Day 4

Well, here I am again. Bonsoir from Haiti. We are still well and happy and getting a bit more tired and bit more sore in the legs and backs. Cement floor tend to wear on you after a number of hours/days. Today had many aspects that already felt like business as usual. 3 hysterectomies, 3 hernias, 2 hydrocele repairs. Same view in the morning - a line of people waiting to see if they will get in to see the "blancs."

The baby from yesterday died during the night. He was so sick, and I knew dying was very possible, but that doesn't mean you don't hope for the best. I hoped we had swooped in and righted his ship, but to no avail. His mother is already dead from cholera, dad lives in the Dominican Republic. The lady here with him was dad's aunt. She leaves with his body, on her own to deal with the burial.

One thing that is throwing me off quite a bit is the advanced state people have progressed to before they get here. Of course I knew that was going to be the case, but by definition that means these are cases unlike anything I have ever seen in the states. The man with one testicle three times it's normal size and firm? Cancer? Don't know. Come back and see the urologist next week (and walk for a few hours again?). The man with the mass protruding from his cheek that was reaching the size of a grapefruit? Cancer? Benign? How do I know? No one in the states would let a mass GET this big. Go to Cap Haitian because you will need a facial surgeon. The woman with the mass in her right breast the size of a kiwi? We'll find out tomorrow when we do her likely mastectomy.

in the morning, one of the Haitian residents came running to our clinic asking if there was anything we had to offer the old woman with the "grade 3 tumor in her head." They had already given her mannitol (emergent treatment for severe brain swelling). I have NOTHING to offer, nor did anyone with us. Let's say I did jump in and try to be superman... the end result is no better. We later went to clinic to see if there was anything to help with, and there was the body, head wrapped with a blood soaked bandage, waiting for family to come pick it up.

Yvonne had a clinic case yesterday of a 5-day-old home born baby who arrived with a meningocele (a fluid sac at the base of the back filled with spinal fluid and sometimes cord) leaking spinal fluid onto the exam table. Meningitis in inevitable. We told them to hold him, love him and go home. They were going to try to make it to the Dominican, but there is very little hope.

On the flip side, I got to feel right at home with the retained nail in the leg for the past year. Numb it, make your incision, pull it out and bandage it up. THAT I know how to deal with. And the patient and the daughter were so thankful you would think I had performed a miracle! They sang and raised their hands to the heavens. At least for that moment, for those women, I had made a real difference.

My overall reaction to all of this is very dichotomous. At times, I feel like we are doing so much. At other times? Soooooo little. I can't help more than half of the people I am telling you about. And when you see how many people are here and how sick some of them are, you just feel like you are addressing one grain of sand on a whole beach. It is disheartening at times. But, we do what we can, right? It' s better than if no one was here. But it is also very humbling. I'm no hero. I'm not feeling like I'm changing the world. But, I guess changing the world isn't the goal.

We all continue to be well. Kisses to all.