A New Life

Here's a cool snippet I just ran across of a story that happened at our field hospital last week (view video).

Ring. "Hello?"

Friday's frenetic pace did not stop. When I finally walked through the door, Sue handed me the phone to speak to a newspaper reporter who had been holding. After that, someone called and told me to check under the front door mat of my house. Huh? There I found a one-hundred dollar bill. I told Sue I wanted to check under our bushes and rocks.

Friends stopped by offering hugs, prayer, and money. Someone from Verizon picked up on our efforts and offered a Blackberry global phone for my use while in the wiles of Haiti. (They even sent a representative to my home the next day to deliver it and inservice me on its capabilities and use. They even provided me with three fully-charged back up chargers, given the probability of not having electricity where we would be).

I slept very little that night, for obvious reasons. The biggest reason, however, was not a spinning head nor visions of my things-to-do list. Sleeplessness that night (and every night since, for that matter) resulted out of the realization that this was not about me. I could not have scripted what was happening in my life. I would have been crazy to even think I could pull something like this off. No, what I was realizing was that I had found myself in the middle of a MUCH greater drama. A drama that transcended the talents and time frames of a guy just minding his own business a few days prior. No, this definitely was not about me. It wasn't about planes, nor gifts, nor doctors, nor phones. It wasn't even about Haiti.

It was about what God could (and would) do.

I told someone yesterday on the phone that I felt like I had been in a privileged front row seat to an exciting God-drama. Reflecting on that statement, I don't think it was quite accurate. I wasn't in the front row. I was IN the drama.

Saturday was chock full. Phone calls in. Phone calls out. Emails back and forth. Communications with missionaries in Haiti who were already boots-on-the-ground, carefully surveying and calculating appropriate sites for the emergency response medical presence we would within days establish. Logistics, logistics, logistics. Don't get me wrong... I love logistics. I've led plenty of teams to Haiti over the past 20 years and I can do teams and I can do logistics. I've just never compressed this many logistics into this short of a time frame for this magnitude of a crisis. My temples pounded with excitement for what God was up to.

My team came together. Doctors, nurses, pastors and assorted other non-medicals fell into place. I can remember making at least four calls to people who told me that just prior to me calling, they had been praying like this, "God, if you want me to go, I'll go, but you'll have to provide."

Ring. "Hello?"

The first 24 Hours

Having just left the office on Tuesday, January 12th, Marilyn, my office manager called my cell to inform me that she had just learned that Haiti had experienced an earthquake. She knew that I had been planning to return to Haiti just twelve days from then, having been there twice already in the past several months. I was heading directly to a high school basketball game when I got this news, so it wasn't until later in the evening when I returned home that I would learn of the devastating magnitude of the quake.

Extremely upset and concerned, I spoke frankly with my wife, Sue, who agreed that it would be good if I move up plans to return, if that were at all possible. Hearing that all commercial flights into Haiti had been suspended, I contacted a very good friend of mine who is the Director of Aviation at Amway Corp. He was not surprised by the call. He called me later to inform me that, if I needed to get there, they could make it happen.

On Thursday evening, then, after speaking with my business partners, and after a long talk with Sue, I decided. So just 48 hours after the quake, it was official: I would quickly assemble a team of physicians and nurses, and leave for Haiti... in three days!

One day life was normal. The next day, anything but.

I arrived at work at 7:45 AM Friday, telling my office manager to clear my schedule for the next two weeks. It was no surprise to her, nor anyone who knows me well.

What happened from there is a blur. All I know is that, at 8 AM, just fifteen minutes after my announcement, I found two 100-dollar bills laying on my desk. I came up with a hastily-composed note to the patients I would see that day, telling them of my change of plans. Thanks to a few phone calls by my staff, then (I had a full slate of patients that day), word got out. Donations of medical supplies from hospitals, vendors, other medical offices and started getting dropped off at my office. Checks and cash started pouring in. The local radio station called, asking me to drive over for a quick interview. By 5:00 PM, I had received more than $5000 (mostly in cash) and several large truckloads of very appropriate medical supplies (we had stipulated the types of supplies we would need).

