It Seems Routine

The past two weeks have made me realize how incredibly versatile people are. It also gave me a new appreciation how how each of us, in going about our everyday business, are doing amazing things in the eyes of others.


I've told you snippets of some of the medical issues here. But the success of the compound and the hospital is also dependent on volunteer engineers that troubleshoot, jerry rig, and innovate to give us what we need to care for the patients. They have their own language, and just as with the docs and nurses, and if they put a group together, even if they've never met, they have commonality of experience that builds and synergizes. I've saw them working on respiratory circuits, wearing headlights during our power failures. When I ask how they figured it out, they shrugged. "It's pretty routine."

The Haitians are amazing artists. And although they can be agressive in selling their wares, there is no doubt about their talents. I watched one of them rubbing a piece of wood with a stone to shape it. He wasn't putting on a show for me, he was just doing his job. They have also created an informal wholesaling network to each other, so the merchants have a broad variety of products. Some of them have been our patients, and are extremely grateful for what we do. I wanted to pick up some gifts, and went to Johnny, for "The Blue Light Special." I bought some things, then he looked at my feet. I was wearing my older Nikes. I looked at his worn sandals and offered to give them to him. "No Doc, we trade." A hand carved mask for a pair of old sneakers. It's routine, but remarkable.

No Harry story could be complete with something about flying. Samuel was a C6 quadriplegic from the quake who is normally at a spinal rehab center about 8 miles from here. I managed some wound problems, and got him out of his halo. We can't drive these patients back because the roads are too rough. We have an arrangement with a German helicopter company for transfers. I loaded Sam into the chopper and took the left seat. My pilot, Ben, wasn't much older than my Ben. He flies for the German Army, and is training to do combat insertion and extraction, meaning he has to learn medical techniques. On the way over, he gave me the stick, the controls were very responsive. I managed to keep us relatively straight and level, although I couldn't imagine how much work it would take for me to get good enough for it to be routine. After we dropped off Sam, we toured the rehab site. I found it fascinating, Ben was clearly uncomfortable, but also curious. On the way back to Milot, we had no patient, so we could fly a routine army profile. Heavy on the collective. quick forward stick, and we were heading along a river bed at treetop level, 120 knots, jinking around the hills. His face was utter calm, with a half smile. Buzz the compound, 60 degree climbing 2g bank to scrub off energy, and we hovered to a landing. Every one of my senses was alive. "So Ben, you ever been to the OR?" His entire demeanor changed. "Are you serious?" Sure, and I changed him into scrubs and took him to see a routine case. After all, he had flown hundreds of patients here - now he could see what happened after the drop off. He had a hard time finding the words to describe his feelings. Finally, he lapsed into German, shaking his heading, and smiling like a kid on his birthday.

Daily we fall into a routine, sometimes forgetting what amazing talents we all have. Take a minute and think about how your routine is someone else's remakarble.