Monday, August 30, 2010

Mwen p'ap janm bliye nou - I will never forget you

I went to the beach for my last day here in Haiti. As I walked in the sand along the water’s edge, I turned around to see my footsteps of where I'd been.

Today's been full of moments like that; reflecting on what I've been a part of these last three and a half months. What a pleasure it has been to work with all the talented and caring practitioners that have rotated through since I've been here as well as working with all those in the U.S. who keep this going smoothly. The staff here is fantastic as well and their skills are perfected daily. The scope of those skills has grown in my short time here as well. I will miss them.

On Friday night we had a goodbye party and we all got to go to a little restaurant in Verrettes, a nearby town. The little restaurant is named #1 and it consists of one room with three tables that were pushed together, a hodgepodge of options for chairs, and dim lighting augmented by some candles we brought. The current rotation, all our Haitian staff, our house staff, and some friends from the hospital all joined in the festivities. There was Kompa music, some dancing, a choice of chicken or goat for dinner, and some touching speeches from people. Many of our Haitian staff reflected on the tragedy of Jan. 12th followed by heartfelt expressions of gratitude at what the Hanger Clinic has meant in their lives as well as their countrymen. How humbling it is to have a part in all of this! I am so thankful for my time here.

Looking back at the footsteps I see the waves gradually lap up on shore washing them away bit by bit. I know with time, my memories of Haiti will not be as prominent in my mind as they are now. But, I will not forget this season of life. I do hope that my impact in the clinic would be absorbed as the Haitian staff moves closer and closer to running the clinic independently. And, what's left in its place is the beauty of a top-notch prosthetics facility in the heart of Haiti. To all who have made this possible by your selfless efforts, contributions, and hard work:

Thank you.

Mwen p'ap janm bliye nou - I will never forget you

Sunday, August 22, 2010

It’s in the little moments that life is lived

For the first time since I’ve been here, I am dreading Monday.

Tomorrow brings the start to my final week here in Haiti at the Hanger Clinic. These three months have enriched my life and I wouldn’t give them up, but the ending of something great in life is always hard. But, it’s the sadness you feel that lets you know that what you are leaving meant something. What’s uplifting about this though is that what we’ve done here will continue on. Jay Tew saw the creation of the clinic and initial training of technicians, etc., I was able to see the honing of the skills and carry on what Jay started, and Vern, the new lead prosthetist, will take over from here. I know he will do a fantastic job and the patients will definitely be well cared for.

Earlier today I said goodbye to my last group at the airport. The current rotation of volunteers we have now will be staying one week longer than me. The group that left today was made up of some wonderful guys from the German prosthetics company Medi, who has donated prosthetic components and shoes to the clinic. We had fun these last two weeks and I let my hair down just a bit too. For example, at the end of one of the days last week we had a typical Haitian downpour. It had been one of those hot, sticky, humid days. When the storm hit, all the patients were gone and work was done so we reverted to our childhood selves and went out and played in the rain. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun. Here’s a picture of us soaking wet and having a ball:


People told me before I came that this experience would change my life and it has, but I’ve discovered that life changes everyday. I am not the same as I was yesterday and neither is anyone else. It’s in the little moments that life is lived. It’s that second when a patient you are walking with finally lets go of your hand and takes her first steps unassisted. It’s the goodbye wave as a patient drives away on the back of a motorcycle towards the rest of his life. It’s a smile from a grateful patient, a giggle from a child, experiences shared with colleagues, and the formations of friendships. This has been another season of life, one that I am grateful for and will look back on fondly. I still have one more week here and it begins with a dreaded Monday.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Passing the torch

Three months ago almost to the day, I was sitting on the same flight that I am now waiting for Vern Hostetler, the soon-to-be new lead prosthetist, to arrive on. I was enthusiastic, excited, and not sure what to expect. In many ways that seems like yesterday, but in other ways it feels like a distant memory. So much has happened since then. I have been blessed to be a part of the provision of hundreds of prostheses here in Haiti for mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children, and friends. Our work here has touched far more people than just those we see in our clinic.