At one point during the morning, I contacted the relief organization, International Aid, to inform them of my plans. (Providentially, I had JUST been at International Aid a couple of weeks prior, carefully perusing their warehouse shelves, recording on paper and in photos an inventory of things I could obtain for upcoming projects I was planning. Who would have guessed? Like I said... providential). I was able to specifically request things I knew they had on their shelves, like 50 army stretchers, a pressure-cooker autoclave that operated over a camp stove, and on and on. They provided me with a PALLET of ibuprofen, thanks to a recent donation by Perrigo. The stuff would be ready for pick up the next morning.

I pressed on, attending to my full patient schedule, trying my best to block out the craziness in the background. At 5 PM, a 20 foot trailer pulled up in front of the office to load up the supplies we had collected. Amazingly, another large quantity of supplies had been collected at another site, Grand River Physical Therapy, in Ionia. Several trucks picked up those supplies and we all traveled to Gerald R. Ford International Airport where, at the Amway Aviation hangar, we dropped off the supplies in an area of the hangar they gave us for staging purposes.

To my surprise, amazement and eventually panic, we discovered that, so great and immediate was the response of my practice community, that we had overfilled the cargo capacity of the two Gulfstream G-500's that Amway had committed for this project. In my exasperation, I was sheepishly instructing the three remaining pickup trucks lined up at the hangar door, to proceed on to my house and off-load the remainder of the supplies in my garage, when Tania, the person in charge of coordination and logistics for Amway's role in our effort, came around the corner and shouted, "Stop! Bring them back! We have just received approval for another plane."

Twenty-four hours after the decision, I had received well over $5000 in cash, tens of thousands of dollars worth of medical supplies, and the unbelievable gesture of kindness of a company who would get us to Haiti.

Problem was, there was no "us" yet. Yikes. What have I done? I am way over my head.

Inertia

The story continues. The inertia of what has transpired over the past few weeks will cause continued, forward movement in my life for an awfully long time. How can one divorce the past from the present? In this situation, I suppose the answer is, "you can't." In Haiti right now, the past IS the present. Their story continues. "Ayiti craze," they're saying. "Haiti is broken." Just because I am now home and comfortable doesn't mean their reality has suddenly gotten better too. As I write (laptop, coffee, golden retriever,... you get the idea), whining about my mosquito bites, the precious people of Haiti today, right this minute, are struggling with overwhelming pain and loss. This is reality for Haiti. This is IT.

In response to this realization, then, I choose to do more. What, exactly, that will look like remains to be figured out. I do have my ideas and am working through all that.

As I do, the stories and experiences, hopefully, will be slowly sorted out in my brain, a mental defrag. This blog experiment will morph, then, into a collection (and recollection) of stories and thoughts, an online journal. If this is all just too much for you, then I understand. I have appreciated so much your prayers and interest and encouraging comments. But I do invite you to follow along in this no-less-than spiritual journey of mine. The way I figure it, we're all journey-ers. I guess I'm just crazy enough to blog it.

Stay tuned. Stories and pictures to follow.

Steve

And you wonder why I love Haiti?

Heading Home

Just arrived at the guesthouse in Port-au-Prince where we'll spend the night  before returning home tomorrow.  I am excited to have a long weekend to sleep,  decompress, hug and kiss my family, and begin the process of sorting through  what just happened. For those out in blogville, I do plan on continuing to write, so if you're still  interested...  Also, I hope to start posting pictures, which,of course, I could  not do from where I have been.  See you soon. I love you all. Steve

