We finally had a charter flight…as well as a scheduled landing slot in Port au Prince! We headed to the airport …our team of five, an anesthesiologist, a pastor, and an engineer. And our luggage… 600 pounds of supplies that we had flown in with, as well as medical supplies from the hospital in the DR.
There was nervous anticipation as we landed in Port au Prince as we all braced for the unknown before us. We had tried so hard to prepare ourselves…but were we ready? Later that week, I wrote about my initial thoughts and emotions when we landed…
We landed in Port au Prince, taxied close to the door, and jumped out to unload our luggage. As we made our way across the tarmac to the open door, things looked so much different. There were planes parked everywhere…along the edge of the tarmac, in the grass, and close to the airport building. An area in the shade of the building was roped off, and filled with chairs for people waiting to get out of the country. Military personal were dispersed among the crowds of people. Although things seemed so different as we crossed the tarmac, if felt right…it felt like Haiti. We stepped inside, and my feelings were confirmed. A women sitting at a classroom desk took our passports and stamped them, not questions, no paperwork, just a stamp, and we’re in. We walk through an almost empty airport, and out through a door, that used to be the employee only entry. We stepped outside the door, and the reality of the change that had happened in Haiti hit me. The crowds of people who are typically surrounding the airport exit are all but gone today. The airport workers who are usually plentiful, at least one for every piece of luggage, have been reduced to a handful of men willing to help, hoping you’ll slip them a tip.
We were met by a member of the CURE team who had been in Haiti for several weeks, loaded all of our luggage into a couple vehicles, and headed across the city to the hospital.
As we pulled away from the airport, our driver told us we would be going down a street that had a lot of buildings that had fallen. As we drove past collapsed buildings, and piles of rubble, our driver told us that his mother had been killed, and his sister had broken her arm. I could see the pain is his eyes as he shared his story, and I wondered how he could be back to work. It was a harsh reality that hit me; he, like so many others, had no choice. He had to move on, despite the pain and loss. We continued to travel away from the airport and towards the hospital, and with every passing moment I fought back the tears. We had been warned it was bad, but to be driving through the streets brought it to a new level for me.
We arrived at the Haitian Community Hospital, and I knew I was supposed to be there. There was tragedy, pain, and sickness all around…and everything within me wanted to reach out and offer healing and relief. We headed towards the main doors of the hospital and I braced myself for what would meet me inside- the sights, the smells, the sounds.
We had a brief tour of the hospital, and within 15 minutes of our arrival, Jen and I were being given a room assignment. There were two American nurses, on a floor with about 50 patients. The room we were assigned to had 10 patients; slightly overwhelming, but we were up for the challenge. We made our way around the room, and gathered what information we could- the charts were a mixture of English, Creole, and French. Oral medications weren’t being charted, as family members were administering them. We went back to find the nurse that had been named “charge nurse” to ask her for some direction, and tell her which patients had been told they were ready for discharge. By the time we got to the desk, the news had gotten out that I could translate, and my assignment was being changed… the orthopedic surgeons were doing rounds, and needed a translator!
We helped deliver several babies that afternoon. The maternity ward consisted of two delivery tables, and a bed in the hallway. There was one American doctor doing deliveries, as well as trying to keep up with post partum care. It was a beautiful to witness the birth of the precious innocent babies. And yet with each delivery, I would ask myself what the future would hold for that child. I would find myself wondering what that child’s life would look like, starting life in the midst of so much tragedy.
The hours slipped away as we worked. We had come with a willingness to do whatever was needed…and welcomed every challenge set before us. We helped with transports to the x-ray department, cleaned beds after patients were discharged, sorted through piles of donations to find boxes of gloves, and took water to thirsty patients. I translated for several doctors, helped change bandages, gave medications, and hung IVs.
Seven hours later my team finally pulled me away. Everything in me wanted to stay…there was still so much that need to be done. But they insisted that it was time to leave the hospital, and go back to the house we were staying. I followed them out, and climbed in the waiting vehicle.
It was dark our, the vehicle was packed, people were talking… in that moment, my mind started to comprehend what I had just experienced. I realized that since we had arrived, I had not taken time to sit, to eat, to drink. The faces of the patients were running through my mind. I could hear each of them telling me their story. I could again see the looks of fear, pain, and desperation in their eyes. A tear slipped down my cheek… and I cried out to God for strength. And in that quiet moment, He answered! A soothing calm flooded over me…and I knew that He would be with me, giving me the strength to continue on, and be the confident smile that brought hope to each patient.
