"i love the rain, but i hate it for them."

Tuesday, July 27, 2010
I just learned that the anesthesiologist is sleeping in a tent. I’ve been frustrated, borderline angry for a week and a half because we can’t manage to get more than three surgeries done a day, usually only two. Anesthesia only works from 11-4.

But she’s freaking living in a tent. She is a Medical Professional who has worked and studied in France, speaks at least three languages and actually has a paying job. If she can’t get out who can?

I think the first time I was really sad was yesterday. Poverty is always disheartening. But I think one reaches a point of understanding it and isn’t as grossly affected by it. I’ve thought of myself as there.

Yesterday I walked with my Creole teacher, a 16 year old whose parents have left him to fend for himself while working in Panama and the US. His tent is pitched next to what was once his house. It has a big red stamp on it marking it unsafe. It is.

He doesn’t see a future for himself. He thinks his country is dirty and poor and hot. But he says he won’t leave. He says he wants to get education in the US and come back to help. He wants to be a doctor. He is brilliant. He could do it. I hope that he does. Most Haitians who get out don’t come back. I’m not sure I would.

Brooke is officially leaving on August 31st. She needs about four nurses to do her job. I feel like I am successfully doing a small portion of it. I don’t think I can do it all.

I am really enjoying myself. Days are hot and hard and my feet hurt and I’m tired of sweating and annoyed that I have to walk to the ER to find an available translator every 33 minutes in order to get anything accomplished.

But we’re doing some good. I have helped nine patients receive surgery in the eleven days I’ve been here. Most of them were fractures and dislocations hanging out since the earthquake.

Brooke and I went for a walk today. It was perfect. So nice to be able to vent my “nursy” feelings to one who understands. Believe me, all six of the long-termers are wonderful. But there is a different level of responsibility when you’ve taken an oath. That’s something they don’t get. They can’t. When patients die on our watch when something could have been done to prevent it…YOU could have done something to prevent it...it affects you. Deeply. It's that way for nurses in the States, and it doesn't change across an ocean.

Paul Farmer said, “If I don’t work this hard someone will die that doesn’t have to.” I get his feelings. I know Brooke does. She’s been living it for 6 months.

There is so much garbage going on here below the surface, so much mess and corruption. But everyday I update the census and delete someone’s name off of it (because they had been discharged). I know there is good happening. Only by the grace of God.

2 comments:

Amanda said...

So glad you got to vent with someone who knows and for your new friends. So sweet to see God provide everything you need.

Cameron said...

I am thankful for your redeemed imagination, that you can see that things can be different even under such difficult circumstances. Isaiah 56:6-7