I have hit the two-month mark, a fact that is both easy and hard to grasp. In many ways, it seems as if time has been crawling by, as each moment is so full and there is so much to observe, process and translate as I live it. Yet, in other ways, each day passes quickly. Moments with the children are precious and genuine, and I am still adjusting to the change in routine that school brings. I now know the weekly menu by heart, and I have my basic schedule set. Laundry and the remedial tasks of this life are never thought of that way – I appreciate them just as I did in the States. Today, a “day off” after a whirlwind stretch to be detailed shortly, I found myself craving the therapy that a clean home brings, and could not relax until the bathroom and the floor were shining! My living situation is changing – I will be moving into a house with Dani tomorrow. I have relished my corner of the living room but am ecstatic to have a more permanent place, with a door that I can close, a space I can make my own.
Last Monday began “Project Immunize.” I had no notice of this little adventure, but it turned out to be a huge undertaking upon which I can look back and breathe a sigh of relief. NPFS has been looking for money with which to supplement the vaccines that the government of Haiti gives. There is a regular vaccination schedule set by the Ministry of Health, and the government provides regular vaccinations to the children of the country. These are limited, however, and can vary depending on what is available at the time of scheduled vaccination appointments. (Example: one month the DTP, or diptheria-tetanus-pertussis, vaccine may be available, the next month only the Td, or tetanus-diptheria, vaccine may be the only option). Another problem is that the government does not offer catch-up vaccines for any children. Enter our program and the orphanage in Kenscoff, where many children are admitted with an unknown vaccination history. So, as a responsible organization, we are obligated to provide each vaccine that the child should have had up to their current age. And this takes a great deal of money.
What I thought I would have weeks to plan, involving the clinic nurses and taking time to educate them about all of the vaccines, I now had three days to coordinate. But this is my kind of crisis, and the nurses were all about digging in and helping me. We talked through out ideas, we got the vaccine information in French and Creole, the nurses avidly read the info, and we came up with a game plan. The doctor was excited too, and teamwork at its finest was exemplified. Friday, we vaccinated the 32 babies against Hib, meningitis, MMR, and Hepatitis B. The hardest part of the whole afternoon was preparing the individual vaccines, and that fell to yours truly. As much as I would like to educate the nurses about their injection technique, they have one that works and I gladly relenquished “picky” duties in favor of facilitation and prep. The day went well, with lollipops for each kiddo after the pain, and a doctor and nurses with great senses of humor.
Yesterday, it was the big kids' turn. All 150 of them. All of the prayers I asked for were felt! There was so much peace present, and the kids actually skipped to me when their names were called! This, as my supervisor told me later last night, was a perfect example of a trusting relationship. We did the vaccines in a separate room, which is a major difference from how the Ministry of Health does them. They have long lines, where everyone can see the poor victim as he/she is poked and cries accordingly. Imagine being the kid at the back of the line, having to witness everyone before you! Oh, the agony! (I did witness this on one of my first days in Haiti...and vowed to change it). I was able to call each kid up, have them wait outside the room, explain to them why we were giving the pickys, and they looked at me and said it was ok. They willingly walked in, sat and were so brave – the little guys took it as a challenge to be macho! I was proud of every single kiddo – to be trusted and see the smiles after the few seconds of pain was heartwarming. Hugs and lollipops, and laughter and immunity. What a great combination.
In the midst of the vaccine project, we celebrated the dedication of St. Philomene, a wing of St. Luke hospital, on Sunday. Brief history: after the earthquake, St. Luke was opened out of necessity as an adult hospital. Then cholera hit, and yet another facility was opened emergently to accommodate the cholera patients. During the course of the last year, Fr. Rick and the St. Luke staff determined that it would be wise to have a standby wing that could be dedicated to care of a large number of people in the case of another disaster or medical outbreak. This is now St. Philomene. Cholera patients are still treated at St. Philomene, and there is a large space available for use should it be needed. An unfortunate reality of this country is that it is very likely that space will be filled soon. Sr. Philomena, from the Adrian Dominican Sisters (go Michigan!!), was present at the mass. She worked for NPH for fifteen years, caring for babies. The new hospital was dedicated in her honor. And yet, as Fr. Rick pointed out during his homily, the ground for the hospital was already christened by the playing of children, the dancing of little feet and the young singing voices which echoed here after the earthquake. Where the hospital now stands, children were initially cared for in the days after the quake when the FWAL program was started. Meals were given, spirits were lifted, joy permeated the chaos-filled air and young lives were transformed, even as some in the world-wide audience spoke of the presumed demise of the country.
I have been challenged in every way this past week. The raw emotion that fills me has at times been difficult to bear. The suffering present on faces begging outside the hospital and on the street is heart-wrenching. The intensity of the vaccination marathon exhausted every ounce of energy I had left. Sunday evening we had at least half a dozen tiny bodies lined up on one stretcher at mass, ten bodies total. Criticism and misunderstanding acompany many situations here, as a group of imperfect humans from many different cultures work together. Passion pervades the hearts of new and experienced volunteers alike, and anger is often justifiable. I hear of milestones from home – new life, engagements, deaths, job changes – and the pain of separation presents itself with each new notice. I yearn to be present to those I love, I fear being forgotten, I read news headlines and am puzzled at the vanity and shallowness of some realities. I wonder what would cross the minds of the majority of my fellow Americans were they to be transported here and see the resilience and strength of a people for whom a tax return or retirement account or health insurance is completely foreign, a people for whom 80% unemployment and perhaps one meal a day is the reality, where the goal is to survive until tomorrow. And I am grateful to re-learn every day a lesson which the poor have taught me for the past eleven years, and yet which never ceases to strike me in new ways. The less material distraction we have, the less obsession with self, the less ability to isolate behind computer or Smartphone or closed-door or supposed reality television show, the more we look at the people right in front of us and realize their importance. I will never tire of the little fingers running through my hair, the precious touches and the trust that I saw in the eyes I met yesterday, the loving hands that reach out during the Kiss of Peace at mass, the excited voices calling out my name, the smiles that rest on faces I greet each morning. I will forever cherish the voices of the laboring women outside my window, as new life makes its way into this world. This life is not meant to be lived in isolation or ingratitude or ignorance. It is meant to be lived in Relationships, in being present to others in the fleeting moments we are given with them. Opportunities to learn are constant; chances to lift spirits, to truly listen, to serve, to honor thoughts and actions, to put another person before ourselves, are countless. As many times as we are tempted to assume conclusions and judge others about whom we know a little, or even perhaps a lot, let us pause and examine our motives. And may we all strive to be present in the little moments we are so blessed to cherish. May they not pass us by unnoticed. That would be the ultimate tragedy.
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