, he's asking for paperwork! Somebody jumps out of the truck to go get the ER doctor to try to explain to this idiot we have 2 critical patients that have to get to an adequate facility. One of them will die soon if we don’t. He may die even if we do but at least he’ll have a fighting chance. Twenty minutes of arguing, Little Paul, my teammate (and most extraordinary driver) has to be restrained because he wants to belt this guy. The ER doc is trying to explain, in a reasonable fashion, the critical nature of this situation but we are dealing with people who only understand action and force. We get that gate open but precious time has been lost.

The ride to Miami Hospital (the one near the airport) was wet and treacherous. It was very hard to see the huge pot holes because of the laking effect from the rain. The young boy starts fighting his airway and we need one of those syringes with the Versed. Try finding the medication port in IV tubing in the dark, in a the pouring rain while your truck is bouncing all over the place and while squeezing an Ambu-Bag - t’s not easy. There were a few times during the trip I felt we might lose this kid. “Shhh…hang in there, almost there”, I would whisper. My nose started itching and I ask Big Paul if he would mind if I wiped it on his shorts. My hands were too dirty to touch my face. He laughed. He’s so good to me. We made it. We raced him in and got him on a gurney. This kid was something else. He pulled his airway out, his blood pressure stabilized and his pulse, which had been weak and very thready, got stronger and more steady. He's a real fighter. I’ll probably never know what happens to him but I know we gave him a chance. The woman will be fine.

I bet you forgot about the gas situation. God was watching over us. We were still driving around on empty. On the way home I saw a guy walking around with 2 gallon jugs in his hands. We stop, ask him if it’s gasoline and he said yes. Should we believe him? Little Paul asks him how much water he put in it. He swears, none. We pay him $20.00 American dollars and pour it into our tank. Thank God, we have enough gas to get us home and enough to get me to the airport.

Really and truly, I would love to stay longer but I know I am causing tremendous worry back home. Although I am not sleeping well, I am causing others to lose sleep. It doesn’t seem fair. I’ll be back.

MISSION TO HAITI: 9 + 10

I just realized I haven't blogged in a few days. That’s what very little sleep will do to you. Yesterday was dedicated to finding a better place to live and we did. I don’t want to talk about it. The bad news, it has a mirror, no running water, spotty electricity and an abundance of mosquitoes. The good news; we don’t get rained on.

The day started with a trip to the U.S. Consulate. We had an 11:45 a.m. appointment to bring the forms we were given at our last visit. It’s no wonder the Haitians are angry and frustrated. It is impossible to get anything done. Endless lines and a level of incompetence that is horrifying insures the smallest task will take all day and then some. Do you remember Ralph: The 17 year old boy whose stepmom left him in Haiti, stealing his Green Card, birth certificate and Passport? You can’t get a Green Card without a Passport and you can’t get a Passport without a birth certificate and there is no solution to this problem built into the system. Ralph is a good kid and he deserves a chance. We made a little bit of progress but by the end of the day, Ralph was sick with worry over the thought of never getting back to the states. And rightfully so; after living in the states for 6 years, attending school, living in a nice house, having some degree of order around him, the prospect of getting stuck in Haiti is frightening, truly frightening. Right now Ralph is living with us. His English and Creole are perfect and he makes a great translator. He’s also been living on the street since the day his stepmom left him here and he is very street savvy which is extremely helpful. He knows all the scams and there are many. Local cell phones only work by purchasing minutes from Digicel, the local cell phone company. Vendors of these minutes sit along the streets like they’re selling hot dogs. But they only accept ‘gouds’, the local money and the quick exchange gives these guys a constant opportunity to rip you off. Ralph knows the gig and is always watching out for us. It’s the same with gas which, by the way, is 7 dollars a gallon.

The earthquake was on January 12. The Haitians have learned how to live around the rubble. They climb over it, cut paths through it and incorporate it into their lives. Clean up and rebuilding is only for the very few Haitians with money and for those buildings owned by foriegners.

We made two food drops yesterday. No need to bore you with every detail. The photos tell the story. You have never seen such excitement and appreciation over rice and beans. We checked out the kids, fixed a few boo boos, left some meds and headed out.

I started the day out tired. I have to admit, I am running out of steam.

MISSION TO HAITI: DAY 8

Ralph, Little Paul, Alan, Jitterbug, me and Big Paul
The day began with disappointment. We had hired a driver with a 4 wheel drive vehicle to take us high up into the mountains where we heard there was a struggling ‘orphanage’. Our driver never showed up. Not a surprise around this place but still, a big disappointment. We had packed up medical supplies, mosquito netting and some food. We would have done what we do; check it out, evaluate the kids, evaluate the set up, make it a little better and start the process for keeping it that way. We’ll get up there but not today.

