Back from Haiti.. my journal.. the real story

[notmeofficer]

Haiti


Adventures in Medicine in the Third World



Forward

In the third world it all comes down to survival... Food, water and shelter... Everything else is fluff. I was given the privilege of going to Haiti with 15 doctors, nurses, PT’s of various skills from all over the US. They were bound together by faith and service. They were not combat doctors, they were not physically hardened, but they were committed. Commitment can get you by for a short period. After day one everyone becomes an expert about the third world.
I was coming along at the request of one of the doctors to oversee the protection of his daughter, as if I could actually do anything in the sea of humanity we were about to envelope ourselves with. I had no illusions, I knew that any real dangerous situation would overwhelm me immediately... Perhaps I was food for the masses before the plump docs.
I knew where I was going was dangerous and I knew that my perceptions may be unwelcome in a group of religious doctors going to help starving babies in the third world. I found this to be only partially true and found the doctors split in their perception of danger in the end. I come from a different place than the docs and live in a different reality. My third world forays had all been safe boat bound incursions years prior. I had to power down big-time and put my combat intensity up on the shelf.
Good Intel is the mother of all operations. I had called a family acquaintance, which was the head of the E.R. at the University of Connecticut. He had just gotten back from Haiti and gave me a no-nonsense sitrep of the “otherworld”. This was invaluable for me and allowed me to tweak my preparation. I went to work on basic maps, including earthquake maps, listed medical locations, embassy addresses, emergency phone numbers (that later when tried never worked) medical translation cards, backup visas and IDs, and putting together a plan for my own health.
My plan was to bring all my food and water for the entire week plus 1. I made a pact I would not eat or drink anything other than what I brought, or what another trusted American gave to me in a sealed bag from the US. This plan proved to be successful and kept me from getting ill when many others in the group did. Doctors don’t listen… well many of them didn’t…. I don’t think they ever would. I calculated my caloric and protein requirements and figured it out to 50 gms. of protein and about 2500-3000 calories per day as well as a minimum of 5 liters of water /electrolyte replacement. I made a mix of precooked dried beans, millet, rice, freeze dried veggies, cumin and cayenne spices (both natural antibiotics) and dried miso (for probiotics). With this I ate Ak Mak crackers and super protein Odwalla bars. My energy was excellent and I felt great the whole time. My friend, R, kept me supplied every morning with something as a treat like dried apples and the like. She was awesome and brought humanity and softness to a place lacking same and I immediately looked forward to her visits, both in person, and with little treats placed on my sleeping bag.

 

[notmeofficer]

I carried enough Deet for 20 people for the week, enough triple antibiotic and hand sanitizer for 500 hundred people (my donation to the field pharmacy). I built a bug-out pack and in it carried enough food for 15 people for one day... More if need be. The only weaponry I was comfortable enough sending through screening legally was 20 cans of pepper spray and a taser with two rounds. Nothing to really protect myself, Real protection would be a Marine Corps rifle squad but they would never be seen.
I packed as light as reasonably possible, clean clothes for each day, BDU’s, undies/socks, t shirts, 2 hats, bandanas, a case of n95 masks, 2 boxes of 12 mm gloves,,, they happened to be fluorescent lime green. I took my survival vest in which I humped all my personal docs, personal first aid and comfort items, tear gas, the taser, a sat phone, a local phone, flashlights, and my notebook. I never took my vest off except to sleep and even then had it right next to me.
By the time we arrived most all of the bodies had been removed from the streets and in front of the hospitals. I saw one or two but we all knew there were hundreds if not thousands entombed in the collapsed buildings. Occasionally one could smell them above all the other sense numbing smells. Waste, trash, medical waste, amputated limbs; they all went into the fire. There was no other disposal available.


The Mad Dash

Transportation to, from, and within the third world is all a harried mass dash. Security or the illusion of same slows one down only to be propelled again into the cement mixer of travel. Mad dashes to gates only to sit and wait, It’s all designed to elicit what I call Haitian time… when a deadline is never really a deadline in the third world.
The first portion of our group met up in Woodland California where we spent the night before an early AM flight out at a Holiday In Express (2 thumbs up).It would be the last bed for a week.
Our first leg had us flying to Denver with about 15 of us and several thousand pounds of medical supplies and medicine donated by Shingletown clinic and various doctors and people around Redding. After some arguing, pleading, and cajoling with United we got it all on the plane at freight rate. The plane was an aged B757 and I was in the rear. It flexed upon takeoff and during in flight turbulence at an alarming rate… the front of the cabin would drop away several feet and it looked more like spaghetti than an airplane cabin to me. I kept hoping it was a good day for each Boeing employee who put it together.

Profundity

I found myself searching for something profound to write in my notebook but all I could think about was hanging my *** out without my brothers in the third world. The little voice in me kept saying... “yep, you’re a dumb *** and Mr. Murphy is the ONLY person who is going with you on this trip” Had I become so numb to danger and sunk into the laxity of age and good living... yep...I had.
Ok... back to profound… it didn’t come, but some thoughts did.
For those of us in public safety the extraordinary becomes the mundane and this thinking process can bleed over into our personal lives. I thought if this as my wife gave me one last kiss as she left me and I was jerked back into reality of just how special she is. The conscious person can always, well almost always, maintain situational awareness of what each of us comes to expect as the norm but that life does not always allow. It reminded me to practice being “in the moment” more.


