Too energized to sit still after dinner, I requested a visit to the hospital. We passed through the quiet, dim streets trailed by neighborhood dogs for the five-block walk to the hospital. Inside, we found every bed full and patients and families overflowing into the hallways. Many had traveled from Port-au-Prince with orthopedic injuries that had already been stabilized. Though packed with patients, the hospital seemed under control. We had missed the acute phase of the emergency.
This morning, we headed to the hospital early to participate in patient rounds. Inexplicably, rounds finished prior to our arrival. We then went looking for Dr. Batch, an internist who effectively runs place. Dr. Batch, looking exhausted and harries, had two questions for us, “Are you surgeons?” and, “Why aren’t you in Cange?” After answering “no” and “I don’t know” respectively, we were invited to return at 10am for a meeting of the doctors. To kill time, we made a visit to Dr. Pastor Francois, a friend of CCH who runs an orphanage in town. Though Pignon did not suffer physical damage from the quake, Pastor Francois explained how the effects of the quake had touched many in Pignon. In fact, his daughter almost died on Tuesday. Here’s how the story goes:
Pastor Francois’ daughter walked down the street in Port-au-Prince on the way to the bank to pick up money he had wired her. Around 5pm, steps from the bank doors, the road shifted up and down three times and the bank collapsed immediately into a pile of broken concrete. Everyone inside perished. So extreme was the circumstance that his daughter lost control of her bowel and bladder, barely able to keep upright. She eventually made it home that night to find most of her family safe. With phone lines down and unable to communicate with his daughter, the Pastor drove to Port. Amidst throngs of displaced, grieving Haitians, he found his daughter walking down the middle of the street. They returned to Pignon together, filling the truck with 16 other refugees, who now resided in the orphanage with the Pastor’s family. To explain his good fortune the Pastor ended simply, “God is good.”
Listening to such inspiring stories, my desire to get closer to those in need of medical care only increased. Yet, here I was in Pignon with no patients who could benefit from an Emergency Physician’s skills. I vowed to make the best of it and headed to the 10am meeting.
No meeting occurred. Dr. Batch, who seemed very busy trying to prepare for the surgical cases reportedly arriving from Port in the next few days, suggested we shadow the doctors and nurses. After seeing the high volume of patients waiting to be seen, Cheryl, Erin, and I tried to set up our own clinic to help ease the patient load on the Haitian doctors. Dr. Theodore cut us short, stating that we did not sufficiently understand the culture to be on our own. He was right. So I shadowed Dr. Luchon, an internist, while he performed his daily clinic. Not one patient had suffered injuries from the earthquake. The complaints seemed typical for an internal medicine clinic in Haiti – malaria, stomach aches, diarrhea, rashes, sickle cell pain, and more malaria. Dr. Luchon finished seeing all of his patients by noon and would return at 2:30pm when the lab results came back to see the patients again and prescribe treatment. The hospital looked much busier than it actually was because patient and their families waited until the afternoon for test results. Cheryl and Erin had attempted to help the nursing staff but found they were in fact overstaffed with nurses. A theme had emerged: we missed the acute emergencies and the only help the hospital required was from an orthopedic surgeon. We sent our assessment via e-mail to Rod and requested to join the other group at Jacmel.
After lunch, Cheryl, Erin, and I searched for ways to be helpful. We served as courier for Randy and Joe bringing construction supplies from the Iowa House to the hospital. Cheryl and Erin helped put up locks. I hung out with the pharmacist, learning Creole and becoming acquainted with the available drugs.
The highlight of the day occurred when a five-year-old girl showed me up in a head-carrying contest. Haitians carry immensely heavy loads on their heads. While walking down the street carrying screens back to the hospital for Joe, a 5-year-old girl trotted past with a large booty wrapped in a black blanket perched on her tiny head. She made it look so easy, I decided to give it a try. The tall white girl trying to balance 3 screen rolls on her head caught the attention of Haitians sitting on their stoops. Children ran by with their endearing cry, “Blanc, Blanc!” (white person!). I kept up with the 5-year-old initially through cheating and using my hands to help balance the rolls. And once I thought they were perfectly balanced, I let go. The rolls tumbled to the ground after two steps. Infectious belly laughs exploded from every shack lining the road. Soon the whole street was laughing. It was a lovely light moment in a very trying time.
While shadowing Dr. Luchon and practicing Creole in the pharmacy, I overheard many discussions of emergency cases expected to arrive from Port. While walking through the hospital courtyard, I saw Dr. Theodore and asked him about the cases to see if Cheryl, Erin, and I could be of any use in Hopital Bienfaisance de Pignon or if CCH should send other personnel. He responded in his syrupy English accent, “I will talk of the emergencies when they arrive.” Thinking he misunderstood me, I asked the question a slightly different way. His condescension only increased with the second response, “I will talk of the emergencies when they arrive.” It’s awfully difficult to prepare for an emergency if you don’t talk about it before the patient arrives. It was clear we were not wanted or needed here. Time to move along.
