Helping Hands

Monday December 28, 2008

Today I had a meeting with a Haitian doctor who works in a clinic and small hospital near the guesthouse. The connection was made through a German couple staying at the guesthouse who have a long history of working in Haiti through frequent visits over the years. The physician I met has built quite a clinic system. I talked to her about the CONASPEH clinic, its current state and visions for the future, plans on public health education and needs for community networking. She voiced a lot of words of caution, reigniting my earlier fears of the risks of practicing medicine too soon before language and appropriate referral/lab systems were in place, especially since I planned to have a long-time presence in the community. –sigh-- I didn’t need help with doubt and fear. Although she didn't offer any specific advice during our meeting, she did seem interested in establishing a working relationship. I fear such a relationship has a price and I’m not convinced CONASPEH has a budget and/or interest in such a relationship. But its worth a try.

I’m finding difficulties in making true working relationships here. I suppose it has to do with limited resources and the need for any connection to be profitable in some way. I think of all the times when specialists during residency offered their advice for free, taught in the hallways, took questions over the phone during their busy clinic day with no price tag attached. But of course this comes with the luxury of systems that continue to generate patient flow, income, and where networking has proven to be profitable. I haven’t found the same here, thus far from Haitian colleagues. American colleagues have been helpful but also are working within the context of their individual NGO's. With the “people you know” networking system that I’m functioning within, it’s a slow process of discovery.

Walking home, I was lost in thought… considering my next move, how my meeting brought me any closer to providing good medical care to the community of CONASPEH, struggling with fears re-stoked from our conversation, and fighting those lingering feelings of isolation. I must have been quite a sight, lumbering along the side street, hair pulled back, big blue backpack strapped to by back, sweating, head down in concentration as I pick my path around rocks and mud holes, trash and people while deep in thought. I entered a busy street market filled shoulder-to shoulder with women and their baskets and their mats full of produce: rice, nuts, beans, fruits, greens, fish, chicken, crabs and slabs of other red raw meat all entertained by a swarming cloud of flies. At that moment, a man in a huge truck thought he could somehow crowd through the incredibly busy street market (where you can hardly walk through without stepping on someone's toes). So as he inched his giant vehicle down the road, women had to move their baskets and their mats to create a slightly wider path, shoppers squeezed to the side, dogs ducked behind baskets, everything condensed like trash in a compactor. I huddled next to a stand as the truck inched closer and closer. Clearly my toes were going to be pancakes. A women from one of the stalls looked at me with panic in her eyes, jumped up and grabbed me pulling me into her stall screaming, "blan, blan" (white, white) and rescued me from a lifetime of wafer toes. She had me in a full-on body hug as the truck inched by, and I started laughing. I hugged her back, and then she started laughing. "Meci anpil" (thank you so much) I said. She patted my turtle backpack and sent me on my way with a big open-mouthed smile, a nod of the head, and a wave.

I had been removed from the world in thought, feeling alone and lost. And then I woke to arms around me, pulling me out of harm’s way in a busy, bustling, congested city market full of life, full of humanity. I had been alone only in thought. And the arms of Haiti reached out and pulled me back into the noise. I was reminded that help was available, it just might not come in the form I’m anticipating. So days in Haiti continue to teach, and remind me to trust in the unexpected, in the community I find myself in. I forge ahead with what I know, having faith that what I don’t know will come in time... in Haitian time.