Haiti keeps popping in my head. Random memories that I otherwise had forgotten. My first trip to Haiti was 3 weeks after the earthquake. Our group was wired and ready to jump in to whatever we found. Instead, God made us wait for 2 days before we were able to touch our first patient. I am not sure at the time any of us felt grateful for the delay. Each of us had such a heart to serve: One of our doctors served as an electrician; one doctor helped unload food to the point he became dehydrated; several of us helped with the massive feeding of the neighborhood; a paramedic/college administrator became an expert driver in Haitian traffic; so many more stories. Each of us stepped outside our normal comfort zones in so many ways.
One woman came to our clinic with a hand that she had been told was not broken. The middle finger appeared ready to fall off. She could barely use the hand. She said her house had fallen on her during the earthquake. She also lost three children. Because of her tears, and the language barrier, I didn't ask if that was her entire family.
The doctor I was with was very concerned the finger was gangrenous. He asked another doctor to look at it. I was given the task to soak and debreed it. We gave her a Percocet for pain. In the U.S. she would have probably had Morphine! After soaking for 30-45 minutes in a made up soak of peroxide and betadine, I got to work. She had brought copies of her x-ray of her hand. After the doctors looked at it closely it turned out she had two broken areas. The end of her middle finger was one of them. As I removed the worst layers it was great to find it was not gangrene.
I was being very slow, and careful with her hand. I was so afraid of causing the amazingly strong woman more pain. At one point I felt her hand on my shoulder, she looked me in the eyes and nodded her head. She wanted me to know it was ok to pull the skin off her finger. She was reassuring me that I wasn't hurting her. I was so humbled. I can only imagine what it felt like having several inches of skin pulled off an injured hand.
For her rehab I found a bulb syringe used for wound irrigation. I told her how to squeeze it to get exercise, and several other finger movements.
I am not a doctor, I am not a physical therapist, I am not a nurse practitioner. For anyone worried about it, I always put NURSE on my name badge. I wish I had more knowledge, and more initials behind my name. Then I could do more.
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