Pedialyte and A Prayer

Ava and Alex

Thursday I actually said the words I have nothing much to say on the blog because we haven't had any adventures lately. Spoke too soon. Thursday afternoon Ava seemed puny and started running a low-grade fever. At lunch, she opted to forego her peanut butter and jelly for a nap but then wouldn't eat dinner either. I gave her a dose of tylenol at bedtime and noticed her coloring wasn't good and that she had an accident in her pants. When I went to bed I picked her up off her floor and put her back to bed. She felt hot. I chalked it up to her feeling bad and went to bed. I heard her screaming at 10:30pm and Charles got up with her. Then he yelled for me. She was burning up. I started undressing her for a cool bath when the thermometer climbed beyond 104 degrees. She was so hot. She wouldn't stop crying. She was complaining of a stomach ache. She wanted to throw up, diarrhea, the works. She kept on screaming that ants were all over her when clearly they weren't. I thought she was hallucinating from the fever. We decided we would ride in with the team Friday morning to PAP and try to see a doctor. I stayed up with Ava through the night as she moaned of stomach pains and sweated out the fever.

Friday morning we were both exhausted but it encouraged me her fever dropped to 103 and she was interested in eating oatmeal. I wasn't encouraged for long. I didn't realize how much I depend on Tylenol for fever especially when her fever is so high and Tylenol won't touch it. We said goodbye to the team and went straight to a hospital. First stop, the hospital wouldn't let Charles and Lilly in. I went in with Ava and Alex. The hospitals here are overflowing with several mosquito-related viruses creating an epidemic. People waiting to be seen in every corner. Children moaning. Mamas crying while swatting flies off of their babies. It reminded me of something National Geographic would put on the cover. They laughed at us showing up at 10a.m. wanting to see a doctor. I literally could count hundreds of people desperately waiting, making me no exception at all. Alex and the assistant swapped words in Creole while Ava's cries became stronger and more demanding until again she vomited everywhere. We were both covered and the entire lady's office floor now puddled. I had Haitian dollars in my hand and as I threw away a plastic bag at my best attempt to catch puke and accidentally threw away the wad of money with it too. I was just standing there with hundreds of eyes on my white skin and a saturated little girl. Both of us feeling helpless and now broke.

After some more conversation which I did not understand, Alex motioned me to go and Ava threw up again. We quickly left. I've never felt so dejected ... like 'so what your kid is sick, all of our kids are sick.'

On to hospital number two. We swapped from the school bus to BGM's truck and realized we have no car seats. We started our way to the second hospital when we were abruptly stopped by a traffic jam that would go on for miles. Ava and I both in the back seat doused in puke and now Ava's pants are soiled and it was seeping through my skirt. She was crying from the pain and her fever was back up to 104. Tylenol wasn't working. Alex made the decision to get out of traffic and we went to a third hospital. Here we had a little miscommunication. Charles and I were starting to get worried about Ava and her decreased responsiveness. We arrived at the general hospital in PAP. There was a lab willing to do tests but at this point we wanted monitoring. We had posted a plea for advice on a group with fellow Americans in Haiti. More than one person recommended getting her tested for Malaria, CBC, Chikingunya, and so forth. Through a series of events we changed direction again in route to a fourth hospital but this one would be different. We had a contact there and several other missionaries had called ahead and they were expecting us. I was half way expecting Ava to pass out any minute between lack of sleep, nausea, dehydration, etc. She seemed to be getting sicker. She was almost too hot to touch. By now the color had completely drained out of her body and she wouldn't even talk to me.

We arrived at the hospital and again it seemed like it was overflowing with people. We could barely get in the gate. Families huddled in corners, ambulance's sirens deafening conversations, desperate faces. It was awful. Doctors were running from ward to ward and people were holding their hands out like a hitch hiker would as a last ditch effort to be seen. Again, hundreds of heads turned as "blancs" walked in. We looked for our contact person to no avail. He was out of town. Who was expecting us? Ava's fever was back up beyond 104. By a sheer miracle a nurse grabbed Ava's hand to try to calm her and realized how hot she was. She allowed us to follow her and she led us to a sink with a towel and a clean diaper we could exchange for her dirty one. She was so miserable. I was on the brink of tears. How could we not get help? My first thought is that money was not an issue for us. Let's just get help.

