Haiti cholera response: Jesus is in this place
Cholera is aggressive and relentless. It preys on the weak, and latches on to them with what is literally a death grip.
The Bercy clinic has too many children. One child would be too many.
Today, I saw a limp 14-month-old boy lying on a stretcher while two nurses struggled to find a vein in his arm that hadn’t already collapsed from dehydration.
As they poked a needle into one area and then another, I expected to hear the piercing cry of an infant in pain. After a few minutes of silence, I began longing to hear that cry. He was too weak to protest. I’m not a doctor, but I know that’s a bad sign.
One of the new doctors here remarked that he could not find a pulse. A nurse who is going on week three at the clinic responded that almost no one comes in with a pulse strong enough to register.
“We just assume they’re alive, and we pray,” she said. She began humming “Jesus Loves Me.”
There was no way to get an IV into his arm, so the next option was the ankle area. The search process began again with each nurse grabbing a tiny foot. I felt my heart racing as I worried that time was running out.
“Do we try the neck or go straight for the bone?” asked one of the nurses. “Let’s do the neck,” was the response.
Believe it or not, this was reassuring. It meant the experts thought that this baby was well enough to survive with just a neck IV. With these little ones, inserting a needle into the shin is often the only way to save their lives.
The father stood next to me, both of us watching his son fight for life. They had just arrived, so there was no time to ask him where mama was or if he had other children.
He was trying to be brave, but I saw a tear escape from his eye. I put my hand on his shoulder and said the word “prayer.” He nodded yes, but he neither bowed his head nor closed his eyes. He kept his gaze fixed on his beloved child.
I asked God to guide the nurses, comfort the father, and save the baby. It was then that dad really began to cry.
They had no luck with the neck, so it was time to go with the bone. The special equipment was brought over to drill the needle into the leg. This time, there was a faint yelp.
“That’s good,” said the nurse. “Exactly what we want to hear.” Life was already coming back.
Before I left the clinic an hour later, I checked on dad and son. I still didn’t know their names or the details of their lives. I only knew that I cared deeply about this little family. The father forced a faint smile when he saw me. He was completely exhausted, but I knew he would get no sleep.
I returned to the clinic later in the day and searched through the dozen tents to find “my” family. I started fearing the worst as I passed through each tent without seeing them. Finally, there they were, the father bent over the son using a small piece of cardboard as a fan to make him slightly more comfortable.
I noticed that the IV had been moved to his arm, which was held still with another piece of cardboard ripped from one of the medical supply boxes. Dad was smiling, and this time it was real.
“Papa!” I said. “Le bebe est okay!”
I learned that mom was home with the two older children. They have no phone, so he had not been able to communicate with her to let her know that the child had lived. I could only imagine how worried she must have been.
I asked him if he was a Christian. He said he was and that he had spent the night praying.
“I know my son is alive because I brought him to where Jesus is,” he said, referring to the Samaritan’s Purse clinic.
I responded that if he believes in Christ, then Jesus is with him everywhere.
“Yes,” he replied, “but last night He let me know that He is in this place.”
WAYS YOU CAN HELP
PRAY:
Please thank God for the lives being saved through our work. Please pray for the people suffering from the disease, and for strength for our staff.
GIVE:
Please visit our donation page to help us respond to emergencies like the one in Haiti and others around the world.
