The Palace at San Souci

A short walk from the compound is the Palace at San Souci which stands in ruins, a mere shadow of its previous glory.  Henri Christophe built San Souci in the 17th century to mirror Versailles, but an earthquake in 1842 left the palace in ruins.  After centuries, children play soccer on the vast fields and high school students litter the steps as though the invisible walls form a library.


I ventured up to the ruins with a friend after work one day and we were bombarded with locals wanting us "blancs" to buy their goods at one of the few tourist attractions in Haiti.  We ignored them and walked toward the palace gates, but somehow my friend was a few paces behind me and a local closed the iron gate behind me, trapping her on the outside.  I turned and realized what had happened.  They wanted to exploit whatever money they could from the blancs.  After the last couple of days I had been through at the hospital, I was emotionally fatigued from our work and this gesture enraged me.



As a side note, I "speak" French.  The quotations indicate that I'm coherent and can compose an intelligible thought, but I'm always aware of my grammar mistakes and vocabulary deficits.


I calmly walked back to the gate where my friend was standing and in perfect French had a dialogue with a tradesman:
What's going on?
You have to pay $5 each to see the palace.
I know you don't have to pay to see the palace.  And we don't have any money.  We work at the hospital in Milot for the sick children.  Please let her pass, sir... (He frowns and the gate opens).  Thank you.


My friend's jaw dropped open once we passed.  What did you say?!  I wasn't even sure I knew what I had said.  But the adrenaline of being indignant at our exploitation when we were working so hard was enough to inspire fluent French.  We stayed at the palace until the sun got close to the mountains and headed back for the town.

The neighborhood boys

Top row: Maria, me, Sara, Sol, Toofie, Eddie, Samuel, Jamesly
Bottom row: Beverly, Luvin

These boys are awesome.  They were waiting for us at the gates of the compound every day asking, "Le ballon?!"  Our daily soccer game took place at 5 pm sharp.  The score never really mattered and we ended each game with a Coke.

They were joyful, child-like, and innocent.  In a country where childhood is not a right of passage, it was important for us to embrace these neighborhood boys while also letting loose the stressors of our own day.  I nearly died when they greeted us on our last day wearing fairy wings from a dress up box we brought.

Most of these boys are orphans or are living with extended family.  Some of them go to school.  Several of them would quietly pull us aside and ask if we had any food.  I emptied my bag full of Cliff bars into their hands on our last day.  They have inspired us.

Stay tuned for future plans to get these boys to school for $120/year while also celebrating the Haitian sensation in the US!

Broken Hearts

It was a new day.  Wednesday morning.  A good night's sleep and hearty breakfast behind me, I was ready to start clinic again after a rough day on Tuesday.

My first patient walks in.  A 12 year old boy with his father.

Chief complain: chest pain.

Once he sat down I could see his thrill through his t-shirt.  

My heart sank.

In the United States, the complaint of chest pain is fairly common in pediatrics.  It is rarely related to cardiac etiology.  More commonly it is costochondritis, pleuritic, anxiety, etc.  But I was in a third world county and knew within a minute of being in the room that he had rheumatic heart disease.  

I swallowed the lump in the back of my throat and blinked through my tears.

The diagnosis confirmation came later that afternoon when his CXR, EKG, and ECHO returned.  His cardiac function is at about 60% so we placed him on some medications to help him maximize what function he has left.  Inevitably he will need surgery.

There is a group from the United States that replaces heart valves.  They do about 100 surgeries every year.

He's #126 on the list.