Oresto Oclor

Why did I come to Haiti? I knew it was going to be heart wrenching. In the best of times Haiti can be completely exasperating. You plan things, review the plan, make contingencies and when you step off the plane the “reality of Haiti” throws an ape sized wrench right into the middle of your well laid plans. You can only imagine how much worse a natural catastrophe has made it. Our church leaders meet late into every night trying to balance coordinating our medical team with the needs of the church members for whom they are responsible. We owe a great deal to our volunteer drivers, translators, and clinic helpers many of whom help our team all day, then go back to the churchyard where they find their families under a sheet or in a tent, hopeful that they have found enough food and water for the day in their absence.

A snapshot of Haiti that makes you want to laugh and cry: Half of our team was busy trying to load 5 patients with leg fractures in our landcruiser early this afternoon. Having done this more times than I can count this past week, I know that you can get 3 patients safely in the landcruiser if one of them is small. With the traffic and disorder in the streets, two trips down to the general hospital could take most of the afternoon. So, at the very moment we were struggling to fit in as many patients as possible, an AMBULANCE drives past the chapel gate and up to the chapel. What great luck! I think. The man parks the ambulance behind the church, locks the doors and walks out of the church and down the street! None of the members thought to ask his name, why he was parking in our churchyard, or why in heaven’s name he wasn’t using his AMBULANCE to transport patients! Haiti will drive you crazy if you let it.

This morning on the way into our clinic we came upon a man lying injured in the street. He was clutching his chest and complaining of trouble breathing. He also had an open tibia-fibula fracture. The strange thing about him was that his injury had nothing to do with the earthquake, he was running to catch a tap-tap (local Haitian taxi) and slipped. He was fortunate to have a team of doctors and nurses jammed into 2 landcruisers and a pick-up come on the scene a few minutes after the accident. We loaded him in the back of our pick-up on top of our supplies and took him to the general hospital which is now the command center for medical care. We have been there so many times delivering injured patients, that the soldiers at the gate barely acknowledge us as we zoom through.

We all have heard the story of the boy and the starfish. A small boy at low tide is picking up starfish one by one and throwing them back into the water. A man comes by, looks at the thousands of starfish strewn up and down the beach, and tells the boy, “Look at all these starfish! You could stand here all day throwing starfish into the water and it wouldn’t make a difference”. The boy picks up a starfish and throws it into the water. “I made a difference for that one,” he replies.

Why did I come to Haiti? I couldn’t stay away for one thing. I love this country. I cry for the suffering, ache for the innocent in misery and rejoice in the joyful resilient spirit of the Haitian people. I have friends here that I have known for more than 20 years. I met one in the yard of the Petionville church whom I haven’t seen since I was a missionary there in 1983. I also came because if I could, I wanted to get a starfish back to the water.

Because of “the realities of Haiti” we didn’t get on the road to our Carrefour clinic until 2:30 in the afternoon. We had to rendezvous with the other team members back at the general hospital at 5pm. While traffic was at a standstill, we realized that we would have less than an hour to do a clinic. I asked the team if they wanted to continue or just go back home. The vote was to continue. We got lost on they way and got there even later than we anticipated. Most of the people in the church grounds looked fairly well cared for. We asked if there were any injured who needed treatment. We saw a few lacerations and a facial hematoma but most of the patients at the clinic had flu symptoms or were suffering anxiety due to the quake. Then they brought in a little boy. Oresto Oclor was a 4 yr old whose father had fashioned a device with two sticks and a little wicker and wood child’s chair. He and his sister had carried Oresto down the mountain for the past two days in Cleopatra fashion. He didn’t know where to take Oresto and had been sitting outside the church for an hour or two to rest. Oresto’s face was covered with dirt and dried tears. We unwrapped his blanket and saw that his ear was nearly torn off. He had a large chunk of skin torn out of his forehead and another larger chunk from his under his arm over his ribs. We unwrapped a dirty bandage from his hand and saw that it was dead. The quake had killed Oresto’s mother, and trapped Oresto under some concrete blocks. His father told us that another child who died in the quake was found lying on little Oresto’s hand. His wrist was infected and dying and the bones of his hand were sticking through the skin and had already turned black. Liz our nurse, cradled Oresto in her arms and cried as he screamed in pain while she bandaged his wounds. His forehead was burning and we could tell that he was septic and had bacteria coursing through his blood. This child would die if we didn’t get him immediate treatment. We packed up our clinic in a rush, and explained to Oresto’s father that they both had to come with us right now. Liz wrapped Oresto in a blanket and tried to shield him as best she could from the rough bumps in the road. Oresto was brave but cried out each time the car was jarred.

After what seemed like hours we got to the general hospital. We bypassed triage and were led to the pediatric tent. The Swiss were taking care of the pediatric trauma, and a world renowned pediatric orthopedic surgeon saw Oresto within 10 minutes. I don’t think anyone can save Oresto’s hand, but I think that we saved his life. Oresto’s father doesn’t speak any French and we tried to explain everything that was going on and what to expect. He only had one question. “Please, when the doctors are done, they will give me back my son won’t they?”

So many things combined exactly to get Oresto to us and us to Oresto.

I think that is why I came to Haiti.