First person: Mary Beth Matthews
When the earthquake happened, about 40,000 people fled from Port-au-Prince to the St. Marc area. With the aftershocks, they were scared to death. How they made that 50-mile journey is a mystery. About 10,000 people have more or less made St. Marc a permanent home.
We undertook the job of registering these displaced people. About 5,000 were registered by the time of my arrival, 20 days after earthquake.
The clinic was strictly for refugees from the Port-au-Prince earthquake and their families. We had orphans, and sad stories, and people who had lost everyone.
By the time I got there the overnight patients were fewer and we did mostly outpatient wound care during the day. We had 15 patients and their families that were arranged on mats. IVs were hanging from whatever we could find.
Three people had just come back from the hospital from surgery that day. One had a crushed ankle that had been pinned, and was in a cast. Another had received a skin graft to her ankle. I must tell you that a skin graft, taken from the thigh, usually, is worse pain and higher risk of infection than the site where it is placed. So I felt for this girl. We just had oral antibiotics, all donated from money given by you, so thank you!
Keeping wounds clean and uninfected was a real challenge. We had peroxide and saline, and sterile and unsterile bandaging, but it still was on the ground, in the dust.
The nature of the wounds I saw were mostly scrapes - deep ones from concrete blocks falling on arms and legs, and crushed hands and feet. There were broken shoulders and collar bones, and lots of head bumps and cuts. Everyone had a headache. They really don’t do pain medication so we would have to encourage ibuprofen.
Many couldn’t sleep, very indicative of post-traumatic stress disorder. We saw a lot of indifference, which is also a big sign of PTSD. There was amazing strength for people who have suffered so much.
After two days in the temporary clinic we shifted the patients to a building that had been found in the town. It had running water and flushing toilets. It is a large building with many rooms that is great for a clinic. Half of it is still being constructed. We were fortunate to be able to provide a safe place for people to be, as many had no other place to go.
We distributed food to the community the last day I was there, consisting of U.S. Army rations known as MREs. We had so many people show up that we had police, U.N. guards, Argentinean guards, Haitian Special Forces, but it was never out of control. I never felt threatened once while I was overseas. The people were friendly and kind, and I can’t envision their sad heartaches. May God have mercy on them.
We’ll never forget our tour of Port-au-Prince, the site of the worst. To describe it is to describe hell. The buildings all collapsed, but business attempted to go on as usual. We drove around, and then went to the city center where the Presidential Palace is located, and the biggest tent city is located, and across from that the main police station.
We were able to walk around and see tent city and imagine the horror and see the streets where people were trapped in the rubble. Now it is a city in shock. I read it in their eyes and faces. I saw it in the way they stood.
This tent city is a miserable existence in my eyes, but how much differently did they live before? I worry about the rains when they come. Will their “houses” collapse and just wash away?
Oh Haiti, you have so many trials. I have so few. May I always look at my life with gratitude.
