Thank you

A patient that our group had previously flown back to the United Stated for further work-up was on our flight to Haiti.  We had hoped to offer more aggressive treatment, but unfortunately once he arrived his disease was found to be too far progressed and deemed terminal.  He was flying home to be with his family when he died. It was a sobering start to the trip.

We reminded each other that resources were not going to be anything like what we were used to having.  

We had no idea how different it was actually going to be.

We were met by our hosts and our patient's family when we arrived in Port Au Prince .  The family  had brought us a bag full of fresh mangoes  to say thank you for the care we had provided for their loved one.  In a country where many of the inhabitants aren't sure when their next meal will be, they were offering us fruit from their trees.   One family member said to us, 'You tried.  Now we know that all has been done. It is in God's hands and is His will.' They thanked us even though they knew we couldn't do anything more. 

That accepting, loving spirit was displayed to me over and over during my time there.  The thankfulness and joy that the people found in the face of conditions that would be unacceptable in a developed country was humbling.

Haiti

I know I promised to blog about my trip to Haiti, but it has taken me awhile to be able to talk about the trip with my usual irreverence. The trip was life changing for me - which sounds cliche when I type it.  This may be a prosthelytizing series of posts, but the experience has changed my opinions on many things.

My flight to Miami was delayed, but uneventful. The flight from Miami to Port Au Prince was packed with volunteers for various groups.  People going to build houses, to teach vacation bible school, to work on clean drinking water, to build a church.  Southern Baptist men groups, Episcopalians, non-profits - they were all represented.  White haired church ladies and ten year old boys with their earbuds perpetually crammed in their ears were all headed down to help in some fashion. Everyone was aflutter about all the good they were going to do.

Me?  I was scared.

I knew I was the only general surgeon on this trip - an intimidating thought.






 

Give me a squeeze...

I'm on colorectal surgery at the moment.  This means poo - lots and lots of poo.

I really don't like poo.

In fact, it makes me want to flap my hands around in horror like a girly girl scared of a spider or other creepy crawling beast. However, girly girl is not appropriate in the operating room.

Rectal exams are a big part of colorectal, shockingly enough. You have to check both the resting tone and the squeeze tone.  (I also dislike this.)

My attending was doing a rectal exam a while back and he had checked resting tone.  Next he asked the patient to squeeze his finger.

We have very compliant patients - the patient reached behind him, grabbed my attending's hand, and squeezed as hard as he could.