The Condemned’s Last Meal

We arrived in Miami, a dirty overused typical American airport. Most people speak Cuban and as such my ghetto police Spanish was only partly successful. We were met by one of the doctor’s brother in-law named “J”. J was a reformed gang member from Philly who found God, became a minister, and decided to make the world better. I found him likeable and was glad he saw the light. He knew every inch of the city and took us to a restaurant in West Palm Beach called “Havana”. At Havana we were treated like kings and I ate what I think was some of the best Cuban food in the US. Plantains, green and ripe, Totonnes, Madera, Yucca, black beans and spicy rice, grilled veggies, olive oil and garlic. I would come from across the country to eat there. I knew this was the calm before the storm. We then humped it to Fort Pearce where we would be taking an IMF charter to Haiti. I began downing doses of Doxycycline for malaria, reality was setting in, this is happening. I was given thousands of dollars of HIV drugs to hold onto should one of us sustain a serious exposure. It was sobering. Come on Mr. Murphy please jump in the mix too.

 

[notmeofficer]

International Mission Flights

IMF flies mission and relief flights all over the world. As I walked into their hanger I was struck by the sense that I was among real aviators not flying bus drivers. In the flight room there were pictures of their flights and planes from operations all over the world. On a wall plaque were inscribed their flight rules the last one which said, “In the event of a pending crash please land as soon as possible”. The av gas smell, the replacement radial engine sitting on the tarmac leaking oil (a good thing for a radial) told me this was real flying and that aviation was alive and well. No pretty uniforms for the flight crew, this was a get ‘er done operation. I had a number of thoughts that half of them were probably CIA spooks. I was transported back to Langley and a bunch of my government friends from years prior. What perfect cover for getting in and out of questionable countries.
We boarded a beautifully maintained Douglas DC-3, tail number 200MF, no padding, no insulation, no pilot security doors, just us and our cargo. We could look forward right into the pilot’s cockpit and out the front window. This plane was built in the days of mechanical slide rules and hand built parts. The seats were fabulous and it was to be the best flight of the journey. The radials hummed me to a fitful nap for my last minutes of safe rest. Why hadn’t I bought my over the water ditch equipment? I was kicking myself. At least I grabbed the emergency exit. I kept familiarizing myself with water ditching procedures going through my survival vest confirming locations of my supplies and calculating ocean temps and survival rates. I was trying to focus on muscle memory from drown proofing Coast Guard exercises years prior.. I was rusty.. I was old. It was apparent. I grabbed a life vest for my bug-out bag. I thought… me first, and then help others. I am going to survive above all. Mr. Murphy was sitting on my shoulders like a 500 pound gorilla.




This is what we came for?

We flew in over the western side of Haiti and I was amazed what I saw… nothing like what I was expecting. There were beach homes that were mansions rivaling or exceeding any beach home in Malibu. The water was crystal blue/green and there were fields that appeared rich in agriculture, green and lush. Where was the destruction I had seen? It wasn’t long before the serenity was replaced with reality. The landscape turned to denuded land with concrete structures. The air was thick with dust clouds (pulverized concrete and dirt) and black oily smoke (burning tires or debris...Perhaps bodies)
We dropped into the airport quickly and found a sea of various types of planes and helicopters, military and civilian. The tower controller would have to retire after this and was probably drinking Maalox 24/7. The airport terminal was a mass confusion and we were descended upon by Haitians wanting to move our bags. I was pleasant and friendly. I received a sharp dressing down by one of the docs telling me I was naive and that the Haitians only wanted my money. No :censored::censored::censored::censored: doc… I’m getting Intel. This isn’t my first rodeo to the third world but I didn’t waste any time explaining my motives or methods. I learned about the feel of the street and the undercurrent of frustration and anger amongst the people in the first ten minutes I was there. I couldn’t have cared a crap about who was going to move our luggage I wanted street Intel and I got it. My preconceived notions were correct and I could work with that all week.

It was hot (95 degree and somewhere in the vicinity of 80 percent humidity), and dirty. Coming from winter rain in Northern California made acclimatization more fun. Adventures in the third world… yee-haw!

We had a guide on our bus and I saw him don an N-95 mask… I put mine on immediately…the other doctors looked at me blankly… several minutes later they looked at me longingly as we were immersed in dust filled and petroleum laden air…. It never got better. Traffic in Haiti puts the Los Angeles 5/405 rush hour interchange to shame. Haitians drive like race car drivers and aren’t afraid to bump to be seen or heard. They back each other up with bashed sheet metal, bumpers, whistles, air horns, sirens, hand gestures, hood banging. It’s like dueling fighters at every intersection, traffic signs are non existent. The accident and motor vehicle crash mortality rate must be phenomenal. On the way to our compound, if you could call it that, I saw the only Haitian military helicopter, an older Sikorsky, which apparently was assigned to the Haitian Coast Guard. Lesson one grasshopper.. Watch the locals.. if they do something consider same carefully and immediately..