Wednesday

Yesterday was another busy and productive day.  No mobile unit sent out so we  had our full team here except for a couple of our surgeons and nurses whom we  sent down do the hospital where they did some of the larger cases.  All told, we  treated well over 200 people. Everything from amputations to anxiety. Still lots  of wound care. Broken bones, broken spirits. Asthma. Childbirths. Bowel  obstructions, malaria, typhoid. I could go on and on. The stories I have  transcend my ability to send them through my thumbs to my blackberry.  Every  moment of every day here has been a story, vivid and fascinating and significant  to the greater story of why I'm here.  Eleven of our team shipped out yesterday (Wednesday), leaving us with just 18.  Many more will leave camp for Port-au-Prince later today, making room for  replacement help who will be arriving.  Just a few of us (not me) will lag back  to connect with that team and give them the inservice of their lives!  I am  spending a fair amount of time on doing things that will make this and future  transitions smooth. This is important.  One of the most exciting things that happened yesterday was the arrival of about  15 Navy troops with a large truck full of medical supplies that we had asked if  they had and could give us. I'm guessing 30 LARGE boxes of medications,  instruments, bandages, etc.  We spend a long time last night just opening and  organizing.  Tremors still occurring.  Last one just 30 minutes ago. There is another tremor  happening now, this one in my stomach.  Must be time for breakfast.  It will  consist of either oatmeal, bananas, and peanut butter.  And the thickest, blackest, best-tasting coffee you can imagine.  I look forward to getting home  Steve

Must be morning in Petit Goave

5:50 AM. Dogs barking, roosters crowing, guys on the other side of the tent smacking fire ants off themselves... Must be morning in Petit Goave, Haiti.  No mobile teams going out today. Selfishly, I'm glad for that. We need all the  help we can get around here. Plus, seven folks are shipping out early this  afternoon.  Knowing that I myself will be leaving in a few days, I am beginning to concern  myself with transitioning our unit to those arriving later.  I would ask that  you would pray about this for me... That God would send help down at the right  times, providing for seamless, uninterrupted care.  I and a few others of my team will be returning home Thursday (Thanks AGAIN  Amway for making this happen). I cannot wait to see and hug my family and smooch  and hug the most beautiful girl in the world, my six-week old grand-daughter,  Sophie. I look forward also to having the time to collect record my thoughts  when I get home.  I told someone yesterday that I've often been too busy with  the urgency in front of me to step back and take it all in.  If this were  Survivor, at least I could watch it on TV later.  Pretty good tremor just now.  Big day again today.  I ask your continued prayers for a pitiful situation.  Steve

I Can't Not

At 8:15 this morning, when I came around the side of the small building we use  to house our medical supplies, what I saw made my heart jump: about 250 people  waiting patiently for someone who would sometime today take the time to listen  to their problems (and they have many) examine their wounds, and treat them.  It  took us all day, of course, to work our way through the crowd.  At times  portions of the crowd became impatient and riled, so much so that, at one point  I had to suspend our activities and warn them that, if we couldn't have order,  we would close up shop.  It made me feel mean and I hated saying it, because  inside I knew I could not have carried through on a threat like that.  We sent another team of 10 to yet another nearby village to treat people there.   They treated nearly a hundred of the injured in that town.  It's 10 PM and I'm sitting on a chair outside the guys' tent (listening to a  snore-fest). It's the only time segment in my day that I can allot to blogging.   Tonight, as I do so, I get a sense of the feeling that Jesus must have had when  he went from town to town, crowds ever pressing in.  How exhausting.  I have a new appreciation for the account in Scripture where it said that Jesus  went, and saw the crowds, and had compassion on them. How can your heart not  break when you hold the mother of a child who did not make it? Or hear the  Creole hymns sung by those waiting on hard, backless benches, all suffering to  one degree or another?  Congressman Rooney caught me off guard yesterday.  We had had a good and  interesting discussion about the important role of the community of faith in  issues of social justice. Then he locked his eyes on mine. In candid, honest  curiosity, he asked me, "Why are you doing this?" After a few seconds of  reflection, my answer was simply this: " I can't not do this."  I came, I have seen, and I have absorbed a bit of Haiti's pain into my being.   And I can't not respond.  Steve

Check this out

 I just found out that the reporter imbedded with our team has an article at.  www.tcpalm.com. Look for article entitled, "Amid death, Life..."  I'll try to  post more later this evening. Steve

Sustainable

We have been in Haiti less than a week and treating the sick and wounded for
just 5 days now. Seems longer. I think that is because of all we're being
exposed to.

