A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

Finally, a few pictures for you.  As mentioned before, the children had a grand time on Sunday playing in the excess water run off from our water tanks on the roof.  It only takes a simple thing to bring great delight and they splished and splashed with uninhibited exuberance! 

Dancing in circles.

Waiting their turn.

Oh my, could I be any cuter?!

Love this one!

Samuel is one of the little guys that I get to spend quality time with every day.  He's such a fun four-year-old and now that he's used to spending time with me, he chatters constantly and sings loudly!

Last night at bedtime several of the boys were asking me if they were going to get to go to Canada.  A lot of the children from this particular orphanage are adopted by families from Canada and so it seems all the children associate Canada with having a family of their own.  I told them that I didn't know and it made me sad to realize that some of these precious boys still do not have forever families waiting for them.  I think at this point there are 28 children here and 13 of them, including all the girls, have adoption paperwork in the works.  The rest are still watching their friends leave, wondering when it'll be their turn.  I'm wishing that Haiti's adoption laws wouldn't prevent Jason & I from adopting, because I think I could handle a houseful of ornery little boys.  I might gray young but I'd be willing to take that chance! 

Blessed Rain!

I've been in Haiti for one entire week.  The time has been passing swiftly and I'm trying to commit each bit to memory.  Today it has been raining steadily, for hours.  A great, drenching downpour and it's wonderful!  Here the heat builds and builds until you feel like it's suffocating you and then finally . . . it rains!  Such refreshing bliss!

A glimpse into my life here at the orphanage:  I sleep in a little room with a tin roof.  It cools off nicely at night with the help of a fan but during the day it's sweltering in there.  The mosquito net is to keep not only mosquitoes but also other bugs, roaches, and various vermin at bay.  So far it's been working nicely.  

On Sunday we walked to church with the children in tow. The rest of the day was quiet and relaxing, complete with mocha frappes and spontaneous water fun.  I have some adorable pictures of the kids and their water frolicking but those will have to wait until another day when the internet will upload my pictures at a faster rate of speed.  Until then, I'm going to head to my net encased cot and fall asleep to the sound of the rain on the tin roof.  Ah . . . 

Atypical is Typical

So today was more like the Haiti I am accustomed to.  A day spent trying to adhere to a schedule but interrupted at every turn.

Since I'm currently the one in house with a nursing degree, I've been given the responsibility of dealing out medications.  This typically happens at meal times.

No, there is no scanning patient bar-codes here and yes, we do reuse the syringes.  After washing, of course.

After that it was "Angela, what do you think this is on my face?" from one of the other volunteers.  Oh good, a question I can answer.  "I think, actually I'm pretty sure, that's ringworm! Here, have some anti-fungal cream.  That should cure ya."

Then a dressing change for a tunneling wound, while the grown man squirms in his chair and attempts to be stoic (He whines way more when his wife does the dressing change!).  Next, I make an attempt to clean up a little girl's leg from where she had scratched her eczema raw and apply a bandaid to 7 year old's toe.  You try keeping a bandage on one of these kids!

In the afternoon, our friend, Valdo, takes two other volunteers and I for a stroll into town.  Mostly just to get outside the gate and stretch our legs.

We're eating icecream at a local shop when Lori calls and asks if I would be willing to start an IV on a lady in the village, who has breast cancer.  *gulp*  "Uh, sure"  She gives me details concerning the supplies I'd need and states that usually the lady is pretty bad by the time the family calls.  *gulp again*  A motorbike chauffeur is sent to fetch me and I'm on my way to attempt an IV start on black skin and dehydrated veins with supplies that are unfamiliar.  This is where I relearn my 'Haiti prayers'.  "God, I have NO idea what I'm doing and I'm more than a little uncertain of my ability, but you're welcome to use these hands of mine."  

When we arrive, she is hauling her thin, little mattress into the front room so that she can lay under the window.  The only place to hang the IV bag is on the bars crossing the window.  Her husband smiles a welcoming smile and tells me how nice it is to meet me.  She has a gown on, with her right chest uncovered.  Where her breast used to be there is only a large, yellow and brown scabbed area.  She is thin as can be but offers me a weak smile and positions herself where I can reach her arms.  I kneel on the hard floor beside her bed and feel my hands tremble.  "Please, God."  I apply the tourniquet and turn her arm over.  There is only one tiny vein visible in the crook of her elbow.  I've never been so glad to see thick, dark red blood flow through a needle as I was at that moment.  It flushes beautifully and I attach the tubing, hang the bag from the window and adjust the drip rate.  As I wrap protective gauze around the IV site, I think to myself how I still don't have a clue what I'm doing but thankfully, God cares about IV starts and a fragile little Haitian woman in a little Haitian town.  I am astounded at her smile and her bravery in spite of the pain I'm sure she's feeling.  There is no morphine PCA for her, no fentanyl patches, no umpteen pillows to fluff and reposition.  As I leave she offers me a sweet English "Thank you".  I walk out amazed. 

Haiti Once More

I've been reading some of my old blog posts from years ago, trying to remind myself what it means to blog.  I haven't written anything is such a long time that I'm a little concerned about my ability to do so.  However, at the request of various individuals and consistent prodding from my husband, I'm setting up this little window to my world so that, if you wish, you can follow along as we embark on one adventure after another.

Yesterday I arrived in Haiti.  For those of you who know me well, you know that I've been wishing and longing for this day for a very long time.  It's been 3 years since my last visit and driving through the crowded, dusty streets of Port Au Prince yesterday I was reminded of how much I had forgotten!  At the airport they loaded us up in large buses to transport us to immigration.  The claiming of the luggage was the usual scramble and chaos.  I did feel a little braver this time than all the times before and was able to quite effectively ward off the overwhelming attempts made to 'assist' me with my luggage.  I may not speak creole well but I'm pretty sure that my pronunciation of "NO, thank you" and "I Don't Need" was accurate enough.

The city seems more crowded and noisy.  The vehicles are driven like weapons and even though my own life feels relatively safe, the lives of the pedestrians weaving in and out of swerving tap taps flash before me.  There are tent cities that weren't there 3 years ago and I don't remember ever before seeing an 18 wheeler cruising through the PAP streets.  Uh huh, now there are not only large swaying buses but also semis barreling along at rather rapid rates of speed.

The drive way to the orphanage has been slightly altered but the house looks the same on the outside.  Things seem quieter for some reason.  Perhaps it's simply that there are 20+ children now instead of 40+.  That's about half the noise, half the sticky hands and half the wailing.  There were 6 other volunteers here when I arrived; 3 of them departed this morning, so I now have a little plywood, tin roofed room to myself.

Many things have not changed.  The bugs are still very much alive.  Thank God for mosquito nets and pretty consistent electricity to run the fan.  Oh, and earplugs.  

I'm grateful to be back in Haiti.  God is so good.