We arrived at our compound across the street from the Seventh Day Adventist Hospital. Our compound apparently was a drug house that had been abandoned. It was selected for it’s proximity to the hospital and for the fact that it was still standing after the earthquake. It sat on about ½ acre of land and was a hubbub of activity when we arrived. Our guide slipped away and came back to me tossing a sat phone at me briskly stating, “Figure it out” and left. Everyone went about setting up tents and mosquito netting. I found a large, previously used French “medicine without borders” field tent and setup base camp for myself along with several others as my “bunkies”. We spent some time putting together our medical field packs for the next day. I calculated water requirements and brought 9 liters per person per day. During our stay I was often questioned as to why I brought so much water with us as we went out each day. I made the decision that if Mr. Murphy joined us and something happened we could shelter in place for at least a day and not be thirsty. Water is life but in a third world country this point is accentuated times ten! Daylight was falling and we were not further tasked with anything at that point except being in personal confused thought. Each person that came had their own sub specialty. Some were surgeons and who worked tirelessly at the hospital room conducting many emergency surgeries, others were family practice and went into the field to treat the thousands of children in dire need of care, the rest of us had a variety of skills and each one would be tasked to the fullest by the end of the week. There was always something needing to be done above the overwhelming medical crisis. I put together an operations board to end some of the chaos about documenting who was where and what they were doing. Pens were a rare commodity and magic marker sharpies commanded premium trade material for food. A sharpie would bring several cliff bars.

“R” gave me the most awesome mosquito netting that made me look like Lawrence of Arabia. At last light we had some familiarization contact with each other, got a briefing from a man named David Canther and went to bed. David was the overall I/C, he was relaxed, competent, and third world prepared. This was not his first dance.

Time in the third world very quickly escapes you and I kept looking at my watch many times during my stay. I lost what day it was right away so my next memories may not be chronologically correct but you as the reader will never know. I remember being awakened at about 0300 by excited female voices. It was obvious they were Americans and had just arrived at the compound. The conversation was frantic and they were conversing about losing their tent and their food. This went on for several minutes until I stated, “ladies… look down, we are all asleep at your feet” Reality set in and they got quieter… I got out of bed, directed them to sleep next to me, gave them some Odwalla bars and told them to deal with it. I couldn’t help watch them get out of their gear and one into a silk kimono and the other a chiffon nightgown. These were physically large women.. ok fat, there I said it. I knew they probably wouldn’t make it very long. Don’t come to a third world country if you aren’t at the very least in some modicum of normal physical condition. This isn’t the time for Jenny Craig. During our trip one of them went down in the field requiring IV care. This took more than one of us out of service at a time when we should be providing care to the thousands. It again reminded me.. don’t come if you can’t play and all the “do good” heart one might have will not work in the third world. After that she was pretty much useless. I realize my assessment was very critical of them and I did my best to curtail it during my stay. I provided them a nice mosquito tent arrangement and more of my food, which was all I could do.

 

[notmeofficer]

At nighttime we listened to a cacophony of roosters, birds, strange sounds, singing, huge fruit dropping from the trees landing on the tents with the sound of a mortar going off, and an occasional very rare gunshot. I finally went into a fitful sleep. I averaged about three hours a night my whole time in Haiti. I felt very alive and in full combat survival mode most of the time. Stick to the plan, eat right, keep my body clean, and it will all be good. The house had running water but I looked at the creek next to it and saw piles of trash and animals and fecal matter and knew that the water, no matter its origin, wasn’t safe in any manner. The toilets could be used by putting a bucket in the bathtub, filling it, and then pouring the contents into the toilet. The bathroom was disgusting, shared by all including a bunch of Haitians, and there were feces on the floor. I used it several times during my stay doing my best to wash off my boots afterwards. It is impossible to stay clean in the third world, there are only degrees of dirty Some people used the water to shower, some stupidly allowed it to touch their mouths, I had been trained better and never even let it touch me. My showers consisted of 2/3 of a one liter bottle of drinking water per day. I devised a system where I would get completely naked, stand on a waterproof sheet, begin to pour the water over my head and into my towel, soap up, scrub every part of my body while repeating the “this is my gun mantra” for timing. When done I would rinse from the top into my towel. By the time I was done I was clean and my towel was rinsed. I felt a little selfish using drinking water in this manner but it was part of my plan. I could have cut it in half it I really needed to but I found this was one luxury I allowed myself and I looked forward to it each and every day.

Into the Fire

Our first field day we were tasked to go to a school to setup a field clinic. We took a short ride; short in Haiti is all relative as traffic is so unpredictable you never know if it’s going to be fifteen minutes or several hours, through very poverty stricken neighborhoods seeing devastation everywhere. It was numbing. I stood in the doorway of the bus hanging on for dear life. I remember pondering the four Philips sheet metal screws holding the grab bar to the door thinking this is all that is saving me from death in the third world. At one point during a particularly hard jolt I reached around the open window frame to hold on and felt sharp metal cut my hand. Inspecting a cut to my finger I swore to myself thinking hey in the US I’d laugh about it, but here…. Here this crap can kill you. I did my best to field disinfect it (thank god for my survival vest) put a bunch of antibiotic on it and covered it. I had to deal with this the whole time I was there and I kept kicking myself for not wearing my combat gloves... Mr. Murphy was reminding me that he was always around. From then on I concentrated every second I stood in the doorway.