After a series of events, we were seen by a Haitian doctor who wanted to admit Ava immediately. He let us know (in English) that it did look very possible and likely that Malaria could be the cause given her symptoms. The second doctor said the same thing. The second possibility was Chikungunya, another mosquito-spread virus that has turned into a national epidemic or thirdly, Dengue Fever. They undressed her soaked clothes and started an IV immediately.

Soon they moved us into the PICU ward where a bed (with dirty sheets) was waiting next to a number of other beds filled with sick children. I realized then that none of them had even asked Ava's name. No paperwork to it. Hallways of waiting Haitians were hateful that we were being seen. It seemed more of a silent plea in their eyes than anything. Everyone was desperate, including us. But they were still waiting.

I can't even tell you the horrific things I saw at those hospitals. Nothing I could have imagined in my wildest thoughts. Some very unbelievable things that were real. Babies suffering like I don't know suffering. Patients without beds. Those receiving breathing treatments from the floor and those begging for just a tylenol or cup of water. Mamas and spouses and sisters and dads and friends bent over in grief and desperation. Looks I haven't seen before that were numbed of emotion and full of hopelessness. Malaria stricken children and crippled elderly. It broke my heart and yet I was focused on getting Ava care. I kept thinking of that movie The Impossible with Naomi Watts and the shots of the hospitals amid the disaster. It was different than anything I've seen with my own eyes. In the middle of the night I went to the the bathroom and people were sleeping on the floor in those narrow hallways.

The hours were long and Ava's moans were drawn out and there was nothing quiet or calm about this ward of sick children. Mamas and daddy's growing accustomed to machines going off and the buzz of oxygen machines pumping oxygen into babies' lungs. Nurses were very outnumbered. I don't know how many times I prayed I could understand more Creole. Nothing like having a sick baby lay in bed while nurses tell you what's going on in a language your brain refuses to comprehend due to a deficit of knowledge and no sleep.

Thankfully we had a backup plan for our friend Leyna to be picked up from the airport and brought to the hospital. Leyna has been here before and is here this time for three weeks. She willingly took on the job of entertaining Lilly who was constantly trying to come up with a good excuse to be admitted as well for equal attention. Lilly really had been such a trooper through all of it.

After Charles and Alex spent the better part of the evening trying to find another hospital that had a lab open 24 hours, they arrived back with plates of rice and beans around 9pm. Lilly commented that she didn't even get lunch. I guess I overlooked lunch. Not my only fault of the day. I forgot the bag of snacks. Two strikes on the nutrition chart for me.

Alex helped us get Lilly and Leyna to a nearby mission guesthouse where they could sleep. Charles and I started taking turns sleeping in the truck while the other stayed with Ava. The pediatric ward had all lights on and sounds buzzing and clanging. Sleep was not part of the equation. The nurse gave me a plastic chair about 11pm after standing for nearly 9 hours by Ava's side.

Alex came in about 3:30a.m. and said I should just go sleep in the truck where Charles was and that he would take a shift. I did. But the windows were down and I was hesitant to wake Charles to put them up with the heat that builds up in the truck. I was nervous about someone taking advantage of us sleeping and attempting to steal the truck key or something within reach. People were lingering everywhere and without cause not to mention with a lot of desperation. I went against my convictions, and just put my phone in the console in case Alex needed me. I woke up two hours later even though it seemed like only two minutes later. My phone was gone. I woke Charles up. His phone was gone. Then we noticed Alex' bag was gone and most importantly Charles' leather bag with money and passports were gone. It was all gone. I jumped up and ran into the hospital looking for Alex. I found Alex and said everything is missing from the truck. I think someone must have stolen it. I really was panicked. Alex had taken it all and put it inside. Ava had been crying for me and Alex kept calling. When we didn't answer he went to check on us and realized we were sleeping too hard to have all those bags and phones in plain sight with the windows down. He said "I think like the poor Haitian." He opened the door, got it all out and shut the door without either of us even flinching. Charles and I were so relieved we didn't have to even go there. Lesson learned.

