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.