A Sunday, February 1, 2009

Here I am sitting inside on a Sunday wearing jeans and a sweatshirt (I’m thinking about putting on the socks soon. I am freezing with the clouds and wind today but I know most of you have no sympathy what-so-ever) eating my lunch of beans, eggs, and onions all scrambled, mmm. I can’t believe it’s already 3 o’clock. I just got home from church and I guess the conversation I had with Rob’s parents turned into a couple hours. Sometimes I look at my life and wonder at the oddity of it all. The guesthouse consists of me, Rob’s parents from The Netherlands, a French couple, Jacques and Isabelle with their one month old Haitian baby, and two Haitian girls. I’m enjoying this moment of rest before I have to go make rounds at the hospital again. My milk and “how are you doing” rounds is usually what evenings consist of.

The hospital is full to the brim. Eight malnutrition kids (but two twin boys going home tomorrow - oh how I will miss their entertainment!) and 19 TB patients. Yeah…you heard me. TB, TB, TB. That is our theme right now. And we are seeing it all: pulmonary, lymphatic, bone, and possibly CNS. It’s pretty crazy. I love it, but there is a lot of stress now with where on earth are we going to find enough medication for 8 months of treatment for every single patient, plus the ones who have already completed two months at the hospital and are on treatment at home. One of our nurses went looking for meds two days last week and only found three tiny boxes - all the same medicine and all not the kind we are lacking. The two hospitals near Port de Paix are having trouble finding meds too. It has the possibility to become a public health nightmare since stopping treatment early could create TB super bugs. Scary. So yeah, pray for a miracle or that Jesus would turn our TB med bin into a self producing treasure chest.

I’ve been on my own here for a little over a week since everyone left. Sometimes fighting with loneliness since there’s really no one on the same page of life or culture, but the work is good. The time at the hospital which usually takes me a good two hours in the morning and an hour at night, consists of a lot of jokes and laughter. That is after I get done scolding them, no I didn’t bring anything else for you besides all the milk and medicines I come with everyday for free! The beautiful thing about Haitian culture is that you can turn everything into a joke even if you are a little irritated. And now I have somehow become known as “Miss China” to a few people because apparently the story is that some guy didn’t know my name and that’s what came out. Whatever…so now I hear more times than not. “oh, Miss China! Ba’m ti gout let!” as I walk through everyday with my milk jugs.