The non-military personnel were helping the most in the hospitals and clinics, as we found out not only with the DR hospital, but on our trip to the HaitiNationalHospital close to the military controlled airport.
On our second day in Port au Prince, we transported medical staff to the orphanage to examine the 53 children who needed care. From there we travelled back into the epicenter of the quake. We got inside the National hospital, and spoke with the Chief of the Emergency Clinic. Since there were so many doctors at the hospital back in the DR, there was a possibility of getting some of the staff to the Haitian side if they needed more hands. Which they did. One month later, this hospital, that turned no one away, was overflowing with patients, inside and outside. Of course guarding it were marines and soldiers, who escorted us around the grounds. We saw hundreds of people mostly with leg, arm, body casts, broken jaws, facial restructuring with metal rods, and other monumentally horrible injuries. The mood in the hospital of profound despair, not only the medical staff but the patients. Although it was teaming with people, it was relatively quiet.
That's when it finally hit me. Between the oppressive heat and extreme dust in the air, I started to feel sick. Had this really happened? How would these people ever recover from this mess? Why aren't there more people helping? Where is all the aid and money donated from around the world? Why are they struggling so much, and are they angry or sad or both? This Country is ripe for revolution.
Driving back to the orphanage to pick up the rest of our team of medical staff, it started to get dark. There was no electricity throughout the city, and only random lights run by local generators. The orphanage was dark and the children were waiting for us outside. Massive mosquitoes swarmed us as we headed back for the border. However, it was 8 pm, and the border closed by 6 PM when the gates are locked. We were 2 hours away.
Once we arrived at the border gates the guards refused to unlock them. However, a medical technician with us brought medical face masks. He said the guards always needed them and our gift might get us through. Within a few minutes of showing them the masks, they opened up the lock, and allowed us safe passage.
Back to Port au Prince
On our third day into the epicenter, we once again transported medical staff, but this time they were four medical students. They had travelled on their own dime to help, and by now the hospital in the DR had less than 80 patients, and too many doctors. Our stop at the orphanage was a regular visit now, but these med students carried with them enough shoes, toys, candy and some soccer balls for the kids. The Reverend lined up the children, smallest first, and they received shoes, which they had asked for the day before. We gave them candy, and left for the national hospital while they were singing goodbye.
We drove past the palace again to show them the devastation and the tent city set up right across the street. I also wanted to hand out whatever medical supplies and food I had left in the bags, and thought that doctors in scrubs might do the trick. But when we arrived, people swarmed the truck. Leaving quickly, we took the med students to the national hospital. The marines let us in and we saw the Chief of the ER, who took all four of our passengers immediately and put them to work on setting up a new medical tent since 1,000 more patients had come in that day. One woman had her lower body crushed by the quake, but did not seek medical treatment until then and reports of typhoid and malaria outbreaks had just surfaced. The medical students thanked us for taking them there and told us that we had just helped save more lives.
We made our way to Paul's home to meet his mom and sister, who had prepared a Haitian meal for us. Their home was untouched, but his mother refuses to sleep inside any longer, so they pitched a tent in their front yard. She thanked us and was grateful that people like us would be willing to come there to help. She said, speaking French that we are all human and we must all care about one another especially in times of tragedy and for caring about the Haitian people enough to give up our time and spend it with them.
Winding back down the mountain on the rubble lined streets, we saw a few bulldozers that were being operated by people in the community. They worked on a few homes together to remove a building that hadn't yet fully collapsed. We stopped on the side of the road, watching them carrying shovels, cement and trowels, and the small dozers picked up rocks to dump in the truck. In the 3 days that we traveled, this was the first time I saw any heavy equipment . However, the Haitians were helping themselves with no one from other countries visible.
Left with two duffle bags of supplies Paul took us to visit a doctor, who was a friend of his family, Dr. Margarette Blaise Jean, who is a pediatrician at Unitemedicale De Lilavois, on the outskirts of Port au Prince. As we drove up to her clinic, we saw a small tent city outside the property. Dr. Margarette told us, in perfect English, how much she and her husband, Philippe, appreciated people coming to her country to help in whatever way we could. We took our supplies out and she wept with joy saying that she would be able to bring them to the tent city next to her. She had been caring for them, especially the women and children. The peroxide bottles, and bacitracin ointment were needed, but the feminine hygiene pads made her night since the women were always searching for them.
The Border Patrol
On our way back, once again it was dark and we were 2 hours late. The border had closed and this would be our third night of trying to get the gates open for us. Paul rushed us to the Haiti side of the border, but they wouldn't let us pass through this time. They said they had "orders" not to let anyone cross over to the DR side. We knew why. Paul told them what we had been helping in Haiti, and the guards again asked for our identification. I gave them my husband's NYPD Lieutenant identification card, and immediately they let us through!
We got to the DR gate and on the opposite side was our friend Jonathan who the night before had the face masks. He said the "commander" had kept the key that night, and the gate couldn't be opened. Again, we knew why. Then a guard said in Spanish "if we could fit through the hole in the fence, we could come in." I looked down to see a 2 ft. opening which my daughter could fit through, but I doubted I could.
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