abandoning the comfortable

Hello. Join me in my view of Seguin tonight?

Lately, I've been spending most of my time at the CTU. The place is growing on me. It's a place where I can help. It's a place of wonderful solitude.

This morning, I had a 3 year old girl come in with moderate dehydration. She was such a precious little thing, and it hurt my heart every time she had to throw up. For three hours, I sat in a chair a few feet away from her and her mother reading, praying, journaling, and monitoring her. I needed to know just how much fluid she was taking in, and how much she was losing. She was so little and helpless, I felt like I was abandoning her every time I walked away. So I stayed. If anything, I wanted her to know I cared and that I loved her, even though I didn't know her.

I also got to thinking today... about how drastically different my two worlds are. I have my life in Wilmington, and I have a life here in Haiti. Haiti has shown me a lot about life outside the States. I'm glad to rid myself of my ignorance. I'm seeing the living conditions, the malnutrition, the lack of healthcare that defines a huge part of this world.

I think Christianity in America has become way too comfortable. It's all about soaking up the hope Christianity offers, but disregarding what Scripture commands: to live a life for others. To love our neighbors. To serve the poor. Instead, we live happy, comfortable, spoiled lives. It's all about the American dream, right? Living a life in pursuit of anything different would be too difficult. Too radical. Too unnerving. Too uncomfortable.

“I could not help but think that somewhere along the way we had missed what is radical about our faith and replaced it with what is comfortable. We are settling for Christianity that revolves around catering to ourselves when the central message of Christianity is actually about abandoning ourselves.” (Platt)

I fear we're taking the encouragement and leaving behind the challenges. We are acknowledging God with our words but not our actions. We walk right out the door and deny Him with our lifestyle.

I want to stop being so comfortable.

Join me?

Love, Janae

glimpses

It’s a good morning.

I feel fairly adjusted here: I’m on the right time zone, I’m no longer sick, and I’ve let go of frustrations I once had. I walked into a completely different culture, and I think for some reason expected the transition to be smooth. Instead, I found a language barrier and huge cultural differences. One of my biggest challenges: never knowing what is being said around me. I can’t have the conversations I want to have. I often stand uncomfortable, waiting to catch on to some Creole or for Kyle to remember to translate. That's been let go of though. Time to embrace the comfortable and uncomfortable.

Life here is so very different from the one I lead at home. It’s definitely the small things that make for incredible days here.

Like… trying to have a conversation with a happy Haitian child:

Like… having yummy food for breakfast:

Like… reading a letter from a friend. Today, a letter made a regular day a wonderful one. A friend gave me a beautiful notebook filled with advice, challenges, and encouragement for me to read in Haiti. I opened it up today and read this:

“Your heart is going to break for every single hurting person you see, no matter what kind of hurt it might be that they’re dealing with. You will want to fix everything so that they can be happy, comfortable, secure. Realizing the you can’t do that will make you feel as small and helpless as you’ve ever felt. And the funny thing about our God is that that’s all okay. It’s not supposed to be about us, our strength, or our pride. In those broken moments, we have caught a glimpse of the heart of Jesus and his compassion.”

This resonates so deeply with what I feel here. Your heart breaks for the helpless. It breaks even more when they don’t want your help.

I am so thankful for the people God has placed in my life. Thank you dear friend (you know who you are) for the words of wisdom and encouragement you have given me. I’ve been clinging tightly to this notebook you sent me to Haiti with.

I’ll end this post with a beautiful quote:

“The sacred mixes in with the daily when you have a conversation with someone you love, or when you read a great book, or when you do something courageous. It’s still just a normal day, but there’s something bigger, something more compelling going on too…There are glimpses and whispers of the divine all through the daily…”

Have a wonderful day.

Find your own glimpse of something beautiful today.

Love, Janae

Cholera

The Cholera Treatment Unit: home away from home

Cholera, at least in Seguin, has slowed to the point where Chris and Kyle let go of almost all the staff. Though it is supported by MSF (Doctors Without Borders), we are all in charge of keeping it staffed and running. Chris has been living there as the only one with medical experience…except, he left yesterday for the States. With Clayton gone, Kyle running errands in Jacmel and Port-au-Prince, and no teams here to help, I’ll be filling in. I'll have Qasim to translate, a guard to make sure I'm alive... and... that covers it.

