Today started off as a regular Sunday.
Church began at 9:30am, instruments riding that Caribbean sound wave and then, without fail, a team member walks up to me in the middle of my jam session to ask me a question that apparently couldn't have waited until after church. Then we head to “Gwopapa Poul” or “Big Daddy Chicken” for our Sunday lunch. We return to MOH with the Hope House kids awaiting in the shadows of the playground with the gleam of “playtime” in their eyes. So I, of course, continued my quest to show all kids how much stronger I am than them by doing pull ups with kids hanging around my torso. Then the security guard yells my name...
He had his walkie talkie covering his mouth with an urgent look on his face. He told me there has been an accident with missions people and that I need to drive to a local town to help them. Kind of confused, I walked to my apartment to get Jay and the keys to a MOH pick up truck. Some translators hop in the bed of the truck and we headed down to the clinic to try and figure out what was going on. I exited the truck hoping to find someone to tell me something. I look over my shoulder as I hear a car approaching. It is a tap tap- which is basically a truck with a colorfully cage on the back and benches to sit people to taxi them around.
It U-turns and backs into the entrance of the MOH clinic. As it rolls closer, time slows down. I notice a white girl through the dust lifelessly turn her head towards me, face and arm covered in dried blood. Her head droops and I begin to survey the rest of the passengers who are slowly becoming visible. Everyone is covered in blood. The tap tap stops 5 feet from me. I glance down to see 3 Haitians laying in between the seated white people in the bed of the taptap. One has a mangled foot. Another has his tibia and fibula bones broken and completely exposed laying on top of shredded flesh. The last Haitian is face down and motionless.
Someone yells my name which snaps me out of my surreal state. We have to unload them onto stretchers immediately and place them in triage for assessment. Our initial team: ER doctor, Orthopedic PA, EMT, nurse, chiropractor, ex-police officer and me. So I listen and do whatever the doctors tell me. Get gloves. Check. Get in the taptap and lift these people out onto a stretcher. I lift and place. Lift and place. Lift and place. When the third person gets unloaded onto a stretcher, two more cars pull up with more injured people. More dust, more blood.
The Numbers:
27 people injured
15 people from a missions team out of Missouri
2 MOH ambulances to transport patients to University of Miami Hospital in PAP
The Story:
A missions team, having finished helping a remote school in the mountains for the day, gathers in a tap tap, larger than a pick up and smaller than a dump truck. They have Haitians jump on with them thus allowing a few brave souls to sit on the roof (there are benches for seating up there too). As they progress down a steep sided mountain road, the brakes give out. The road turns, the driver follows suit with too much speed sending the taptap rolling and throwing people out (no seat belts provided).
Back to the triage. Madness. We unload everyone. Head injuries and concussions. Lacerations abound. Blood all over the ground. People running around everywhere. I was running around everywhere.
Lifting, placing, finding.
Saline, morphine, needles and syringes.
I felt like I went patient to patient.
41 year old American woman. Help change her IV. She grabs my arm and looks at me with a similar blank look as a newborn baby. Somethings wrong. Grant, EMT, repeatedly asks her where she is to which she finally replies with a slight and soft “walmart”. We grab her IV and push her in an ambulance, shut the doors, gone.
18 year old American girl. Diabetic. Just recently involved in an accident and had her spine fused. Now complains of tingly fingers. I am told to find something with sugar in it that she can quickly digest. Run into the pharmacy. Needle in a haystack becomes relevant. My hand is placed on the top of my head as I let out an overwhelmed sigh. Instantly the visiting pharmacist walks in having just arrived to the scene. 30 seconds later I walk out with quick dissolve sugar tablets and then place them in girls mouth.
21 year old American male. Holding two gauze pads over his forehead and eyes. Bottom of his face covered in blood. I went with the ER doctor into, where else, the ER. The male removed his pads to reveal huge cuts with equally huge flaps of skin. The doctor asks me to be her ER Tech. I gather and hand her things she needs to perform. I watch as she slowly crafts his face back together. Through stitching and staples and an hour and a half of remolding, his face looks like a face again.
The whole ordeal, from the abrupt arrival to last patient transferred, was about 4 hours. When it was over and I began walking up to the guesthouse, I thought about the phone calls being made to the students parents. “There's been an accident, pray.” That's about one of the worse things you can hear. Four months ago, it was, “There's been an earthquake, pray.” Today was an instant reminder of the horrific tragedy that crippled Haiti. Instead of 27 people, there were millions.
For me personally, there is one main difference between today and mid January. Today, I felt better prepared. Everyone and everything felt better equipped. Progress is being made here. Slowly but surely. Today provided a glimpse of hope for Haiti's future. I hope that you continue to pray for Haiti and for the health of the injured and their families.
