Saturday, February 27, 2010

Travel, triage and the importance of training

The overall trip to get to Haiti was exhausting, and I was anxious about the “unknown.” We departed San Francisco airport on January 15, 2010, at noon and made it to Santo Domingo the morning of the 16th. Staff from the International Medical Corps, my volunteer group, picked us up and took us to stay in a Clarion. We had breakfast, took a shower, and were driven to the Santo Domingo military base.


We waited for hours and were told we weren’t a priority because of the numerous VIPS traveling into Port-au-Prince…along with the food and water being flown there. Dr. Bob Norris, one of our team members, spoke with representatives from International Medical Corps. It was decided we would take the bus to Port-au-Prince, and we headed out the evening of January 16. Forty-five minutes into our drive, the bus broke down. An hour later our replacement bus showed up.

We arrived in Port-au-Prince the morning of January 17.

The ride into Haiti was surreal: people around town walking everywhere, many living in makeshift dorms, women cooking outside, and kids running around. I spotted a couple of the children digging into dumpsters for food. There were dead bodies stacked randomly throughout the town, people burning dead bodies, and dogs eating and chewing bodies (including babies) and dragging bodies around like rag dolls. It was a scene of absolute depression and desperation.

University Hospital, Port-au-Prince, Haiti

As we drove through the tall green gates, we were mesmerized by the mass amounts of collapsed buildings and the few that were still standing from the 7.0 quake. In the middle of the compound there was a “garden area” we named “the jungle.” Patients and family members were everywhere! We made it to the back of the compound to a building designated as International Medical Corps’ headquarters. About 400 yards east of the building was the morgue, where over 500 bodies were stacked before our arrival, waiting to be picked up, disposed of and buried. The concrete was stained from the decomposition of the bodies and liquefying of adipose tissue. The smell was indescribable. We put Vick’s vapor rub under our noses and wore N-95 masks, but the smell was still very strong. I found myself unable to deal with the “smell” and almost threw up. I realized I was in a state of shock.

We were immediately greeted by volunteer Dr. Rob Fuller, MD, chief of Emergency Medicine at the University of Connecticut and Dr. Matthew Howell, an emergency physician from Tampa Bay, Florida along with representatives from International Medical Corps.

We broke into teams. A few days later, I was asked to team with Dr. Howell to open up a designated triage area, and an organizing supply room.


When we arrived at University Hospital on January 17, 2010, a group of surgeons were doing amputations around the clock. Volunteers were just starting to trickle in. There were more physicians than nurses, which made our jobs challenging.

Physicians in the states are used to directing care, and nurses are used to providing care. It didn’t always work this way in Haiti.

We had to teach our physicians to do many things, including mixing antibiotics and connecting primary and secondary IV tubing properly (to them, all IV tubes are alike).

Being nurses and well aware of getting “scope of practice” pounded into our head, it was very hard to move away from our training in third world disaster medicine. As long as the physician is comfortable with your skills, you are up for anything and everything you are competent and can be trained to do. Dr. Howell, along with other physicians taught me many procedures during my stay such as; nerve blocks, hematoma blocks, needle decompressions, fracture reducing/splinting, debridement, paracentesis, thoracentesis, and conscious sedation. It is amazing to see yourself using the nursing procedures to save lives. The other nurses and I diagnosed, prescribed, treated, and “discontinued” medications; we were “acting physicians” in a time of crisis.

I didn’t think twice or regret anything I did within my stay. My time in Haiti set a new precedent of what matters most and what suffering truly is. Tears still fill my eyes knowing that people who would have been saved with the technology back here in the United States were dying before me without any control of their fate.

In the United States, only “seasoned” nurses triage. In Haiti we had military personnel doing triage, and they were as capable as nurses in seeing who was in distress and who could wait. Black and white …it was either a decision that they were able to be saved with the limited resources, or it just was not in our capabilities to save their lives.

One day a nurse came in to work in triage when I had some of the military staff filing out triage forms…

The nurse looks at me and says, “Wait, they aren’t qualified to triage. They aren’t even medics.” I looked him in the eye and reply, “Do you plan on living here the rest of your life and triaging, or would you rather train people so when you leave you know that at least you handed the torch over to the next group and the system we all worked so hard to initiate won’t break down?”