I think it took maybe 30 seconds after Kyle left to realize I was very alone here. It took maybe 30 seconds more to get emotionally overwhelmed. To be at the CTU by myself was unnerving.

We call it "the prison". Seriously. It's easy to feel pretty alone there, with too much time to try and keep yourself occupied. A soccer ball (thanks Kyle) has saved the day twice now. Other than that, these three books keep my sanity intact:

A glimpse of my first 24 hours at the CTU:

1:00 pm
Qasim's call comes right at the end of Clinic. The CTU has received its first Cholera patient in 3 days. Kyle isn't quite done seeing patients, so I offer to head down right away. The patient is an older man who looks like death. He has severe dehydration...his entire face is sunken. I can't feel a radial pulse, he has severe skin tenting, and he is too weak to speak. He is so, so very anxious. That is never a good sign. We were informed by family that brought him that he is from Port-au-Prince, and had started vomiting several days ago. He was immediately placed in Plan C, which meant IV fluids. As I get my IV supplies set up, I pray and try to keep my hands from shaking. Getting an IV will save his life. Not getting one really isn't an option.

1:30 pm
It's too much pressure. With Qasim looking over my shoulder and trying to help, I begin to panic and can't get an IV. I thought I got one... the saline flush went in... but when I let the fluid run I watched it begin to fill around the vein and not in it. Dismayed, I try again. Four tries later, and it's time to call Kyle. I could care less about my pride. I simply feel terrible and need some help.

2:00 pm
Kyle finally manages to get a 24g in one arm, and half a 20g in the other. Good enough for us. Tape will hold it in. Thank you Kyle for saving the day.

2:30 pm
The patient is anxious and won't quit moving his arms. Kyle and I sit and hold him down for the better part of an hour, ensuring fluids are going in.

3:00 pm
I decide to lay down for a few minutes, then wake up to find Kyle gone. What a punk! He needed to get away after a long morning. I monitor the patient - making sure to get air out of his line, changing fluid bags, and setting drip rates per protocol (... or not... sometimes you just have to go with your gut). The patient has a bucket under him and two beside him. Cholera is not a gracious disease. At times, I just hold the patients hand because there's simply nothing else to do but put fluids in and watch the disease run its course.

4:00 pm
I can't take it anymore. I need to use the bathroom. Hello hole in the ground.


5:00 pm
The patient isn't doing great. One liter after another of fluids is given. He still has no radial pulse. I have no blood pressure cuff here either, which for my sake, I think I'm happier about. I think I'd rather not know.

5:30 pm
It's definitely getting cooler out, and I'm wondering how much warm clothing I brought with me. Kyle comes back. Hurray for company!

6:30 pm
It's dark out, so it's time to get the generator going. Of course it's not working, so I stand in the dark trying to set an IV drip rate (unsuccessful...it totally requires light) while Kyle goes about trying to fix it.

7:00 pm
Movie time! ... until Kyle's computer dies. This is sad moment for us.

8:00 pm
Kyle and I are huddled under a blanket on a cot in the pharmacy "building" (if you can call it that). Maybe tarp and a tin roof? Anyways, we're either reading or studying... or staring off into space. I think both of us are sick of trying to stay occupied.

9:30 pm
Kyle and I escape the CTU for an hour. The patient still has an hour and a half before the saline bag is empty, so we decide it's time to take a break. Kyle seems mentally exhausted to me (if I had to run two medical clinics I think I would be too) so I tell him I'm making a decision he is not allowed to argue with: I am spending the night at the CTU and he is staying at the clinic. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have argued anyways :) Bonus: I got raisins from his secret stash out of the deal.

10:00 pm
Kyle is kind enough to escort me to the CTU. I can find my way there and back in daylight, but it's a different story at night. I'll learn. Or get lost, and then learn. There's just so many paths to take. And I am fantastic at getting lost. I was not blessed with sense of direction.

