at 6:30PM on good friday, g, helen, the baby & i sit in a dingy doctor's office in a clinic down the road from our hotel lit by a single light bulb on a side wall asking ourselves once again, "how the hell did we get here"?
it was decided that the baby would stay with us at the hotel all day friday. she arrived with marie and toto around 10am. she'd fallen asleep en route, so i immediately took her into out room. g stayed behind to "converse" with marie. marie is wonderful, but without a real translator, it's not easy.
i took the baby into our room and she slept. it was an amazing hour for me. for once, i could literally watch her unencumbered. i felt bad for g, but she joined us soon enough, as toto drove marie home.
we were both standing over her as she awoke and she turned her eyes from me to g. i'm used to kids crying waking up. this was more like, 'yeah, seen you … uhm, where am i?' and this went on for 5 minutes, despite our
the day went relatively well, however, we'd noticed a lot her symptoms from before were still present. listlessness, a constant cough, a running nose (green snot), and of course the hernia. obviously, we knew the hernia would be dealt with in the states, however, the other still persistent symptoms needed to be dealt with. we felt a trip to the local deli-mart might help for some children's tylenol.
it was decided that helen, julia and i would make the walk as toto and wilguens were elsewhere during the afternoon. as i mentioned before, this was significant, as we'd never left the hotel on our own. the walk was fine. nothing much to speak of. the girls got some attention as we approached the crowded crossroads gas station, but all was good. unfortunately, from a short distance we could see the deli-mart was closed. it was late afternoon on good friday after all. we had basically run out of options and decided to return to the hotel.
as we're walking back i notice a dental office sign and the girls go through the gate and noticed a medical clinic upstairs. there was a nurse/receptionist at a desk in the front, and an old caribbean friend at the far end of the room … a blaring television (blown speaker optional) watched by no one. today being good friday was also "jesus movie day" in haiti. every channel ran cheesy 50s-70s american made jesus biopics. as i passed numerous tvs during the day, JC got blonder, whiter and more blue-eyed with each flick. his hair lighter and fluffier. like those moonlighting close-ups of cybill shepherd.
a doctor was summoned and through the miracle of broken french against gospel cacophony, a bottle of children's tylenol was produced in record time. he refused money for it, which was so typical in these cases-- and we could tell they needed money. we humbly thanked the staff and quickly returned to the hotel.
overreaction is def an american thing … parental overreaction is a new day epidemic. when we returned, we gave her meds, but we grew increasingly concerned about the baby's listlessness. supposition gave way to honorary med degrees for all and in no time, we were headed back down the sidewalk to the clinic. g, helen, myself and the baby making double time as daylight geared up for last call.
the tv was louder this time … and had a viewer. jesus was giving the loaves and fishes address. 'we need to see the doctor'. nurse/receptionist lost a little of her english in our attempts to speak french. finally a cheery patient with decent english, walking with a drip cart (if you have a better name for it, please let me know), and a ravenous desire to talk brooklyn neighborhoods arrived to help with the discourse. after about 10 minutes we were led into dingy doctor's office … lit by a single light bulb on a far wall … no tv, but kinda-tuned radio playing low enough to drive you insane. our goal was antibiotics, pure and simple. we have no doubt when baby gets here, a dose of US meds will solve all that ails, but in the meantime, since we have no idea how long that will be, we need her on something. this leads to another discussion with nurse/receptionist. it is divulged we are adopting her. lightbulb goes off over nurse's head. she departs and returns. 'that will be $100'. i don't care to even ask what for, the 3 of us root through pockets and come up with a quick $100. she departs again and returns with blood test equipment. she approaches baby to start doing some vitals and cool customer baby wows us with her first ever FREAKOUT. it's then that we start to realize nurse has completely misunderstood us and thinks we need a complete blood work analysis done for adoption purposes-- something that was done months ago. it's at this moment that helen also sees the word "antibiotiques" on a poster … ok, this will be easy … no blood test needed, this "antibiotiques" word here, and we'll be on our way … no such luck.
from this moment on, we became sort of, trapped in the darkest doctor's office in the world. it began with us saying, 'you know what, we'll just get out of here'. we'd decided maybe it was just better to get her home and to her own doctor first thing in the morning (something that might have crossed our mind an hour earlier!!!). 'we'll just take the $100 back and be on our way'. nurse is getting a little weird, coming and going. keeps the 'stay right here, doctor is coming to sort this out' thing to the nth degree. gets a little rashomon here. narrator is thinking cut losses get the hell out of dodge, helen thinks that THEY might think there is something untoward going on and they're calling authorities, and g wants some GOTDAM antibiotics. whichever was best or worst decision is moot as nurse walks back in in complete stall mode … 'THE DOCTOR IS COMING NOW' … pregnant pause
ACT III.
literally out of nowhere, the door opens and toto bursts through. my first thought was 'toto's a doctor???' julia follows right behind. i'm still piecing this together as toto is freaking. 'i came back to the hotel and you were gone! i started crying thinking something had happened! we came right here!' words cannot describe how much i adore this man. within a minute, he bulldozed our way out … yeah, $100 lighter … that's a donation i'm proud to have made. i don't think there was ill intent, just a lot of miscommunication. i'm sure they're still telling the story of the crazy american's …
the baby was asleep as we got into toto's car and headed back down the road. another pitch black drive to croix-des-bouquets. as we approach the end of the drive the silence is suddenly broken by the sounds of a rah rah on the roadside. if you're unfamiliar, it's very much in the same vein as the second line in new orleans. a traveling party of drums, brass and whatever else makes it. they were directly across the street from marie's house. soundtrack to our baby's arrival. toto called marie's name from the yard, the house girls quickly grabbed the baby and brought her inside. she woke and we said our goodbyes hopefully for the last time.
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the drive to the airport was brief. i couldn't stop thinking about my son. i was worried about the flight. i hate that my wife and i are on the same flight. i had actually been having dreams leading up to our trip that our flight didn't make it. my take off and landing ritual on every leg was a quietly spoken apology to my son. this is not fair to him. as great as the outcome will be, it's not fair to roll those dice. but i have to remind myself, neither is walking out the door in the morning.
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this is the first time returning that we've actually seen our son a bit unbalanced by our being gone so long. don't get me wrong, he had a blast with his various grandparents and cousins, but he was a little demanding of answers when we returned. as he should be.
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