One Little Boy and a Starfish

One little boy sits amid a tent city of thousands

With the immensity of Haiti's destruction, I often wonder if my efforts are futile. A close friend offered the following...

One morning an elderly man was walking on a nearly deserted beach. He came upon a boy surrounded by thousands and thousands of starfish. As eagerly as he could, the youngster was picking them up and throwing them back into the ocean.

Puzzled, the older man looked at the young boy and asked, "Little boy, what are you doing?"

The youth responded without looking up, "I'm trying to save these starfish, sir."

The old man chuckled aloud, and queried, "Son, there are thousands of starfish and only one of you. What difference can you make?"

Holding a starfish in his hand, the boy turned to the man and, gently tossing the starfish into the water, said, "It will make a difference to that one!"

A Compasionate Moment

A husband sleeps next to his wife's bed as she slowly recovers from her wounds. It's the family members that are providing the vast majoring of the care here in post-earthquake Haiti.

Late at night I walk through the hospital checking on patients as they sleep on stained cots, their family members are laying on the ground next to them. I'm constantly approached by panicked family members begging me in very broken English to come and look at their loved ones. They grab at my hand and plead, "Doctor, doctor...please come. Come please". I fight to be compassionate, but the urge to dismiss their concerns is strong. I follow a "real physician" into the shadows of a darkened tent, a single candle burns on a rickety table covered with medical refuse from the day before. I watch the physician deal with the panicked father/son/brother as it's evident that the cause of his angst was an IV bag that has run it's course. The physician smiles and pats the man's shoulder telling him as best that he can through a smile and a gesture that it's OK. The man relaxes and I'm standing there in awe. Certainly the physician is medically talented, but to be able to muster that sort of focused compassion amidst all of the suffering was truly inspiring for me. Simply awesome.

Making Do

I've been spending the last couple of days working in a Haitian hospital, needless to say the conditions are pretty desperate. There is an army of healthcare professionals that has descended on this country, bringing with them countless tons of medical supplies. Still the conditions remain austere and physicians, paramedics and nurses must often scrounge around to find the appropriate equipment to do their jobs. It's forcing us to think harder, to make due without, and to improvise with what we have on-hand. More often than not the availability of supplies and equipment dictate what procedures we can and cannot do for the patient. We don't run a lot of labs, only those that are absolutely essential. We may not have the appropriate sized catheter or even the next one up or down: we'll make the one that we have work. No laryngoscope blades? Time to refresh ourselves on digital intubation. This is austere medicine at its finest, and it's challenging our knowledge and inventiveness, and in the end making us all better physicians and medics.

A Shared Existence

A boyfriend or husband helps a girl place a basket on her head so that she can walk the streets and sell their fruit.

There's a current rush by organizations and companies to get into Haiti and plant their flag, to show that they were here as part of the international relief effort. Some of these organizations treat this as a windfall public relations opportunity, swooping in to grab some video footage for their website or fund raising campaign, and then retreating back to where they came from. Certainly this is not true of every organization working in Haiti, but it is still very prevalent among security companies, recovery organizations, and even some church-based relief. I find this sad in a way, and it angers me a bit, but I suppose it's their karma that they will have to deal with. On some other level it is all of our karma, we reap what we sow, and in the end we are all responsible together.

The Other Side Of The Line

Two young girls living in a tent shanty-town

I've traveled back to Haiti, this time with my camera and MacBook Pro. I just need to get out and shoot a bit. From what I've seen, this city can occupy a photographer for a lifetime. The street scenes are rich with humanity and color, and there seems no end to interesting subjects.

Everyone asks me what I think of the Haitian people and I always tell the same story, that of every Haitian smiles and waves back at you. Maybe I'm simple, but I really like this aspect of the country; it's something that is becoming rare in the United States. The more jaded of the population claim that Haitians only smile if you have something in your hand. Maybe that's so, but my hands are rarely empty so I can't prove the theory.

I can't describe the destruction, part of me actually refuses to even try. The story here is life; the fact that people, everyone, have lost loved ones and still continue to endure. I have to admit that before coming to Haiti I was pretty down on the country and it's people. How can a single island be divided by an arbitrary line, and one half prosper while the other remains mired in desperation and suffering? Over time I've come to admire the people who live and struggle on this side of the line, they endure, rebuild, and move on.

