by Jonathan
I recently finished reading a book, recommended by an American living and working in Haiti. He manages a hospital in the country, and while he is not a clinician, he certainly is familiar with the obstacles that might present themselves while running an American based organization in a place like Haiti. There book is called The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, and it is by Anne Fadiman. The book explores the struggles of a Hmong family living in the United States and the conflicts that ensue when their young child begins to experience seizures and is ultimately diagnosed with epilepsy. This true story is a great example of how sometimes the differences in beliefs from culture to culture can present huge obstacles in the process of explaining and treating medical issues. I have had a few instances of this happen over the course of my two years here, but nothing would prepare me for what happened this past week at Be Like Brit.
I had just gone to bed at around 10:00pm when my phone chimed. Wilmann, who is one of our overnight caregivers and actually supervises the overnight staff, messaged me and asked me if I could come downstairs. He told me that one of the children had come downstairs saying she didn't feel well, and while he couldn't seem to pinpoint what was wrong, he reported that she was shaking all over and reporting pressure in her chest. I got out of bed and made my way downstairs. Amanda had already walked through the dining room area and was sitting there, holding the child in her arms.
The girl (whom I will call 'Jane' here) was sitting on her lap, her hands trembling and shaking. As I spoke with Jane to try to figure out what exactly she was feeling, I immediately thought that she might either be faking it for attention, or perhaps had a bad dream of sorts, and was experiencing some kind of anxiety around it - effectively a panic attack. Jane was coherent and oriented, accurately able to tell me my name, her name, the date, etc. I knew that someone experiencing a seizure wouldn't be able to respond to those questions nor have the cognitive control to respond to commands like making a fist or raising your arm up over your head, then lowering it back down. I was puzzled, and only after checking all of her vital signs in our clinic - all of which were normal - I called on Dr. Michael Taylor, a fellow with the UMASS Medical Fellowship in Pediatric Global Health, who was visiting Be Like Brit on a bit of a fact-finding mission to see if we might be able to work together moving forward.
Dr. Mike came to examine the child (not the child shown in this photo!) and effectively found what I found. Everything appeared to be normal, and Mike's assessment was that there weren't many medical conditions that would cause the symptoms she was showing. He agreed that it may have been a panic attack or perhaps a bad nightmare that really spooked her in some way. We even contemplated the possibility that the attention was nice, and perhaps the child was dragging it out, as by this time most of the staff were fussing over her and asking her what was wrong, and poking their heads in the clinic while we talked. I politely closed the door, and sent the staff off to their respective posts.
As we walked out of the clinic and prepared to bring the girl back to her room, one of our staff members asked if they could pray for her. The question, in Kreyol, was, "es ke nou pa ka priye pou li?" which translates to "can't we pray for her?" My response was, of course - that would be perfect, and then we will put her to bed. One of those moments when the differences in cultures presents itself in the most unanticipated of ways...
I invited Dr. Mike to join us for the prayer, which was brought to the child's room. Nine staff members stood in a semi-circle at the child's bed. Amanda stood just inside the room, and Dr. Mike and I stood outside the doorway, looking in. The prayer started, led by one of the staff members. As he prayed, the other staff members began to sing. As they sang, they increased their modulation, and the singing got louder and louder. As if rehearsed, or at least clearly from experience, another staff member ran out of the room, and came back in with a Bible. He began to read verses from the Book, as the rest of the staff recited prayers, then song, then prayer, then song. They each placed their hands on the girl. This went on for more than 20 minutes. It was beautiful and curious to me, but I ultimately walked away while they continued the process of praying for this girl. After 40 or so minutes, she was fast asleep. Feeling successful in their efforts, the staff placed the Bible near her head and left the room. Mission accomplished.
While all of this was happening, I couldn't quite figure out my feelings. I felt badly at first, because my initial reaction to the very sincere and very moving expression of prayer was silly to me. I was expecting a short prayer, an Amen, and a good night. In many ways I wondered if this event was feeding more into the attention-seeking behavior we suspected was happening in the first place. In some ways I felt like an insensitive jerk - as here were my friends, my employees, people whom I respect and love, engaged in something that I felt was insignificant and almost comical. Then I remembered that book I read.
