HOPE

Good morning,

After 14 hours from Jacmel to Port-au-Prince, Port-au-Prince to Santo Domingo (and a restless night), we now turn to home.

I peer through the window at my departure gate to see our ride home. I rub my eyes and clearly see that the tail of the aircraft has a Pittsburgh Steelers emblem boldly displayed on it. Being a Dallas Cowboys fan since I was a child this is much to my chagrin. Humorously, it clearly illustrates the fact that some one is trying to send me straight to HELL!!

Maybe it is my brothers of Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity, Inc., or maybe its my family and friends trying to set up the ultimate episode of MTV's Punk'd. While collectively, I have the greatest set of friends and family a man could have, only they could set the stage like that with a straight face. All of this serving as the usual pool of comic relief I drown myself in daily while at home. Laughter cures all pain.

I want you all to know (friends, family and complete strangers) that you have been a strong support system throughout my journey.

Many positive images have been dancing in my head as I awaited the airport shuttle. My wife's gentle embrace and comforting voice; the smiles, laughter and tears of my two children who have missed me dearly (my wife tells me Dru hugged my pillow two days ago); Me kissing the ground when I arrive in Philadelphia.

Additional thoughts give me a warm heart as well- the Cubans and their evolution of understanding, that while worlds apart we are still the same; the many smiles I have seen along the way; all of the hugs I have received from total strangers.

Two nights ago, 12 little girls appeared on the roadside as we walked back to the hotel in the moonlight. Their ages probably ranged from 4 to 10 years of age.

Believe it or not with wide smiles, they clapped.

You don't have to speak Creole or understand French to perceive and comprehend the universal body language for appreciation.

The "blue shirts" (referring to our scrubs) as we were now known in the town of Jacmel, were doing wonderful things for the Haitian people. We have served as their beacons of hope as the word has spread around town.

In stark contrast to this, I am trying to suppress some of the grim images that I have seen here. Undeniably, they will forever be emblazoned on the walls and storage vaults of my mind. I am fighting tears even as I write this passage. When did I become such a cry baby? Calm, cool, and collected is my usual state but I am still searching for the answers.
All I can say is, I have a heart and two eyes.

I see a man who has lost his wife and two of his seven children to the quake. We provided him with food and one of our six man tents so that he may house his family and "pick up the pieces". He has lost everything. By the way where does one begin?

I see dead bodies piled up in the open spaces and people setting fire to them for disposal while children play double dutch in open fields and lots. Many of them have no parental supervision simply because their parents are dead.

I see the young child with the open thigh wounds and her mother giving her feculent water from a pothole simply because there is no suitable drinking water.

I see people who are complaining of chest pain, not because they have true cardiac disease, but because they have post traumatic stress disorder and are in need of psychiatric care. Their chests weigh heavy from despair.

I see numerous people being kept in living quarters that are not suitable for swine.

I see many sectors of the government that do not function for the people because of greed, corruption, and material gain. Remorse, compassion, humanity, and sympathy do not exist in many instances.

I see a woman that needs an amputation of her foot because there are now flies and maggots in her wounds. She can no longer dress the wound and walk around.

I see mistreatment and injustice for our fellow human beings.

Close your eyes. That is easy to do. For with that action you will make the images go away but for a brief moment.

Instead, I challenge you today to open them wide and pay attention to what is happening around you. I simply made a conscious decision to try and make a difference.

The final image for all of you, which I will never forget, is the ascent of an angel with a tail rotor, headed out to sea. Aboard was two month old Baby Frantz Santius. Mother Haiti's tears of blood have now turned into a river of HOPE.

We are descending into Philadelphia now and as I study the yellow arm bracelet with the impression reading LIVESTRONG on it there is new meaning.

This entry is dedicated to the strong, beautiful and courageous people of Haiti. May God grant you grace.

Respectfully,

Dr. Steven Andrew Johnson
General and Trauma Surgeon,
Surgical Intensivist
Associate Chief, Acute Care Surgical Division
Christiana Hospital
Newark, DE