Learning to crawl

Last night, much to the joy and amazement of his parents, Solomon figured out how to crawl. (we tried to upload video, but the internet didn't like it) He has his own style, but it gets him from point A (usually a wide open space) to point B (usually something with potential danger i.e. electrical cord, unsteady chair, leafy plant, oven) quickly.

A new era has begun in parenthood.

Our child is officially mobile. ☺



I found celebrating Solomon’s new sweet skills fitting to thoughts as of late.

I don’t come by patience easily. I’m a task master, a see-a-problem-and-tackle-it kind of girl. The busier the better. So Haiti with her own pace, her own style of problem solving has provided me with a lot to learn. Over the last 9 months of language learning, cultural immersion, getting to know our co-workers and our community, Patrick and I at times feel like despite all our ideas and our energy, we are moving through the molasses of cross-cultural communication; we are in the infancy of our work. Often we feel ready to move but need first to learn the steps on how to go from sitting to motion. Like Solomon, we've been reliant on everyone around us to help us navigate our new world. And those friends and co-workers have been immensely important in teaching us how to put one knee, one hand in front of the other.

Recently I received news that Dr. Charcot accepted a job working with another organization. Let me clarify: a job that pays. So it’s a good for him, too bad for us situation. He’ll keep his toe in the loop with us and maybe volunteer with our mobile clinics every now and again, but our team has whittled back down to Miss Fano and I.

I have to admit, I was disappointed in Dr. Charcot’s news. I knew the day was coming, but I had hoped that we’d have him for a bit longer, maybe even find some funds to support him while we fed off of his energy and knowledge of the Haitian medical system. He is a great brainstormer, a hard worker, and one of those people who is ready to run with an idea the minute the meeting is over. He works fast. After he joined our "Central Committee for Health" things went from shuffling to a sprint. Our mobile clinics this summer were a bustling blur of patients and activity as we trucked and trekked from one location to another: some hidden in mountain neighborhoods, others on the plains, in barrios and in the center of the city. I really enjoyed working with him. Our pace complimented each other, and it was fun to tackle a waiting room full of people together, scratching our heads over interesting cases, offering advice back and forth, assisting each other on small procedures.

And after he left, mobile clinics slowed nearly to a stop as Miss Fano and I stepped back to re-evaluate.

The slow down has been good. We had been running all May and June, scattered all July, and now, before school starts and with new changes abound, it was time to step back and re-evaluate. Time to slow the running to more of a crawl.

Today in my CONASPEH clinic, I had a happy stream of patients all morning long. Week after week through the summer I’ve been there despite school being out, seeing one, maybe three patients in a morning. But today I enjoyed the fruits of a slow crawl summer thanks to our consistent presence. I saw a woman who I had visited in her home, who had been too sick to come in to the clinic. Today she looked strong and spirited, breathing like a champ and only concerned that she wasn’t feeling quite as strong as she did before the onset of malaria. I saw several follow-ups from our mobile clinics to re-check rashes and blood pressures. A little girl sat bravely as I cleaned out her ears, another wailed as I inspected an infected scalp. I inspected a man with typhoid and lots of the sinewy, tuff elders of the community in for blood pressure and blood sugar tests as well as Tylenol for their aches and pains.

I was smiling all day. Like my little boy, our little clinic has been growing. It certainly hasn’t been the big bang and one-day rush that mobile clinics feel like some times, with a waiting rooms full of people anxious for attention. But it’s a community clinic I’m proud of because it has grown slow and steady, full of faces of people whose trust I’m slowly earning.

This afternoon in a meeting with Francois and Miss Fano, we set out plans for our clinic re-design and laboratory. Thanks to all who helped make donations to the mobile lab. We are using part of it now, utilizing tests that can be done quickly and within the context of an office visit, putting off a few of the more technical tests until we can find an open day to set aside just for labs or better yet, a lab technician. However the lab will not only be used for medical care and outreach; it will serve as a great teaching tool for the students of the nursing school. I have my own dream of enlisting their help in our clinic outreach, manning the microscope and the urine samples. ☺

So plans continue to evolve and take shape no mater how the group changes. The work and the ideas move on.

Despite my best intentions, I tend to hit things running with a mind full of ideas, energy for projects, goals and expectations for how things will evolve. But as one friend often reminds me, life is not a sprint, its a marathon. After landing in Haiti, we've learned a language, a new culture, the context of our work and our community. We've gone from complete dependence and grown into a "crawling phase" where we are now at a place where we can speak, we can move, we can add reasonable ideas and see how they work thanks to a lot of help and insight from everyone around us. I'm thankful for the crawl. It has given me the chance take stock, to evaluate and plan anew, but most of all, to sit back and simply enjoy the work I have the honor of taking part in.


"No Mom, don't, its toooo funny. I can't stand it!"