Friday March 19th, Bel Aire after the rain

"Did you stay dry last night?" was the question of the morning on arriving to clinic.
Thankfully, most of our interpreters said yes. My guy Isaac slept in a 'cracked building', he said. But at least he wasn't stuck out in the rain all night. There are many more and 'nicer' tents out there nowadays, but still. Would you want to be there?
Because of a combination of the wet weather and the fact that there was a large food distribution line going somewhere in the vicinity, there were less than 10 people waiting for us at the clinic this morning!This has been practically unheard of. But they came later. It rained on and off most of the morning, and had rained all night last night--that was the first time in the trip it had lasted so long. But the streets were busy on the drive in at 8 and although it was messy, things were moving along. You pass by many many tent cities on the drive in, but you can only see the perimeter from the street. I noticed one that was substantially lower than the level of the road, and wondered if it had been flooded. It doesn't take many fractions of inches of water on the ground to make living in a tent pretty miserable. In clinic, the overcast and rainy skies blotted out what little light we did have before, and I had to use a flashlight to examine just about every part of each patient because it was just too dim in the building.
Meanwhile, the morning soundtrack was dripping water from the cracks in the roof, the splash of tires in giant potholes full of water on the road below our windows, and crying babies.

But by mid-afternoon the sun was peeking out, and things were livening up into something resembling a Friday in any town. The lighting and the mood improved! At lunch, I was able to get up on the roof of the building and take a short video. Everyone has to go on the roof at least once at the clinic--you can see so much from there. Two of our translators, Marc and Jean Louis, saw me from where they were sitting at the movie house they'd shown me yesterday at lunch down below on the street, and they waved to my video camera from there.  Of course I couldn't tell who they were from that far; they told me later that it was them.

In clinic I had a patient that was probably schizophrenic or suffering from psychosis of some sort. Symptoms had preceded earthquake. Voices in her head, headaches, with "bad intentions". How on earth to get a girl mental health support when there is hardly enough basic medical care..? Luckily, my translator Isaac knew of a Psychiatric Center in town and we referred her there, having not the expertise nor the medication to treat her ourselves anyway. I hope she goes. And I hope the Center is still functioning. And that they will see her.
So many uncertainties every day here.
And more patients with scabies. Horribly itchy, unpleasant little bugs that burrow under your skin. Scabies everywhere, but no medicine here (Permethrin) with which to effectively treat it. Besides that, once treatment is started it is also imperative that all linens, clothing be washed regularly to prevent continued infestation and relapse. But most people don't have ready access to even laundry detergent or hot water. Hard to expect them to be able to meet this treatment program. That, and if the neighbors in the tent sharing your back wall aren't doing the same (and their neighbors, and their neighbors, and so on) and when your back wall may be a bed sheet, the odds that this will return pretty quick are high. We see lots of young kids with terrible infestations that seem to have a predilection for their ears. It's rotten.

We've seen several cases of probable to certain Tuberculosis. Also hard to treat because of there being only one facility that we are aware of being open to handle this at present. And it is in P au P, whereas some of the patients are in outlying areas. It's not as easy as just hopping in the car to go to town to see the doctor. They've no money for a ride! And gas is very, very expensive right now. Of course some people have to work-the lucky ones- and others have obligations to take care of others, which makes it hard for them to feel they can get away for a trip to the hospital that they likely aren't looking forward to anyway.

Now it's going on 11pm here at our house in Petionville, and I am in my bunk getting ready for bed. There is music (loud!) playing somewhere nearby. It is not raining, thankfully. Don't know if I'll be able to sleep through the music, but it's ok. It's an optimistic nuisance.

Tomorrow will be my last day/half-day in Haiti for this, trip #2. Goes by so fast each time. And whether I'm ready to go home or not, I realize how fortunate I am that I have an escape. For me, it's an 'adventure' in a way, really.
 For them, it's all they have. I get to go home, take a hot bath, sleep in my warm, dry clean bed, and wash the grime and filth out of my clothes, and go on with my life as it was before. They have no home, no retreat, no recharge zone.  Things are looking up, though. You just have to tilt your head waaay back and squint, but Haiti is trying. I hope they succeed. I look forward to seeing more changes my next trip.

-Jen