By Daniel J. DeNoon
WebMD Senior Medical Writer

My travel kit is packed with a big bottle of cipro, and I'll be starting anti-malaria prophylaxis soon. I'm scheduled to fly to Port au Prince on Feb. 3 with Dr. Michael Grady. We may go sooner, if we can be part of the relief effort.

Like everyone who knows anyone in Haiti, I keep checking my email inbox. Too many friends and loved ones are missing.

Unlike many, the news for me has been mostly good. As good as news can be when yet another horrible disaster has struck an undeserving people.

Nearly a year ago, I made my first eye-opening trip to Haiti after being invited to serve on the board of the service organization ServeHaiti.

The clinic we built in the mountainous region called Gran Bois is not far from Port au Prince -- but only as the crow flies. Human travel, up a tortuous "road," takes at least four hours, often much more.

The earthquakes are still shaking the ground, but so far the clinic stands unharmed. Our staff that was in Gran Bois, including Dr. Leo, are unharmed. But many of our Haitian friends and colleagues were in the city.

A few minutes ago I got one of those emails I've been looking for. The title: Boule is safe. I cried.

Earlier today, one of our volunteers sent a very different message. The title: Pray for me. Two of her loved ones are dead. I wept.

Watch this space for more news and stories. Please tell us about your Haiti connections, and what you know and don't yet know.

Keep on hoping. Keep on praying.

Labels: haiti, haiti denoon, haiti grand bois, webmd writer haiti

Last night, for the first time since leaving the island, I had my first dream about Haiti. In the dream, I'm trying to help build a new clinic in a dusty rural area, but it's hard getting supplies, there's no running water, and it's hard to build things faster than they fall apart.

And they say dreams aren't realistic.

Here's a slideshow of pictures from my Haiti mission. If you've followed this blog, you'll know I've described the scenes in each slide. My descriptions were graphic. The pictures, of course, are even more graphic, so please don't open them if you find it hard to look at medical photos.

~ Dan



Follow the Entire Series

• Service Mission to Haiti
• In Another World
• People Everywhere, Water Not
• A Death anda Life
• Rain, Mud, and Water
• Time to Leave Grand Bois
• Big Country, One Doctor
• Kenia & Kafka
• Catching Up

Labels: denoon, first aid, grand bois haiti, haiti, tungiasis, webmd writer haiti

At the end of each day in Haiti, I've been using this blog as a way to come to terms with the emotional whirlwind of my service there. Now that I'm back home, I realize I haven't even begun to unpack the feelings I'd been packing away.

For example, I showed my wife some photos taken while I was giving CPR to the old woman who died with my hands on her heart. It was the first time I'd cried since leaving home. And those tears weren't just for that lady whose time had come, but for all the things I could not do, that could not be done.

I also cried when I saw a photo of the clean, clear water spurting from the newly dug well after Dave hooked up power to the pump. Those tears were for the things we could do, that can be done.

Sadness and joy so close together, like the Port au Prince hovels side by side with mansions. What a lesson.

That last night in Haiti I sat up drinking beers with Rick Gosser, a 20-year veteran of service in Haiti. Rick pointed out that Haiti isn't unique in having both impoverished and wealthy people. But in Haiti, it's all jumbled together.

It's also a glimpse into our own possible future. Deforestation, soil exhaustion, overpopulation, air pollution, traffic, toxic waste, water shortages, inflation, economic collapse, political paralysis -- our children and grandchildren could all end up in some kind of Haiti.

There's an opportunity here to solve a lot of these problems. There's an opportunity here to read the writing on the wall, and act before we're forced to do so. And there's a personal opportunity for me, too, as I recover the emotions I hadn't had time to feel, to fully realize the degree to which I'm not from another planet than Haiti, but from the same small world.

I will always owe a debt to the people of Grand Bois for letting me serve in a small way; for teaching me so much. This blog started with me offering readers the chance to see me change. Whether that happened is for you to judge. From my point of view, I've been offered a great gift: A glimpse of the wonderful gift of hope at the bottom of Pandora's box of woes.


P.S. Please stay tuned. Now that I've got the bandwidth, I'll be posting some photographs of the events I've described.

Labels: denoon haiti, grand bois haiti, haiti, servehaiti, webmd writer haiti

A most amazing day. We left Port-au-Prince in a Nissan Patrol and soon were free of the city -- and paved roads. Most of the way, we made about 5 miles an hour over huge rocks and ruts and seas of dust. We wove between pedestrians, mules, donkeys, goats, bicycles, and a few hardy and hard-used trucks filled to the overflowing with people.

The scenery is stunning. There are a few trees here and there, but mostly thorny cactus and rocks. As we got higher into the hills, water became more and more scarce. Springs, separated by miles of shoe-destroying road, were miles apart. Finally we reached an area where cattle and donkeys and people shared a muddy trickle on either side of the road.

Dr. Leo suggested that we stop. Donna and I asked a pretty teen girl (and her mother) if she would pose for us, and her broad smile revealed that she'd already lost most of her adult teeth -- the ravages of sugar cane, which is chewed not only for its sweetness but also for thirst.

We hiked up the stream about 50 yards to the source: a small spring at the feet of an immense tree, whose roots apparently created an artesan well (or at least that's the local lore). A concrete form about 10 feet square was carved into the rock to create a wellhead, into which people crowded to dip their buckets.