We went through a creek where the Haitians were doing everything in it from washing cars to draining oil to eating and drinking and bathing along with the animals and piles and piles of rotting garbage and debris. It was obvious to me we would see very very sick people. I wouldn’t have to wait long.

Respect, Fear, and Force


I digress for a moment and speak about why I felt I was there. Dr L wasn’t stupid and knew where he was going was dangerous and he wanted someone with situational awareness along. He also wanted his daughter R protected. I took this mission this very seriously and watched her when she didn’t know it. What ended up being funny to me is that the converse actually happened and she took more care of me than I did of her. Anyway, the Haitians know one thing and it has been ingrained into them... Respect force… it’s a brutal part of their culture. They see a uniform they see force. I wore my bdu’s and played the part and when asked by the interpreters told each of them I was heavily armed. In reality I considered myself nothing more than cannon fodder realizing that by myself with no team to back me and no weapon that if any violence occurred I would be screwed. Fortunately Mr., Murphy decided not to attend this aspect of the trip. Most of the Haitians were so shell shocked that seeing foreign face only meant the possibility of food or water and thus mostly welcome. There were angry faces on the street and I would see them swear at me or give me the universal sign. I kept waving when appropriate being careful not to wave at single women. I practiced respect in all of my contacts. As a matter of fact I went out of my way to be respectful. Many Haitians have never had anyone treat them respectfully in any manner but I found when I did so surprise in many faces. I also found a gentle beauty in them and even while starving to death they managed dignity and returned the respect to me. Some even tried to smile... it was heartbreaking to me.
I used my politeness and respect as a tool during my whole trip. We would try to treat women and children first but in Haitian life the deference to the sexes or youth goes mostly unrecognized, it’s all about survival. Many of the women looked like tired breeders and the children fended for themselves. Old was being over forty, aged was being fifty plus. I didn’t see many very old people. It’s a young person’s world to survive in the third world. I saw a number of acts of personal physical violence and abuse. During one instance I had a medical line in pretty good order when I saw a young boy cut in front of an older man. The older man began whacking the boy to the ground until I intervened. I could see the crowd all watching me, expecting me to beat the man down... or perhaps the boy... I’m not sure. In the US I would have used physical force on the older man to restrain him and place him under arrest; here... here the use of force could create a riot if I did anything improper. So I did what I thought was reasonable I placed myself between the man and the boy on the ground and pushed the man back with my chest, not my hands. I’m sure he could tell I was angry and that my anger was stronger than his... but that my control was also better. It was a standoff and I won. I picked up the boy and just for my satisfaction put him into the line further in front of the man. The man’s eyes burned into me like coal the whole time he was there but he said and did nothing more.

I used this situation to address the crowd, I felt like they deserved it and I felt it was a teachable moment, even in the third world. I had my interpreter say the following,
“Haitians, We, as Americans, are sad for your pain, for your loss, and for your sorrow. We will treat each one of you today. We will treat you with kindness; we will above all treat you with respect. Every Haitian man here can help, you can help us by demonstrating respect for your women and children by showing all of us you care, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself, to demonstrate to the world that Haitian men are strong leaders. So starting now push your women and children forward to be treated, do so gently and with the love that is within each of you.. this I know you can do” The crowd fell perfectly silent... the first time I had heard silence since I was in Haiti. The women were all nodding their heads in approval; the men shamed gently into submission.




Treat Me Please

Each day at the field clinics we would pile off the bus in a protected conga line frantically grabbing our med bags and water protecting everything literally with our lives. Anything left on the bus would be stolen or used immediately. We setup a field treatment area and began treating patients immediately. The crowd swelled rapidly to 1000 plus and it took all my energy and strength as point man to maintain some order to prevent us being overrun. I conducted rapid triage of every person who came through generally listing conditions as I saw them, Later we went to a 1,2,3 system, 1-immediate,2-delayed,3-routine. I would write the number on a piece of tape and put it on the patient and then they could move down the line to actually see a doc or nurse. I saw everything one would expect three plus weeks into a disaster wherein the population had already been below the poverty level for medical care. We had spoken about staying within our scope of practice and really did our best to comply and did so with rare stretching of the standards. As an EMT I was BLS but the docs treated me with great respect and I found my “diagnoses” the first day hit somewhere within the 80 percent accuracy rate. It’s not hard to diagnose, “starving and dehydration”. Our injuries ranged from sepsis, infected wound care, dehydration, syphilis, gonorrhea, HIV, malaria, typhus, broken bones, pedi care, PTSD, and a thousand other third world maladies with a 7.2 magnitude earthquake thrown in. There were many vaginal infections including children, which meant most likely meant child rape as a way of life. It was sickening. Sometimes all we could do was throw Tylenol at it. Critical patients were stabilized and transported with us at the end of the day in our bus. Many were sent home with the knowledge that they may not make it through the week or coming months, it was what it was and nothing we could really do would change that. Some of the docs made it personal and selected one or two special cases to keep alive; I just focused on my job and kept my mind off the enormity of it all.

