What If There Is No Doctor?

Last night, I was awakened from little pebbles being thrown at my bedroom window. My windows, with their metal shutters give a small pebble the sound of a large rock. I jolted out of bed, recognizing the call as an emergency. My entire public health team knows that throwing pebbles at my window if it is late at night is code for an emergency. I threw on a shirt, flip-flops, grabbed my flashlight and keys to the clinic and was out the door in less than 30 seconds. I am so accustomed to this procedure that I keep the keys and flashlight right by my bed. When I got outside, there was a little boy standing there with one of my public health guys and four adults who I had never seen before. There was no reason to ask what the problem was because even in the dark I could see the blood. His hair was drenched and the towel covering his head was soaked. The blood was beginning to coagulate around his ears, leaving long red strings when I removed the towel. His forehead, nose and cheeks were covered in dry blood. I had never seen that much blood before in my life.

The first thing I did was check his vitals and his responsiveness. I had no idea how long he had been bleeding and how much blood he had lost in walking here. The family was from a nearby village and walked/ran at least a mile to get to me. The three men who came with the little boy looked worried, while the woman was hysterical. The little boy just stood there, not a tear in his eye.

As we helped him to the clinic, I asked him what happened. He told me that he cut himself with a razor trying to cut his hair. I told him that the next time he tries cutting his hair, to do so without cutting off his head first. "Sa ap fe difisil pou fe cheve ou si ou manke tet." (It will be hard to cut your hair without a head). He laughed. I took this as a good sign and had him get on the examining table. With Fritzner and Webert (two of my public health guys) helping me, I cleaned the boy's head with some soap and water to get a better idea at what I was dealing with. (This initial cleaning was the only time throughout the entire procedure, including the lidocaine injections, that the boy complained about it hurting). Actually, he fell asleep the entire time I was stitching him up. The cut was just over 4 inches long and was a nice straight, clean cut that required 13 stitches. When we were finished, we woke him up, wrapped him up, gave him a tetanus shot and some antibiotics, wrote up a new chart for him and told the family to bring him back for a daily dressing change. His name is Clonal. He is 11 years-old. When I saw him today to change his bandage, he had a big smile on his face and thanked me again, “pou fikse tet mwen” (for fixing my head).

I had the public health boys talk to the family about keeping sharp objects out of reach, especially when children are around. We asked them what they would have done, had I not been here. They said that they didn't know. They had no money to go into town to the hospital, not to mention the trip is more than 6 miles by foot because no taxis run late at night. They knew of me by word of mouth and took their chances coming here in hope that we could help. Even the clinic I work at closes its doors at 3pm. If I am not here to attend to emergencies, there is no one. While most of the time, I can resolve the problem, we are constantly having to pay exorbitant amounts of money to send children to the hospital in town where the care is to say the least, inadequate, but because of the larger staff and x-ray machine, it is better than even we can give in our three-room clinic with inconsistent running water and electricity. This is just one reason why we are so desperately in need of building a new medical center.

Estimated to cost roughly $220,000-$250,000, we are nearly half way there in fundraising but are a long ways away from laying our first brick. If you can help in any way possible, please contact me at willinhaiti@gmail.com or Susan Midgett who is currently fundraising $100,000 for the medical center at somidgett@aol.com

I’m here, doing the work that I believe I was meant to do. But, with each and everyday, I realize that I can’t do it alone. Please help me.
-Will