Nurse Gabriela McAdoo
Photos by Margaret Aguirre






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Mobile Clinics in and around Port-au-Prince



International Medical Corps reached out to communities both within and outside of the capital city of Port-au-Prince.

The physical structures of each clinic varied widely, from an apartment building courtyard such as the one pictured above in Petionville, to make-shift tent structures as pictured below.

Dr. Jennifer Schwieger






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Letter from Port-au-Prince, February 23, 2010

It has been rough: hard work, very hot, and sometimes dangerous.

We constantly talk about securing our sharps but today, while walking through a tent, an improperly discarded scalpel blade went through the sole of my shoe into my toe —fortunately it bled a lot and I washed it very well. Will start antibiotics just in case.

It was quite a sight though; me sitting next to my patient, who happened to be a Port-au-Prince police officer, while pulling off my bloody sock and washing my foot. At some point he left to find someone else to take care of him!

With 7 days in Haiti I am now a "veteran", so I have agreed to take over some administrative functions. Between patients, my job is to count all the beds, evaluate the admissions, and then find the right beds for them. It means making rounds through all the tents and all the buildings a few times a day. The big part is moving Emergency Room admissions to these empty beds.

But it is impossible to find transporter personnel or even a wheelchair, so this takes time. They have not been paid for a month or more I'm told. So sometimes patients die before I can move them, such as yesterday with an impossibly tiny 1-year-old baby with pneumonia — brought in by mother with obvious Kaposi’s sarcoma (an advanced sign of AIDS). Of course transport wouldn't have made any difference here and usually the ER is the best place for the sickest patients — at least there a doctor is always present.

One of our medics from the 82nd airborne volunteered to take him to the morgue. Imagine a huge paratrooper in full battle dress uniform carrying this tiny soul in his arms. Like most of us, he happens to sweat profusely here and his glasses are persistently steamed, but I think he was crying. My first day in I taught him how to suture and we have become friends here since.

Each morning I walk the wards and the dead are being carted off. Going through a pediatric tent (now run by the Haitians after a hand off by the Swiss), I saw another dead child, apparently left on her cot for many hours. Dismayed families tugged and pointed as I walked through, saying "MORT! MORT!." The parents appeared to be gone. The other kids in there hopefully couldn't comprehend how close by death was. I will bring stickers donated by my children with me tomorrow. A small distraction.

Death is common here and people must be getting numb to it. I have watched many here pass, some under my care, but I am not there yet.

Dr. David Ghilarducci, February 23, 2010






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Those with nothing still able to give


The Beatrice clinic site above Petite Goave. This is the tent that we performed the clinic in while I was there. We started in another tent across the road but then transitioned to this tent. We had many tents around us that people where living in. They where cooking on charcoal fires and washing their children in plastic tubs.

We saw almost one hundred patients a day at this site. It rested on top of a mountain and had pigs and scurvy looking dogs milling around. Ayman, one of our International Medical Corps docs from Columbia, is the man in the foreground. We had finished for the day and where heading back to Port-au-Prince for the night.

While providing care here I was told by a local interpreter that the child I was seeing was an orphan and the neighbors of this family, which had all died in the quake, where caring for him. He was about 5 months old and had chicken pox. The people caring for him had one tent and one pot to cook wash and clean with, yet they still took in this infant boy.

Gregory Hynes, Emergency Medicine Nurse






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The Right Place at the Right Time

Three siblings came to see me: a 12-year-old girl, who was in charge, an 11-year boy, and a four-year-old boy. They had walked and ridden the bus to come to the clinic so that I could see a small infection in the smallest boy’s ear.

As I interviewed them, I learned that their mother had been hit in the back by a cement block five weeks ago and had not walked since. She had not yet seen a health care provider. They did not have the money for a car and could not move her. I wanted to arrange a home visit by one of our clinic staff.

It was impossible, I was told.

They lived too far away, where no one had access to care, and for a list of reasons, admittedly valid, I could not see her. I knew that I could not go alone and help her - it was too far, too unsafe – but it was still very difficult to hear.

