Fritzon Update

                One of my biggest challenges for this time in Haiti has been treating Fritzon, the young man with the leg wounds. I think I have mentioned before that it often feels like we take three steps forward, only to fall two steps back. Actually sometimes it feels more like two steps forward, three steps back. Last week was like that. Up until then, things were going really well, the wounds were healing, decreasing in size and depth. What more could a nurse want? Then, over the course of last week the wound in his right ankle got considerably worse. Now it is nearly twice as deep as it was and the infection is back with a vengeance. His face when he realized that things were getting worse again was a low point in a week full of disappointments.

At this point I think all of the options at our clinic have been exhausted. He has been on every antibiotic we have and most of our specialized wound dressings. His pain has also greatly increased. He is on pain medicine twice a day and it helps, but not enough. Friends, we are looking into other available options (and there are still a couple), but prayers would be greatly appreciated. Will you join me in petitioning the Lord for wisdom, discernment and direction on my end, but equally as important, for encouragement for Fritzon, for reasons for him to hope? Prayers for healing would also be welcome! As always, thank you so much for joining with me in this.

Bwe dlo

                Probably the most common thing I tell my patients in clinic and the people I talk to outside of clinic is to drink more water. It is a standard part of almost any teaching I do whether they have arthritis pain, headaches or a cold. The kids I hang out with every day know to tell me how much water they drank before they ever ask me for anything. It has become a running joke between us.

                Recently it seems like every person I come across, inside or outside of clinic has had a cold. Of course, I have been telling all of them to drink more water. It was only a matter of time before I caught a cold, too and it is now my turn. The boys I see every day (ranging in age from 8-14) are taking great delight in telling me to drink water. Every time I see them. I had that conversation with them twice in the time it has taken me to type these two paragraphs. I may be the most hydrated girl in Haiti right now.

TB Treatment

“Tuberculosis (TB) has been curable for more than 50 years, yet the global burden of morbidity and mortality due to TB continues to increase, the impact being greatest in sub-Saharan Africa. Approximately one-third of the world’s population is infected with Mycobacterium tuberculosis, with nearly 9 million developing active TB and almost 2 million dying of TB each year… Both globally and within countries, there is a striking link between TB and poverty.”

                I came across this quote yesterday. In so many ways it exemplifies why I am passionate about justice in healthcare. “9 million” is a staggering statistic, impossible to really wrap our brains around. Then I think about the people in my clinic every day. The older gentleman with the weight loss and chronic cough who I have to refer to the hospital for further testing, wishing I had the resources he needs; or the bony boy at our island mobile clinic, with dad who cares but whose treatment options are limited. When I see them as people more than numbers, no less made in the image of God than I am,  everything in me yearns to see these people receive the care they deserve.

(quote courtesy of Oxford Handbook of Tropical Medicine, 3^rd Edition.)

Clinic Update

                I realized that I have not written a clinic update in quite a while, so I wanted to take the opportunity share some of the adventures that have been a part of my days here. For three weeks in a row we had various other American medical personnel working with me. That was a fantastic learning opportunity for me, as well as a chance to alleviate some of the anxiety I feel when all of the clinic responsibility falls on me.

                In August I told you all about Fritzon, the young man with the chronic leg ulcers. Working with him usually feels like three steps forward, two large steps back. We decided to hold off on surgery and are continuing to try some options with different wound dressings. I am thrilled to report that the wounds in both legs have decreased dramatically in size and depth in the last month. I am not thrilled to report that in the last ten days his infection has resumed doing everything in its power to make a major comeback. We are taking steps to fight it, but it is discouraging for all involved.

                Another little one that has been on my heart is a twelve month old girl named Chelda. I first met Chelda and her mama on August 13^th. I was concerned about her weight, lack of appetite and developmental delays. Chelda’s mama brought her back in for regular check-ups and nutrition supplementation.  The baby developed regular diarrhea and continued to lose weight and refuse most food. Our medicines were not helping. Concerned, I was put in contact with a malnutrition treatment program located in the next town over and eventually ended up referring Chelda and her mama to another program where she is receiving intensive nutrition supplementation. I still have them coming into my clinic weekly for check-ups. I am thrilled to report that Chelda has begun gaining a little weight and now has the strength and energy to scream at the sight of me. I will take what I can get.

