Day 5 - Wednesday

Wound care again today with people I know. One woman sang hymns to cope with the pain of her dressing change. These are incredibly stoic people. The 4-year-old near the nurses station was hit by a car recently and thankfully had no other injuries besides extensive abrasions on her face. I was asked to put some neosporin on her scabs. She eyed me suspiciously when I sidled up to her, so I blew up a glove as a balloon and handed it to her. The international sign for "It's gonna be ok." Her little face lit right up. She bounced her new toy off my arm and turned her head to the side patiently while I applied goop. She grinned and waved when I moved on. I stopped to play peek-a-boo with her later, and she waved every time she saw me the rest of the day.

The little things.

There was a kitten in the back room where I was organizing. It was shy, but every time I went back to work it would come out from behind the boxes and meow loudly. Whether it was mewing for its mother, some food, or just to be heard, I'll never know. I don't speak enough Creole.

As I walked back to the guest house for lunch, I took a left turn off the road and got about 50 yards down when a boy on a 10-speed rode up next to me. He introduced himself and asked where I was going. I was a little wary but told him I was staying at the guest house. He said "it's not this way." I had taken the wrong turn. He rode back up the road with me and we chatted until I got to my gate. He said goodbye and rode on. These people are kind-hearted. I am a little ashamed of my mistrust.

My EMT friend and I talked more about the difficulties of the situation. There's no heroism here. You can't expect to come in and do a lot of good in a short period of time. Establishing relationships is required to make long-term, lasting changes. I am ashamed of my unwillingness to spend more than a week here.

These people love to sing. They sing their prayers to God - singing hymns of sorrow, praise, humility and thanks. Families, friends and strangers gather around one bed and then the next and all who can join in the melody. One man sang all day from his bed. All. Day. I stopped for a moment to smile, breathe and just listen. I will remember that.

I have all these little memories. The kitten in the storeroom, the boy on the bike, the man in the corner... All these snapshots, moments of connections that I have made. Everything helps. Every smile, every "Bonjour" and "Bonsoir", every touch, every bandage, every pill, ointment, dollar, prayer, everything helps because the need is so great. These people have nothing.

We leave at 7am tomorrow. I am changed a little, in ways I didn't expect. In ways I won't begin to realize for months to come. "Was it worth it?" my husband asked me last night. Yes. Would I do it again? Absolutely. With fewer expectations, and more forgiveness for myself. Will I come back? Maybe. Maybe yes, maybe no. Certainly not for a while, I'm going to need some time to recover.

The right opportunity always presents itself.