Category: Blog

The History of AFH and the Earthquake




The History of AFH and the Earthquake

Sarah Tenpenny

In 2006, a University of Tennessee medical student received a letter from a friend telling him of many Haitians living in the mountains with large growths on their necks. Interested in the condition and helping the Haitian people, he teamed up with two fellow students forming what was the very beginning of Aid for Haiti. After further investigation and research, AFH discovered the Haitian people were victims of iodine deficiency. The lack of a simple element that you and I find in our table salt causes devastating mental retardation in the Haitian children and large goiters in the adults. As we began treatment for this condition, we quickly realized that most of the Haitians in this area have little to no access to health care. Our hearts were broken, and we responded. Over the last 2 years, we have provided medical clinics in the rural mountains of southern Haiti, as well as, spiritual training for the local pastors. This training is often the first they have ever received. One pastor stated, “I am like a baker with no flour. I have church with people that look to me for instruction, but I have little myself.” We have slept in their houses, eaten at their tables, shared our hearts and love for Christ, and developed lasting relationships. And thus, we find our lives intertwined with the people of Haiti.

January 12, 2010, a 7.0 earthquake hits Port-au-Prince, Haiti. It’s late afternoon. Schools are finishing up, and people are getting off work. When suddenly, the earth begins to rumble. Buildings collapse. Power goes out. Thousands are dead. Others are screaming. And then, the sun goes down…I can’t imagine the hell the Haitian people experienced that night. In a single moment, their whole world was changed by a rare and unrecognizable event, as Haiti has not experienced an earthquake in over 200 years. After several days, we are able to make contact with our friends. All are alive; however, the impact of this disaster is taking its toll. Each day, we hear the growing fatigue in their voices as they work to gather, feed, and care for the survivors. After expending their own resources, our friends plead to us for help. They are exhausted, hungry, and in dire need of medicine.

Within 2 weeks of the earthquake, an AFH team is in Port-au-Prince. We are able to set up a makeshift clinic and distribute medical care, food, and water to our dear friends in PAP and Carrefour. A few days later, AFH moves on to Petit Goave, a town located near the epicenter of the earthquake. We begin to convert a ministry compound into a field hospital. Since the city hospital has been deemed unsafe, we assume responsibility of all care for the entire city. Overnight, Dr. Caleb serves as the only general doctor for a city of 150,000. “We are on our 5th delivery of the night; one person showed up dying of a simple asthma attack; and there seems to be a never ending line of new trauma sustained during the earthquake.” After only two hours of sleep, Dr. Caleb states, “God has blessed us though. It seems that every time we turn around, there is a new critical patient with a problem out of our scope, but we seem to have just the right medicine at just the right time. You can tell God is doing a wonderful thing here.” Even when overwhelmed, God has provided a way. Over the past two months, AFH has provided continuous medical care to the area of Petit Goave. We would never have been able to do this without the help of the Wesleyan Mission, multiple volunteer physicians, nurses, and EMTs, the Haitian nurses, Samaritan’s Purse, the American and Spanish Marines, as well as, you and your continued prayer and financial support. As the local hospital gets back running, AFH will begin its transition back to serving the people in rural Haiti. God has definitely opened many doors for AFH and we’re excited to see where He is leading and how we will be able to minister and share His love in the future.



Show Me Where To Put the Sugar

CMDA

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

The Haitian nurse in the wound clinic said to me, “Show me where to put the sugar”.

I was helping provide emergency medical care in a coastal town 42 miles southwest of Port-au-Prince. The temporary emergency “hospital” was located on the Wesleyan Church Compound in Petit Goave. Since the earthquake, the town’s population had swelled to over 100,000 from its usual 15,000. The town’s small hospital had not been functioning since the earthquake in January and this temporary “emergency facility”, a conglomeration of tarps and tents, was serving hundreds every day.

The wound clinic was under a white tarp large enough to shade several benches where people waited. Three sheets of plywood on crude legs became the treatment areas. The word seemed to spread quickly that wound care was available and people just kept coming. It had been more than a month since the earthquake, but many wounds had had little to no proper attention.

