A Pretty Full Day

Wednesday, Sept. 19

I would say there are no words to describe today however that would make my entry for today quite short. Since I am now in the habit of writing posts long enough to feel like homework to read, I will try to describe today as best I can.

It has been an exhilerating day and I have not even started to process it. Our group started out visiting the Home for Sick and Dying Children. That is quite literally what it was. Many rooms filled with children of various ages and various levels of illness. When I walked into the first room of children, my eyes locked on a little boy in a crib. I went near him and his arms went up in the air to tell me he wanted me to pick him up. He is a one and a half year old boy I'll call Charleson and he has big beautiful brown eyes. His diaper was wet as was his bedding I changed his diaper and removed his wet bedding and held him for a half hour. During that time, he didn't move his arms of legs again. He laid his head on my shoulder looking up only occassionally, his head covered in sweat. I don't know if he was running a fever or just hot from living in a tropical climate. I'm sure that being held by me didn't help to cool him down any. It was easily in the 90s inside of the hospital with a momentary breeze drifting through here and there to tease us. I did try once to put down my new friend, but when I approached his crib he began to cry with a sense of betrayal that was stronger than anything my own kids were ever able to muster. Fortunately, I was able to hand him off to another member of my group instead of having to put him down.

Some children were well enough to walk and play. This is where I could tell that children are children all over the world. The best toy in the world is the one that another child is playing with. If he won't give it to you, you'd better hit him. That's what kids do and that's what the kids today did. Sick or not, they were still kids. As one of my teammates, Ryan, and I sat on the floor with the kids, we joked that if we were sitters, we would never be called back. The children around us were running the asylum and having fun doing so. I was able to fit three children side-by-side on my lap. When one of the kids started to hog my lap a little too much. Bam. One of the kids would shove that kid. While being attacked by these three kids, a fourth kid insisted on holding up his Sesame Street phone to my ear so I could hear it's recorded messages. I heard Elmo rap in my ear too many times and way to loud. This little guy made sure that the phone was pressed up against my head hard to I could hear it. I was able to mimic Ernie's laugh to the little boy's satisfaction. While this team of four kids ganged up on me, a slightly older girl (6?) enjoyed throwing a stuffed ball at my face and at Ryan's face. Classic kid fun.

One of the members of the Jeff's lap gang, "Franz", enjoyed being tickled. He has a great giggle that he would let out when tickled or even when he was being threatened with a tickle. Franz is 4 years old but could pass for a young 3. He was not verbal other than his laugh. I don't know if he couldn't talk or simply choose not to.

Another member of the Jeff's lap gang is called Wendi. He was six years old but looked four. Wendi was also the last child I held today. Although 6 years old, Wendi is small enough to be held and insisted that I do so. He was hungry for love. He wanted to be filled with love. He has been in this room with the other children for 2 months. I don't know if he receives visitors or not anymore. He didn't during visiting time today. I couldn't bring him the relief he needed but I could comfort him for the time I was there. I felt at that moment that that was why I was in Haiti. Not to fix anything for I surely won't fix anything while I am here, but I can make them a little better while I am here.

At around noon, it was time for the next part of today's adventure: Sister Gertrudes' Orphanage. This was home to about forty children from infants to grown children -- some of whom were physically or mentally handicapped. Haitians can have a hard enough time taking care of their children under normal circumstance when special needs are added on top of that, it can be too much. We met a child today who had been left to die in the bottom of an outhouse and another left to die in a dumpster. These children were very excited to see us today. We brought along bubbles to blow, a swing to replace one that had broken a year ago (their play area consists of 3 swings so to have one out of commission for a year is a big deal), some signs and gifts that children from back home had made for these kids, and sundresses made out of pillow cases that had been made by Girl Scouts and Prairie Lutheran Church. It was very rewarding to be able to deliver the dresses in person because I actually learned of this trip through my wife, Kim's, Girl Scout connections. We are a group of 8 guys and 2 women. At least six of us guys helped to hang the swing. Not set up the swing set -- that was already set up; I'm just talking about hanging chains from bolts. It takes at least six craftsmen to do that. Hands down, the best swing ever hung.

The later part of today took me even farther out of my comfort zone: I helped out at a wound clinic. I work in marketing. I have essentially no medical training so I felt a bit over my head. When the clinic started, there were about fifty people lined up on a concrete bench in an alley. This turned out to not only be the waiting area but also where we treated the wounds as well. There was construction being done along this alleyway as well. So we treated people on this bench alongside piles of stones and gravel that was being used in the construction. These were not optimal conditions by any stretch of the imagination. Skip the rest of this paragraph if you are squeamish. After watching a staff member take care of a wound (a large ulcerated section of foot and calf with extensive, exposed muscle tissue), I was apparently trained enough to take on my first patient, a man who had lost half of his foot. This was not a recent wound; it had been both healing and festering for some time. He still had a big toe but what was left of his remaining toes had grown into a single mass and that mass has grown together with the big toe. There were large sections of what remained of his foot that had no skin on them at all. His ulcers were a quarter to a half an inch deep. I could see mostly muscle with a few other items protruding. I don't know human anatomy enough to know if I was looking at bones, tendons, or some other matter. My job was to unwrap his bandages (done by unwinding the cloth bandages and spraying the gauze padding with clean water until they were loose enough to remove from the sore) and then cleaning out the wound with water and gauze. I have never had to clean such a deep wound in my life. In the States, a wound like this would have definitely been a trip to the emergency room. Many of the wounds we saw today are too severe to ever heal on there own without more in-depth medical care. These people will have to continue to go to the wound clinic for the rest of their lives to try to keep these wounds from becoming infected and to try to prevent amputation.

At the wound clinic, I met a Haitian man who volunteers there. Today he had a "World's Largest Ball of Twine - Darwin, Minnesota" shirt on. He had never been there and we had to explain to him what his shirt said and what a large ball of twine was. He spoke French. I have not spoken so much French as I have this week since the late 80's. I think my French teachers would be both proud and appalled at my French. I have been able to communicate with very broken French. I think the people I have talked to have probably been pained to have to try to understand me, but I have been able to get through enough. I'm going to bed now. We have to get up in a few hours.