Monday November 17, 2008

What an awful day. We usually dread every Monday because it starts off early and sweaty as we run to the market and haul all our groceries before we start rounds in the morning. Also with market day in PC, that means the clinic is always busy. Today though... This 9 year old girl comes to us so sick. Skin boutons everywhere, diarrhea, pneumonia, can't eat or drink because of so much pain. I did the HIV test for her and felt my stomach drop when I saw the positive result. A little rage thrown in there too. Thinking, seriously, this is so wrong. Her mother had already died who most likely gave it to her at the beginning of her life. We decided to keep her with us until she can go to the hospital in LaPointe where they can do tests and give medications outpatient for free. But it is awful to see how she is suffering.

Then Annelies and I spent most of the day with two other babies; one dehydration, vomiting, diarrhea and the other with a very high fever. It was almost getting to the time to wrap up the day when we heard that the woman who was in labor all day by the clinic had meconium in her water so we had to wait it out; wait for the baby to come (which is my favorite thing to do in the whole world). The baby finally came around 6 o'clock after some pitocin and IV fluid, but it wasn't breathing and meconium everywhere (baby's first poop for all you non medicals). We did CPR for some time while Anne Marie suctioned out her lungs, everyone huddled into the little side room of the clinic, the three of us with our headlamps and a pile of women behind us. The baby started to come to life slowly; it was a miracle, but I don't know how much damage was done during that time - hopefully not another Ismael.

By that time it was late and Annelies and I decided to just do rounds at the hospital before going home. We were hungry and Annelies had a raging headache. We would do it fast right? But then I saw our newest little malnutrition baby, so so dry. Apparently diarrhea all day, but no one thought to come and get us from the clinic all day. I tried to give him some oral rehydration serum, but it was all just coming out his mouth. I was so frustrated and tired I had to stop and walk away. I sat outside for a bit while and cried a few drops (Bendji at my side of course). Too overwhelmed, too frustrated to do anything else. We ended up bringing him back to the clinic and I tubed him while Annelies ran to get Anne Marie. I was thinking, ok IV and tube - this is going to be all night. They finally came and Anne Marie said no; she felt like we needed to send them home; he is too bad, too sick and in reality we can't handle watching another baby die after we already lost three over the weekend. I'm sorry to say I was so relieved; so relieved Anne Marie actually drew the line and said we can't do it.

Bendji

Lindsey, I found my 12 year old boy. It's always the 12 year old boys that get me. Bendji has been a patient at the hospital for about 3 or 4 weeks now. He's already 12 years old, but is still a picture of malnutrition. Not so skinny, but swollen face and red hair. I'm learning that Haiti is one of the only countries that kids are at risk of malnutrition until the age of 10; normally, in other countries it is 5 year of age. Bendji is an orphan; at least his mother died and his father is somewhere else. He is being raised by his godmother, who has a lot of other children as well. But since he's been staying at the hospital his godmother has taken off; she has not stayed with him more than a few days. An aunt of Bendji's has come to stay for a few days, but other than that he's been alone. It's customary here that the family provides all the food, washing, chores, etc. for the patients so it's odd and a little disturbing that no one is here with him.

This boy however is not phased. He is living it up at the hospital. He seems to be my new best friend and after only a few days at the hospital I'm pretty sure he knows everyone's name (not an easy task) and everyone knows him. And he is smart and probably the most curious Haitian I have ever seen! oh. He decided he was going to be my doctor and treat my ringworm with his own home remedy. Every morning he would whip out a sack from his pocket with a lime and salt and apply it on my arm. And alas, the ringworm is almost healed (don't tell him I used my antifungal cream too). The other day I walk into the hospital and he has somehow contrapted a car made out of styrafoam and sticks. This was quite shocking because I don't think I've seen a Haitian child build something; usually it's just breaking things. After I saw the car he had made, he said, now I'm a Boss too! Oh I could take him home.

I don't know why he came to us or why a boy with a spirit like his is stuck in an environment has been so poor. No parents and most likely the last among all the other kids he lives with. But I don't see much of the effects. He always finds us at the hospital and takes your hand and reminds you he is a good doctor or explains just exactly how to do a certain thing; all with a the biggest smile on his face. I want to say he's coming alive, but I think he's always been alive. I pray the Lord does something incredible with his life.

The Rat

We have a battle on our hands. How to kill the rat who has taken over the clinic. Everyday it seems we find something he has eaten or chewed through. It's getting pretty ridiculous. This rat definitely has no anemia since it's eaten so much of our iron pills. The other day we opened a few of our crates to find half our IV fluid bottles chewed through; he apparently likes D5 as opposed to NS. Oh, AnneMarie was beyond mad. The rat has turned her into a person capable of actually killing an animal (which is unheard of if you know her). But the kicker was last week, when AnneMarie found a nest of newborn baby rats in the box of the ultrasound machine. Oh yes, you heard me.... I'm sorry to say they are no longer with us and the hunt for mama rat is still burning in all of our hearts. And even more so after the other incident last week. Since we ran out of alcohol for surgeries, Anne Marie has been using kleren (the local rum here) for disinfecting. Yes you guessed it. Mama rat must have been singing a happy drunken song after she bit through the jug and drank half of it. We were hoping she would die of alcohol poisioning, but alas we've heard her squeeks since then. There has been a lot of ideas flying around about how we can actually execute the kill, including cement mix and corn meal, but hopefully the good old fashion rat poison will work.

Saturday November 15, 2008

I was roasting a bit after this day; perhaps a little steam coming out my ears.
Today, Saturday, I can't even regroup, take a break, read a book because I'm sitting here waiting for this baby to die here on the kitchen floor with me. Saturday night, party it up. This baby was fine today. Dehydrated but getting better, then at 4 (yes we were still at the clinic with a delivery) he started seizing. After thirty minutes and no change. We have no clue what happened. His NG tube had just come out so Annelies and I took it out and gave him some tylenol since he had been crying all day. As soon as the mom saw what was happening, she took off...like just ran away. And now I'm spending my Saturday night waiting for him to die, watching him continue to seize and stare into eyes that aren't there anymore. I'm sorry but I hate this place today. Wondering if I'm totally selfish or if maybe we did something wrong with him or why he didn't do this the day he came into the clinic with a fever of 105 F or is there really something evil going on here. I just want his family to come and get him. This whole place is so ridiculous.

The family did end up coming to get him around 9pm. Dustin, Annelies, and I needed something after this day. And I'm sorry to say that we stuffed ourselves with coke, popcorn, and a little Dutch cake.

Four Months

November 8, 2008
It's my 4 month mark and just wanted to celebrate by making a little list. It's called:
what Ryna hasn't done or experienced in 4 months:
-drive a car
-take a warm shower
-drink a latte (so sad)
-walk on carpet
-have goosebumps
-watch TV
-eat cold cereal (oh I'm crying now)
-been without any mosquito bites
-wear socks (ok maybe once)
-look in a mirror (ha! just kidding)

Wednesday November 5, 2008

Today I feel like I hit a turning point. It feels like we've had weeks and weeks of just being frustrated. Frustrated with the people and difficulties here and forgetting a little compassion sometimes. It's been hard with Frisner here for the past couple weeks. He cries constantly if you aren't holding him, which just makes all of us mad, and work is hard with trying to carry him in the baby backpack all day. Then we go to the hospital an get even more frustrated with the lack of sanitation (that's what happens when you have 5 babies in one room, including family and all the other kids in tow...and not to mention no diapers), and frustrated with lack of knowledge of how to take care of your children. But seriously, nothing's changed, we just need a little more compassion.

So yesterday we got word that Frisner could go to House of Hope since the adoptive parents of the twin we took there a month ago said yes to adopting another Haitian baby. So today we went! We were lucky to hitch a ride with Rob, since he was going into town anyway. And wow, riding inside a car instead of tap tap was pretty luxurious. The strangest thing happened though when we were almost at the door of House of Hope. Annelies and I were feeling really really sad to give up our little friend. Ah! He really is precious and we somehow forget how he makes us want to pull our hair out when he sits with us and cries (like raging) for hours. Poor Jenny is all I can say. I hope he grows out of that soon. But I know he will be well there.

The ride back was freeing. Not only the feeling of being baby-free, but Dustin, Annelies, and I rode on the roof of Rob's truck since there were too many people and things being transported back. When we got on the roof, I said, oh man, my dad would kill me if he saw me now. But seriously besides having to dodge the tree branches, it was the nicest view in the whole house. The countryside is so beautiful now. And we didn't fall off (that one's for you dad).

And going to the hospital tonight, I felt renewed desire to be there with the patients. There's nothing like leaving to make you miss home a little more.

Frisner

Our newest guest in our house. We've had Frisner for about a week and a half now. His mom died two weeks ago. He is 7 months, but he has to be more since he is starting to babble quite a bit (he is killing us with his little voice and we somehow forget how frustrated we get when he is crying his head off for hours). We want him to be adopted to be a brother to Isaac, the twin we took to House of Hope, but the adoptive parents are still deciding. Frisner's dad didn't even have to think twice about saying yes to him being adopted out...sad. We took him into our house because he was in the care of his 16 year old cousin who left him sitting on the bed all by himself all day. He vomited most of what we fed him the first night. After a few days and time with Miss Will (the dutch nurse who was staying here) he is doing great. He's sitting on my lap right now, strapped in the baby backpack (thanks Sara!), trying to pick my nose..thanks Frisner.

We are not sure what we are going to do with him in the mean time. We all have a sense of urgency that he shouldn't go back to his home, but don't have a clear answer yet of what to do.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

This morning Annelies and I wanted to stay at the hospital all day and skip clinic. We walked in this morning and heard the strangest sound: a guitar!! And for some reason my heart felt so happy just at the sound. Apparently we have a famous artist in our midst...the dad of one of our malnourished boys is apparently a famous blind singer. Ha! Not something you see everyday in Haiti. And this morning the guitar was singing and so was everyone else! The atmosphere was completely changed. Hymns coming out of the hospital and people lined up in the hall at night to be part of what's going on. It feels so light and good compared to whatever else is going on in all of Haiti.

Monday, October 27, 2008

I had to take an angry timeout yesterday; listen to some angry music while I cracked some beans for dinner. Annelies, Dustin, and I had returned from delivering an 8 month old baby home who had died at our house. I was just angry with this whole place. Everything is so wrong sometimes. Here are two parents, HIV positive, know it, refuse to take medication for free, and go on to have two more babies. Are they careless? Or is the understanding and intellect not there?

After we told the parents their baby had died, they both nodded like they knew it was coming and then the mom stood and round around doing her Haitian wailing (the norm when someone has died). The sad thing is that it's all a show. I thought the dad could be genuinely sad but we soon found out he was more sad about the cost of the funeral, also a source of my anger. One, that this was the dad's first response and two, this is what is helping to kill Haiti. The cost of a funeral (which seems to be socially mandatory) could feed this already poor family for I don't know how many days. They sit there with tears in their eyes, asking for money, but how can we support such a thing, when we need to use the money to keep people alive? And the honesty of it all is so hard to tell; the story is always changing. We were a little burnt out that day after sending two people home from the hospital for uh...bad behavior. And in the midst of all this tet chaje with money, there was a little boy who just needed some relief and comfort before he died.