Helping in Haiti
When Dr. Steve Louis, an orthopedic trauma specialist, volunteered to help the earthquake victims in Haiti, he anticipated long days and nights in the operating room. He had seen the news reports documenting the devastation and knew, arriving six weeks after the quake hit, that the conditions would be bleak and the medical needs overwhelming. But even going in with that mindset, the sights and sounds and smells that awaited him went beyond anything that he-or any of us-could prepare for or even imagine.
Block after block after block of concrete rubble. Surviving buildings leaning precariously at surreal angles. Dust and dirt everywhere, even in the makeshift hospital facilities. Tarps covering any flat, open spaces-even road medians-creating massive, impromptu tent cities. In emails to his family, Louis described "devastation and suffering just amazing.The dirt, flies, and smells just make you quiver."
The Decision to Go
In 1990, Dr. Louis accompanied his father (also an orthopedic surgeon) to Zimbabwe for a six-week medical school rotation. Since then he has looked for other opportunities to volunteer, and the disaster in Haiti seemed to be an ideal match between the needs of the victims and Louis' expertise. "I have a certain skill set that's needed," he said.
But volunteering was not simply a matter of packing his medical gear and hopping the first plane to Haiti. Security is of primary concern in the island nation; in fact, the day before Louis arrived in Haiti, two workers for Doctors without Borders were kidnapped (they were later released). So when he heard about an opportunity to join an ongoing effort jointly organized by the Shock Trauma Center in Baltimore and the Catholic Relief Services (CRS), he jumped at the chance. Not only were the medical logistics already in place, but he was also assured that the two organizations took the safety of the volunteers very seriously.
With the arrangements in place, it was easy for Louis to find other volunteers from his Hinsdale office. Katey O'Connell, his physician assistant, and Ann Whirl, who has both surgical and OR training, quickly agreed to join him. The three left on March 5 for a ten-day trip that would provide a lifetime of memories.
Conditions in Haiti
When they arrived in Haiti, Dr. Louis and his colleagues joined the other volunteers at a house that CRS had rented in Port-au-Prince, about 45 minutes away from the hospital where they would work. The house was surrounded by a stone fence and sturdy metal gate and, as part of the heightened security measures, an armed guard stood watch outside. Wandering outside the gate was not allowed. And although the house itself was rather posh, the amenities were not. The volunteers who had been there the longest were rewarded with beds; everyone else slept on the floor on mattress pads.
They did have electricity about 70% of the time, and water almost every day. The water, however, was cold, making the early morning shower a brief, eye-opening affair. The group ate Domino's pizza three nights, and managed to go to nice local restaurants for dinner the other evenings; breakfast and lunch were granola bars and fruit.
Around 8:00 each morning, the day's adventure would begin. Four or five vehicles would arrive at the house to transport the volunteers to the hospital facility. But this was not your normal taxi service. "It was like being in a James Bond movie!" Louis said. The vehicles would travel in close formation and speed through the narrow, crowded streets, sometimes hitting speeds close to 70 mph. At intersections one vehicle would block traffic to prevent any other cars from getting into the convoy, and the group would then speed off again. All of this was designed to thwart any potential kidnapping efforts.
Traveling through the streets, Louis was amazed at the extent of the devastation caused by the earthquake. But when he first arrived at the St. Francis de Sales Hospital, the reality of the situation really sunk in. What had been a five-story, 140-bed hospital-one of Haiti's largest-was now essentially a pile of rubble. Dust and the smell of decay filled the air. The few usable spaces that remained were precarious at best-flimsy 2x4s supported doorways, and the formerly open courtyard was now tented and served as the hospital's wards. What had been a storeroom was now the operating room, with a curtain dividing the makeshift space between general surgery and orthopedic surgery. X-rays were read outside in the sunlight. Half of one building had been condemned but the other half was deemed usable, leaving the volunteers no choice but to hope that the building inspectors were right.
The Work
One of the greatest challenges of the work day was the shortened schedule necessitated by the security concerns. The convoy returned promptly at 4:30 to bring the volunteers back to the house; this meant that all surgeries had to be completed by 3:00 pm. Working shorter hours than expected did not mean that the day was easy, however. "It required 120% effort until 4:30," Louis said. In addition to the surgeries-he performed 15 in all-Louis also treated scores of patients in the clinic, visited patients in the outdoor wards, and identified others for surgery to be performed by the next volunteer team. In an email to his family he added, "I feel like a very small fish swimming up a very large and fast river..It is so difficult to do just adequate work."
The physical conditions added to the levels of stress and frustration. The x-ray room ran out of film one day, and the lighting in the OR was so poor that the group brought headlamps with them so they could see during surgery. The sophisticated medical equipment that allows doctors to perform challenging operations in the U.S. was, of course, non-existent in Haiti. Most of the work involved dealing with infections caused by the pervasively unsanitary environment.
These incredibly challenging conditions, combined with the devastating injuries that he saw, nearly caused Louis to break down. "I can barely keep my nose above water," he told his family. "I just want to run away, but I know I can't, they need my help more than I had ever imagined." After several trying days, he was able to regroup and began to recognize that the level of care possible had to be measured in relative terms.
One of the most difficult, but ultimately satisfying, cases involved a 16-year-old girl whose ankle was hopelessly crushed in the earthquake. The only medical option was amputation, but her family opposed this until Louis insisted that they clean and dress the wound. After enduring her agonizing screams for ten minutes, the family agreed to the surgery; if all goes well the girl will one day walk with a prosthetic. Another patient tried to bite and scratch the volunteers during treatment. "The grumpy one," as she was lightheartedly known, was an exception to the generally good-natured patients that they saw. As the team was leaving, though, a translator rushed out to tell them that "bed three wants to give you a hug." Astonished, they went back in, and the no-longer-grumpy-one told them "Thank You!" in broken English.
Eager to Help
Despite the enveloping bleakness, Louis saw color among the gray. His photos show the brightly colored buildings and the wildly decorated tap-tap cabs that serve as Haiti's public transportation; his memory returns to the crisp white shirts of the impeccably dressed people and their dazzling white smiles. Most importantly, Louis saw life among the death-street vendors, open-air markets, and a seemingly endless stream of medical patients and their families. It was these family members who provided most of the nursing care, as well as most of the food, for the patients.
It is not surprising, perhaps, that the family members have come to the aid of the earthquake victims. But what may be surprising is the fact that this level of care and concern is shared by so many in the medical community as well. While there, Louis noticed a plane landing at the airport. "Sixty to seventy percent of the people getting off the plane were wearing scrubs," he said. This spirit was not lost on him. Louis plans on returning to Haiti in June, and this time may take other members of the Avery Coonley community with him.
Steven and Amy Louis are the parents of Rhys (ACS Class of 2007), Grant (Class of 2010), and Owen (Class of 2015).
Written by Christopher Portman, Editor of the Avery Coonley Alumni Magazine