10:15 pm
I check on the patient. He is still losing a lot of fluid. Everyone else is sleeping. I hesitantly wake up Qasim because he doesn't realize I'm staying the night. They kindly make an extra bed for me.

11:30 pm
I am trying to sleep, but radios are going and people are singing and talking. The patients IV fluid is set to last about an hour or two, so I check accordingly. I figure I'll get in an hour to an hour and a half of sleep between each check-up. I have one of Kyle's phones to serve as an alarm. I'm being paranoid, but I have already almost put air in an IV line a couple times now. I fear falling asleep, and not waking up in time to change empty saline bags.

1:00 am
Time to check on the patient. Almost no fluid has gone in. The patient is bending his arms (despite the IV arm boards taped to it), which stops the flow of fluid. I try to be stern, and attempt to speak Creole. Alright, so I play charades. I shake my head no as I bend my arms, then shake my head yes as I straighten them. He nods. I tell him "Merci."

3:30 am
I'm exhausted, and up again to check on the patient. He's not sleeping well, and he keeps moving. If his arms aren't straight, fluids don't go in. His nod earlier apparently didn't mean what I thought. I'm losing this not so fun battle.

5:00 am
I wake up to the alarm again. Time to check on the patient and be up for the day. I try and get him to drink ORS (oral rehydration solution). When he came in initially, he drank 5 cups of it. Awesome. Now though, he throws up whatever goes in. He's not drinking enough.

7:00 am
I head back up to the clinic to: get some coffee, check in with Kyle, and get a few minutes away. Then it's back to the CTU.

10:30 am
Qasim and I sit around and start talking. We end up talking about life and what we believe in. The conversation came out of nowhere, but I suppose you get to talking about all sorts of things at the CTU. I decided Qasim is one of my favorites. He's kind and compassionate, and he's teaching me Creole with I am so thankful for! He has been at the CTU a month. Qasim told me this: "If white people are willing to come and help my people, then how can I, as one of them, leave? I had a dream of going to school, but God has given me a different dream right now. I can always go to school next year." He has a good heart.

11:30 am

The patient's family stops by to get an update. We can't let them in, but I ask Qasim to see how much they know about Cholera. Qasim gives a Cholera lesson in Creole and I hand them bars of soap. Cholera education, one Haitian at a time. It's all we can do. We try to reassure the family that he is improving, but inwardly I cringe because he's not improving as fast as I'd like. We've given him about 17 liters of fluids at this point, but he loses so much and he still looks dehydrated.

12:00 pm

Qasim and I escape the CTU and play soccer outside its walls. It is a fantastic way to get rid of pent up energy. When you let go and let yourself relax, you find sudden energy and laughter that makes the day instantly better. Soccer is sanity time.

12:30pm
Hallelujah, he has a radial pulse! And Hallelujah I get a break! Kyle is here to give me some relief time, so I'll be hiking back up to the clinic for food, a nap, and possibly a shower. It's been far too long since my last one. Let's reorder that: shower, nap, and then food.

1:00 pm
Back to the CTU. I am praying for my sanity, as I'll be having a lot more time to myself again. Kyle needs to go to Jacmel, so I'm being left to cover the CTU alone for the first time. God has thus far used all this time in incredible ways though, so I'm okay with it. When it's time to go home, I know I will instantly appreciate the community I have that here, is sometimes lacking.

3:00 pm
Igot my first IV. Success. :)

God is here.
God is good.
He's directing my steps and I'm excited to see where it is that I go.

Love, Janae

lessons

The past few days have been far more lowkey. The team I arrived in Haiti with left Saturday morning, Clayton went back to the States for a week and half, and Chris pretty much lives at the CTU (Cholera Treatment Unit). Kyle is therefore my source of sanity! I still don't understand enough Creole to understand what is going on around me.