We faced another problem; we had to move our camp. Although our living conditions are awful, I have grown accustomed to them. I’m not looking forward to the move but it’s a must. We rationalized that our driver standing us up was a blessing in disguise because it would give us an opportunity to find a place to pitch our tents. But God works in mysterious ways and that wasn’t going to happen either.

After packing up our tents and gathering up all our supplies, I looked at one of my teammates and said jokingly but dead serious “if I don’t help someone soon, I don’t know what I’ll do”. It’s the only reason I’m here and I feel I should be doing just that, every minute. As soon as I said that, Jitterbug’s phone rang. Who is Jitterbug? She is a 29 year old nurse, and former journalist (with an awesome swagger) who has been in Haiti since days after the earthquake. She is down here, like me and my teammates, no sponsor, no ties to any group; just decided to come down and work and she hasn’t had a minutes rest since she stepped off the plane. That’s how it is here. You wake up, nothing is actually scheduled, and you don’t stop working until your head hits the ground.

Oh yes, the phone call: A pregnant woman who lives up in the hills, about an hour from PAP, is in active labor, hemorrhaging, and needs transport to a ‘hospital’ for an emergency c-section. We get in our pick-up and start the trek through the horrendous traffic (smog in PAP is palpaple). While on our way, we get another call. There is another woman pregnant with twins, in labor, with placenta previa, also in need of an emergency c-section. We’ll just have to make room in our little Toyota.

We get to the Mission Baptiste, and ask if they have a mattress or something soft we can put on the floor of our pick-up. They give us some old blankets and pillow cases stuffed with rags. We get IV lines started in both of them and lift them on to the back of the truck. We tape their IV bags to the cab and the nurses (me, Jitterbug and the nurse who had called for emergency assistance), get in with them. Off we go down the long, winding and earthquake beaten road to the hospital/M.A.S.H.- like unit set up near the airport. I quickly learn that one of the womem has Tourettes. In addition, it is a Haitian custom for women in labor to sing what sounds like a Native American Indian war cry - woo woo woo, da da da, lalalala - something like that. "No poussé, no poussé" "Don't push, don't push", we tell them trying to stall what would have been disastrous on-road deliveries. Two women in active labor, internal exams, changing positions to prevent delivery, meconium (Google it,), a mucous plug, blood pressures, consoling and a motorcycle accident: all in a day’s work in Haiti.

We arrive at Miami General, the hospital near the airport. Hallelujah! We all made it in one piece (even though we lost our brakes for part of the trip down the hill). The medical team comes to meet us. The head doctor says, “I’m sorry, we can’t take them. We have no OB here”. “Wrong” I said. “You have a general surgeon and he will have to do”. Was she for real? All mommies and babies’ fine.

Guess what? It is now late and we still do not have a place to camp out. I decide we should try to get a room in a hotel and I would like it to have running water and electricity. You would not believe how hard it was to find that but we did….sort of. Long day but it ended with a shower. Fabulous! And what made it even better; the bathroom did not have a mirror:)

See what a general surgeon can do when he has to!!

MISSION TO HAITI: DAY 7

Just when I thought I had seen the absolutely most impoverished, I witness new depths of poverty. Just when I thought I smelled something worse than anything I’ve ever smelled before (besides me right now), I smelled something much worse. And just when I thought I had seen the ultimate destruction, I saw something even more devastating. Today was a day we drove around Port-Au-Prince to see some of the things we had missed. I’ll share them with you.

Such sadness in this baby. This is truly an impossible situation. Giving these people food or money puts their life's in jeopardy. My first feelings of utter helplessness. I gave the baby's mother my scarf. You always have to have a scarf or bandana to cover your nose and mouth.

Ships loaded with coal

Some of these photos were taken in a restricted area that we talked our way in to. There are crevasses 6 feet deep where the earth split open and and coastal loading docks fell into the ocean. Photos can't capture what's going on here but before I get home I'll do my best to get the message across. In the meantime, let's all try not to use plastic bags or plastic bottles. Haiti is so littered with them, you can't see the ground.There is no recycling but people do pick bottles up, refill them, and sell them on the street. Ugh. And yes, there are still bodies under the rubble.

I am going on very little sleep. Please forgive all my typos and basic bad English. Thanks.