We bounced our way down the beaten rural roads leading away from St. Boniface, 12 of us in the back of a Toyota that has been converted into an ambulance of sorts. It was a two-hour ride that led us to make a new clinical diagnosis - Ischemic Butt Syndrome (a.k.a. sore toosh). IBS takes on a whole new meaning when you spend a couple of weeks in Haiti! Eyes glued out the windows, we saw people walking, running, riding donkeys or horses, and even one kid riding a goat. We realized later that they were all moving in our same direction because they were in transit to Belle Rivere, our destination for day four of mobile clinic. This small rural village greeted us with a dirt road full of kids yelling, "Blan! Blan!" which translates to, "White people! White people!" When we started handing out balloons, faces lit up as if they had never seen this kind of latex magic. When we turned the corner, it was breathtaking to see how many people had traveled to this remote village to see a doctor, a couple hundred at least. I think I speak for the group when I say that we were a little overwhelmed. After all, we were a group of mostly 2nd year medical students with a few residents, one physician, a couple of translators and Father Sawyer, a Jesuit brother, who found himself in a new role in Haiti as our pharmacist. Regardless, we huddled, set up, and went to work.
We were somewhat "experienced" now after four days of seeing patients in Haiti. In other words, we were able to diagnose malnutrition, gastritis, anemia, scabies, reflux disease, musculoskeletal pain, and ringworm without our attending physician. It was humbling to see all of the malnourished children and untreated parasites, hernias, infections, ulcers, burns, and diabetes. We heard Dr. Michelfelder, our attending physician, say over and over, "You'd never see this in the States." Even he, a family physician in a fairly diverse neighborhood outside Chicago, made several diagnoses for the first time. For example, a man with a suspected B12 vitamin deficiency was bed-ridden and unable to use his legs for four years. The man had not eaten dairy or meat, the sources of B12, for over two decades because he could not afford it. This made it challenging to eat the meal that the community prepared for us in thanks for coming. But we ate. They had pooled their resources to make us a huge meal that included rice, beans, homemade sauce, goat meat, tea, and more. It was bitterly ironic how much B12 was in that meal. This generated a new mix of feelings that we attempted to reflect upon later that night, but that we could not accurately explain or even understand. Overwhelming gratitude, guilt, sadness, anger, happiness, empathy, and confusion is a start.
As we finished our meal and packed our things, one more striking event changed our perspective. A woman came running in with cloth wrapped around her hand and blood spilling out. She had been attacked with a machete. Her finger and part of her hand were cut badly into a bleeding mess. We scurried through our packed supplies to find the things we needed to stop the bleeding, stitch her, and prevent infection. Seven medical students became one surgical nurse as Dr. Michelfelder and Chris Curry, an MD/PhD student working in Haiti for Paul Farmer's Partners in Health, worked to stop the bleeding and stitch her. After a couple of hours and a couple hundred CC's of lost blood, she was looking better. What struck us most was that in route to our mobile clinic, she had stopped to put on nicer clothes to see a doctor. She helped us feel appreciated and needed, but also pronounced the problem of healthcare in Haiti. When Father Sawyer asked a nurse at the clinic what they would have been able to do for this woman if we hadn't been there, she answered, "We would have felt sorry for her."
If our life in the United States is lived in color, Haitian's live in black and white. Yet, there's something beautiful about the simplicity that exists in Haiti. Around St. Boniface, there's very little or no Internet, TV, Nintendo, concern over time, or shopping at Wal-Mart or Macy's. They work hard just to feed themselves and their families, but seem mostly content and gracious for what they do have. This was inspiring.
It was difficult to leave. We felt that we were leaving a job far from finished. In a way, I dreaded trying to explain my experiences in Haiti, mostly because I didn't understand them myself. But after realizing the disparities that exist between Haiti and the Western World, it becomes our job to report it. And when we came home, I realized that there were a lot of people that wanted to listen and understand. I will always remember my time at St. Boniface. St. Boniface is helping to bring education, healthcare, decent living conditions, and jobs to Fond des Blancs and the surrounding region. Our group was inspired by their work and dedication. Many of their workers and volunteers show by example how to truly live a life of service, something that you and I and everyone else should strive to emulate.
Max Leither, 2nd year medical student, Loyola Stritch School of Medicine