The mobile clinic we sent out today (to Leogane) went well. Learning curve
stuff. Tomorrow we will be sending them to yet another nearby village.

Today was hard for me. One, I'm exhausted... In all ways. Today was also
difficult because of all the very sick children that were brought to us, many of
which have malaria and are fighting to live as I type this. I won't be
surprised if, by morning...

We are seeing more and more medical illness, many of which are unrelated to the
earthquake. One thing that I would say that nearly all Haitians have in
addition to everything else is post traumatic stress and anxiety. These people
have been so psychologically traumatized.

I would like to shoot a bunch of mongrel dogs that run around in packs barking
outside our tents at night. Sorry PETA you guys will just have to deal.

One tremor today.

A congressman (Rooney, of Florida) stopped by today.

Samaritan's Purse installed a water purification unit at our compound today,
capable of producing 10,000 gallons of clean water per day. More and more it
looks like, by the time we leave later this week, we will have established a
medical presence that will be sustained over a long period of time. I feel very
good about that.

Steve

What day is it?

More personnel arrived at our MASH today. We now are 25 strong, consisting of
about half doctors, the rest nurses, a couple of journalist, and a variety of
other professions. A congressman and senator, I understand, will be coming in
tomorrow for a quick visit.

The Army has established a military base a few hundred yards from us. That is
comforting to know.

There is a small hospital down the road from here that was destroyed in the
earthquake... All except for their surgery room, interestingly. So we have sent
our surgeons down there a few times to perform some of our larger surgery
cases: amputations and the like.

Our group has grown to the point where we feel we must spread out in order to
make best use of our resources. Tomorrow, therefore, we are sending a mobile
medical team of 10 to the village of Leogane not too far from here to see what
we can do there. The rest (including myself) will stay back in Petit Goave to
tend to the needs here.

We have an interesting development... We have been informed that military
geologists are predicting yet another earthquake, potentially larger than the
first. For this reason, we are joining our Haitian friends in not sleeping
indoors. Our army neighbors gave us two large tents which will serve as our
homes for the duration of our time here. (After experiencing a 6.0 let me tell
you I do NOT want to be in even a small building if another one hits.

I remain intensely humbled by the enormity of the task here and by the Haitian
people's dependency on others to help them. One told me, "This is our 9-11." I
agree with him.

There seemed to be more hurt and sorrow today. I think the most poignant moment
was while I debrided the deep and infected wounds of a young woman. Despite me
being as gentle as I could be, she wailed in pain, crying, "Jesi! Jesi!"

And I cried too.

Thanks for the kind comments and prayers.

Steve

Terra (not so) Firma

We are seeing a change in the type of patients we are seeing. Although the
fractures, skin wounds, and burns are still coming in, more and more people are
coming to us for reasons unrelated to the earthquake. They are just taking
advantage of a medical presence while we are here. I would probably do the same
thing.

I took care of the village judge this morning. He is diabetic and has just one
leg. I debrided his many leg wounds suffered from falling cinder blocks. I
told him, "I hope I do a good job so you don't throw me in jail." We all
laughed. The people of this village have been extremely gracious to us.

My interpreter brought me a gift today: a painting done by a friend of his. He
has been glued to my hip since I've been here. His name is Elvens. A really
nice young man.

Our third team arrived today. Yeah! We need the help.

I am pleased that it is looking like our MASH unit will be sustained for some
time. We have seen more patients every day since we've been here. A couple of
people from a German non-profit stopped by today offering to place a water
desalination facility at our siten capabe of providing 500 gallons of fresh
clean water to both our medical "facility" AND the village of Petit Goave.

I am relieved that this effort has gone without major hiccups and attribute that
to the countless prayers going up on our behalf.

