Not the soap opera, but the hospital in downtown Port-au-Prince.
In one word...
Horrific.
In two words...
Beyond depressing.
This photo is off of the internet. The hospital we went to today made this photographed hospital look like a place for the bourgeois.
(Contrary to the dictionary definition, in Haiti bourgeois = rich.)
We walked in not really sure what to expect. We had seen one hospital when Troy spent a night at Hospital Canape Vert. Mme Bozor went there too, but they did not think they could treat her burns. The hospital Mme Bozor is in now is similar to a county hospital set-up in the States. Similar in that anyone can go there, you don't need to have money. NOT similar in that it was nothing like anything you can find in the USA. It was one big room like in this photograph, only there were rows of beds everywhere all out in the open without privacy or division. It was crowded.
While we visited we needed to stand with our legs touching Mme Bozor's bed because if you took a step back you would be touching the next patient over. Beds were squished in together and there was no room to sit down. It reminded us of the way MASH units look on the battlefield, just rows and rows of sick and injured people all in one room.
Mme Bozor was worse and better than anticipated. The main things that made it worse were her surroundings. Also, she is usually the best dressed lady around, smells beautiful and has some of the cutest hair-do's of all. To see her in that much pain, that drugged up and that exposed was shocking and sad. As far as the burns, it seems that some are second degree and some are third, I thought they might look worse then they did. Some of the burns were dressed and others were not covered.
She sounded different and just that made me cry. Her pep & sass are gone for now. Right when she opened her eyes she said "How is Paige?" We told her that we decided it might not be good for Paige to see her this sick and she said "I love Paige but I do not want her to see me now." We visited briefly and then went to try and see if a "better" hospital could take her in yet.
We found it and learned that they had turned her away on Thursday because they are too full. They suggested we try "General Hospital and Canape Vert," which of course is where she was first and where she is now. A city of 2.5 million people and the same three hospitals are suggested over and over. They are all full and barely able to treat the problems ... or NOT able to treat them at all.
We went back to General to report that they could not take her at St. Joseph's. She was awake long enough to know a lot of people are praying and get a Troy-style forehead kiss and a quick prayer. We may never get total collaboration of what happened because it would require Mme Bozor to admit it, but the burn center that saw her first said she told a different story but that the burns and the smell of Kerosene were very consistent with having gas dumped on her.
To understand someone doing this to themselves out of anger, desperation or any other reason is difficult. Sadly, if it was a desperate way to keep her husband from leaving, it did not work. He says he is going back to New York tomorrow. We can't understand that either.
Before the trip to visit Mme Bozor in the most pathetic place I have seen in Haiti, I endured one of the most difficult middle-distance runs of my life. The numerous days of treadmill running have not done me any favors in dealing with outdoor-Haiti running. We got started too late so by 3 miles in it was 90 degrees. Add 90+ degrees to not eating enough breakfast and running on a road that is essentially a "trail run," and you have a recipie for tortuous disaster. Troy in his oh so gentle way said, "I wish you would listen to me." Which means he often lectures about the heat and the amount you should eat before you set out to run for two hours. At some points in the run my sweet friend, 50 year old Beth, was kicking my butt. I had goosebumps and chills and felt like my eyes were sitting in a bowl of water. If that makes any sense at all. We covered the distance but it was not pretty. I am questioning the wisdom in trying to train in this land of no open roads, no safe roads and no smooth roads. Idiotic? Yes. I believe so.
Lessons learned: Eat more, start earlier and get off the treadmill more often.
Agape Mail is kind of a big bummer. It seems unorganized there and... well .... frustrating. The Chemistry kit is still not here, nor are ten other things we are watching for. There seems to be no rhyme or reason for how long things take ... variable would be a nicer way to say it ... but I don't feel that nice about it right now.
(Dad, A box with Hope's dress-up play-dresses and a pair of Aidan's underwear came. Wrong grandkid's underwear. Ike's Birthday card was also there. Good work once again oh masterful "Deacon of cards." Your skills have been put to the test, yet you remain the reigning champion of getting the card to its destination on-time.)
We will soon be flying solo in LaDigue. The Hoppa Family has decided to return to Michigan. Jason has been offered an opportunity with their home church. Keep them in your prayers as they pack, leave and re-enter your crazy dangerous country.
While the change will mean some additional work, we feel God's presence and peace and believe that He will provide the direction and grace to help us get things done. He is good like that.
In Christ in Haiti,
t-t-b-p-i-h-n