Reports from Haiti

This post’s title pretty much sums up the past week in Thomonde. Kelly and I had the opportunity to tag along with the medical team from Morehouse School of Medicine on their mobile clinics, which was very interesting and enjoyable (sidenote: approximately 99% of the Americans I’ve met in Haiti are from Georgia, including Kelly, so I’ve come to the conclusion that Georgians are slowly taking over Haiti. Don’t be fooled by their innocent Southern accents; they’re definitely up to something). Our daily commutes to the clinic sites were an experience themselves, as we had to drive for up to 2 hours through the hills, valleys, and streams of the Central Plateau to reach our various destinations.

But let me backtrack a little: last Monday, we left Terrier Rouge (a bittersweet goodbye) and flew from Cap Haitien to Port-au-Prince. After spending six weeks in Northern Haiti and visiting Cap Haitien several times, I actually felt some reverse cultural shock when we arrived in Port-au-Prince. While I’m sure the area that we drove through was a nicer part of the city, Kelly and I were both surprised at the relative cleanliness and consideration for traffic laws. We even saw several traffic lights.

After meeting up with the team of med students, MPH students, doctors, and nurses from Morehouse, we headed to Thomonde, via the most winding, edge-of-the-cliff road I’ve ever driven on (and considering I grew up in Pittsburgh, the capital of ridiculous road systems, that’s definitely saying something). I can’t even begin to describe the amazing view along the way, so I’ll try to upload some photos in a later post.

Even though I’ve read Mountains Beyond Mountains (like many global health enthusiasts) and tried to imagine the bumpy Rue Nationale 3, the beautiful Lac du Peligre, and other features of the Central Plateau, nothing can compare to seeing it in person. It was like seeing a movie version of one of your favorite books, but in real life and ten times better!

The first night in Thomonde, Kelly and I got to know the medical team, realized just how much we missed conversations in English, and tried to help out with some basic Creole translations. While I really haven’t learned as much Creole as I probably should have after spending six weeks in Haiti, Kelly and I are pretty adept at Creole pronunciation, so we did our best to write out some phonetic Creole (i.e., “M’rele” became “mmm ray-lay”). If all else fails, Kelly and I can start our own phonetic Creole translation business after graduation.

Tuesday through Friday, we drove to four different villages and watched the team quickly transform various churches/schoolhouses/shaded trees into functioning triage, pediatric, ophthalmologic, OB/GYN, and internal medicine stations. Because the team treated hundreds of patients each day and had to make quick, gut-reaction diagnoses, the diagnostic backpacks Kelly and I brought were not applicable to their work, but we were able to observe how a mass-scale mobile clinic works and understand both the challenging and rewarding aspects of such work.

A patient being fitted for glasses

While many patients received medical care that they would otherwise have never received, and some critical patients were referred to the closest hospital for life-saving treatment, there were some obvious limitations to the mobile clinic as well. Patients with end-stage cancer, ectopic pregnancies, Turner’s syndrome, or other difficult/life-threatening/genetic conditions were given their diagnosis, but treatment was out of the scope of the clinic.

Lines of patients waiting to see the ophthalmologist and internist

Observing the mobile clinic work also gave me a whole new appreciation for health prevention and the health and hygiene lessons we taught in Terrier Rouge. I can only hope that our lessons on hand washing, teeth brushing, malaria and typhoid transmission, etc. at St. Barthelemy will prevent at least a handful of clinic visits in the future.

Kelly and I probably spent the most amount of time at the pediatric station, where we measured kids’ arm circumference, height, and weight. Many of the patients suffered from malnutrition, and several times I did a double-take when I read a child’s age on their chart after taking their weight—I might not have a medical degree, but I do know that a 3-year-old should never weigh 18 lbs.

We also tried to help translate at the triage station by asking patients, “Ki kote ou fe mal”?,” which means, “Where does it hurt?,” so that they could be referred to the proper station for further diagnosis and treatment. It was rather shocking how many patients, after saying that their stomach hurt, subsequently said, “M’grangou,” which means, “I’m hungry.”

It reminded me of a quote in Mountains Beyond Mountains that giving medicine but not food is like “washing your hands and drying them in the dirt.” Not that I advocate handing out food necessarily, but the fact that many patients needed the simple treatment of “food” surprised and saddened me. The food shortage in Haiti struck me even more during our drive to Hinche. We saw street vendors selling bagged dirt, and one of Medishare’s doctors explained that Haitians use the dirt to make “dirt pies” that they actually eat. I don’t think I’ll ever look at dirt, or pie, the same way again.

I actually felt the most useful when Kelly and I were given a portable photo printer that the team had brought in lieu of the no-longer manufactured Polaroid camera and film. Throughout the clinic on Thursday and Friday, we took photos of mothers with their children at the pediatric station and gave them a print to keep. It put a smile on my face to see the mothers’ smiles when they saw the photo of them with their children. In a country where many people do not even know what they look like because they can’t afford a mirror, something as simple as a photograph can mean so much to someone.

The portable photo printer.... a nice mobile clinic novelty

My favorite mom-child photo 🙂

Overall, I really enjoyed our time at the mobile clinics, and being able to observe and work with such a gracious and fun team of students and doctors made the past five days some of my most memorable and enjoyable in Haiti.