A look inside "Kay" Hanger

"Kay" Hanger is the house where practitioners working at the Hanger Clinic in Deschapelles stay during their rotation. Here's a behind-the-scenes look at the house:

Little by little, the bird makes its nest

For the record, Saturday night was #5.

Today was the start of another week and the beginning of my second week of Creole lessons. After work, I walk down the rock-strewn road and along a path to the school. It's in a concrete building with screened-in sides. I sit at a cute little biwo (desk), in the plastic chez (chair) and learn all I can from the animated instructor at the chalkboard. Now, I can say things like, "If your leg hurts on the bottom or here (and I point), put on more socks. If the prosthetic leg feels tight, remove a sock". Thankfully, we have interpreters in the clinic and we don't have to rely on my Creole skills but I still use what little I know quite a bit!

Even with some shared language, there are times when we have to work together to communicate what's needed. A while ago I was looking for a specific tool in the lab. I've always called it a deburring tool. It's used to round a rough edge on a piece of plastic especially after it has been cut. The techs and I went back and forth as I attempted to describe how it looked, what it did, etc. I even attempted to draw a picture. Finally, one of them said, "Oh, se General!" They had named it the General. Funny name, I thought, until they brought it to me and showed me that it was labeled General-which must be the brand name. Similarly, razor blades are called Gillett here.

Probably my favorite Creole phrase I've learned is a Haitian proverb: piti piti zwazo fe nich. It translates: little by little, the bird makes its nest. Basically, it takes one step at a time to accomplish anything. I'm frequently reminded of this when patients get their prostheses and start their therapy. Little by little they stand, take some steps and, after a lot of work, usually most of them end up walking without crutches by the time they leave.

Later this week a radiant patient who has been courageously taking those steps will be discharging to start her new life with prostheses. She lost both her legs above-the-knee as a result of injuries she sustained in the earthquake. One of Jay's last days here, she walked about a half mile up hill from L'Escale, the community where many of our patients stay, and finished by walking up the ramp at the clinic. Here's a video of that:

Little by little she worked on her goal, her “nest”. What an honor it is to see her progress so well and to have had a small part in her success.

Mondays here in Haiti are always someone's beginning. That makes it exciting to get up Monday mornings and see what the week has in store for us all.

Momentous milestones & pink polka dot rain boots

For those of you who are following the blog: tonight was #4. If you don't know what that means, well, you'll have to do some reading :) My first solo week as lead practitioner went quite well and included such momentous milestones as sending my first text message in Creole, having an important business conversation as a goat ate nearby, and my first experience adjusting a socket so someone could adequately squat as low as some Haitians are able to when performing daily tasks here.

The week ended today with a wonderful display of teamwork for the good of a patient. Now, normally, I'll admit, I wouldn't be the happiest camper if I was still at the office at 10pm working on a Friday night. But, tonight there was nowhere else I would rather be. Five of us chipped in to get the absolute best possible result for a patient whose life will be greatly impacted. Smiles and jokes abounded, Haitian music played on the radio in the lab, and we all worked on portions of the project together.

I have always been proud of my profession, but tonight I was part of a team that changed a man's world. We're so fortunate to get to do what we do.

Another neat event this week for me personally was the arrival of a care package from home. A woman who works at HAS had to travel back to the U.S. for a funeral and offered to bring something back for anyone who needed it, so my family was able to ship her the care package and she brought it back to Haiti. Such a treat! The care package included some cute pink polka dot rain boots (which already came in handy now that we're at the start of rainy season), other miscellaneous goodies, but three letters/cards were the true treasures. One from each of my parents and one from my grandma! On the last rotation a practitioner from Raleigh mailed letters to my grandma for me and I got one from her this week in the care package. Through the kindness of others and this blog I still get to correspond with her. It's definitely one of the myriad of things I am grateful for right now.

Day 1 as "Gwo Boss" aka "Big Boss"

I made it through the first day as 'gwo boss' which translates big boss. We've got a great group of talented practitioners who have already started learning Creole from the techs and are jumping in teaching them too.