Instead, I offered the children the very best health education that I could and encouraged them to find help for their mother, even though I am sure that they had been doing so non-stop since the earthquake. I pictured their mother, strong, proud, beautiful, and resilient, and my helplessness broke my heart.


Here in Haiti, I am reminded again and again of how fortunate my life has been.

Later that day, a 10-year-old girl came in with her father. My colleague attended to the father, who was feeling ill and later tested positive for malaria. Meanwhile, I saw the child, who was brought in because she was not eating or sleeping well. She told me that she did not want to go to sleep because she was afraid she would die. As her story unfolded, I learned that her uncle, who lived with them, died during the earthquake.

She had witnessed his death.

I was happy that she could at least verbalize her experience and her fears and, in doing so, probably made one small step towards recovery. She promised that she would eat and speak with someone so she could continue healing.

When her father was done with his treatment, they went off to the side and sat together, both with a visible sadness but love for one another. Then she buried her head in his chest and started to cry. She saw me watching and came over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

Sometimes it is about being in the right place at the right time.

Nancy Dinsmore, RN, MSN, PNP
Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital






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Dr. Jennifer Schwieger: Training local health workers


As International Medical Corps expanded its role outside of the University Hospital through mobile clinics, the main objective focused on finding local Haitian physicians, nurses and health personnel to run the clinics. Working side-by-side initially, International Medical Corps staff transitioned out, leaving supplies and support to the local physicians such as the one pictured here.






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Friday, February 26, 2010

Dr. Cynthia Waickus: Mobile clinics around Petit Goave, Haiti

International Medical Corps volunteer Dr. Cynthia Waickus is currently in Haiti, and is posting on The Rush University Medical Center News Blog.

Petit Goave, Haiti, Feb. 22, 2010, 10:06 p.m. ET…A large majority of people here have never even seen a doctor; others have chronic diseases that have gotten out of hand. Devastation from the quake is just as extensive here. Today, I went to a clinic accessible only by boat, and treated about 85 patients.
(more)

Petit Goave, Haiti, Feb. 23, 2010, 6:57 p.m. ET...We have come to realize that “heartache and sleepless” are the common symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder here. (more)






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Nurse Gabriela McAdoo: He will always be my little "Haiti Angel."



On Jan. 13, a day after a 7.0 earthquake occurred in Haiti, I got an e-mail from Patrice Callagy, RN, assistant nurse manager at Stanford Hospital and Clinics, asking for volunteers to help in Haiti. I was one of many nurse volunteers to reply and was on site the day after. I volunteered with International Medical Corps. In Haiti, I was asked to team up with Dr. Matthew Howell to help in the initial set-up of triage and emergency area.

There I met Monley.

Monley survived eight days under the rubble from the Haiti earthquake.

Monley's uncle had found the 5-year-old boy after eight days under rubble and brought him to the hospital. I was Monley's primary nurse. Dr. Colleen Buono was his primary doctor from University Califon a head-to-toe-assessment, we did not find any obvious fractures or signs or symptoms of internal injuries. We resuscitated him with fluids, and four hours later he was transferred in stable condition to the Swiss Red Cross pediatric unit for overnight observation. We were amazed by his recovery and happy to see this little miracle walk away with no major trauma. The next day, we learned he had been discharged.

As I was triaging that afternoon, I felt a little tap on my shoulder. I turned my head and there was Monley. I was so happy to see him well. He came to see me every day at the hospital. I never thought I would have bonded with Monley the way I did. It was automatic; and although we could not communicate by the normal means of language, we understood one another. His eyes told it all! During the end of my assignment, we had a psychiatrist from International Medical Corps meet with Monley and me so I could tell him goodbye and make sure he would not feel abandoned. Our farewell was heart wrenching because Monley had come to see me as a "mother figure." His mother had been killed in the earthquake.

Monley and I were interviewed by CNN's Anderson Cooper during the "Help For Haiti Now Tele-a-Thon" and were featured on NBC Nightly News "Making a Difference." Our farewell is an experience I will forever remember. I love and miss Monley and still stay in contact with his family through text messaging. He will always be my little "Haiti Angel."


CNN's Anderson Cooper interviews Monley and me during the telethon.






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