Church began at 9:30am, instruments riding that Caribbean sound wave and then, without fail, a team member walks up to me in the middle of my jam session to ask me a question that apparently couldn't have waited until after church. Then we head to “Gwopapa Poul” or “Big Daddy Chicken” for our Sunday lunch. We return to MOH with the Hope House kids awaiting in the shadows of the playground with the gleam of “playtime” in their eyes. So I, of course, continued my quest to show all kids how much stronger I am than them by doing pull ups with kids hanging around my torso. Then the security guard yells my name...
He had his walkie talkie covering his mouth with an urgent look on his face. He told me there has been an accident with missions people and that I need to drive to a local town to help them. Kind of confused, I walked to my apartment to get Jay and the keys to a MOH pick up truck. Some translators hop in the bed of the truck and we headed down to the clinic to try and figure out what was going on. I exited the truck hoping to find someone to tell me something. I look over my shoulder as I hear a car approaching. It is a tap tap- which is basically a truck with a colorfully cage on the back and benches to sit people to taxi them around.
It U-turns and backs into the entrance of the MOH clinic. As it rolls closer, time slows down. I notice a white girl through the dust lifelessly turn her head towards me, face and arm covered in dried blood. Her head droops and I begin to survey the rest of the passengers who are slowly becoming visible. Everyone is covered in blood. The tap tap stops 5 feet from me. I glance down to see 3 Haitians laying in between the seated white people in the bed of the taptap. One has a mangled foot. Another has his tibia and fibula bones broken and completely exposed laying on top of shredded flesh. The last Haitian is face down and motionless.
Someone yells my name which snaps me out of my surreal state. We have to unload them onto stretchers immediately and place them in triage for assessment. Our initial team: ER doctor, Orthopedic PA, EMT, nurse, chiropractor, ex-police officer and me. So I listen and do whatever the doctors tell me. Get gloves. Check. Get in the taptap and lift these people out onto a stretcher. I lift and place. Lift and place. Lift and place. When the third person gets unloaded onto a stretcher, two more cars pull up with more injured people. More dust, more blood.
The Numbers:
27 people injured
15 people from a missions team out of Missouri
2 MOH ambulances to transport patients to University of Miami Hospital in PAP
The Story:
A missions team, having finished helping a remote school in the mountains for the day, gathers in a tap tap, larger than a pick up and smaller than a dump truck. They have Haitians jump on with them thus allowing a few brave souls to sit on the roof (there are benches for seating up there too). As they progress down a steep sided mountain road, the brakes give out. The road turns, the driver follows suit with too much speed sending the taptap rolling and throwing people out (no seat belts provided).
Back to the triage. Madness. We unload everyone. Head injuries and concussions. Lacerations abound. Blood all over the ground. People running around everywhere. I was running around everywhere.
Lifting, placing, finding.
Saline, morphine, needles and syringes.
I felt like I went patient to patient.
41 year old American woman. Help change her IV. She grabs my arm and looks at me with a similar blank look as a newborn baby. Somethings wrong. Grant, EMT, repeatedly asks her where she is to which she finally replies with a slight and soft “walmart”. We grab her IV and push her in an ambulance, shut the doors, gone.
18 year old American girl. Diabetic. Just recently involved in an accident and had her spine fused. Now complains of tingly fingers. I am told to find something with sugar in it that she can quickly digest. Run into the pharmacy. Needle in a haystack becomes relevant. My hand is placed on the top of my head as I let out an overwhelmed sigh. Instantly the visiting pharmacist walks in having just arrived to the scene. 30 seconds later I walk out with quick dissolve sugar tablets and then place them in girls mouth.
21 year old American male. Holding two gauze pads over his forehead and eyes. Bottom of his face covered in blood. I went with the ER doctor into, where else, the ER. The male removed his pads to reveal huge cuts with equally huge flaps of skin. The doctor asks me to be her ER Tech. I gather and hand her things she needs to perform. I watch as she slowly crafts his face back together. Through stitching and staples and an hour and a half of remolding, his face looks like a face again.
The whole ordeal, from the abrupt arrival to last patient transferred, was about 4 hours. When it was over and I began walking up to the guesthouse, I thought about the phone calls being made to the students parents. “There's been an accident, pray.” That's about one of the worse things you can hear. Four months ago, it was, “There's been an earthquake, pray.” Today was an instant reminder of the horrific tragedy that crippled Haiti. Instead of 27 people, there were millions.
For me personally, there is one main difference between today and mid January. Today, I felt better prepared. Everyone and everything felt better equipped. Progress is being made here. Slowly but surely. Today provided a glimpse of hope for Haiti's future. I hope that you continue to pray for Haiti and for the health of the injured and their families.
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