Each wound represented someone who was wounded much deeper that the wound itself and I was impressed as I watched the Haitian nurses lovingly care for each one. Bacteria were having their way in many of the wounds which caused infection and destruction of tissues. Betadine was the most used agent to clean and dress wounds – some improving while many were not. My mind went to Kenya when in the late 90’s we began revisiting the use of sugar and honey for deeply infected wounds. We found it to be very effective in stimulating healing in chronic septic wounds. Several articles were appearing in medical journals around the time, including journals of wound care, encouraging the use of honey or sugar if honey was not available. This was not new; it had been used for over 4000 years – with great success. But, in favor of more expensive and “up-to-date” methods, its use had greatly diminished.

Now, here I was in Haiti; a land where sugar production and growing of sugar care by peasant farmers has been part of a troubled nation. In my hand was a cup of strong Haitian coffee to which I had added 2 tablespoons of sugar. But, I did not see any sugar on the wound dressing table. There was only betadine and that was not in great supply. One of the problems with betadine is that it causes necrosis of good tissue as well as infected tissues. The necrosis of good tissue promotes ongoing infection and poor or delayed wound healing along with increased pain in comparison to honey or sugar. I asked one of the nurses if they ever used honey or sugar in the wounds. The incredulous stares answered my question. In fact they seemed to say, “You must be crazy. Don’t try to make us use something that you would not use yourself. We may be a poor country but we deserve to have care like you expect. We do not appreciate you trying to do this to us!”

I thought of all the ways the Haitian people have been taken advantage of over the last centuries. Foreign countries have plundered the once rich forests of hardwoods leaving eroded, rocky, unproductive fields and mountains. Multinational companies have paid pathetic wages to produce toys and souvenirs that bring a premium in the western world. Leadership has been unjust and has pocketed millions meant to aid those in need.

“Now, here was another rich American standing on Haitian soil for only a few days. And, he is asking if “we ever put sugar on our wounds!”?”

There were still over 200 patients waiting in line so I did not want to take extra time to extol the virtues of sugar and that it would be better. Though the nurses didn’t actually question me, I knew if they used sugar only because I wanted them to while I was watching, they were not going to do it later when I was out of the picture.

So, I knew I had to take the time to teach, to explain about the osmotic forces that keep cells from exploding or shrinking. This is the presumed mechanism of honey/sugar. It kills bacteria by osmotic forces, speeding wound healing, decreases the amount of dead tissue needing debridement, decreases pain at the time of dressing changes, and results in fewer resistant infections.

But, I sensed something more as well. Much too often in missions we from North America just want to take charge. We want to make the decisions, we want to dictate what should and will happen. Is there any wonder why the world often sees us as arrogant and conceited, even in missions? Couldn’t I just say to use sugar on these wounds? It would save a lot of time. And, after all, this is a country used to slavery and dictatorships! In my heart though I knew I could not just dictate or give a command. For far too long, decisions have been wrenched from the people. In fact, they have been told over and over again, to the point they now believe, that they are incapable of making these decisions. Yes, I could dictate this wound needed sugar and someone would apply it. But, would anyone really put their heart into it? Would sugar be used on the next patient or ever again? Would anything really change?

I had to give up the idea that I was in charge or that the decision was mine. I could only coach. I went ahead and took a few minutes to teach and to explain. I shared examples of how honey or sugar had helped in Kenya. And, I stressed how its use was on the increase in the USA and other countries. Then I encouraged the nurse to chose a few patients with dirty wounds and try the sugar.

On the table was a young boy with an infected foot – and I wanted so badly to put sugar on his wound. But, I knew it would do no good if I was the one who did. The nurses live in Haiti while I do not. They would be the ones caring for all the wounds while I would leave in a few days. It is their country, their responsibility, and their decision. I wanted to apply the sugar, but knew I should not. When I suggested, “…use it if you want and see what happens. If you are happy after several days you can decide for yourself if you want to continue. But, I will be gone and it is up to you.”, there was animated discussion that followed.

Soon someone appeared with a coffee-cup like the one in my hand. It held Haitian sugar. One of the nurses said, “Show me where to put the sugar.”!

Over the next few days, as we developed a trusting relationship, an increased number of questions came from the wound clinic. “Would you look at this wound? Could you prescribe some antibiotic and some pain medicine for this patient? Would you please drain this abscess?”

I kept looking for the sugar. Would it appear? Would it be used? I wish I could report to you that I saw hundreds of wounds now being treated with sugar. I wish I could say … No, I cannot.

But, there is sugar in Haiti. I know…I drank of it in my morning coffee. I watched as it was applied to one wound. My impatience told me to apply sugar myself everywhere, anywhere it was needed. I waited…

The Good News must be like this. Missions must be like this. What we want to give, and even impose on others, will do no good unless the heart makes the decision as one’s own. It has taken me 53 years to learn something about this and yet I still want to just have people do it my way or believe as I do.

Great good can come out of Haiti. The people are beautiful. They are fully capable of managing their lives, making decisions, bringing about change that can lead to restored relationships, productive land and a brighter future. Will we give them permission to do so? Will we communicate that we believe in them and support their decisions? Will we allow them to discover the joy of the Kingdom of God that He wants for the Haitian people?

Change takes patience over time.

I left Petit Goave last week. The last evening, as I was helping clean up from the day’s work, I noticed something. Sitting on a table – a table under the white tarp in the wound clinic, a clinic under a large mango tree – was a small coffee cup. It was not mine. The spoon in it was not mine. The sugar inside the cup was not mine. But, there it was.

There is sugar in Haiti.

“Show me where to put the sugar!”

Haiti Still Suffers When the Cameras are Gone

Posted by Bill Whitaker
March 16, 2010 4:37 PM
The cameras are gone; Haiti is off the front pages. Now two months later, it’s possible for those who experienced the magnitude 7.0 earthquake through the media to think of the devastation and the humanitarian crisis that followed in the past tense. Chile and health care and unemployment demand our attention. For the people of Haiti, however, the crisis continues — a constant, inescapable, overwhelming reality.
I was in Haiti for a month, arriving one week after the quake. The first week I spent in shock. I had lived through the Northridge quake that rocked Los Angeles in 1984. That was horrible. But nothing prepared me for the horror I encountered in Port-au-Prince.
Block after block after block was leveled. So many people in that impoverished Caribbean country had little to begin with. The earthquake left hundreds of thousands with nothing but their faith and their spirit.
I saw that faith and spirit in abundance. My CBS News crew and I met a middle-class woman, Madame Yolene Bartroni, whose house was the only one in her poor neighborhood still standing — cracked and unlivable, but standing. She opened the gates of her property to neighbors. More than 100 children, women and men joined Madame Bartroni and her family sleeping under makeshift tents in the yard.
Two weeks after the quake, no aid agencies had made it to her part of Port-au-Prince. So, with her salary as a hotel receptionist (she was one of the lucky Haitians still to have a job), she bought water and food and medicine and diapers. When she ran out of money, she tapped her family in the U.S., which used social networks to gather donations. Grateful neighbors say were it not for Madame Bartroni they’d be homeless and hungry in the streets. Holding back tears, Madame Bartroni told us they struggle to live day to day.
We saw that kind of giving every single day. People who had little sharing with those who had nothing.
It would have been understandable if Haitians had cursed their fate, but we witnessed just the opposite. Haitians are people of deep faith.They marked the one month anniversary of the quake with prayer services all over the city. You could barely drive a block without seeing worshipers spilling out of the churches that were still standing or a congregation gathered where churches once stood.
Hymns filled the air. Hundreds of thousands of people gathered on the boulevards that surrounded the collapsed presidential palace, an ornate white structure that now resembles a melted wedding cake — hundreds of thousands solemnly praying for those who had died and joyously thankful for having survived.
When the minister called for five minutes of silence, the only sounds heard were quiet, heart-wrenching sobs here and there in the crowd. It was a powerful moment.With the rainy season approaching and one million homeless people living in squalid tent cities, Haitians need all the faith and spirit they can muster. Proud and resilient as they are, they cannot get back up on their feet by themselves. They desperately need the helping hand the world extended immediately after the quake. Haitians wish they had the luxury of referring to this tragedy in the past tense. They need the world to remember it is their present and their future.

http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-503543_162-20000571-503543.html

Show Me Where To Put The Sugar

Below is an article that was written by Daniel Tolan, with the CMDA who has worked with us for the past few weeks at the clinic in Petit Goave.

Show Me Where To Put The Sugar
by Daniel Tolan, MD

The Haitian nurse in the wound clinic said to me, “Show me where to put the sugar”.

I was helping provide emergency medical care in a coastal town 42 miles southwest of Port-au-Prince. The temporary emergency “hospital” was located on the Wesleyan Church Compound in Petit Goave. Since the earthquake, the town’s population had swelled to over 100,000 from its usual 15,000. The town’s small hospital had not been functioning since the earthquake in January and this temporary “emergency facility”, a conglomeration of tarps and tents, was serving hundreds every day.

The wound clinic was under a white tarp large enough to shade several benches where people waited. Three sheets of plywood on crude legs became the treatment areas. The word seemed to spread quickly that wound care was available and people just kept coming. It had been more than a month since the earthquake, but many wounds had had little to no proper attention.

Each wound represented someone who was wounded much deeper that the wound itself and I was impressed as I watched the Haitian nurses lovingly care for each one. Bacteria were having their way in many of the wounds which caused infection and destruction of tissues. Betadine was the most used agent to clean and dress wounds – some improving while many were not. My mind went to Kenya when in the late 90’s we began revisiting the use of sugar and honey for deeply infected wounds. We found it to be very effective in stimulating healing in chronic septic wounds. Several articles were appearing in medical journals around the time, including journals of wound care, encouraging the use of honey or sugar if honey was not available. This was not new; it had been used for over 4000 years – with great success. But, in favor of more expensive and “up-to-date” methods, its use had greatly diminished.

Now, here I was in Haiti; a land where sugar production and growing of sugar care by peasant farmers has been part of a troubled nation. In my hand was a cup of strong Haitian coffee to which I had added 2 tablespoons of sugar. But, I did not see any sugar on the wound dressing table. There was only betadine and that was not in great supply. One of the problems with betadine is that it causes necrosis of good tissue as well as infected tissues. The necrosis of good tissue promotes ongoing infection and poor or delayed wound healing along with increased pain in comparison to honey or sugar. I asked one of the nurses if they ever used honey or sugar in the wounds. The incredulous stares answered my question. In fact they seemed to say, “You must be crazy. Don’t try to make us use something that you would not use yourself. We may be a poor country but we deserve to have care like you expect. We do not appreciate you trying to do this to us!”

I thought of all the ways the Haitian people have been taken advantage of over the last centuries. Foreign countries have plundered the once rich forests of hardwoods leaving eroded, rocky, unproductive fields and mountains. Multinational companies have paid pathetic wages to produce toys and souvenirs that bring a premium in the western world. Leadership has been unjust and has pocketed millions meant to aid those in need.

“Now, here was another rich American standing on Haitian soil for only a few days. And, he is asking if “we ever put sugar on our wounds!”?”

There were still over 200 patients waiting in line so I did not want to take extra time to extol the virtues of sugar and that it would be better. Though the nurses didn’t actually question me, I knew if they used sugar only because I wanted them to while I was watching, they were not going to do it later when I was out of the picture.

So, I knew I had to take the time to teach, to explain about the osmotic forces that keep cells from exploding or shrinking. This is the presumed mechanism of honey/sugar. It kills bacteria by osmotic forces, speeding wound healing, decreases the amount of dead tissue needing debridement, decreases pain at the time of dressing changes, and results in fewer resistant infections.

But, I sensed something more as well. Much too often in missions we from North America just want to take charge. We want to make the decisions, we want to dictate what should and will happen. Is there any wonder why the world often sees us as arrogant and conceited, even in missions? Couldn’t I just say to use sugar on these wounds? It would save a lot of time. And, after all, this is a country used to slavery and dictatorships! In my heart though I knew I could not just dictate or give a command. For far too long, decisions have been wrenched from the people. In fact, they have been told over and over again, to the point they now believe, that they are incapable of making these decisions. Yes, I could dictate this wound needed sugar and someone would apply it. But, would anyone really put their heart into it? Would sugar be used on the next patient or ever again? Would anything really change?

I had to give up the idea that I was in charge or that the decision was mine. I could only coach. I went ahead and took a few minutes to teach and to explain. I shared examples of how honey or sugar had helped in Kenya. And, I stressed how its use was on the increase in the USA and other countries. Then I encouraged the nurse to chose a few patients with dirty wounds and try the sugar.

On the table was a young boy with an infected foot – and I wanted so badly to put sugar on his wound. But, I knew it would do no good if I was the one who did. The nurses live in Haiti while I do not. They would be the ones caring for all the wounds while I would leave in a few days. It is their country, their responsibility, and their decision. I wanted to apply the sugar, but knew I should not. When I suggested, “…use it if you want and see what happens. If you are happy after several days you can decide for yourself if you want to continue. But, I will be gone and it is up to you.”, there was animated discussion that followed.

Soon someone appeared with a coffee-cup like the one in my hand. It held Haitian sugar. One of the nurses said, “Show me where to put the sugar.”!

Over the next few days, as we developed a trusting relationship, an increased number of questions came from the wound clinic. “Would you look at this wound? Could you prescribe some antibiotic and some pain medicine for this patient? Would you please drain this abscess?”

I kept looking for the sugar. Would it appear? Would it be used? I wish I could report to you that I saw hundreds of wounds now being treated with sugar. I wish I could say … No, I cannot.

But, there is sugar in Haiti. I know…I drank of it in my morning coffee. I watched as it was applied to one wound. My impatience told me to apply sugar myself everywhere, anywhere it was needed. I waited…

The Good News must be like this. Missions must be like this. What we want to give, and even impose on others, will do no good unless the heart makes the decision as one’s own. It has taken me 53 years to learn something about this and yet I still want to just have people do it my way or believe as I do.

Great good can come out of Haiti. The people are beautiful. They are fully capable of managing their lives, making decisions, bringi
ng about change that can lead to restored relationships, productive land and a brighter future. Will we give them permission to do so? Will we communicate that we believe in them and support their decisions? Will we allow them to discover the joy of the Kingdom of God that He wants for the Haitian people?

Change takes patience over time.

I left Petit Goave last week. The last evening, as I was helping clean up from the day’s work, I noticed something. Sitting on a table – a table under the white tarp in the wound clinic, a clinic under a large mango tree – was a small coffee cup. It was not mine. The spoon in it was not mine. The sugar inside the cup was not mine. But, there it was.

There is sugar in Haiti.

“Show me where to put the sugar!”

Delivering babies in Devastated Haiti

BY KIRSTIN RIGGS – GUEST OPINION | MARCH 09, 2010

The woman on the table is screaming.

I’m gripping her hand with two fingers — I’ve heard that a woman in labor can break your fingers if you give her your whole hand — and holding her knee up with the other.

I yell, “Puse! Puse!” — one of the few Creole words I’d learned since arriving at a medical clinic in Haiti. I can see the black curls of the baby’s hair.

A week before, I was sitting in my journalism class at the University of Iowa. That’s my major; it’s where I belong. I know nothing medical. Still, earlier this month I found myself as part of a medical team living in army-issued tents in Petit Goâve, Haiti, 20 miles from the epicenter of the Jan. 12 earthquake.

When I wasn’t working in the pharmacy, I was helping women give birth.

We were averaging four to six births a day. Each one was born natural — with no pain medications — and the women usually walked home minutes after giving birth. One brand-new mother rode home on a motorcycle. Twins were born in the back of a rust pickup truck when the doctors didn’t have enough time to move inside.

But back to the birth. The birthing room is very different from the New York hospital where I was born. The walls are made of yellow cement bricks, and a folding table is the bed. Skimpy sheets cover the windows for privacy, but there’s usually a small crowd watching. Chairs and tables line the walls, covered with medical equipment — forceps and clamps, scissors and gauze, a precious bottle of cleansing alcohol.

Another contraction.

“Puse! Puse!”

The baby slides out onto the table. My heart leaps seeing this miraculous new life, but I remember to glance at my watch. The doctor is suctioning the baby’s nose and throat and mopping up blood. It’s another boy.

The minute is up, and the doctor is placing clamps on the umbilical cord. He hands me the scissors and shows me where to cut. The cord is slippery and more difficult to cut than I expected. Brenda, a nurse on our team, beams as she picks up the crying boy with a towel and carries him over to the baby station — the top of a sturdy container flipped upside down.

The tears started falling as I watched the beautiful boy be cleaned off and clothed in a yellow outfit his parents had brought. I haven’t made it through a birth without crying yet. I’m surprised; I had expected to be disgusted or faint. I’ve always found pregnancy beautiful, but watching a birth — its utterly miraculous.

The new mother’s work isn’t done yet. No medical training makes me the honored placenta-bearer. I grab a small blue bucket from the corner and place it under the doctor’s arms. A few moments later, the tub has caught its belongings, and I’m off to take the delivery to the outhouse.

I’m still crying as I return to the delivery room. The boy is wrapped in a warm blanket despite the humid 90 degrees and resting in his father’s arms, who is smiling proudly.

“Merci,” he says, thanking everyone in the room. Most of us are bleary-eyed, including him. His wife will come back in a couple hours to kiss us all on the cheek.

Kirstin Riggs is a UI journalism student. This is the second of three guest opinions on Haiti from Riggs, who is now back in Iowa.

Praise from Petit Goave

God continues to bring the exact tools to bear on the exact need in Petit Goave, Haiti. As we transition clinic and hospital work to a new site in a more underserved rural area, the medical miracles continue in the city. Just last night a team of three individuals arrived in Haiti with only two new medicines, magnesium and an IV antimalarial purchased using your donations. Just two critical patients showed up last night.

Early in the night a pregnant woman showed up in seizure with eclampsia, a potentially deadly disease for both mother and child. Having just arrived, the magnesium was quickly given to her to treat this condition. Delivering her child and treatment with this newly arrived medicine saved two lives in one night. Both mother and baby left the hospital healthy today. Later in the night a young child arrived with a fever, in a coma. It soon became apparent that her condition was caused by cerebral malaria. After a long course of the new IV antimalarial purchased with your donations, our team began to praise God as they realized that in the first night after arrival with only two new medications God had provided just the right patients for these treatments.

Kirkwood’s Dr. Caleb Trent Is No Stranger To Haitians


drcalebtrent1
shadow
Dr. Caleb Trent, along with other physicians & missionaries, formed Aid To Haiti a year prior to the earthquake. (click for larger version)

March 05, 2010
Talking over coffee back in St. Louis, Dr. Caleb Trent of Kirkwood smiles with a kid’s air of optimism. Full of energy, he hardly seems haggard after returning from a medical mission to Haiti, where he oversaw treatment of some 300 patients daily at a makeshift comprehensive care clinic.

“It was daunting to see that many waiting for us to open. I remember wishing the Lord could be there to touch those in the crowds, as in the Bible,” Trent said.

Trent, an emergency room resident physician at Barnes-Jewish Hospital, aided medical response efforts after the earthquake – first in Carrefour, near Port-au-Prince, and then in Petit-Goave, 42 miles southwest of the devastated Haitian capital.

He and wife Anna live in downtown Kirkwood with their two young sons. Trent has two more years to go at Barnes-Jewish but hopes to stay in the area after completing his residency requirements, he said.

Right after the earthquake, he and a team of medical professionals/missionaries that had co-founded the relief agency Aid for Haiti a year before raised funds to buy supplies to outfit a makeshift clinic.

Trent, fellow Barnes-Jewish resident physician Chett Schrader, his wife Ashley, businessman/missionary/Aid for Haiti board member Philip Rudolph and his son Michael jumped to action on behalf of the Haitians they had grown to love since founding Aid for Haiti.

Helping underserved Haitians in mountain regions between Port-au-Prince and Jacmel before the earthquake, Trent and fellow University of Tennessee medical students Elliott Tenpenny (now an e.r. physician at the Mayo Clinic) and Philip Sutherland learned to rough it as needed when visiting the island on medical missions.

drcalebtrent2
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Dr. Caleb Trent recently spent two weeks in Haiti, one week of that as the acting medical director in Petit Goave. He traveled to Haiti with the organization, Aid For Haiti, which he cofounded in 2008 as a medical student. photos courtesy of Dr. Caleb Trent (click for larger version)

“We’d carry medicine and supplies in five-gallon buckets for hours up the mountainside to reach the villagers,” Trent said.

Aid for Haiti then zeroed in on those hard-to-reach areas without medical clinics.

After the earthquake, Trent and team finally settled in where the need seemed greatest — a former Wesleyan compound near the damaged Notre Dame hospital in Petit Goave.

Usually, the clinic serves 150,000 patients from around the general area, Trent said. The earthquake upped the numbers served daily by hundreds.

Various medical professionals from different U.S. locales and from around Haiti staffed the Wesleyan clinic, though not with regularity, he said.

He ended up running the open-air clinic while there with a semi-retired ob-gyn doctor from Florida.

All sorts of cases needed attention: Trent remembers being moved by one, in particular — a man with a skull fracture from a traffic accident. He had an exposed brain, and Trent flew with him to the makeshift University of Miami clinic on the Port-au-Prince airport runway for emergency treatment.