Right Intention

I tell people that my three week trip to Haiti was good for the soul, but I'm now having issues with that statement. It sounds as if I am recommending that people should go to Haiti for their own personal fulfillment or enlightenment, placing the needs of the earthquake victims a distant second to one's own ego. This is clearly not desirable and seems to contradict the Buddhist Eight-Fold Path, Right Intention.

I spoke with a freelance photographer while I was there and she claimed that her goal was to return to the civilized world all but naked, both physically and emotionally. In other words, she planned to give away all of her clothes, luggage, money, and other possessions that she brought with her save for her camera and the most basic attire that would allow her to travel back to the United States. Emotionally she wanted to give completely and wholly of herself until she had nothing left to give, at which point she would board a plane heading home. I stood there amazed at the dedication of this one person, her commitment to help the people of Haiti If you asked the question, What would Jesus or Buddha do...? Yea, that would be it.

Haitian Mountains

I know it's been a while, but...

I'm just back from three weeks in Haiti, and have so much to write about. My problem is that I don't know where to start, so I'll shotgun it.

Firstly, I deployed so fast from where I was in New England that I didn't have an opportunity to grab my camera from Atlanta. I'm an idiot for that.

Haiti was desperate before the earthquake, and now it is more so. I discovered that the Haitians have a saying, "Behind every mountain is another mountain". That speaks volumes to the plight of the Haitian people.

Every Haitian will smile at you if you smile first. I've found this to be true without exception; young and old, wealthy or destitute. I was amazed at this, and I'll tell you that Port Au Prince is a far more friendly city than Boston.

The media was initially up in arms that aid was not getting to the people immediately after the ground stopped shaking. It takes a bit of time to mobilize that aid and even just get it into the country. I understand that people were desperate for help, but there is not a US aircraft carrier parked off every coastline loaded with aid and medical supplies just waiting for a natural disaster. These things take a bit of time to come together.

There was an awesome medical response to the disaster. Legions of physicians, nurses, and paramedics descended on Haiti and began work immediately, most often with little or no supplies, in buildings that were about to crumble around them. They did the best that they could, and I was speechless at their efforts.

I have a plane to catch and will add more focused thoughts later. -eric

Living The Dream

I've started doing something that I've wanted to do since I was 9-years old, to learn to fly. When I was growing up I dreamed of being an Air Force fighter pilot. My adolescent career path had me attending the US Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, which in my opinion was the most efficient way of getting me into the cockpit of an F-16. When it came time to start getting my ducks in order and to apply for a Congressional nomination, I did not. I chose to listen to people around me stating that it was almost impossible to get in, that my grades were not up to par, that I wasn't doing enough extracurricular "stuff", or that the odds were too long. In the end I walked away from my dreams of being a pilot.

Oddly enough, years later when I was a Green Beret officer I met several Air Force and Naval aviators, only to discover that they were no different than me; not any smarter, no less motivated, and often less skilled. I painfully realized my error of youth, I let someone talk me out of something that I desperately wanted, and since that time I've counseled countless young adults to never let it happen to them. "Never, ever let someone talk you out of your dreams".

So here I am thirty years later making amends and finally living the dream.

Guinness and Atrophy

I completed my last triathlon of the '09 season sixty days ago, and at the end of the race I was not only physically exhausted but mentally burnt out as well. The endless days and weeks of 2-3 workouts a day had taken their toll, and as I crossed the finish line I told myself that I was done, that the next workout will be sometime in January.

For the last two months I've eaten anything that I wished, tipped back a bunch of Guinness and Laphroaig, and worked on other interests like bagpiping and getting my private pilots license. Last night I had a huge bowl of cookie-dough ice cream, the tan lines have all faded and the hair on my legs has returned with abandon.

This morning before dawn I laced up the running shoes for the first time, and headed out on a run that two months ago would have been so inconsequential that I would have passed on it; 4 miles nice and easy. I was shocked to see how much my condition had atrophied in the weeks that I had taken off. My knees hurt due to the muscle imbalance in my legs, my core was all over the map, and leg muscles were string-tight threatening to pull at any moment. At 46-years old I can see now how fleeting physical condition is.