Today we saw patients that came up from Port-au-Prince as well as some patients who live nearby. There were quite a few patients leaving L'Escale and others arriving to take their place. L'Escale is a small housing complex on the HAS grounds that provides temporary housing for our patients as they go through the rehab process. Port-au-Prince is a two-and-a-half hour ride away so it's wonderful for our patients to have a place to stay.

We had a heavy rainstorm this afternoon and now the air is cooler. It's been a very nice, relaxing evening. Oh, and tonight was spaghetti with hot dogs yet again. I'm going to keep a running tally so if you see a random number on future posts that will be the hot dog spaghetti meal count. It's currently at 3.

Tomorrow I get to get up and provide more prosthetic care in Haiti. How neat is that!

An exciting adventure with a grand purpose

On the way to Cange today I sat on the passenger side with the window open. There is a section with a paved road and as we drove along I felt a pang of remembrance of my childhood.

I am blessed to have a wonderful father who was a teacher from the time I was in late elementary school on. So, that allowed for two solid summers of piling into our old, big, black suburban with a tent and supplies in the back, headed off to see America. I got to see many of our nation’s national parks, state parks and a large portion of Canada as well. We camped almost every night with an occasional motel stay to do laundry and freshen up. One time I got to go swimming at a hotel and then we went up into the Grand Tetons and it snowed! So, we have a photo somewhere of me still in a swimsuit and jeans with snow around me.

We did a ton of driving on these trips. Many hours spent looking out the passenger side with the window rolled down and wind on my face.

Now, the scenery is different, the people I'm with are different, and I am different. But I am still on an exciting adventure – this time with a grander purpose.

A lot of things are on my plate now that Jay's leaving. But, for a small section of time today, I had the opportunity to just look out the window, let the wind kiss my face, and savor this time I have here in Haiti.

A send-off for Jay Tew

Today was bittersweet as it was Jay's last day at the Hanger clinic. It was full of goodbyes, warm embraces, the occasional shared remembrances and final photos. Here's one I took of him with the Haitian staff:


I know Jay is torn -- he is really looking forward to being back with his family but he has also grown so close to his surrogate family here.

Tonight there was a get together in Jay's honor and for a therapist leaving at the same time. From the large attendance you could tell the impact Jay has had here. There were even a couple of patients there which I know was special for Jay.

Jay left some big shoes to fill and no one can be him. He has substantially contributed to the creation of a top-notch prosthetics facility here in Deschapelles and I plan on seeing to it that we continue to excel in providing prosthetic care to the wonderful people of Haiti.

Needless to say; Jay will be missed here. We'll be in touch though.

He may be leaving Haiti for now, but Haiti will never leave him.

Another view of Haiti

This morning the whole team got up before the rooster to hike to the top of nearby hills to see the sunrise in its pink and orange brilliance over mountains on the other side of our valley.

I left to head back a bit early so I could make it back in time for the morning time slot that our house has running water. I got a bit off the trail on some rocky, sparsely vegetated terrain. I was a bit flustered trying to get back to the path when I saw a beautiful pink flower growing from a crack in the rocks; such beauty in the midst of a seemingly harsh hillside environment.

The patients I get the pleasure of working with each day here are like that flower. The beauty of their smiles just radiate! Yet, so many have suffered so much. My heart breaks to hear how one of our patients was the only one in her family to be pulled from the rubble alive or how another was the only major injury in her family (losing both legs above-the-knees) only to be abandoned by her husband and left with her four children to care for with no home or means of support. Yet, in the midst of such suffering there is the beaming smile of pride when she returned after making a lap around the block here-and it was a feat worthy of celebration! Rocky terrain, sweltering heat, humidity, an upward grade heading away from the clinic, a downward grade coming back and all on two above-knee prostheses, crutches for balance, and pure determination. Amazing!!! And a triumphant smile. To compare that smile to a flower is like comparing an expedition to the top of Mt. Everest with our little morning hike. It pales in comparison.