 

[notmeofficer]

The field clinic days went pretty much the same and we would be overrun with patients by 1430 and shut the lines down to treat all the remaining people and be gone by 1630 hrs, our bingo time. Darkness is not safe for anyone in Haiti, but especially not for rich white doctors who would make tasty kidnap targets even if only for drugs or water and food. We were told not to drink or eat in front of the locals but they knew every time we went away that we were doing just that and they would cry and plead to be fed. The people needed food and water not meds...Well they needed meds but after the food and water. We saw very little food being distributed; actually I never saw any UN trucks doing same, ever. The military was also very scarce and it was abnormal to see them in our days, just throngs of Haitians, some angry but most just shell shocked and starving. I remember one particularly passionate moment when we were treating a man for septic shock and he was going south fast obviously having lost the will to live and had that 1000 yard “I’m going now stare”. As he was being given IV’s I remember an A-10 Warthog flying low and slow over our position. All this American power and we probably couldn’t save one stinking person. It sucked. (Postscript- we did get the patient alive back with us to our base hospital and I understood he was transferred to American military care the next day)

During one of our debriefings one of the docs, Doctor C, stated, “All we can hopefully do is keep them alive for a couple of more days and then maybe someone else after us can do the same”. A couple of days of life are all we ask. I found profound solace in this mantra and it matched how I generally felt.

I elected to go out into the field each day as I was a BLS provider and really of little use in the clinic anyway. We had a rotating team and some docs chose to work the clinic where we bivouacked and others chose the field. I came to respect each and every doctor for their dedication. One doctor, Dr L, particularly impressed me with his smile and balanced gentleness everyday. He had worked in the third world before and had been in situations where people were killed by violence around him. He understood the danger of our situation balanced with our mission to save others. By the end of my time in Haiti our group had probably treated somewhere in the neighborhood of 10,000 people. I feel pretty confident in saying that I saw at least 3000 myself. I did more medical evaluations in one week than my station will see in ten years. I wore out the pulse ox meter twice. There was no time or ability to change medical gloves and Im sure I treated at least 300 per day with the same set(s) on ( I doubled the 12 mm gloves because of the fear of exposure). Cross contamination was the least of my worries in the third world.

Each day we would start with group prayer and I found it gave me much strength and solidarity of purpose. Some people cried while speaking... Emotion made it that much harder for me to focus but I understood that people relate in different ways and I accepted it. We also ended our day after debriefing the same way. Faith certainly helped in all aspects of our trip and I saw many Haitians respect both faith and our recognition of it. During one morning briefing one of our Haitian interpreters had written a song about service, need, and thanks for us coming. In perfect soloist song he belted it out in good English. If it had been on American Idol he would have won simply on message. I felt like if I had some hotshot Hollywood producer next to me that I could have made it a hit single and this one person’s life would have been forever changed. It, to me, simply accentuated what is wrong with Haiti, lots of pent up talent with no avenue for it to go anywhere. Where’s a good rich liberal when you really need one… all the ones I needed were 3000 plus miles away.

Each field clinic day repeated itself and was fairly similar. Sometimes we went back to the same place more than once. The return to care day saw more family medicine treatment than the immediate trauma triage of day one. There was some disgruntled talk amongst ourselves, myself included, about why we went back to the same place more than once when the need was so great all over the city... why?.. we couldn’t understand why…
Mr. Murphy would be kind enough to tell me that night.


