Put the lime in the coconut.

I came to Haiti knowing I had a mild heart condition known as SVT (supraventricular tachycardia) it is where your heart, for no apparent reason, starts to beat at a much accelerated rate, mine getting up to 200 bpm. When I left the states I had an episode that I had to be “converted” in the hospital this had never happened before and it was over in a second. I told the cardiologist that I subsequently saw that I was going to Haiti and I was concerned about this happening there. He assured me that my condition was pretty common and that every hospital has the chemical that would convert my heart. So, I left for Haiti with little trepidation.

While in Haiti my heart did have a couple moments of rapid heart rate, but I was able to convert it on my own by submerging my face in cold water. Everything was going great until the last two days of my stay. We were working feverishly at trying to get the houses done as much as possible before the big Expo when my heart decided to take off just as we were finishing lunch. Getting my face in cold water proved to be problematic. I resorted to filling a lunch bag full of our drinking water and submerging it while we tried to navigate the roads and the traffic in Haiti. This worked for a moment and then it kicked right back in. This caused me some concern because this had never happened before. My project manage drove to a restaurant and broke back some ice in order to make the water a bit colder. I got a great case of brain freeze, but no re-setting of my heart rate. I told the PM that it was time to go to the hospital. Well, this became quite the adventure.

The PM then became a man with a mission. He called to find out where the closest hospital was. He drove like a mad man through the congested streets yelling at people in Creole to get out of his way. We got to a trauma hospital and it was in full swing people yelling, running, sweating. They were manned by many doctors without borders and one of them came up to our car and did an intake. He checked my rate which was about 185 and said he would try to help. He left and came back to tell us that they were overwhelmed with gunshot wounds and advised us to go to another hospital. He told me to stay calm and ran off stethoscope swinging.

We were off again we got general instructions on where the next hospital was and we dashed back into traffic. My oxygen levels were going down in my blood and I was feeling quite light headed. When I told the PM that I may pass out he went into overdrive. He pulled into a place that had a police car and insisted that they give us an escort. By this time my blood had been coursing through my kidneys at such a high rate that I had to pee really bad. He told me to go in the street like the rest of the Haitians. I was not quite ready to do that. My work partner helped me into the store we stopped in front of and as the PM convinced to police to help us he convinced that folks inside to let me use their bathroom. I looked like shit by this time.

We took off with our police escort and wound our way through mid-day traffic to the sound of sirens, horns, and yells from by standers. When it became apparent that we were able to get through traffic quicker than anyone else we began to have a parade behind us. I now find that part quite humorous. We finally made it to the hospital and I was in rough shape. I was sweating and my breathing was labored my heart was beating like a bat out of hell and my vision was beginning to telescope. We had to go to three different gates in order to find the correct one. The PM was getting more livid. Finally we got to the correct gate and in we went. There was no reception and in fact it was difficult to tell which person to talk to first.

Thankfully the PM found a doctor and proceeded to tell him what my condition was and what I had instructed him what needed to be done. The nurses were trying to get a blood pressure on me and were not successful. They squeezed my arm so many times and so tightly that my whole arm went numb. I told them that they needed to try the other arm because the one they were using didn’t have any blood left in it. The doctor tried to get a BP and was checking my pulse with his thumb. I wasn’t impressed and asked if there was an American doctor on site (I meant one that spoke English) I pissed the first doctor off and he left. The second doctor spoke a little English and understood what my condition was and determined a course of action. I did not recognize the medication that he was considering and wanted to talk to my daughter before they injected me with anything.

A nurse hooked me up to oxygen, but didn’t turn it on. An orderly looking guy came in with another patient and glanced at the tank beside me and immediately came over and turned it on. A little later the nurse turned it off again. I don’t know what that was all about, but it happened three times. He would turn it on and say something to her and after a while she would come over and turn it off. I finally just took it off my head when I wasn't dizzy anymore.

I got a hold of my daughter and she gave me the spelling of the medication that they used in the states that converted me before. The doctor said they didn’t have that medicine, but he felt the alternative would help. She said what they wanted to use was a beta blocker and it would be ok, it would just take a while. I received my first injection. The nurse did a good job with this. When my color came back and the oxygen was helping my head not be so foggy my work mates headed out to close up our work site and would return.

The ER of this hospital is open air and has no curtains. All of the patients lay on rubber beds facing each other. After a while the sweat under my body became unbearable because of the rubber and I got off the bead and sat in a chair. They don’t use sheets. I watched people undress, bleed, spit, vomit and sleep and they watched me. There was one young man that woke up while I was there and would just watch me. So, I just watched him. I finally gave him a little wave and he gave me a peace sign. We were friends. He had malaria and vomited several times while I was there. He needed a mom. I gave him the best mom look I could, I think he appreciated it.

After two hours the doctor came back and my rate had come down a little, to 160. He then said that he would give me the medicine I requested when I got there, the medicine that he had told me that they didn’t have. He explained that they don’t have the proper monitoring equipment and he was not comfortable giving me the medicine, but he wanted my rate down. My friends were not back and the phone I had couldn’t get through to the states. I looked him in the eyes and said, “Let’s do it.” He nodded and went and got the nurse. The nurse was the only one around when she gave me the shot and then left, so much for even primitive monitoring. The young man across from me watched me though and that made me feel better.

I had to use the bathroom while there and they pointed in the direction of the toilette. They didn’t walk me there and there was not sink or toilette paper. I managed.

When my friends got back the doctor was confident that I would be fine. I wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t want them to give me any more medication so I was ready to die either in traffic or up at the B & B. The doc said he would give me a beta blocker to take with me in case I had more trouble. My rate was still pretty high, but they had done all they could do. The doc couldn’t find any pills that were beta blockers so he gave my two syringes and a vial of beta blockers. He said to only inject 2.5 ml at time if my rate got up to 185 again. I thanked him for not killing me (I kept that to myself) and put my boots back on and began to leave. I looked at each of my roommates and gave them a nod. When I got to the young man with malaria I touched my heart and nodded to him. He touched his heart and then kissed his fingers and then pointed at me. I smiled and cried a little. We are all just human beings trying to make it through this existence best we can.

When we left the hospital we had to be decontaminated. We washed out hands in bleach water and they sprayed the bottom of our shoes.

By the time we got to Satigny my heart rate was better, but my chest really hurt. I think I bruised the inside of my rib cage. What a day.