Two weeks from now I will do what I've seen so many of the wonderful practitioners I've gotten to work with do. I will get out of the Hopital Albert Schweitzer (HAS) vehicle, walk to the green airport awning, and fly back to a world so different than the one I've been living in for the past three months. I will no longer say hi to Van Goat in the morning, walk past the chickens and the roosters who have a broken sense of what time it is, past ducks bathing in puddles from the previous night’s storm, or walk past goats and horses. I'll also no longer be able to say "good morning" and "how's it going" in Creole to our amazing staff at the clinic. I also don't foresee having over 40 people at my office each day in the states either!

I've had the pleasure of working with practitioners from all over the U.S., Switzerland and Germany; all coming together to make a difference here.

I have gotten to see so much here too. I’ve seen patients getting to the clinic on the backs of horses or on motorcycles with crutches and prostheses in tow. I’ve seen first steps of children and first steps in years for some adults. I’ve seen smiles on faces and what restored hope looks like in person.

I have been given such a gift in being part of this clinic. Now, it's time to share that gift and pass the torch on to another. These next two weeks will be bittersweet.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

A new kind of "slug bug"

"Blanc! Blanc!"

That is what I frequently hear being called out by children here as we pass, especially in more rural areas. It's basically yelling “white person” which I've discovered encompasses those of Asian descent, Indian descent, Middle Eastern descent, etc. Basically, a non-Haitian. At first this was a bit disconcerting for me to be called out as a white person; however now, it's so common to me that I think it's time we introduce the American game of “slug bug” to the mix. I can just see it now, one kid yells out “blanc” and slugs the other kid who bemoans the fact he didn't see us and call it out first. :)

One of my patients here who is 4-years-old was fascinated with my hair when we were casting her. I think she was more interested in my hair than the measurement and the molding process. Although she no longer plays with my hair, she does seek me out to say good morning and to give me a hello kiss. So cute! Having kids in the clinic adds such joy! I love the times when I walk towards the back to do an adjustment for another patient and walk past the kids sitting at a table enthralled by their coloring books and crayons, or random bouts of laughter that I hear from another part of the clinic, or the sound of one of our little guys who has discovered the hours of fun one of our rolling stools can provide. They are balls of seemingly endless energy! It's also great for them to have other kids with limb loss around to play with as well as getting to see adults with prostheses. It is such a unique setup here in Haiti and this “blanc” is grateful to be a part of it!

Here are some unrelated but no less interesting pictures.

This is one of our technicians walking with a patient after an adjustment:

And this is what we found inside one of our bags we use for Wednesday clinic in Port-au-Prince:

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

The onset of August & some sadness

It is just a change of the date on a calendar but somehow the onset of August has brought with it some sadness. My time here will be over at the end of this month and I feel I just got here. It continues to be a blur of prosthetic legs, first steps, and lives changed - including mine.

I know the person who left in the middle of May is not the same one who's returning in three and a half weeks. I don't think I can put words to the change. I may not know for weeks or years to come. But this experience has enriched my life and allowed me to be a part of something amazing! For that I will always be grateful.

In an effort to be positive, I've been trying to think of things I'm looking forward to upon returning. Although I've been able to send letters out with practitioners, I welcome getting back to the regular correspondence with my grandma. Family, friends, a full weekend without work, running water, and twenty minutes without sweating - uh “glistening”, are things I'll enjoy. I already have a plan to go out for some yummy Mexican food with a dear friend upon my return and I must admit I'm really excited to see Toy Story 3 (I'm a bit of a Pixar junkie).

However, I know the minute the van pulls away from Deschapelles, and the distance between me and the clinic grows, the ache in my heart to be back will escalate. But, that is three weeks from now and many more prostheses away.

So, I will be grateful for the time I have been given and let each new day be another day to touch lives and just another change in the number on a calendar.

Here's a photo of the water tower for Deschapelles on yet another of the beautiful days that I have come to love here: