My first "jungle" adventure

Words cannot ever sufficiently describe the life and work here in Haiti. There are no expressions strong enough to describe what the emotions and realizations I am having here…. But there are stories… and here is another one…

This morning a mother and her three small children were waiting to be seen at the gate. The kids were covered in pus filled sores, and my thoughts were that itching + filthy living conditions = infected sores EVERYWHERE. All the children were covered in them, which made me think maybe it was originally chicken pox that turned disastrous. The concern of the mother for her children was incredible so I brought her and her children back to get medicine for them. At her home, she said she did not even have soap. Soap. One of the most simple basic living needs and they didn’t even have a bit of it. I showed her how to use soap and medicine and gave her what she would need for the next few weeks of healing.

But then………. she proceeded to tell me that she had another son at home who was so sick for two weeks that he couldn’t even get up or walk. She explained she would have brought him in to see me today but he could not make the journey to our compound. It made me wonder just how far she walked to get there this morning. But more so, it struck my heart as something just “terribly wrong”. Her son experienced diarrhea for two weeks and was so sick to the point that he couldn’t even walk. At 12 years old, even a boy who was sick should probably still be able to get up. But fevers and diarrhea had this boy bed stricken for two weeks. I was not sure exactly how it would work, but I knew that we had to go to his home to evaluate his condition and take him IV fluids.

I was so thankful when Nick suggested taking two “motos” to take the family and myself to where they lived. Up until this day, I have not really been outside the gate much at all, let alone go to any neighboring villages! But today was the day, and I packed up my medical supplies in a bag and jumped on the back of a moto to go on my first village adventure. The whole ride there, my mind could not even begin to fathom how this family (and every other family that has long a long commute to COTP) made the trek on foot. They do walk in the extreme heat on sharp rocks- sometimes barefoot.  Mothers carry babies in their arms for miles and miles and children tag along the long journey. All just to seek the simple and basic medical care we can help provide. Honestly it is humbling to think how much they go through to come see us. It made me re-evaluate how I treat the families that come through the gate… Sometimes I am too rushed and busy to give them the proper attention that they deserve. After seeing exactly what they go through to get to COTP, I feel like giving each one of them every ounce of attention I can muster up.

Once we arrived where the mother directed us to stop, we followed a dirt path back to her home. There he was: lying sunken-eyed with dehydration on a pile of clothes on the ground outside the home. He felt like his fever was still exhausting his body. The boy was very weak, but the mother wanted him to sit up in a chair so I could evaluate him—Haitians want their children to behave excellently and do whatever makes it easiest for us. I didn’t stop her as she direct him to the chair. Then I realized just HOW dehydrated he was… his lips were cracked, his eyes sunken in, and his skin extremely dry. He could barely respond to questions and desperately needed fluid. I asked the mom if she had water, food, anything… but she did not. By this time, a large “crowd” of children and adults had gathered around us, peering over shoulders to watch the American fumble through my bag figuring out what I was going to do. Wilson, the amazing Haitian who works at COTP who drove the motorcycle here for me, went to buy water while I got out the supplies for an IV. Normally I don’t shake like I did today when I started that IV, but the large group of expectant people made me feel quite nervous honestly. My heart was pounding because these people were watching me extremely closely, trusting me to help this boy. Thankfully, by God’s grace, the IV was started without any problems and we mixed up Pedialyte for the boy to start drinking too. He had a long way to go until he was hydrated again. Because he hadn’t eaten for days either, we gave him crackers. Force feeding is… well fun, let’s call it!  

This whole time I kept thinking and praying about what happened today. I couldn’t believe just a month ago I was sitting on my couch still suffering from bad swelling in my knee back in the US, and today… today I was kneeling on the ground starting an IV on a severely ill boy laying essentially in dirt, who lived in poverty beyond what I could comprehend! Not only was I out in the middle of a bunch of huts made of scrap metal, I had gotten here on a MOTO with my nursing bag slung over my shoulder! When I took community health, I remember thinking that this type of situation would be the ultimate nursing! And yes, now I know… IT WAS!

Because the liter of fluids was probably going to take a few hours to infuse, we decided to go back to COTP to work until noon. I was so thankful that we actually did follow our gut to come help this boy. Who knows what would have happened with him! He didn’t have any food, or water… and he was burning through the last of his health with the fever.

A few hours later, Rene (another RN), her husband, and I jumped on a moto to go see if the fluids were done infusing. Again I was absolutely astonished how far this woman had walked with her tiny children! I walked up and saw him sitting there- brighter-eyed and responding to questions while his IV was still infusing. While he looked worlds better, his pulse still felt faint. We decided to let the fluids infuse a little bit more so the woman was gracious enough to bring us chairs to sit on. None of them (and by them, I mean the huge group that came again to see us) had chairs to sit on, but the women sacrificed the few chairs she could find for US. It never ceases to amaze me how thoughtful they are that way. We don’t need anything and they have nothing, but they still share what they can every chance they get. Then she offered to show us her “home”. This was something I had been waiting to experience for quite some time… I FINALLY got to see how the Haitians actually lived. We walked inside humble hut and she showed us where they slept. On dirt. And where they cooked. On dirt. Where they played. On dirt. There were no beds, no bathroom, no kitchen, no toys, no blankets, no sheets, no clothes. Nothing. There were only simple dirt walls and dried leaves for the roof. But she proudly showed us where she raised her family, and we loved every second of it! Then a teenage girl came rushing in with a card and letter in English that a family had sent her, asking if we could translate it for her. I couldn’t translate every word, but Rene and I managed to tell her the jist of what was said. A family in the US had composed incredible letters of care and concern for this girl who they never met. Her face lit us as she heard the words written just for her, and she proudly showed us the photo that they sent to her of their family. By the way she pointed out who was who, it was like they were her best friends!

By this time, we knew we needed to get back to COTP so we assessed the boy again to see if we could discontinue his IV. Finally his pulse was strong again and he was able to get up and move around. My heart was filled to the brim with joy!!!! The way the mother said “Merci” time after time.. the look in her eyes of pure gratefulness stopped me in my tracks a bit. The look in her eye portrayed this woman’s sense of importance when someone would come all the way to her home to help her. She was not brushed off or told to go away. I am so proud and THANKFUL to work at a place that allows justice to be served like this. Just as we were waving goodbye, Conner came up with the brilliant idea to pray out loud with this group of people and for the boy. We stood in a circle and Rene praised God in Creole. It is a powerful moment to be standing in the middle of a village like this and praying in their language to a God they know helps them.

We returned with overflowing hearts and joy. There were more sick babies to be seen at the gate, but thankfully we were able to help the ones who needed it. I love that about COTP!!! We are incredibly blessed to have the resources and I never want to take that for granted. If we have the supplies to start an IV on a severely dehydrated boy and the motrin to give him for his fever, then I’d be so sad to ever turn him away. So this is the story of my first “jungle” adventure (we’ll just call it that, even though it is not really a jungle here..). At 22 years old, I got to pack up medical supplies, jump on the back of a moto, fly down rocky roads, start an IV outside of a dirt hurt surrounded by people, and watch a life be touched by the love of God. Needless to say, this is the adventure of a lifetime……