The Agenda, The Come On, The Play

Dr. “Eddy” (www.delaleuforhaiti2011.com) was the “go to on the ground” guy. He had been in Haiti for years after doing a stint in the US military. He wasn’t a real doc but it was hard to tell from the way he carried himself. He was fluent in Creole and seemed to know everyone on the street. He was responsible for where we deployed everyday. I sensed something about him I have seen before in others... a little slickness, as if something is always going on behind the scenes…it wasn’t long before my sixth sense proved right on.
We had deployed to City de Soliel, the city of sun, which is the worst of the worst ghettos in Haiti. It was relayed to me that there are more armed people there than all of the Haitian police. It was gang controlled territory and Dr. Eddy sent us right into the middle of it. We saw people who had never seen a doctor during their entire existence, many of them had never seen a white person. They were the poorest of the poor and the need for anything and everything was enormous. We were just a couple of doctors and one lonely firefighter putting our fingers in the sea of humanity.
This day when we deployed a couple of Americans came along with us. One of them was the groups U.N. liaison. The other looked like a surfer kid with flowing golden dreadlocks. They were typical of the wide eyed carefree youth that seem to be attracted to third world disasters... abundant energy but not a lot of smarts. As we departed the bus the UN liaison boy-man told me to leave the water on the bus because it would create a riot if we took it off in the crowd. He went on to tell me the bus wasn’t leaving as it normally did and would stay with us the entire time. I wasn’t comfortable with this at all and protested telling him where I went the water went. He insisted that the bus and water would remain. After confirming this fact a third time I went off into the throngs of sick and starving and began medical triage. About an hour later one of the docs said he needed water and I went to the bus and it was gone, nada, disappeared... gone. Great... Hello Mr. Murphy nice to meet ‘ya ... Again. I was so pissed at myself because I knew better than to let the water get away from me... I was frustrated that I allowed some 24 year old wide eyed punk kid to step into my world and impact my survival.
Ok... Third world communications... you guessed it... they don’t work, especially after a disaster. Some of us had cell phones that worked intermittently to call the states. I had been issued a 3000 dollar sat phone but it to could only call the states and even then didn’t work well. A couple of hours go by and the docs were complaining more loudly about not having water (other than what a couple of smart ones had on their person) so I began to try all the numbers I had on my person. The emergency numbers for the US embassy in Haiti, the local numbers I had been given, the base camp, the sat phone numbers... wouldn’t you guess.. none of them worked... not one... just busy signals in the middle of the worst ghetto in the world. Finally in frustration I called my wife in California on the sat phone, apprised her of our situation, gave her the GPS coordinates as best as I could recall where we were, and asked her to call the embassy in DC to have the military come get us. I was out of options. To compound all this our local interpreters began approaching me telling me to watch the crowds as gang members were filtering in. They weren’t hard to spot and reminded me of any 89th east coast cripster from South Los Angeles, same knuckleheads, different place. I could see the nervousness in our interpreters; it was easy to read on their faces. When they got nervous, I got nervous. I had been told that there were CNN reports that American doctors were being targeted for kidnap and ransom... and here we were in the worst ghetto of Haiti with no comms and the Indians were circling. Mr. Murphy was in full regalia.

 

[notmeofficer]

Sometimes luck can get you through and it was not our day to have Mr. Murphy bite us. The bus returned at the end of the day, we obtained water, and Dr.Eddy was on board. I hadn’t forgotten the kid who left us high and dry. Under other circumstances we would have had some one on one education time but I was on my best peas and Q’s for the docs... I would however not let him off… I was burning hot... a controlled burn... but hot... and I wasn’t about to forget how he laid us out.
It was after 1630 and we began our trip back to the compound but instead of taking the route we had come in by we began a circuitous lazy route through the downtown area, seeing the greatest devastation we had seen so far. There were ten story buildings flattened to one story, there were entire blocks down, most of the government buildings were flattened, we could see why Haiti wasn’t functioning, there wasn’t any infrastructure left. Our final stop was in front of the beautiful presidential palace with its gold domes and ornate columns. It looked like an aged movie star drunken and fallen over... the epitome of sadness. Dr. Eddy stopped at each one of these locations letting us get photos. My sixth sense was firing hard, why, why are these rich (by Haitian standards) American doctors being shuttled here for pictures, for maximum devastation effect… why? All my neck hairs were standing up... I knew I was being managed... it was obvious to me... Eddy has an ulterior motive, money? Political power? it was as clear to me as a con for an East L.A. veterano.. I’ve been here before... I can’t say I figured this all out on my own and much credit for sniffing out Dr. Eddy goes to Mike Nunn. Mike had him on his radar right away and told me he didn’t trust him. What this allowed me to do was focus on the unspoken actions of Eddy and make careful judgments. Way to go Mike, you were right on!!!
I noticed Dr. Eddy getting nervous as daylight began to fall... and if he was nervous I was definitely following his lead. We made it back to the compound well after dark and I remember how dangerous the streets became… a mass of sick starving third worlders bent upon survival. It reminded me of a b-grade movie, attack of the killer zombies.
Behind the scenes I complained bitterly about the water situation, the lack of reliable comms, and being left to fend for ourselves and how we skipped the bullet this day. I was asked to go over what happened and told the story about how the UN kid left us high and dry. Everyone told me I was wrong and that he never went out with us. Come on guys,, do you think after thirty years as a copper I don’t remember at least the face of someone who could have got us killed? I pointed at the kid and brought him over to David Canther and had him stammer and stumble and tell the story about how he left us… all he could do was look at the ground, there was nothing that he could say. I wasn’t just done with him and we would converse in my own way and own time when it was right, timing is everything in life for good discipline and I intended to let him know just how displeased I was one on one. The next day when we were loading for the trip out I had picked an interpreter whom I had trained. The UN kid came up to me and said “no way “bra” he’s mine”... after the day before I wasn’t in the mood to screw with this kid and leaned over and quietly said to him, “ I ain’t your “bra” dude, and you have about three seconds to get out of my face before I kick the crap out your little ignorant scrawny *** in front of all these Haitians”. His eyes got as big as saucers and he literally ran off never to talk to or look at me again. As a matter of fact I never saw him again during my stay. My interpreter smiled at me and said, “I like you Mr. ***, you get :censored::censored::censored::censored: done. If you don’t mind can I be with you today?” Sometimes people need a reality wakeup. The kid was dangerous and will get someone killed. He has no place on any professional team.

