Introduction - The call to go to Haiti

So where does one start a story like this? On January 12, 2010, when a 7.0 earthquake rocked Haiti and turned Port au Prince into rubble, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t pinpoint Haiti on a map. All I knew of Haiti was that it was the poorest country in the western hemisphere. I didn’t even realize an earthquake occurred for at least a week. I was driving in the car with my daughter, Audrey, in the back seat. She’s five, and aware of everything that’s happening in her world. She piped up with this question: “Mama, what happened in that place they’re talking about on the radio? What happened there?” I took this as an opportunity for a teaching moment, and I told her about tectonic plates and collisions that lead to earthquakes. I made sure she understood North Carolina doesn’t have a faultline, so she didn’t need to worry. I told her there were lots of people injured in Haiti that they were poor to start with, and so Americans and others were heading down there to help. End of conversation.

After that, I started to pay attention to the radio, the tv. A few days later, I was again driving in the car but this time alone. I heard a reporter describe dead bodies everywhere amidst the devastation, in particular one dead mother laying in the streets with her two dead children laying on her. I started to cry, and thought to myself “if only I could help”. A few moments later, full of dread, I realized something to the effect of “oh crap. I probably can help”.

I’ve been a family physician since June 09. I moved to North Carolina from Ohio in 2006 to complete my medical training at UNC Chapel Hill Dept of Family Medicine. Since graduation, I’ve been working part -time at a small private practice and spending more time with my husband and daughter. I’ve always wanted to do medical missions, or save the world, or something, but have never had the courage or will to actually do anything. Before med school, I didn’t have knowledge. First year of medical school, I didn’t have money because I was a student and Jon had a hard time finding a job in Toledo. Second year, I was in early pregnancy. Third year I had a newborn. Fourth year I had to save my time off to go looking for a place to live. During the first two years of residency, leaving the country wasn’t really an option, and my third year away month was nixed due to scheduling changes to accommodate other residents’ maternity leaves. I was angry about these stolen opportunities at different points in time.

So I sent out a few inquiry emails to organizations I’d heard were sending volunteers. The next day I received an email from NC Baptist Men, asking if I could leave in 3 days.

For a long time, I’ve thought about what people will say about me when I die, how I’ll be eulogized. I want to have made a difference; I want people to notice I’m gone. To have hopefully seen some small glimmer of God’s love through the way I’ve lived my life. And I think about the kind of person I want to be. The kind of person I want to be would have leaped at the chance to go to Haiti. The Cathi who I am was terrified. No, I cannot leave the country for who knows what kind of conditions in Haiti. I haven’t even looked up what vaccines I’ll need.

Plus, I hadn’t officially consulted either my husband or my bosses. I asked Jon what he would think about me maybe going to Haiti. I expected him to be concerned, to cite the lack of safety, food, and generally insecure conditions as a reason to avoid it. He, however, simply said “I think you should go”. On TV, reports had stressed the desperate need for medical professionals. In his mind, since I was a doctor, I should go. He would be ok being a single dad for a week. Plus, he thought since I speak a little French and Spanish, that would make me more valuable.

So I emailed back and told them I couldn’t go now, but let me know if another team was being formed. The next day, I mentioned at work I was thinking about going to Haiti. The response? When do you leave? Three days? Sooner? Fine. Just let us know. We’ll make it work.

Two days later I received news that I would probably be part of Team 4. I was visiting my parents in Ohio. They weren’t excited to send their only daughter into the unknown dangers of Haiti, but neither of them were at all surprised. They seemed to think it had been in my destiny to “go save the world”. I think they were a little surprised it took me this long.

Exactly 10 days after my initial inquiries, I was supposed to be off to Haiti.

We had scrambled to get me vaccinated against typhoid & hepatitis A, pick up malaria prophylaxis medications, buy some snacks to eat in case of not having food. Jon found me a Dominican Republic/Haiti guide book and a Creole dictionary. I collected some donations of medical supplies, as well as money to buy whatever wasn’t donated. I was overwhelmed by people’s generosity. A close friend, who’s also a doctor, raided her office’s sample closet and brought two huge bags of medicines and orthopedic supplies. I filled a large suitcase with medicines and glucose meters, arm slings and braces.

Then I waited for 2 days. On Thursday night received a phone call asking if I could leave the next day, heading out 24 hours early to hopefully beat the predicted snow storm. The person who I am panicked, said maybe, maybe not. An hour later I received a phone call that our airline wouldn’t let us fly out early, so we waited for the snow to hit while teams leaving from other parts of North Carolina headed out. Overnight, 3-5 inches fell. We waited, on standby, all day Saturday, prepared at one point to drive down to Miami, FL, to catch the second leg of our flight. Instead, we were re-booked to fly out Monday, 2/1. So, I played in the snow with Jon & Audrey, tried to sleep at night, and tried not to watch TV.

I was secretly very grateful to hear that the bodies had been rounded up and were being placed in mass graves. I was grateful to hear that the missionary compound where we were staying had both running water and showers and intermittent wi-fi for sending emails. I then promptly felt guilty about being thrilled at these little things. After all, hundreds of aid workers went in under much worse circumstances; they were the true heroes. Of course, that doesn’t even address the conditions the Haitians were living in.