A Prayer for Peace

I'm constantly reminded just how difficult it is for each of my patients and friends to receive medical care and the many obstacles that surround the health care system in Haiti. Yesterday, as I was playing with the children in the village I was told that Sylvenson "ti-Brooke" (read previous blog post: It's a boy!) had something on his neck and that he had a fever. At first I wasn't worried because I'm told multiple times a day that a baby is sick and has a fever, but something was different yesterday. As I went to Sylvenson's house I passed his mom and she had tears running down her face. She told me he was sick and took me to see him. Sylvenson's neck on the right side was completely swollen, his breathing was too fast, and he was hot with a fever. I knew he needed more help than our clinic could provide and that he needed to go to a hospital. It isn't as simple as just "going to the hospital" though. In order to go a person must have the money for transportation because it's not a quick trip. The family must also have money to pay the hospital because they are required to pay up-front. And they have to be able to find a hospital that is open and has space for more patients which is extremely difficult because the hospitals are full. I tried to explain over and over why they needed to take him to the hospital, but was told repeatedly that they would go "tomorrow" if they could get the money etc. I finally said that if he didn't go soon the swelling could get worse and that he wouldn't be able to breathe. That is when I feel they finally understood that Sylvenson really needed to go to the hospital. As I walked home I prayed for the care that he would receive. Later, I was told that he had been taken to the hospital, given a "pill", and sent home.

Today, as I entered the kitchen Wadeline (one of our Haitian staff) asked me if I had heard that Sylvenson had died. I quickly asked who told her and if she was she sure that he had died. Aubree and I quickly left for Chambrun and as we walked to the village we were told multiple times that Sylvenson had died this morning. It wasn't until I saw E'tienne (another one of the nurses here for the year who had left campus earlier for her daily run) with tears running down her face that it truly hit me. Sylvenson had died. I spent the morning sitting with Bernardia and her friends and family. Some men in the village buried Sylvenson beside Bernardia's home. While tears ran down Bernardia's face, I prayed that she would be surrounded with the peace that only Christ can provide and that she would feel His arms around her. As I walked home from the village I realized that Sylvenson was another statistic of a baby that didn't survive infancy. The only difference was that I knew this baby. He was only in this world for a mere 17 days. The Haitian proverb that I posted in my last blog has been going through my head all day "sa je pa weke pa tounen" which translated is "what the eye doesn't see, doesn't move the heart." The unfortunate truth is that we as Christians aren't called to live in a pretend bubble, but rather we are called to confront injustice. My pastor once said we are called to "be brave and not safe" and I truly believe this means even during times when we can't understand and it hurts the most.