That night long after everyone was asleep Dr. Eddy called me into his office. I just knew the con was coming. He began to speak with me for an hour about his love for Haiti. He then went into complementing me saying he had been watching me and liked how I worked; He said he observed that the locals were warm to me and how I treated them with respect. At this point I knew he had ulterior motives when he began to question me in detail about my background. From the questions he was asking I knew he wanted me for something bigger than what we were on the ground for… and I also know when someone is blowing smoke up my rear-end... that always makes me nervous.

Dr. Eddy wanted to be president… yep; he wanted to take over Haiti in a bloodless coup. He wanted me to head his security detail training up the locals and bringing in experts. I laughed and told him the following; “Doc.. do you have a million and a half dollars a month to keep you safe, do you have the support of the police, can you withstand going into seclusion, living behind bulletproof glass and guard gates… can your family handle it too?”

I went onto tell him I already knew he wanted to be president as it was obvious by his little road show earlier in the day that he was “managing” us. I asked him if he had approached the rich white doctors for money yet and he said “no” that he didn’t know how to at this point. He was taken aback that I had already figured out his veiled plan to garner maximum sympathy for his cause. I then asked him point blank the toughest question of all. “Doc, what will stop you from being corrupt when all the other politicians have been in the history of Haiti”? I don’t think he had this well thought out. In reality, in my mind, he already was corrupt, because in my humble opinion he was sending the rich white docs to areas that would vote for him. It was so obvious anyone who took one second to think about it to see this, especially when we went back to the same locations more than once. Medical treatment for votes. It wouldn’t be the first time this ploy was used and it won’t be the last. Heck the gangs in whose neighborhood we went had already most likely extracted money from the people just so they could stand in line for our meager treatment. It’s ingrained in their society.

Dr Eddy tried to ply me by inviting me out to a Haitian dinner outside the compound. I simply declined stating “how can I eat when so many are starving”… the reality was I wanted to distance myself from this man. I hope he is successful because I believe right now he does want better for Haiti... But I’m also not naive enough to think that power wouldn’t corrupt him just as it has any other Haitian politician.

I went to my party and told key people about what had happened and from then on the docs were aware that the future pitch for money might be coming… “Eddy for President”

Ready Set Go

As quickly as it had begun my time in Haiti was coming to an end. I had a Navy corpsman who replaced my position. I made sure he got way more than I did in a briefing by me and let him know, from my perspective, how things really worked, by this time there were some abandoned tents left by people leaving and I found him a spacious one and stocked it with leftover food for him. As we talked he relayed some similarities to Iraq, where he had been stationed. I could tell I made him nervous by my assessment by the number of cigarettes he began to smoke. He realized he was in the third world without backup just like me. I understand he went onto work at the hospital as a surgery tech so perhaps his experience in Haiti won’t be as crazy and dangerous as mine
In the morning we made a mad dash to the airport, through the cursory customs check, then a long wait on the tarmac and bam, into the air conditioning of a US jet. We just made it on with no seats to spare. I had a ginger ale... With ice...served by a stewardess, one who spoke English, it was heavenly, We landed in Miami and decided to spend the night at the Holiday Inn instead of pushing home. The place was a complete dump and was only one step removed from Haiti. The staff spoke Cubano predominantly. I laughed the next morning when the doorman couldn’t speak English. So much for diversity and fitting into America. The third world bleeds over even in the good ‘ol USA.

 

[notmeofficer]

Home

Home feels bittersweet. I think this is a common feeling amongst us all, or at least those whom I have spoken to. It is as if we are still in Haiti, the sights and smells fresh in our minds, and the job undone in our hearts. I consider my time there an honor and a privilege and feel like I want to turn around and go right back. I’ve been here before... it will subside… but a little piece of all of us is in Haiti… we will not forget.
David ******* has asked me to come back, perhaps permanently, but at least to research and develop third world comms for him. I have just the source for that and its right up my alley. I am solidly American and my life of service is here but I may consider forays again into the third world. Many of the interpreters shoved their addresses and emails into my hand when we left asking me not to forget them and to write. They all want to come to America… and several would be worthy transplants, educated, motivated, gentle and caring people. We could do worse.
I know we as a group are trying to fundraise money to send back two portable artificial limb production machines. One cannot imagine what it would be like to be in Haiti and not have legs, it is a cold and cruel place and others would walk around you, over you, or perhaps even kick you until you died, then push your body into the street to be scooped up with a pay loader and dumped into a dump truck. There would be no life, only waiting to die. Prosthetics are desperately needed. There were many crushing injuries and septic wounds that required amputation. The need is enormous.
I thought many times what my entire station of firefighters could do in Haiti with all the skills and focused teamwork we could bring to the area. I was happy to be back among friends who were dependable and focused. One of my first days back we got a call of a person with general illness. This garnered the response of three fire engines and a med unit with twelve plus highly trained and compassionate people. It was in stark juxtaposition to where I had been and really accentuated how lucky we are as Americans.
My notebook, in which I just wrote one word snippets to remind me of what happened has fallen apart into woody pulp from the humidity.. Boy does it remind me of the infrastructure there.