Our camp is outside. The sick and injured start arriving around 7AM filling up
benches we hauled out here from a small chapel building. We triage them by first
panning the crowd to pick out the ones suffering most. We see them first, of
course. The rest we then call up to our triage station: a table created with
two boxes stacked on one another. From there they are directed to one of
several treatment stations: wound care, orthopedic, general medical, and
surgery.

We saw lot of young infants today.

We have a couple of large tarps (one 20 x 30 feet) up, providing added shade.

Our central supply and pharmacy building is nicely stocked, thanks to you but we
are definitely going through our supplies. We will have to keep a constant flow
of supplies coming.

Out for now.
Steve

Rat on a Hot Tin Roof

Day 4: a good day. Saw tons of sick and injured. Our second wave of help and
supplies arrived yesterday. The third tomorrow. We are glad for the help. Can
definitely see some fatigue starting to set in, me included.

Several tremors occurred again today, ensuring that no one forgets. It's
working. Most people are still sleeping outside at night, afraid of another
earthquake.

I passed some serious earthquake cracks on my way to find that family yesterday.
Took some pictures. And I must admit, it has prompted some weighty thinking.
There is something unsettling about looking at a big crack in the very place on
the planet on which you stand... A crack they say is 20 miles or more deep. (It
is tremoring RIGHT NOW as I type on my Blackberry). RIGHT NOW, for example, I
try to wrap my brain around what is happening on our planet just underneath me.

And I too quake... knowing I'm tiny. And brief. Strangely, I'm at peace with it,
though. Oh don't get me wrong... That quake yesterday scared the crap out of me.
(I've still got a wrenched neck to prove it). But I have peace. Scared yet at
peace...sounds oxymoronic. I don't know... Maybe it's just that I need to be
scared out my mind now and again to be reminded that I am not I'm not such a hot
shot.

Well, a rat just ran across the roof overhead. Sounded like a horse. Think I'll turn the Blackberry
off for tonight.

Thanks so much for all your kind comments and prayers. I AM receiving them
through my email. (I am really starting to sort of dig this blogging thing).

Keep praying for Haiti
Steve

Day 3 Earthquake 2

Woke up around six o'clock today to my alarm: earthquake #2. Very scary. Sore
neck from a door getting in the way of my head.

Have now been through two days of treating patients. vast majority, serious:
deep, maggot- infested wounds, gangrene, terrible fractures. I saw a little girl
this afternoon with 2nd and 3rd degree burns from her chest down to her feet.
Her mother had been cooking when the earthquake hit... 8 days ago. Many
heartwrenchers.

I am pleased with how things are progressing. More doctors, nurses, and helpers
showing up each day. Our second shipment of donated supplies arrived today
(thanks, Amway Corp. For donating 3 planes to get us and our supplies down
here).

Frequent choppers flying overhead: UN and US military. A visit by an NBC news
crew when a small child was pulled out of rubble and brought to our MASH
station. Sue told me she saw a clip of it on MSNBC's website. That added yet
another intriguing element to the day.

I received an email afer I got down here from someone in the states who heard I
was here and asked if I could find some people she knows here in thisd village
were alive and alright. I had time this evening to do that. I found them to be
alive and well. I took their picture.

More to come. I have to take a Motrin for my sore neck, then go to bed.
Tomorrow starts early. Thanks for all your prayers on my behalf. Just don't to
forget our Haitian brothers and sisters too.

If you only knew...

Steve

Day 1 - epi center

Our plane touched down at 7:30 this morning. The airport was buzzing with military from many countries, and united nation
forces. The airport building was damaged so much that we didn't even enter it, leaving instead through the UN security gate,
never having to go through a customs process. Despite the military presence everything was chaotic around the airport, unorganized, and confused. No one seemed to know anything.