Our interpreter, Janvier, asked people how long they had walked to get there. Some said they'd walked a couple of hours with all their families' buckets -- and of course, on the way home the buckets and jugs and bottles would be full, and the path would be steeply uphill. Next month, when the dry season begins, the spring will dwindle to a trickle. People will sleep all night at the spring, hoping their bottles will fill by morning. Then they'll trudge home -- most with just a single bottle for their families.

Some of the children at the spring had their heads shaved, and bore patterns of little scars on their scalp. Ringworm, Dr. Leo said. If you hardly have enough water to drink, bathing is not a priority.

Of course, cattle share the stream, and people bathe along with them. They also bring their families clothes to wash, and dry them on the bushes high up the side of the hill.

All this being said, the people we met were in high spirits. They laughed at our pathetic efforts at Creole, and joyfully helped hand us across the slippery rocks to look into the wellhead. Eyes were bright with intelligence, humor was everywhere, and despair was nowhere evident. If you don't believe that resilience is a human quality, you haven't been to Haiti.

And now we're at the clinic. Dave, the electrician, and I installed a series of new car batteries and an inverter to boost the clinic's voltage to power the new well.

Right now, a woman is in labor. The baby is in the occipital posterior position, so the doctor has her on her hands and knees to help the baby's head to turn -- an old obstetrician's trick, he says. If the delivery is tonight, I'll be there to assist.

Tomorrow, Dr. Leo will treat a couple of kids who've come from distant parts to be treated for tungiasis -- infestation of the feet by egg-bearing female "jigger" fleas, which swell to the size of peas, causing intense pain and secondary infection. Each flea and each egg must be removed by scalpel and forceps. I'll get to observe, so stay tuned and you'll hear how the kids came out. Of course, if the kid hadn't been barefoot, the fleas (which don't jump very high) couldn't get in.

By the way, Carnival is in full swing even here in Grand-Bois. Dr. L and the PEPFAR funded people hosted a huge party that drew about 200 people, who got HIV tests in return for free T shirts. The music plays as I write.

Labels: denoon, haiti

From the hilltop porch of a guest house, every light in Port au Prince glows eerily through the haze of bonfires burning here and there across the city. An evening breeze carries music and whistles and the singsong voices of people filling the street. It's Carnival in Haiti.

Our party arrived with 11 duffel bags stuffed with medical supplies and electrical equipment for rewiring the pump for the clinic's well. Customs was a bit of a problem when we were tagged for inspection and a duffel full of pills was opened. After a brief discussion, the inspector agreed to allow us to pass in return for a couple of baby acetaminophen. Although she didn't say so, it seemed to us that she was worried about a sick child at home.

On the road from the airport, people hung from the backs of the tiny colorful tap-tap buses you've seen portrayed in those painted tin cutouts. The real thing hardly seems any bigger.

By accident, the clinic's Dr. Leo was returning to Haiti from Canada on the same flight we were on. He and Michael, our obstetrician, both knew our driver, who will be taking us up the road on the six- to 10-hour trip to the clinic. Michael asked about the health of the driver's wife, who, as it turns out, is quite ill and requires a complex operation too risky to perform in Haiti. Leo and Michael are working to get her a travel visa to the U.S. As we discussed the case, we passed any number of people on the street in obvious need.

I asked Michael how he manages to prioritize: how can he expend so much energy on one person, when so many must do without. He looked into my eyes and said, "You just help the person in front of you."

It's a lesson I'll try to learn.

Labels: denoon, haiti

The person writing this post will be changing over the course of the coming week.

It will still be written by me, Dan DeNoon, senior writer for WebMD. But the only thing I'm sure about is that guy is going to change. And you're invited to watch it happen, and, more importantly, see why.

On Sunday 22 February I'll be going to Haiti on a one-week service mission with the nonprofit organization ServeHaiti, on whose board I've agreed to serve (without pay, of course, and paying expenses out of my own pocket).

ServeHaiti has built and maintains a medical clinic in Grand-Bois, an impoverished area in the mountains outside Port au Prince (almost to the Dominican border, about 35 as-the-crow-flies miles east-northeast of the city but a very long way by tortuous roads). I've seen the pictures and film from the area, and have met the heroic doctor who works at the clinic.

But I really don't know what to expect. I've been assured only of one thing: It will be a life-changing experience.

That having been said, this blog is not going to be about me. Yes, I'll be sharing my feelings, thoughts, and experiences. But my focus will be on the welfare of the people of Haiti -- on their resilience as well as on their struggles. And I'll be sharing with you what happens when someone from outside that world tries to make himself useful.

I've been to places where people struggle to survive before -- but only as a tourist wandering without a clue in city slums or hard-luck countrysides.

I'm still pretty clueless, but this time I'll be arriving carrying 90 pounds of medical supplies and ready to go to work. I very much hope to do some good.

My three traveling companions have made multiple trips to the area. One, Donna Williams, is a talented photographer. Another, Michael Grady, is an obstetrician. The third, Dave Schumaker, is an electrician.

This blog will carry a Twitter badge so you can follow my adventures more closely. And you can follow me on Twitter as ddenoon.

Many readers of this blog will have made service missions themselves to various places of the world. I invite you all to weigh in, and to keep this first-timer on his toes.

The plane leaves first thing Sunday morning. Good or bad, I'll be filing reports. You're invited to come along.

Follow the Entire Series

• Service Mission to Haiti
• In Another World
• People Everywhere, Water Not
• A Death anda Life
• Rain, Mud, and Water
• Time to Leave Grand Bois
• Big Country, One Doctor
• Kenia & Kafka
• Catching Up
• Images of Haiti
  

Labels: denoon, haiti