The Docs

My thanks to some amazing people who unselfishly dedicated their lives, safety, wealth, and heath to better the plight of others. I am proud to say I had the opportunity to work with all of you and consider you a group of people I will always support. I thank each of you from the bottom of my heart.
I will never forget my experience there.

 

[NoLimits7FIE]

You are the type of person I look up to

Phenomenal journey that you have embarked on. I too was trying to make it out to Haiti to help the less fortunate, but didn't have enough experience. We need more people like you out there. Thank you for sharing your story

 

[firetender]

An Incredibly Valuable Document!

I can't thank you enough for showing us so much of the situation, circumstances, actors, characters, and most important, yourself.

What I was most struck with was your willingness to share your inner impressions, judgments and choices (good and bad) which let me feel I was riding along with a real human being experiencing a real disaster and finding a bit more of himself in the process.

In terms of professionalism, the value of preparation, and seeking the "Big Picture", I applaud you for being such a powerful role model for everyone on this site!

I have one comment: Dr. Eddy will take advantage of every situation he can to gain power. That is his obsession. In the beginning, he may happen to be the only one who can help scores of people. He will do that, and manipulate the world to do that because that's what will gain him power. Unfortunately, in most impoverished regions, that's the only way ANYTHING FOR THE PEOPLE gets done.

Dr. Eddy embodies Light and Shadow like everyone else, he's just so much more apparent and the circumstances make him appear that much more monstrous. You got to affect a lot of people just by being one of a few who actually sacrificed to come and help -- even if you couldn't save one life. And though it's a shame to see you were being manipulated, the Great Whatever, of which Dr. Eddy was an agent, got you there. Go figure!

Social progress often appears to start with self interest through manipulation of the poor and the rich, and, in many cases catering to the baser needs of humans via crime, producing money, which solidifies power that is then channeled into politics where self-interest, though more complexly and legally condoned, remains King. It's a funny world we live in!

Blessings to you and your family, and Thanks again!

 

[mycrofft]

I'm at a loss for words.

A hundred questions, and a wish you can decompress with a minimum of distress, and a hope you can teach this to folks who make decisions here and will listen.
If you decide to have some talks or seminars, let us all know.

 

[lightsandsirens5]

^
+1

Very well written. Sounds like you had a productive time, eh?

Welcome home!

 

[notmeofficer]

Boy are some of you right on.. especially about Dr Eddy

I have been staying in contact with people on the ground and where we were is really not getting much better,, there have been some improvements that we started.. a 4 inch water line that we brought down the mountain about 1/2 mile from a spring is working and has filled the water tanks of the hospital.. this allows for toilets to flush that had been filled with crap before... the compound across the street where we stayed is the same.. but it now has sat internet and a generator donated from Home Depot in the states.There is now a portable water purifier and they are using the wate rcoming ou of the tap..purified... to me that means depending that those filters can get all that crap out... Im not sure.

The hospital generator is now working 24/7 providing emergency power to the O.R.... diesel is pretty plentiful and delivered by truck.. gas is hard to get.Food is still not flowing plentifully.. the UN has stopped water being delivered in plastic bottles because of the environmental disaster its creating (hey.. so do dead people) .. apparently they are trying to use water trucks... but the area is so huge.. Port Au Prince is over 4 million.. that I doubt it will work. I know that stuff is on the tarmac.. but getting it out is a problem.. so it sits..

There are some teams that didnt experience anything like we did.. U of Miami had a huge 250 person team at the airport that had portable blowup O.R's.. generators, communications.. water deliveries... heck maybe even air conditioning. I do know that anywhere more than 15 minutes from downtown isnt getting squat.

There are many more stories that I didn't include.. the catholic orphanage where 90 of the 150 kids were killed and the place was flattened.. like we could fix any of that

Or finding out that our driver was scared the day we were in Cite de Soliel... scared because he knew we were about to be assaulted.. and he drove ilike a maniac because the crowd was running after us... and we only got out of there because we didn't telegraph our departure...
or Dr Eddy getting wind of this story and making promises that we would be safe for future trips into Cite De Soliel because the gang leaders had assured him of the safety of future contingents.. ( Like I would trust a gangbanger for anything) Eddy is now worried that future forays by the American docs might be in jeopardy.

I learned every Doc I went with got sick,, GI Stuff or flu-like symptoms... but it appears no one brought anything back permanently.. 30 days is the safe date for all of us.. Im on my doxy religiously.

Day three we had some Viet American who apparently set up a field kitchen to American health standards and began delivering food to us... I never touched it.. I thought even if you can cook it cleanly (and I dont think its possible in Haiti) just the process of transporting it would sicken some people after its been sitting for any length of time.

One afternoon we got stuck in traffic with no one moving and I got to play third world traffic cop. I think the Haitians didn't know what to make of some crazy looking white man running around in an orange jumpsuit with fluorescent green gloves, a blue nosh 95, sunglasses, a fire b-ball hat, a survival vest with all kinds of dangerous looking stuff hanging off of it, screaming at them. I'm lucky they didn't run me over.

Im working on radios as we speak...

notme

 

[notmeofficer]

There is now a request for personnel thread ties to this one

notme