PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti — Sitting in a makeshift camp on the infield
weeds of the Port-au-Prince airport with jet engines roaring 100 yards
away, a group of doctors and emergency workers shared the tragedy and
triumph of a week in post-earthquake Haiti.
They amputated limbs and performed skin grafts. They sometimes
operated without X-rays, relying on the sense of touch. They cleaned
and dressed open wounds. And an emergency room nurse delivered a baby.
"Every day has been a new adventure with new plans that constantly change," said Steve Hansen, a St. George orthopedic surgeon.
On the eve of their scheduled Saturday return, the group slept on
mattresses and in a cardboard and plastic shelters near pallets of
supplies. During the week, others wanted to know what organization they
represented. After hearing the question numerous times, they settled on
Doctors Without Names.
But they do have names. In addition to Hansen is Chuck Peterson, of
Mesa, Ariz., and Gary Garner and Craig Nelson, both of American Fork.
"It was the most amazing experience I've ever had," said Garner, a pain medication specialist.
The four and Washington County search and rescue team members worked
in Leogane, a town of 65,000 people 40 miles west of the capital city,
and one of the hardest hit in the last week's temblor. An estimated
15,000 people died. Ninety percent of the mostly cinder-block houses
were pancaked. A 300-year-old cathedral erected with sea coral lay in
ruins.
"These people have been living under tarps because they're afraid to
go in their homes, if their homes were still standing," said Hansen,
who along with Peterson and Nelson had served missions for The Church
of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Haiti 20 years ago.
Some lay in the streets with bone protruding from skin, sick with
infection. Children lay scalded by hot cooking oil or boiling water
that spilled over when the earth rumbled.
They cried out for help, and Chuck Peterson, a sports medicine
doctor, told them in their native language that doctors could only
treat one at and time. The injured, he said, understood and waited
patiently.
The
surgeons set up shop in an open-air school, using bleachers as an
operating table and old desk as a stool. They lacked some surgical
instruments, but made the best of what they had with the help of
German, Cuban, Canadian and Mennonite medical teams on the scene. They
had to do some horrible things.
Hansen amputated a 58-year-old woman's leg below the knee with a sterilized Leatherman.
"I used the saw to cut the bone," he said.
Hansen grasps for words as he tries to explain his emotions,
especially thinking about the children he operated on who are the same
as age as his four 6- to 16-year-old sons.
"I'll just say it was an extremely fulfilling experience to do my best to help these people," he said.
Jan Call knows the feeling of fulfillment. Among the darkness of
death and suffering, she had a hand in bringing a little light to the
world.
Working triage, she kept her eye on three pregnant women. One had a
contraction, and Call helped her with her breathing. She started to
walk away but was quickly called back.
"I knelt down and there was a baby," Call said.
The doctors were busy, so she proceeded to clear the baby's mouth. A
Mennonite woman handed her some twine to tie off the umbilical cord.
Call snipped it with a pair of scissors and handed the newborn to its
grandmother.
"They named it, supposedly, after me," Call said. "It was a boy."
Peterson, too, saw the fruits of his labor. As an LDS Church
missionary, he was the branch president in Leogane in 1989 when the
church built a sturdy new meetinghouse. He and church members planted
the grass and the trees, mango trees that are now tall and flush with
fruit. The branch has grown into a ward.
"I've literally and symbolically watched the church bear fruit," he said, unable to stop smiling.
Peterson
watched the bishop, Yves Pierre-Louis, this week care for several
hundred Mormons and non-Mormons living outside the building. This
despite his wife being in the Dominican Republic with their son, who is
recovering from an electrical shock.
"He's kind of like the mayor of a little community of refugees that
have come together," Peterson said of Pierre-Louis. "He and his flock
are the fruit that has grown."
E-mail: romboy@desnews.com