Today, just four of us went back to the clinic. Jaime from Indiana, Nicole from South Dakota, Ben and I. Jaime and I teamed up to work on wound care again. This little girl wore her Sunday best to come see the doctor. Her forehead was very scraped, but no infection yet. Through the interpreters we would try to make conversation and express love. One question was always "what happened to cause this injury", and the answer was always the same: "the house fell on him". I learned a new word in Creole, I heard it so much: "blok", meaning cinderblocks.
Behind the Quisqueya Chapel, where the medical clinic is being held by a collaboration of several Christian aid groups, there is an orphanage camping out. HIS Home is an orphanage that was destroyed. There are 120 kids sleeping in the field behind Quisqueya Chapel. All but a few kids are in process for US adoption, so their directors, like all other orphanage directors now, are trying to get the state department to ram through the final paperwork to get the kids to their homes. They have rows and rows of cribs outside. They have several nannies and the director said they have enough food and water, but....
They're just laying around outside. Pray, pray for the hundreds of orphanages in this country, many of which are destroyed.
One reason we went to see the HIS House kids is that Jaime has two friend from Indiana who are in final stages of adopting two different kids there. We went to visit them and make sure they were ok. This precious one cautious, but then full of smiles- and those dimples!
These are the two little ones coming home to Indiana, hopefully this week even. If there is one silver lining to any of this tragedy, its the hundreds of children whose adoptions have lingered for up to four years, who may now be rushed through the final red tape and come home to families.
Some of the older orphanage kids just hanging around...
Warning the next pic is of a serious burn injury. Please skim by if you need to.
Some of the hardest moments of today were helping on three very serious injuries. Ben helped carry this lady from the car of a Haitian pastor who brought her here - six days with third degree burns, no medical care. They had to scrape off the serious burned skin, or else infection will set in, so it was necessary... but oh my word, the screaming. They gave her what little painkillers we had, and she quieted a bit. Have you ever thought about how what we yell when we're in pain is culturally conditioned? In the US, what do we yell in pain? "Ow, ow, ow!" Well, here, they say something in Creole that sounds like "why, why, why, why!". Why, indeed. The only times I've cried in the last 6 days are listening to the patients pain.
One of the other two big injuries today was this boy's knee, which you can't see. He had a huge wound to his knee, which had been crudely treated some days ago with cotton packed inside the wound. So, today, it was.... well, you can imagine. They had to re-open the wound, then me and Jaime irrigated and cleaned it, then I helped the doctor while he did sutures.
So very, very many.
Tonight is a rough night. We're staying at a teacher's home a little bit north of the school, toward the mountains. Hopefully, a shower tonight. We're just emotionally beat. We just don't know. We don't know when the school will open, whether we'll be needed to teach if there are just a few dozen students, or any number of other dozens of questions... it's a quarterlife crisis in the middle of a massive disaster. Of course, worrying about our future career plans is really a lesser priority when there are people dying right and left.
Prayers, prayers, for Haiti.
Through many dangers, trials and tears
We have already come
Twas grace that brought me safe thus far
And grace will bring me home
And thanks for your love:)