Haiti, January 26, 2010

On the 10th full day in Haiti, we find ourselves at the transition point where we must work extremely hard carrying out our duties, but beginning to transfer responsibility to the persons who will assume our roles upon our departure. Some of our team have begun to "hit the wall" physically and emotionally. I am fine emotionally, but these old muscles are aching for sure. However, every time I walk past a young Haitian child who has lost an arm or leg, yet still smiles and tries to give me a wave, I am energized. It will be very difficult to leave, but I know that within a few days, we must get our batteries recharged.

The hospital complex is really taking shape now. The tents are wall-to-wall and all filled with patients. We have arranged for electricity and sanitation. We have oxygen bottles and new stretchers. Yet, we are still missing critical sterilization equipment for surgical instruments, modes of transportation, phones, and sufficient supplies to call this a complete medical operation.

I was visited today by a contingent from the US Armed Forces and Department of Defense officials responsible for supporting the military-civilian interface. I gave them a tour and they pledged to help us solve some of our most pressing problems related to space and supplies. I believe that this will be invaluable to our efforts and am enormously grateful for the support.

Some of my new friends from other NGOs have begun to rotate out, and I miss them already. We have become close "under fire," in a way that is not possible in any other venue. We would trust each other with our lives.

Three of us shared a common experience today, individually, as we walked down the road past the crushed nursing school and towards the Swiss surgery tent compound. We all noticed for the first time a beautiful flowering bougainvillea that had been completely overlooked when we marched head down along what was only a week ago a thoroughfare of death. We smelled the cooking from the street, and walked past tents of injured persons singing, trying to be happy, trying to begin to get back to normal. They are so brave and so deserving of all that we can give them.

Our group has adopted in a certain way the young 5 year old boy who was pulled from the rubble after a week. He comes to visit us, and clings to the nurse who was most attentive to him during his resuscitation. His parents are lost now and he is an orphan. He is like thousands of children in Haiti now. The orphanages are filled or filling, I am told, and reconstruction cannot occur fast enough to avoid enormous tent cities, housing many tens of thousands of persons in each location.

Stop for a moment and think what you might do to help anyone, anywhere. Hug your children, visit someone in the hospital, and be kind to everyone you meet. Life is a precious commodity. Most of all, appreciate what you have, and consider sharing it with persons who are less fortunate than yourself.