Yesterday was a long day. We opened the clinic in the morning, managed to fit in a nap, and then went to the CTU for six hours. We met a team with Doctors Without Borders, who set up the Unit and plans to help out in various ways as they track Cholera here. We've been promised a care package by the end of the week. I requested peanut butter :). The CTU will make you feel a little trapped after a while. Walking out when our shift was over at 8:00 was a wonderful feeling! We went back to the clinic to find working internet, for which I am thankful. It allowed me time to catch up with friends (...and rot my brain on facebook for a bit).

A massive to do list saved the day yesterday.

With so much to do, it felt wonderful to be able to

cross off what we accomplished. One step at a time.

I'll go ahead and admit I'm a little homesick today. I think being sick adds to the feeling. I'm simply drained of energy and out of coughdrops!

Thoughts of the day:

1. It didn't take long to realize the necessity of going with the flow in Haiti. Very little goes as planned, and that's okay. My time here will teach me patience.

2. I am spoiled. From owning a car to having heat and water... I take so much for granted back home. These are things we come to expect in the States, when here, they are luxuries. The other day, Kyle and I spent a good part of the morning just trying to pump more water. We ran out of water and we ran out of electricity. I've never had to conserve water the way I do now.


3. My time here will teach me to depend less on myself on more on God.


I've been in Haiti 11 days.
Haiti is already teaching and changing me.

Love, Janae

safe & sound

I realize I’m doing a terrible job keeping you all updated, so for that I apologize. I’ve been with a medical team for the past week, which has made both extra time and internet access limited.

I’m currently back in Seguin with Kyle, safe and sound. I thought I was going to fall off a cliff the entire two hour ride up the mountain on a moto, though. Jenna, feel free to be proud.

This past week has been incredibly busy. I’m on fairly little sleep each day, but thankfully Haitians love their coffee as much as I do! At the beginning of the trip, I was still on Australia time, which was a major problem. I went four days on a total of 9 hours of sleep. I was pretty delirious at times, much to everyone’s amusement.

I’ve been up in Seguin with the medical team Jen brought. We spent most of our time at the clinic and finished the week at an orphanage in Jacmel. I learned that I am indeed still horrible at soccer, but it was great fun. The kids are adorable, but I’m sure you guessed that.

A typical day:
We wake up when the sun comes up 6:00 a.m., which I actually love. We have a couple hours of time to ourselves before the clinic opens around 8:00. My team has been waking up to see the sunrises (… I managed to wake up once…), going on hikes, and just enjoying the incredible view:

I found a secret spot for myself on the roof where no one seems to find me. It’s wonderful.

Clinic goes until around lunch time. Four years of French has allowed me to understand some Creole, but there’s still a huge language barrier that makes life pretty interesting. I’m a pro at saying “stand on the scale please” and “sit there.” ...And that’s pretty much all I got. After helping out at the clinic, my team has either been taking shifts at the Cholera Treatment Unit down the hill or helping Kyle organize medical supplies.

The Cholera Treatment Unit:

Cholera hasn’t quite hit Seguin and the treatment unit is understaffed as a result. I’ve learned a lot already. My experience is pre-hospital care, so there is much for me to learn as far as treatment here goes. My IV skills are definitely improving though. Jen and I not only practiced on each other, but on ourselves as well. A little odd practicing in the middle of a Cholera treatment unit...

I was at the Cholera Unit on January 12, the anniversary of the earthquake. I honestly didn’t realize what day it was until Jen and I found a nurse crying in one of the treatment tents. This country is still so devastated, especially emotionally. I am up in the mountains most of the time, but we did land in Port-au-Prince last week. Piles of trash, rubble, and political slogans everywhere you look. Tents lined the streets, packing with displaced Haitians with no place to go.

I’m kind of in love with this place. I draw far more attention than I like though.

Some of my favorite things so far:

1.       My team last week. Everyone had such unique ways in which they contributed, and they were all goofballs. The first night we were at the clinic, we had pancakes for dinner. We all stood around the table eating pancakes with our hands. Oddly enough it’s what I do at home, and it made me happy.

