Time flies when you're in the Haiti sun

Keeping up with a blog is hard on this mission. The days are long, the work is tiring, and when you have any free time it is usually spent sleeping, eating, or chatting it up with new people on the ship. I have met so many people in the past three weeks, from so many different backgrounds and interests and specialties. From the nurses and surgeons, who speak a language of medical terminology O could never understand and perform miracles I could never fathom doing, to the Project Hope and other NGO volunteers, who chose to be here to help people without getting paid, I have never worked with such an awesome, motivated group of people.

Haiti has been hard. Not only is it a hard work environment- hot, dirty, did I say hot?- but it is also hard seeing the poverty and the circumstances in which people live. I have seen some medical cases that I didn't even know existed outside of textbooks- huge growths and tumors on faces and necks of children, cleft pallets, out of control cases of cancer, things I could not even try to explain in writing. Seeing so many people suffering and living in a country where 80% of the people make less than $2 a day so they cannot afford to go to the doctor, even when it is life threatening, so sad. The hardest part is knowing that we can't help everyone who comes to us, that we can only help so many people in the two weeks we are here.

But the feeling of seeing the people we have helped is indescribable. We have had countless volunteers helping us during our time in Haiti, mostly translators, and also from NGOs in the country. Every night we have a meeting at 7pm, in which we not only talk about the plan for the next day but we also have a chance to thank people for helping us during the mission. For the past several nights the Continuing Promise mission leadership has presented the NGOs and volunteer translators with certificates to thank them for their help. In response, the volunteers had a chance to talk about their experiences in working with us during our time in Haiti. I knew that the work we were doing here and medical care we were able to provide people was amazing, but I didn't really realize the true impact until I saw these volunteers stand up before us with the microphone and express their gratitude, many with tears in their eyes. The one sentence I keep hearing repeated over and over by these volunteers is "there are no words that can describe how thankful we are for what you've done."

This is definitely the most emotionally and physically draining work I have ever been involved in, but it is worth it, and now that we are wrapping up our mission in Haiti I can't wait until we get to the Dominican Republic so we can do it all over again.

Daybreak arrival to Haiti

09 April 2009

Being at sea on a US navy ship gives you a whole new concept of time. There are no windows, so you have no idea if it’s light or dark to give you sense of the time. And people are up and working hard at all hours of the day, so there is no regular work schedule that would give you an idea of the time. It's easy to lose track not only of the hour but also what day of the week it is. This is why I always make sure to take a moment out of the hustle and bustle of the p-ways (passage ways or hall ways), stairwells, wardrooms, offices, mess decks, meeting spaces, etc. to step outside and admire the wide open seas and skies. This morning it will be to watch the sunrise as we pull into Port-au-Prince, Haiti.

The USNS Comfort (T-AH 20) first left Norfolk, VA on 1 April, and this morning we arrive at Haiti, our much anticipated first stop of seven nations on a tour to provide medical assistance to underprivileged peoples in Latin America and the Caribbean. Our vessel: a hospital ship. Our sailors: a hodge-podge of Navy, Army, Air Force, Marines, Coast Guard, civilian mariners, NGOs (non- governmental organizations), health care personnel from various countries (including Canada, Netherlands, France, El Salvador, and Nicaragua) along with other civilians, such as myself. I have been on navy ships before, but never with such a mix of folks from different backgrounds. We really are a sight to see. Old, young, big, small, uniform, civilian attire, all living and working together to with the same goal: to help people.

At the early hour of 0600 I am the only one in my office, and for a brief moment I am alone with my thoughts, before my colleagues start filtering in, joking, laughing, smiling, planning, briefing, thinking, brainstorming, executing. It is this moment of the day, before the chaos of the world and the day begins, that I love most at sea. As I sit here at my computer, I think about our four month journey ahead, and especially our upcoming two busy weeks in Haiti.

Today we launch the supplies ashore, in preparation to set up medical sites for care, some will be treated on the ground, and some will come back to the ship for surgery. Our Navy Seabees will carry out some repairs at a local hospital. And, volunteers from the ship will join in a community relations project to paint and clean up a pharmacy at a local hospital. I am anxious to see Haiti, a place I have read much about but never seen with my own eyes. For now, I will climb up the 7 flights of stairs to the flight deck to admire the sunrise, with Haiti still in the horizon, and enjoy the last moment of silence of the day before having breakfast in the mess decks with 900 of my closest friends.