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Editor's note: The Rev. Toby Nelson has been in Haiti since Jan. 15. The Nevada City resident is chaplain and mental health officer for DMAT CA-6 — Disaster Medical Assistance Team, California 6, from the Bay Area. He is in Pétionville, about an hour from Port-au-Prince — the same town little Claire Bryditzki is from. He wrote this on Thursday:
Today I joined a strike team (four medics, three solders from the 82nd Airborne Division) and walked into the Tent City for hours.
We were swarmed by thousands of long-suffering people who lined up at 7 a.m. and waited all day in the tropical sun to get an MRE (meals ready to eat). Our task was to walk through the masses, identifying injuries and wounds.
We found numerous people with gangrenous wounds and drained cups of puss from others. All the procedures were done while kneeling on a dirt trail while people and goats walked past.
Those we could not treat we either sent to our medical surgery or we passed over. The surgery units (green, yellow, red) performed 140 procedures that strike teams could not do.
One EMT pulled 7 inches of gauze out of a badly infected head wound previously sutured over. While another EMT was operating on a two-year boy, he said, “What the hell is this?” and pulled a 1-inch stone from an already stitched wound.
Someone is practicing bad medicine that will kill people. No babies were born; three died.
This afternoon, I rounded up five pastors in Tent City to discuss long-term recovery. We helped the pastors craft messages. I am so proud of them for their competence and care for their people.
The pastors and churches had already set up a leadership team and organized Tent City into five neighborhoods. Tomorrow morning, I meet with them to organize the food distribution and locating medical clinics to serve 50,000-plus people.
Passing by people whom we cannot treat in 90 seconds consigned several to a lingering death. So far, I am choosing not to feel guilty, but I certainly feel profoundly sad. Their crushing need forces us to move on to the next person ... and there are thousands more.
Ninety seconds for each one.
At the United States Embassy, we competed with worms in our sleeping bags. Here, the RNs scream when a fist-sized tarantula surprises them.
My head injury is better today. I'm way too tired and need to sleep. My accumulated fatigue is causing short-term memory loss and difficulty naming common objects such as a spoon.
As tough as this assignment is, I would rather be here than anyplace else. Please pray that I don't say something stupid.
God is able.
Chaplain Toby Nelson
Today I joined a strike team (four medics, three solders from the 82nd Airborne Division) and walked into the Tent City for hours.
We were swarmed by thousands of long-suffering people who lined up at 7 a.m. and waited all day in the tropical sun to get an MRE (meals ready to eat). Our task was to walk through the masses, identifying injuries and wounds.
We found numerous people with gangrenous wounds and drained cups of puss from others. All the procedures were done while kneeling on a dirt trail while people and goats walked past.
Those we could not treat we either sent to our medical surgery or we passed over. The surgery units (green, yellow, red) performed 140 procedures that strike teams could not do.
One EMT pulled 7 inches of gauze out of a badly infected head wound previously sutured over. While another EMT was operating on a two-year boy, he said, “What the hell is this?” and pulled a 1-inch stone from an already stitched wound.
Someone is practicing bad medicine that will kill people. No babies were born; three died.
This afternoon, I rounded up five pastors in Tent City to discuss long-term recovery. We helped the pastors craft messages. I am so proud of them for their competence and care for their people.
The pastors and churches had already set up a leadership team and organized Tent City into five neighborhoods. Tomorrow morning, I meet with them to organize the food distribution and locating medical clinics to serve 50,000-plus people.
Passing by people whom we cannot treat in 90 seconds consigned several to a lingering death. So far, I am choosing not to feel guilty, but I certainly feel profoundly sad. Their crushing need forces us to move on to the next person ... and there are thousands more.
Ninety seconds for each one.
At the United States Embassy, we competed with worms in our sleeping bags. Here, the RNs scream when a fist-sized tarantula surprises them.
My head injury is better today. I'm way too tired and need to sleep. My accumulated fatigue is causing short-term memory loss and difficulty naming common objects such as a spoon.
As tough as this assignment is, I would rather be here than anyplace else. Please pray that I don't say something stupid.
God is able.
Chaplain Toby Nelson
