Hola!
I actually wrote this email yesterday in Microsoft Word while I was at the beach with my fam (it was a national holiday) and came home to send it but there was no electricity last night. Tonight I am writing in the midst of a crazy Micheal Jackson dance party, a going away party for my roommate Fritznel, a former orphan from Haiti who has been my roommate for the past 3 months here. Many of you might know him from the dance video, but he is beyond OBSESSED with Micheal Jackson and we’ve done every choreographed video dance all night tonight (he spends hours every night memorizing them, then teaching them to us and the kids). We will miss him. Well, and the electricity came on, so I raced outside to try to send this email for my devoted Monday readers.
I want to start by first saying a huge THANK YOU for all the donations to my program. I was absolutely shocked to go on the website and see that I had $600 already donated to my project. I cannot say enough how I am so so so touched by such immense generosity! It absolutely restores my faith in humanity to know that people truly care not only about me and what I am doing here, but also about the happiness and the futures of children with special needs. So thank you thank you thank you so much to everyone who donated to my project online, and also for all the donations and gifts along the way. Things are coming along so great, and I could not be more excited about it… and the kids are happy and thankful too. J
Here at the orphanage, it’s been another crazy week, relatively uneventful in the school (other than for the hermit crabs who the kids went crazy over all week) but Dave has had quite the adventure (if you can call it that)… It started on Thursday when Dave was really sick again with severe stomach pains, and then Thursday night he was up all night moaning and groaning like crazy, and by 4:30am I finally convinced him to go into the orphanage clinic. They gave him some drink to make him feel better, but it made him feel worse, and they talked us into going into the hospital asap. Soooo we got on the first bus out at 6:30a.m. taking the kids to the high school, and they dropped us off at MUSA… which turned out to be a free hospital for poor people from the area. We had no idea what we were in for. We took our number at 7:00 a.m., #94 in line, and then the lady next to me in the waiting room tells me they wouldn’t start calling numbers today til 9:30. Dave was hunched over moaning in pain, so she insisted on taking us to the “emergency room” (you would not believe your eyes if you saw it). We got to the emergency room and had to wait for a while, while the two doctors conversed and laughed about a night out or something… then we told him about his stomach pain, but before they asked him anything else, they had taken him into this kitchen like area, where there was a sink full of dirty “dishes” – bedpans and such – and shoved him down into a chair and started poking him several times with a needle injecting who knows what. They took 4 different pokes to get it in, as I looked around and noticed blood stains splattered all over the countertop, walls, and floor, as well as a few cotton balls soaked in blood on the floor and an overflowing garbage can of things that should go in toxic waste bins. As they put the injection in, they asked me if I had a plastic bag, I said no why, and they explained the injection would make him start to vomit soon, and then he lunged for the garbage can within seconds and vomited more than I have ever seen someone vomit in my life – they said this was to “clean him out”. Then they poked him about 5 more times to get another injection in… another I had no idea what it was, but they said it would help the pain (the ER nurse still having no idea what was even causing the pain). By then he was drenched in sweat, trembling, and couldn’t get up, so they took him to this other small room that he shared with a poor old lady in pain, who looked like she had some sort of tumor, and poked him about another 3 times to get an IV in him. They told him he would then need a blood test and stool sample after the IV was done. I left to use the bathroom in the emergency room, and couldn’t believe what I found. I walked in to find a large puddle of yellow covering most of the floor, two holes in the wall where a sink should have been, another hole in the wall where there should’ve been a toilet paper roll (but wasn’t), a short dirty toilet with no seat, a garbage can overflowing with poopy toilet paper, a puke green chipped paint wall, and a fluorescent light hanging down and dimming in and out. I don’t think I could have invented a worse scene for a movie, and in all the 17 countries I’ve traveled and even in tin shacks, I have never seen a bathroom quite like this. I can’t imagine that patients in near fatal conditions are using this