We either never had, or ran low, on so many basic items- no NG tubes for
inserting through the nose and into the stomach to get fluids into a patient, no IV extension tubing, few IV poles,
not enough cots and cholera beds, and when gowns to cover patients ran low they were replaced with bits and pieces
of clothing from our own suitcases and then with plastic garbage bags. When we ran out of patient cleaning
materials, a bucket of bleach water and a mop were used to clean patients. Patients who were confused or demented
and were pulling out their IV’s were often primitively restrained by the Haitian staff. We learned to work with
extra large gloves and a limited choice of IV needle sizes. We learned to place IO IVs using a simple 16 gauge
needle, and place external jugular IV’s when we could not find a peripheral vein. We turned our headlamps off when
not performing critical tasks so we could conserve batteries. When certain supplies ran low we made difficult
decisions on how they would be allocated. And when a patient died and we had no body bags to place them in- our
transporters simply wrapped them in whatever they could find and carried them over to a space near the fire pit to
hopefully be claimed in the morning. Every night at some point the generators would stop and we would be immersed
in total darkness lit only by the headlamps of our team. After one such blackout we went into the men’s tent only
to find a patient missing- no one seemed to know where he had gone- after an exhaustive search his lifeless body
was found by the fire pit. We were never able to get a clear story regarding who declared him dead or moved him.
And when our US physician left and we were without a doctor we remembered his words- “Do what you can, you are all
they have.”
Over the course of five days, a thousand patients, tears, laughter, life and death- we became a
close team, forged by experiences and enduring conditions we could not have imagined upon our arrival in Haiti. We
became friends, colleagues, teachers, mentors, and “shoulders to lean on”. We found strength in each other during
even the darkest moments. One of our team members shared a great way to deal with the darkness advising each of us
to find “a face to remember”- the face of one patient for who you know you made a difference. For me it was a young
child named “Evans” who when I first carried him from triage to the children’s tent was unresponsive, severely
dehydrated, and had only a femoral pulse. Three of us worked on Evans for over three hours to find IV access,
finally succeeding in placing two IO needles in his legs so we could get the vital fluids his body so desperately
needed running. For the rest of the night Evans showed little improvement. Early in the morning we again attempted
to find a peripheral vein for an IV and as we attempted to stick the IV in his arm he suddenly tried to bite our
interpreter who was holding him down. Three hours later Evans was sitting up and as I left that morning gave me a
fist bump and the most beautiful smile!
Even now as time and miles separate us and our memories begin to blur and our stories begin to
fade- we will remember this:
Together we
saved lives, we made a difference…
Aashika,
Amanda, Deborah, Jane, Mandy, and Dr Phouc Le- Thank you for being there and for what you
do!
To our friends at J/P HRO- you brought us together…
To the Haitian staff at Hopital Ste. Therese- you are an amazing, dedicated group of
people!
And to our family and friends- Thank you for your love, compassion, faith, and support which
allows us to do what we do.
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