While my staff and this little girl very much believed that their prayers and songs were "sending the bad spirits away from her", I couldn't help but wonder if it might have been the Benadryl we gave her to calm her down that made her sleep, or if it was indeed the power of this prayer. I suppose it doesn't much matter. It was a gentle reminder that I ought to be more sensitive to others' beliefs. And perhaps not so quick to be dismissive of the efforts and interventions of others. That perhaps somewhere between what I think is right as an American and what my Haitian staff think is right and true, the truth exists. Rather than writing off their efforts as fou, I should respect them, embrace them, and add to them my own, American trained efforts. It was not an easy realization for me. I'm not used to feeling like I've been insensitive, and this set me back on the right track of being open-minded, of being culturally relevant and appropriate. And while I may or may not believe in the power of that event, I don't have to. They do. Their traditions and beliefs are no less important to them as mine were growing up as a Catholic. Anointing the sick in Catholicism would likely be equally strange to them as this was to me.
It was an interesting point of conversation for Dr. Mike and I and Amanda. Dr. Michael Taylor is with UMASS Medical and this past week was his first time in Haiti! We were thrilled to learn that Dr. Mike and UMASS were interested in visiting Be Like Brit to explore how they may work with us going forward. Many of you will recall that we did receive a visit from the Chanellor of UMASS, Dr. Collins back in the summer of 2014. This local connection is amazing to have, and we are so fortunate to have fellows and residents in Pediatric Global Health committing themselves to Be Like Brit and to Haiti! We are working out the specifics of the agreement but ultimately know we'll be bringing top-notch medical care to Be Like Brit, and lending out our resources to the community, too!
While Dr. Mike spent the week with us, he was headed back to Port au Prince to spend a day with colleagues at the St. Damien's Children's Hospital in Tabarre. I had the opportunity to ride back to Port with Dr. Mike on Friday morning, and while I have visited the hospital before, and have been given a tour or two, I got to walk alongside Dr. Mike while he was given a tour of the neonatal intensive care unit, as well as the maternity wards of the hospital. Dr. Mike took the opportunity to teach me a few things, and I got to interpret for him! It was a great morning at the beautiful campus, and before I climbed back into the Ford F150 to set off on my errands for the day, I took a few minutes to visit the Chapel of St. Philomena This is the chapel where Father Rick Frechette conducts mass each and every morning, most often a funeral mass for those in the hospital who died throughout the course of the night. I've been once before with Cherylann and we were fortunate to meet Fr. Rick and speak with him briefly. This time, I found the chapel empty. I found myself deep in contemplative thought for some reason. Perhaps the simplicity of the chapel or the history of what transpires within its four simple walls propelled me into deep thought. The beauty in the simplicity is overwhelming. I should visit the chapel more often...
I did take the opportunity to say a quick prayer for our friends at the Life Is Good Playmakers. One of their team members, Ysmaille Jean Baptiste, was shot and killed by criminals in Port this past week. Ysmaille leaves behind three children and an entire community of people involved in the Life Is Good Playmakers programs who are feeling his loss. We wanted to extend our sympathies to our friends at Life is Good Playmakers in Haiti - Rishi, Deva, Beatrice - and more! Some things transcend cultural boundaries and differences. Senseless loss anywhere seems to resonate no matter who you are or where you come from. If you would like to read more about Ysmaille, you can follow this link:
https://t.e2ma.net/webview/om1jh/3df1df33d0ba7424761d630e2aaea73c
By the time you will read this blog, we will have welcomed another Britsionary group to Haiti from St. Anselm in New Hampshire. We are sure we will have a lot to report after this week is finished, so be sure to stay tuned as always. Enjoy a few photos from the week, and as always, thank you for helping us help the children of Haiti at Be Like Brit.