2.      Hiking. I’m far more active than I am in Wilmington, and I love it. The views are incredible, and it’s such a great way to run into people. We hiked an hour or two to get bread, a moment that made me realize how different this life is here. I definitely miss certain things, like showering (it’s dry season here so water conservation is a must), certain foods, and a comfy bed. That might be it though. I’m perfectly content living much simpler than usual.

3.      Church service at Faith and Love in Action Orphanage in Jacmel. I'm still in awe of the whole experience. I don't think I've ever witnessed such beautiful, authentic worship. Why is this so lacking back home? Their voices are beautiful. The children were adorable. We spent all service stealing glances and exchanging smiles and waves.

Life here is definitely different (culture shock to be honest), but I am having fun embracing it all. Miss you.

Love, Janae

haiti-bound

I leave for Haiti in the morning!

The last couple days have been a rush of laundry, repacking, and goodbyes. Oh, and my ceiling leaking water in the middle of the night! I've managed to get about 6 hours of sleep in 72 hours, so at this point I'm beginning to black out and see spots while standing up. Don't worry, I'm going to bed momentarily. Promise. We leave at 4:30 a.m. tomorrow (bummer), and should be in Port-au-Prince by early afternoon!

Last goodbyes.

For those of you who don’t know much about my trip, here’s why I'm going…

The illogical reason: I was at a point in life where I was making pretty big decisions. I was unsure about several things, including going on this trip, that I decided to let go of the wondering and worrying. I promised myself I’d go to Haiti if my newfound friend Jen happened to message me (we hadn’t talked in a few months). Of course I got a message the very next day. Plans got set in motion.

The logical reason: One look at the news, and it is obvious Haiti is still hurting. The earthquake last January left this country absolutely devastated. With the recent Cholera outbreak that has taken more than 3,000 lives, there is so much suffering there. I was given the opportunity to go to Haiti so I took it! I plan on staying for just under five weeks, spending my time at a clinic in Seguin called Cloud Forest Medical Clinic.

Going on a trip like this is so exciting to me because it’s a wonderfully tangible way of showing love. Actions speak louder than words, do they not? I’ve been so blessed. I would like to turn around and bless others who aren’t as lucky as I am.

A side-note to my family and friends:

Thank you truly for all your support. I am incredibly grateful for all the unique ways in which you’ve contributed. Whether it was through financial help, encouragement, prayers, endless conversations, help planning, or contributing supplies…it means the world to me. I am truly blessed because of you.
I will miss you while I’m away.

Love, Janae

Melbourne

Hello from Melbourne, Australia!

Unfortunately, I haven't had that much access to internet. Since my last post, we’ve been to Ayers Rock, Alice Springs, and Melbourne! No photos this time friends, sorry.

Ayers Rock:

Holy heat! We were in the desert for two days, walking around in 104 degree weather. I wish I could show you pictures - it was worth the heat. A highlight: we celebrated our New Years under the stars. The night was called “Sounds of Silence” which included dinner and stargazing in the middle of the desert. The sky was so clear, Jupiter and the part of the Milky Way were visible. I should also mention that we had dinner with hundreds of friends…and by friends, I mean bugs. I left my wine for a minute or two, and found about five bugs in my glass. They were hitting our heads, hopping across the table, and landing on our plates. Needless to say, I do believe I am over any fear of bugs I previously had.

Alice Springs:

I think we were all happy to leave the desert and find slightly cooler weather. We drove six hours by bus to Alice Springs. We were supposed to visit their Royal Flying Doctor Service, but it was closed for the holidays. As you might expect, remote regions of Australia rely heavily on this emergency service.

Melbourne:

            This morning, we took a flight from Alice Springs to Melbourne, which is our last stop. Our flight got in fairly late today with the time change, so we went straight to dinner...on a restaurant tram that took us through the city!

I have just 5 days. They will be spent visiting Melbourne, flying from Australia to Wilmington, seeing some friends and saying some last minute goodbyes, driving to Raleigh, and getting on a plane to Port-au-Prince Haiti. I'm not sure whether I'm more excited or anxious at this point. I think I'm ready to be home for a couple days.

Love, Janae