As with many experiences in life, the most challenging are often the most rewarding. This certainly applied to my Mission Trip to Haiti. I had the privilege of sharing the experience with my daughter Gen, who graduated college just weeks before the trip. It was for us both an emotional and life-changing trip.
The first week was spent mostly doing remote health clinics in Labaleine in the Fond de Blanc Province. I was given the task of crowd control at the clinics since my medical background is limited. The people in Labolein we so friendly and patient, my job the first morning was playing Frisbee with the children during recess periods. It was clear that crowd control was irrelevant, so I was told to assist Gen, who was in charge of the makeshift pharmacy for the clinic. Doctors Austin and Kennedy appreciated Gen's organizational skills, competency and demeanor and Dr. Austin commented that it must be have been difficult for her to get good assistance, nodding his head in my direction. I also appreciated her skills, and felt I was "riding on her coattails." It was both a proud and humbling realization.
On the next to last day in Haiti, we were to visit Mother Theresa's Home for the Dying in Port au Prince. This was a home for adults, some dying of AIDS. I was filled both with a sense of duty and fear. Would I be able to deal with the situation? Would I be of help? Could I contract AIDS or some other disease?
As we arrived, we were told that we would be offering comfort to the dying patients, applying lotion to their dry skin. We were all given a small bottle of lotion, and were told that only men were allowed in the men's ward; and only women in the women's ward, so the group was to be separated. I wondered how Gen would handle the situation without me; and how I would without her. I thought Al (another Executive Director, he with Catholic Charities, visiting his son Tim, a medical student at NYU who was volunteering in Haiti) and I at least had Dr. Austin to accompany us in the ward. He could give us clinical advice, and he also spoke French and knew some Creole and could help us communicating with the patients.
I fumbled terribly trying to put the small-sized latex safety gloves we were given, wondering if they would provide me adequate protection from whatever I was to come in contact with. As we entered the ward, a sense of overwhelming dread overcame me. There were 32 men, all lying in their beds looking desperate and hopeless. Some elderly; others still teenagers. One man near the entrance had wrapped himself up in his sheets, covering his head and body. I wondered if he was still alive. I looked over at Al and we both seemed to be in the same place. Just then, Dr. Austin was called out for a medical consultation in another part of the home. Great, I thought. What do we do now?
I looked around at the men. Some were moaning. Others had massive sores on their bodies. I had feelings of helplessness and worthlessness. Again, Al seemed to be right there with me. Finally, I got the courage to sit on one man's bed. Maybe it was not courage, but a place to rest my legs that were beginning to wobble. I turned and looked at the man and we made deep eye contact. It comforted me that we both could at least connect that way. I looked up at a picture of Christ, and then panned the room to one of Mother Theresa. Their images remarkably gave me strength and peace. I no longer worried about what might happen.
The man then feebly unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and pointed to his chest. At first, I was a bit taken back by his action, not knowing what he wanted. It then dawned on me; he wanted to have lotion rubbed on his chest. He unbuttoned the other buttons and I began to apply lotion and massaged his chest. The man near Al made a similar overture, and Al began applying lotion to him.
I then applied lotion to this man's arms and legs as well. He smiled and thanked me. I moved on to the next man. He pointed to his head and I immediately began rubbing lotion there. All of a sudden Al and I were struggling to get enough lotion out of our small bottles to keep up with the demand. I went to get some more lotion and mentioned that we would need a lot more than that provided by the small hotel bottles. I was concerned that we would only be able to provide limited comfort to only a few men.
One of the nurses began handing out oranges to the men. Most took them and stashed them away for later. Then she began handing out hard-boiled eggs, which the men ate immediately. Our driver arrived with 2 large bottles of lotion that he bought at a store nearby.
We moved from bed to bed, our pace quickened by the ability to have lotion readily available. Sweat was dripping from our faces. For us, it was a well-received sweat. Al and I have finally found a place in Haiti where a couple of Executive Directors could do some good. We eventually we able to lotion and massage all the men except for one man that was brought away for testing, and the man wrapped in sheets. Dr. Austin later mentioned that the man knew he was near death and wanted his solitude.
Just before we left, I looked back at the men. They had seemed to come to life. Buoyed both by the food and our efforts, they were sitting up in bed with smiles on their faces; much different then when we arrived. They exuded a sense of grace, dignity and nobility rarely experienced, especially in such a context. As desperate as their situations were, I could feel they appreciated the small comforts and relief we provided. I also knew then why I had come to Haiti, and why I will surely return.