The early morning hours while Charles and Alex slept, I read your messages and emails. I was so encouraged by the support we have. We have had some very challenging moments here and yet your support has really brought us through. I read some of them out loud to Ava even though she slept. I just wanted to testify out loud to her that so many people love her. We are humbled and grateful for you and the support you provide us from there. In a lonely place, I found such comfort in your words and prayers.

It was so different after just spending a week in the hospital with my mom. Here the floors were dirty. Flies constantly landing on Ava. The lights were all on. Feeling bad changing more than a dozen stinky diapers with so many people so close by. Only knowing Ava's temperature sheerly by the nurse's face since the thermometer read in the 30s or 40s. Why are we not on the metric system? People coming in every few minutes with a door that squeaked. One nurse was looking for something and Ava's temperature was just above 104 and finally I asked can I give her Tylenol? The nurse looked relieved and said yes. I wish I had known she was looking for Tylenol all that time. But we couldn't speak to each other.

This morning we saw improvement. Slowly, good news trickled in and soon our Ava was feeling better. The new day brought new hope. The doctor explained test results and tested a second time for Malaria. This was our biggest concern and greatest fear. Fortunately, I called tonight and confirmed that all tests came back negative so far. We are still waiting for cultures but we were cleared for discharge. Ava's color has come back slowly. The diarrhea and lack of appetite persist but no fever or vomiting. I met a nice Canadian doctor who reached out to us and encouraged us just to monitor Ava at home.

I found it almost comical and frustrating at the same time that as Charles was putting the girls in the truck and packing everything up, I was called back inside. A resident doctor wanted me to fill out the admission paperwork. While I appreciated Ava being admitted so rapidly, I was unsure why they were waiting until we were discharged to get 8 pages of history on Ava's health. Just protocol I assume. We finished paperwork, jumped in the truck and the doctor came running out, waving at us to stop. She had forgotten to do the physical assessment of Ava. We had to go back in, take off Ava's clothes, have the resident fully examen her (after discharge papers were given). Ava screamed bloody murder about going back in and if it weren't so unacceptable I think I was on the verge of doing the same. The resident finished the exam, we loaded up again and this time we got to the gate and the same resident realized she had not given us the prescription for the antibiotics for Ava. The third time walking in was almost torture. I was so ready to get out of there.

The fourth time we drove out of the gate, all of us silently clapping we had broken free from that experience like a few jail birds knowing freedom after a long stint of bondage. We didn't have to hear beeping or see suffering or hear the baby's cries. What a sad, sad environment which weighed heavy on me.

Charles and I look back though and thank God for all the little details. Doctors who spoke English willing to see Ava, her bed being by a small air unit, Leyna helping with Lilly and Alex being an interpreter for us, the guards at the Hope Center feeding Mack and the overall outcome that what we thought could be something serious like Malaria possibly with long term effects, turns out to be a less complex virus with temporary symptoms. Another story that testifies God's goodness. And the days/night in the hospital was less expensive than a night at the Holiday Inn.

Of course we drive back to the Hope Center and find out the guards have Chikungunya virus and need help. Never a dull moment.

We are tired. But so thankful. We are praying against all odds that Ava is the only one to suffer through whatever it is she has.

Can't quit thinking about all the people still waiting for medical care and all the ones who can't even get to the hospital to get it. It's so different after seeing so much with my own eyes.

So grateful ... for so many reasons. I haven't been at such a loss for words in a while.

Thank you for partnering with us in this crazy journey.