Day 2 Tuesday

by Reid Boswell, MD

There are times in life when we are faced with brinksmanship and end up backing down, only to discover that perhaps the outcome was probably for the best. We awoke with every expectation that we would be traveling to our dear friend Dr. Gladys’ clinic in Bayottte in the picturesque foothills of the mountains, surrounded by blooming bougainvillea, and more than enough space to spread out for our clinic day. We discovered that, despite everyone’s best efforts, communication can fail. We headed off, some of us happily riding in the back of the Daihatsu flatbed truck, taking in the sounds and smells of Haiti. We turned off the main road, past the familiar “One Love Bar” heading towards the foothills. Our convoy abruptly stopped in front of what appeared to be an abandoned earthquake damaged school or something and were told that this was where our clinic would be. There was a small courtyard and a 400 square foot structure, with a much larger rubble-strewn structure behind.

Our leader is passionate about our mission, but apparently the local agent setting up the clinic was equally insistent that he would not lose face if we did not set up our clinic where he said. So, brinksmanship. We looked around at the few scattered faces of the locals expecting to see the doctor that day, and the consensus was to stay. The clinicians and the pharmacy were squeezed together in the 400 square foot house, triage was just outside, and the dentist settled into a corner of the courtyard. Slowly, the flow of patients developed, many people came, and by the end of the day, we saw many more patients than we had seen on day one.  There were several patients with blood pressures so high that, as the old medical joke says, they were at “patent pending.” Several presumed malaria cases, many of which were children. I saw a young man with an enormous hydrocoele (look it up) who needed surgical intervention sooner rather than later.  There was of course a variety of GI complaints, some probably caused by H. pylori, which we were well-equipped to treat. Ibuprofen and acetaminophen flew out the door to treat the aches and pains which are inevitable for hard-working farmers and those sleeping on the ground. We ran out of vitamins, and ended up getting creative about medication adjustments as our supplies began to run low. Our main translator Mario was stationed at the back door to dispense the medication to our patients in the colorful, loving-made Epiphany cloth bags. Every time I glanced over, I saw smiling children and patients crowding the door to retrieve their medication, vitamins and toothbrushes.

At the end of the day, I was tired and my feet were throbbing from being on my feet all day checking pharmacy orders. But I couldn’t help feeling an enormous sense of pride in our incredible team, face with sudden change in plans and limited space and resources, and yet all who needed to be seen were seen. Driving back on the Daihatsu flatbed, dust blowing in my eyes and hanging onto my beloved Red Sox cap, I thought about our patients that day and what would have happened if we had pushed on. Did we make a difference? I don’t know, but we showed up and did the best we could.

After dinner, we met with Father Kerwin who encouraged us, thanking us for giving up maybe a ski vacation or a pleasure cruise to come to Haiti. When asked what more we can do, he replied with an old Creole saying, that roughly translates to “many hands make light work.” His last words were “Dare to come, for that is Christian.” I thought to myself, “Father, it is a two-way street.” I feel like I receive as much or more from the Haitian people we meet and work with than anything that I give back.