We met up with some missionaries who had been scouting some of the areas where medical care seemed to be absent.
We decided to set up our MASH unit on a nice, shady, mission compound in the seaside village of Petit Goave, very near the
earthquake epi center. The journey there was a continuous photo op. Every so often we drove through the putride stench
of rotting bodies. We passed one of the mass grave sites that we heard about on the news. In all my years I've not been to this
village, Petit Goave. I like it. We are all getting up early tomorrow (Tuesdsay) to unpack and organize. The village magistrar
has put out word in town that a medical presence is now here, attending to earthquake- related injuries and illnesses, we expect a long and busy day.

We have no electricity, no running water. It is now 9:00pm and PITCH black, expect for the eerie glow of some weirdos laptop.
Supposedley blogging....

We have a small crew, but we will grow as more folks come out to lend their hand. Our supplies though sparse, are adequate, we believe, to get started. We have two more large shipments of supplies (your donations!) coming: one Wednesday morning, the other Friday. I am taking pictures and will post when I know how.

For now, I am dictating text to Sue to post on blog. Learn as we go, I guess. More to come

Steve

Here we go

Just a few hours now before departure. Have worked hard all day with logistics, team planning, yada yada. The most stressful, yet significant thing I was able to do today was to facilitate the evacuation of 10 Americans who have been stranded since the earthquake. The plane we arrive in will be able to get them out of Haiti and back home to their stressed out families. Worth all the effort.

My emotions right about now are an amalgam of excitement, terror, anticipation, wonder. Wonder..... what in the world am I doing? Wonder..... how my wife puts up with me. Wonder... how I'm functioning on so little sleep. Wonder..... at how God has orchestrated such a thing in just 48 hours.

More tomorrow, from precious Haiti.

Steve

Experiment

48 hours from now I will be enroute to Haiti to lend a hand and my heart in whatever way I can to relieve human suffering. What that will exactly look like for me remains to be scripted. But I will show up and see.

The past 48 hours have been a lesson to me in the human spirit. Oh there are times when we wonder where it went, but when something like this earthquake happens and we get absorbed by the stories and images in the newspapers and on TV, our gruff and guarded exteriors yield to emotion and proactivity. We ache, realizing (for a time, at least) that those we see suffering are more than just pixels and ink. They live and breathe and laugh and cry and make love, have kids, and bury their dead. They are our brothers and sisters, whose only "mistake" was that they were born there. Ours just that we are born here.

It is inspiring to me to watch the hibernating human spirit wake up now and again, roused by something that touches the heart. I witnessed it this past 24 hours, when I broke the news to my family, friends, colleagues, and patients that I would be returning to Haiti a bit earlier than previously planned. Money mysteriously showing up on my desk or pressed into my palm. Boxes of medical supplies and cases of water brought through the front door of my office. And the back door. Kind notes and hugs wishing me well and wishing they could go with. Hospitals and vendors donating useful equipment and supplies. Calls from newspapers and radio stations wanting a few moments. People I don't even know showing up to haul supplies and offer help.

If it's one thing I know, it is that deep inside all of us is the desire to matter. To make a difference. To acknowledge finally that, in fact, it's not all about me and to do something about it. The reason I know this is because there is not a day that goes by in my life that someone doesn't say to me that they would love it if they could help with what I do in Haiti in some way.

Here's where I am, personally.... For me, it's a matter of stewardship. Stewardship of the human resources that God is daily putting in front of me, this pent-up energy and desire for significance that people have. What am I to do with it? I feel accountable.

This blog is, for me, an experiment. A good experiment is interesting in that you don't know where it'll go, what the end result might be. That's why it's an experiment. Experiments are messy and sometimes dangerous. But we do not experiment for experiment's sake. The greater purpose is that good may come from it, that discovery would lead to something great. For me, the "something great" would be to learn how to harness... hmm, bad word... to unleash, to mobilize. To convert potential energy to kinetic.

As much as possible, I would like to make a daily post to this blog (hoping for internet access!), with whatever assortment of stories, pictures, and reflections I have as I journey to Haiti. Those who know me well tend to know I do wax spiritual and philosophical a lot, so I guess you'll just have to put up with that.

Pray that I will be effective in demonstrating love and compassion to the precious people of Haiti.

Steve