bathroom, or that it could possibly be used for taking stool samples. I exited the bathroom and to my right I saw a room about the size of my bedroom with 8 small beds all squeezed in side by side with suffering patients – I think this would be an ICU area? I don’t think there is any comment I could make about the lack of sanitation that wouldn’t be an enormous understatement. So I went back to Dave and then went on to do the lab tests… he couldn’t walk by this point or barely move so we put him in a wheelchair… one with a broken wheel and no footplates… and I pushed him past people with missing limbs, missing eyes, skin covered in various funguses, and other types of unknown disease. I could hear women in labor screaming loudly, and people wheeled in on stretchers that looked like they had been shot or were dying. From there, we went to stand in a long line at the lab, but then this guy who spoke English jumped in, a little overeager to practice his English, and demanded we get our things first. Thank goodness we had brought our own jar for stool sample because in the hospital they used small glass baby food jars (without tops), and rip a scrap of paper from a notebook to write the last name in chicken scratch, and then set it on top of the jar, without sticker, tape, or rubber band, which could easily be blown off. The English speaking guy physically demonstrated several times how to do a stool sample, as if we didn’t know what a stool sample was. Dave stumbled into the bathroom with his wheelchair and IV bag and stool sample jar, stepping over broken glass on the bathroom floor from patients who had evidently dropped their stool sample jars. He couldn’t do it on his own, so the English speaking Dominican barged in to help and raced out with the jar to save the day. Then we went to wait in line for the blood sample. This time they poked Dave another 3 times at least, and we had to about catch him from passing out. Then it was time to wait and wait and wait for the results. Dave was hunched over, eyes closed in pain, and I observed patients coming in and out. I think about every 5th one coming in was a hugely pregnant young girl coming in alone to deliver, and about every 5th one going out was walking out carrying a brand new-born baby… no wheelchair, no man, no family support system, no pink/blue blankets, no balloons… just a new baby, and an overwhelmed and exhausted expression. (Maria tells me that normal deliveries are free and c-sections cost around $15 at this hospital) Then we got the results and went back to emergency to meet with the doctor. Amoebic dysentery. He got two different kinds of scripts and I went to the pharmacy to fill them – they each cost less than 50 cents each. It was quite a day. Dave describes it as the worse in his life, and my heart broke watching him all day, but it also makes me think, what is healthcare like in the countries worse off than here? And how many people would give anything to be able to go to a hospital such as this and be treated for free? It’s so crazy what we take for granted. But thank God after a weekend of him resting in our hotel, moaning and groaning in intense pain, while I ran around to nearby colmados buying garlic and carrots and all the holistic things that are supposed to kill amoebas, he is finally feeling better. Now he’s more himself - with bruises covering both arms from all the pokes – but even eating pizza and tostones. J
In other news, my dad and brother are here visiting now! They arrived on Friday night to their resort in Juan Dolio, and we took a guagua out to Juan Dolio and stayed at our gypsy hotel. We kinda laid low since Dave was still so sick and it was a little difficult being on opposite sides of town from their resort, but we had a great time visiting with them. They are going to be at their resort for a couple more days, and then on Wednesday they’re coming here to the orphanage to visit and help, and then go travel with us next weekend.
Well, I know I’ve written quite a bit here, but quite a few people were asking about Dave so there’s the full story. All who know me know I sometimes have the tendency to exaggerate a bit, but if you ask Dave this is the true story… his version might even be worse… I am just happy he is feeling better.
Well thank you again soooo much to all you wonderful people I love so much – for your encouragement, kindness, prayers, gifts, donations… I am so truly blessed to have such incredible people as friends and family. Love and miss you all tons and tons and tons.
Love,
Kristin
Also, if you actually made it this far in my email, please respond and send me your address too. J I would love to send back postcards with my dad that he can put in the mail once he gets to the states. Thanks! xoxo
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| Hanging out with my dad on his visit at the Barcelo Capella! |