                Some days, I do not have many patients in the clinic. I try to take those opportunities to learn anything and everything that I can. One of the skills I most want to develop is suturing. We had a couple of teaching sessions when the physicians were down, but I felt nowhere near ready to actually suture a person. One of the physicians pointed out all of the information on the internet, so I have spent some time watching “how to suture” videos on YouTube. Here are the results of my first practice session, with a glove:

                Daily, I am learning so much about how to be a better nurse, how to better navigate this culture and ways to live well here. As a part of that, will you join with me in prayer for Fritzon and for Chelda and for all of my other patients, that they would receive the treatment they need and deserve, that my nursing practice here would be conducted with wisdom, discernment and most of all love? Thank you.

Words

                I love words. This pretty much sums up my feelings on the subject (geeky side note- how amazing is that website?!). I have shared about the frustration and confusion of learning a new language, but something I am coming to appreciate is the joy of learning all these new words. As I become (slightly) more comfortable with the language, my ears find new things to rejoice in. Rele (literally: call) is a musical word when it comes out of the mouth of a native Kreyol speaker. A shout of “pa gen moun?” (is anyone there), makes me smile every time.  Actually, even typing those words makes me smile. Manje. Kouto. Kiye. Chante. Machin. I roll these words around on my tongue, tasting them, trying and trying again to form them correctly, with the respect they deserve.

                I think the impetus for noticing these things comes from the same place as my post last week sharing the beauty of Bassin Bleu. So many things about this land bruise my heart every day. Taking the time to savor the joy and beauty that are also here, taking the time to remember to see them, keeps me hoping when things are dark. I find that that too is grace.

(Thank you Google Translate for helping  me with spelling!)

                

Adventures!

 Yesterday we also traveled hiked to an area called Bassin Bleu to celebrate a birthday. I always love the Haitian sense of how far a place is, compared to the American sense. As far as I can tell, it is never actually "jut a few minutes." Although longer than expected, I really cannot complain about the hike, since it looked like this...

As a girl who drinks in beauty to feed my soul, I could not have asked for a more perfect day.

Towards the end of the hike we climbed down some rocks using footholds and a rope. I also jumped off a forty foot cliff. So basically I faced almost all my fears one after the other.

 

At the end we swam in this pool. I could not get a picture, since my camera is not waterproof, but there is another waterfall past the rocks. So much beauty. So much grace.

The view of Jacmel from the car on the way back down.

And finally, the view on the way home. A spectacular finish to our trip!

Interwoven

"Unless the work is interwoven with love, it is useless."

Mother Theresa

               

When I was in the states, I was gifted a book of Mother Theresa quotes (thanks Karen!). I have been reading a passage from the book every day, and for lack of a better word, it is wrecking me. I am captivated by her words and how she wrote about people. She recognized the value in every human life; she saw that poverty of spirit is just as debilitating as any other kind of poverty. Then she did something about it. I so ant to imitate her in that.

 Consequently, I have been thinking about and praying over what it would look like for my daily life to be interwoven with love. I love the picture that comes to my mind when I hear the word interwoven, the idea of love wrapping everything I do. The idea of love shrouding all I do and say, my interactions with people and the words I choose. 

So, what would that look like? I think it looks like warm greetings for the smooth-talking orphan boys who hang out in our yard every day, or always having a moment to chat with the little boys whose father just beat their mother. Maybe it means listening to my elderly patient repeat their aches and pains three or five times in the course of our conversation. I am pretty sure it means choosing words of grace when I am hot and tired and tired of people. It means making opportunities to tell the little girl who needs it that she matters to me and doing everything I can to hear people, instead of anxiously awaiting my chance to talk. It means looking at the people I pass and consciously seeing them as people Christ died for. It's a process.