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Absolved by light, we decide to go on
Sep. 13th, 2005 08:01 amAs I was saying, we see about 40 patients a day at our little clinic, which is situated in a sunday school room at the back of the shelter, a big baptist church hall. We see a little of everything, from rashes to heart attacks. A lot of what we do is to find healthcare resources for these people. It's tough--almost all the doctors from NO have been displaced and the hospitals and pharmacies have been destroyed. We have to recreate a lot of their medical histories from scratch.
We have gotten a lot of support from the local medical community even though they are completely overwhelmed by the influx of people. There are doctors, nurses, dentists and others who just drop in to see if they can help. It is amazing. One day a doctor and his daughter showed up from Cincinnati, and stayed for 4 days, seeing patients. When they left, a pediatrician from Alabama arrived and stayed for another 4 days. This is how it has been. We have been able to have a physician every day for almost the past two weeks, just by having them unexpectedly drop in when we need them. When there are no doctors, we do what we can for them.
There are lots and lots of odd rashes and infections--most likely from exposure to the stuff these people had to wade through. Lots of colds and viral stuff. We keep hoping that we don't get an outbreak of something here, although it is pretty hard to prevent when you have 600 people all living in the same room. We have seen 4 myocardial infarctions in the past week--one had to have a four-vessel bypass. After we get off in the evening we make hospital visits if we have time. The hospitals are overwhelmed too. Short-staffed and overflowing with patients.
I have so much to tell--so many stories, but precious little computer time. I used up my 15 minutes last night venting to a friend in an email about some of the frustrations of being here. I have been doing this for 7 days straight and was a little lonely and homesick. I miss my friends. I was pretty discouraged and wondered how I could do another two weeks of this, but walked out of my own shelter this morning to a beautiful sunrise. I was reminded of something I read by Rufus Wainwright, which I will close with.
All humans realize they are loved
when witnessing the dawn:
early morning is the triumph
of good over evil.
Absolved by light
we decide to go on.
Me, Jennifer the pediatrician, Robin (my partner).
We have gotten a lot of support from the local medical community even though they are completely overwhelmed by the influx of people. There are doctors, nurses, dentists and others who just drop in to see if they can help. It is amazing. One day a doctor and his daughter showed up from Cincinnati, and stayed for 4 days, seeing patients. When they left, a pediatrician from Alabama arrived and stayed for another 4 days. This is how it has been. We have been able to have a physician every day for almost the past two weeks, just by having them unexpectedly drop in when we need them. When there are no doctors, we do what we can for them.
There are lots and lots of odd rashes and infections--most likely from exposure to the stuff these people had to wade through. Lots of colds and viral stuff. We keep hoping that we don't get an outbreak of something here, although it is pretty hard to prevent when you have 600 people all living in the same room. We have seen 4 myocardial infarctions in the past week--one had to have a four-vessel bypass. After we get off in the evening we make hospital visits if we have time. The hospitals are overwhelmed too. Short-staffed and overflowing with patients.
I have so much to tell--so many stories, but precious little computer time. I used up my 15 minutes last night venting to a friend in an email about some of the frustrations of being here. I have been doing this for 7 days straight and was a little lonely and homesick. I miss my friends. I was pretty discouraged and wondered how I could do another two weeks of this, but walked out of my own shelter this morning to a beautiful sunrise. I was reminded of something I read by Rufus Wainwright, which I will close with.
All humans realize they are loved
when witnessing the dawn:
early morning is the triumph
of good over evil.
Absolved by light
we decide to go on.
Me, Jennifer the pediatrician, Robin (my partner).