“Thankfully, the man responded to treatment, so the medical staff at the U. of Miami clinic sent him to Miami for further care,” Trent said.

drcalebtrent3
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After the earthquake, Trent and team settled in a former Wesleyan compound near the damaged Notre Dame hospital in Petit Goave. (click for larger version)

Another man in respiratory distress after a water jug fell on his chest responded to makeshift methods to give him air.

“I found myself opening his chest up on a stretcher under coconut trees,” said Trent.

The tents blocking mangos and coconuts from hitting people proved as necessary to health as many other measures, said Trent.

After the Petit-Goave mayor demanded some clinic tents for civil affairs, the U.S. Marines built a wood structure the Wesleyan medical staff used for added privacy.

Aid for Haiti staff planned to build another wood clinic in the weeks after Trent staffed the unit, he said.

More medical staff from Barnes-Jewish traveled to the Petit-Goave clinic after receiving an e-mail from Trent asking for help if possible: physician residents Jonathan Heidt (and wife Elizabeth), Amanda Cannarozzi, Joy English, Jacob Keeperman, Amy Kroeger and attending physician Lisa Halcomb (and father).

Barnes-Jewish resident Cannarozzi said she was extremely scared to serve in Haiti, given the safety concerns she’d heard about in the news.

“The scene in Haiti was indescribable,” she said. Cannarozzi lives with husband Dante in University City. “I’d spent time in underdeveloped countries before, but I’ve never seen such poverty as down there. Trash was everywhere. “

The Haitian people, however, showed beautiful spirit, she said.

She said she was moved when a woman who’d lost a baby in childbirth thanked Cannarozzi for all she did in doctoring her.

“I felt horrible that I couldn’t save her baby, yet she thanked me and said I did a great job,” Cannarozzi said.

Working 20 to 22-hour days, Cannarozzi said the situation sometimes verged on the surreal.

One night a local pastor helped Cannarozzi and other medical workers break into the Notre Dame Hospital for an urgent c-section, she said. The Spanish Armada helped resuscitate the baby after the birth.

It took Cannarozzi days to catch up on sleep after returning to St. Louis.

“The mission workers gave everything they had. I saw overwhelming acts of kindness. It restored my faith in humanity,” she said.

Trent said Aid for Haiti, the non-profit he helped found, will phase out service at the Wesleyan Camp on March 15. The group will base Haitian operations after that at a compound seven kilometers away, built some time ago by an Assembly of God church but never much used, he said.

A husband-wife team from the Dominican Republic will staff the new base for the next couple of months, Trent said. He and other doctors will work there when possible as well.

The last delivery Trent handled at the Wesleyan compound convinced him of the Haitian people’s resiliency, he said.

“A woman sang throughout her labor then rode off with her baby on a motorcycle a half hour later,” he said. “That’s tough.”

Read more: http://new.websterkirkwoodtimes.com/Articles-i-2010-03-05-168926.113118_Kirkwoods_Dr_Caleb_Trent_Is_No_Stranger_To_Haitians.html#123#ixzz13IdYtQEq



Scrapbooking for Haiti

A local scrapbooking store “The Sassy Scrapper” has joined forces with AFH (Aid for Haiti) to help raise funds to assist in medical help for Haiti.  AFH is a local mid TN ministry of faith based charity formed to meet the medical and spiritual needs of people that have no where else to turn. Mary Kumpf is the owner of The Sassy Scrapper, her daughter Sarah Tenpenny and son-in-law Elliott both have been involved with AFH for over two years and have been totally hands on since the earthquake.

Before the earthquake, AFH had set up clinics seeing about one to two thousand people per week in three different locations in remote areas throughout the country. After the earthquake emergency and medical teams were sent into Haiti to minister the people for medical care.  AFH also focuses on the needs of the surrounding areas of Port au Prince that is not as easily reached. You can learn more about this local ministry on their website.
On March 27 from 8 am to 11pm, The Sassy Scrapper, located in Murfreesboro, TN, is hosting an all day crop to raise releif funds and supplies for AFH, located at the Lascassas Baptist Church.  Cost to attend the crop is $35 and a donation of adult or children’s vitamins.  100% of proceeds from AFH goes to Haiti relief. Lunch and dinner will be provided to all who attend.  To reserve your spot and for more information, please contact The Sassy Scrapper at 615-895-1284, or visit their website for more information.