Empty Pockets

I was awakened this morning by a phone call at 5am. It came during that precious hour between Solomon waking and our alarm going off. But I mustered the will power and had a sleepy conversation with Silvia--the woman who helps us take care of Solomon during the day. She was calling to report that her grandchild was sick with diarrhea, had a fever and she wanted to know if I would take her and her family to my clinic this morning.

I'm not proud to say my immediate reaction was annoyance. It came out of a week where I've fallen into feelings of powerlesness and frustration after being handed arm-fulls of other peoples problems I just can't solve. I have a few sacred hours at home where I like to only attend to the needs of my self and my family. I felt an invasion of my American-born privacy as I blinked sleep away from my eyes in the dim light of morning. Guess my servant's heart still needs work.

My schedule these days has me bouncing all over the city and local countryside, going from makeshift clinic to clinic: today I was scheduled to be in a random part of town in a zone I wasn't famliar with. I told Silvia the predicament and asked if she could instead visit a clinic near their house. "There isn't one" she said MEANING "we don't have money."

Initially I left it at that. No, I couldn't take her to the clinic. She'd have to figure out what she'd do. I hung up the phone trying to salvage a few zzz's. But of course I couldn't sleep; I started worrying. This was likely a preventable serious illness I could intercede in. My nursing student haunted me. Does the child really need to suffer because I can't be flexible and give up some personal time? I called Silvia back.

We agreed she could bring her family to our house at 5:30 in the morning for me to evaluate the toddler as I readied myself for the day. I had to sacrifice nothing but an earlier rise than planned. Yet I felt annoyed. My morning ritual of a quiet morning of coffee, of pattering around the apartment, playing with Solomon and talking to Patrick was interrupted by a call of duty earlier than I was happy with.

Truth is, I've had one of those weeks where I feel near tears, emotional and sort of done. I have felt spent, exhausted by the ever-present need and my inability to really do anything substantial about it. Patrick had one of those weeks last week, so as usual we are yoyo-ing through our tolerance and our perspective.

Everything is so hard here for so many people. Everything. And sometimes I'm exhausted by it, exhausted by endless need, by requests for money, food, clothing, laptops, scholarships, medicines; exhausted by palms open reaching out to us. There are days I feel like my cup is overflowing; I can respond to requests with love and respect, offering what I can and being honest about what I can't do. Other days I never have enough and I just want to hide. This morning I woke up feeling the later.

Life for so many here is hand-to-mouth. Few have the ability to save money for hard times. Take Silvia for instance. Despite the fact we pay her almost double what other workers in her line of work earn, it doesn't stretch far with the 9-person family she supports. What are all the other "lucky working people" doing? I don't know if anyone else in her family works... but they are in an awful situation. And today Silvia brought her grandson to me for help.

I am often left wondering where to draw boundaries. This is not the first encounter of the like. We struggle with such questions with all we know: teachers at the school, pastors in churches, workers of the orphanage, people in the markets, students we teach, street kids on the corners, passersby. We are pulled aside multiple times a day and offered stories of tragic situations and hope that we can help in some way. What do they have to loose by asking? Nothing. The truth is, "blan" in this country often means free-handouts, aid, money. And who can blame a woman holding a sick child for asking for help in the most obvious place she can find? I can't. But if I pay for medical treatment for one baby, why don't I pay for my patient's children and my teacher-friend's child at the school, and the rest of the sad eyes and gaunt stomachs I see during my daily commute?

As much as I know saying yes to all requests is enabling, patronizing, impossible and directly contradictory to what our work here is trying to do, saying no also feels uncomfortable and selfish some days. After 7 months, I still haven't figured out an emotional peace with it all.

Silvia arrived later this morning with her grandchild in her arms. He was crying, but mostly because a strange doctor was examining him. I was reassured I didn't have to shuttle them to the hospital, and instead pulled some meds from our mobile clinic pharmacy, made up an oral rehydration serum for them, and took them home with instructions about fluids and rest. All were reassured, and after washing my face and starting some coffee, I got over my selfishness from the morning hours. Had I awoken in less of a fog, I would have offered to be generous enough to make a house call. Next time maybe. I'm still learning.

We had a busy clinic today after returning to a mobile clinic site we'd been to last week. I was able to see some follow ups which made me happy. I saw some interesting pathology and didn't feel like my work was for naught. On my errands this afternoon, I stopped by a "dress shop" to find something to wear to a wedding we were invited to. The shop resembled a dry cleaners with all the clothing wrapped in plastic sacks to protect them from the dust in the air. I told the sales woman (who had been sleeping on the floor) that I needed a dress for a wedding. She sprang into action, probably relieved not to be bored out of her skull. She immediately pulled out a mini-wedding dress. Nope... not my wedding. She then pulled out some bridesmaid-esk dresses and commenced in telling me how fabulous I looked in everything (not true). Is Haiti where bridesmaid dresses go to live again? I think so. Anyway I eventually found something that would work in addition to some humor for the day.

Patrick wonders why I don't blog more often when I'm struggling with living in Haiti. Maybe because I know there will be a bright side, a perspective that will blow through soon and that is more fun to pass on. But I decided to write today because truth is, it is hard to find balance some days. There are many moments when I'm not proud of my initial reactions. I'm not always at my best. I'm not always a good servant. I struggle with selfishness and self-defeat. But I'm working on it.

And so today ends like many here. With moments of frustration, questioning, and doubt intertwined with hard work, sweat and moments of laughter and hope. Its the hope that keeps us going. Or maybe today its more the fatigue that makes us too tired to be frustrated any longer. So tonight, I'm grateful to be good and tired. The morning might just bring a fresh outlook as I start another day.