Five to six hours a week; that's what I've now promised myself until January, enough to stop the free-fall of my physical condition. If not, it'll be a long, painful haul back into race shape for an early season half-Ironman.

A Life

“Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in that grey twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.”
-Theodore Roosevelt

Karma's A Bitch

An elderly woman lies strapped to a bed in the emergency room. She's taken a fall at her house and has severe injuries to her face and head. She is alone in the room; tubes and monitor wires run out from underneath the sheet that is supposed to keep her warm. The monitor glows green with her "numbers", and the 1,000 cc bag of normal saline has almost run it's course.

In her loneliness she cries out in pain, begging God, or anyone for that matter, to help her. Tears run down her cheeks. The neck collar prevents her head from moving but her aged eyes move back and forth searching for someone that can alleviate her pain. Moans turn into screams...desperation and agony set in.

I asked the nurse if we couldn't give the elderly lady something to make her more comfortable. Through the backdrop of screams the indignant nurse informs me that "She's 90-something years old, she doesn't feel any pain", and makes her way to another room. Huh?

I walked into the Doctor's Lounge and found the attending physician. "I'm giving the lady in Room 6 five of morphine". The doctor looked up from what he was reading, "OK".

I demanded the morphine from the same nurse, invoking the physician's orders and soon the patient was blissfully asleep.

I've run into this grotesque attitude before from nurses, physicians, paramedics, and all other manner of heath care "professionals"; that of compassion equates to weakness and inexperience. Many try to pretend that they are so endowed with medical knowledge and experience that only they can recognize the true medical emergencies worthy of their limited compassion. All others are pushed to the curb, compassion be damned. Karma's a bitch!

"They'll Fight Over It When You're Dead".

I ran across a signature in a blog the other day that stated, "When discussing the shelf life of Twinkies, the limiting factor is the life of the shelf". This made me laugh because I've always been attracted to things that are designed to last longer than I am.

Not too long ago I discovered Saddleback Leather's briefcase; 100-year guarantee. I think I just bought a present for my great-grandson (or daughter). I hope they enjoy it.

Happy Birthday

Maine in the fall. I love the crisp air that bites at you in the early morning and the leaves under feet.

I was speaking with a fellow paramedic yesterday and we were relating calls that just make you cringe. As a very senior medic, hers won. Apparently she had been called to the scene of a domestic dispute where an intoxicated guy threatened to cut his unborn child out of his 24-week pregnant girlfriend. In his rage he broke a beer bottle and sliced open the girl's abdomen.

When the paramedic arrived the police had the guy in handcuffs, and the girl was taking her last breaths as she lay in a massive sea of blood. The crew quickly loaded the woman in the ambulance and rushed the 30+ miles to the hospital, doing CPR the entire way on the obviously dead woman in an effort to supply enough oxygenated blood to the tiny fetus struggling inside.

When they arrived at the hospital the surgeons completed the cesarian section and delivered the fetus, about the size of a small hand.

That fetus is a 24-year old woman today. Simply awesome.

Sunset

The sun sets into the Jordanian desert.

I just got back from a week of working as a paramedic on the 911 trucks in extreme rural Georgia. To say that it was "eye-opening" would be both a cliché and an understatement. I worked hard, pulling some long shifts on sparsely equipped ambulances; treating and transporting patients to distant, austere emergency rooms.

No one particular patient stands out from the dozens and dozens that I treated. I know that two had died despite my best efforts. I'm still struck by the fact that I don't remember them, even though I was there beside them for the second most important day of their lives. I know that I tried, desperately to breath life back into limp bodies, pushing countless medications, electrical shocks, CPR, oxygen. Repeat over and over again, looking for the right bleep on the cardiac monitor or the faintest of pulses. They never came. The end of someone's life is best described as a whisper and not a thunder clap. They go quietly despite your pleas otherwise.

Don't Do It!

A helmet rests on a the handlebars of a San Francisco police motorcycle. Note that the officer secured the helmet with his handcuffs.

There has been a rash of break-ins in our neighborhood lately. People are forcing their way into homes in the late evenings and quickly taking what they can get their hands on. Fortunately no one has been home during these unfortunate events.

I'm disturbed by what I may have to do should we fall victim to a home invasion like this. I've decided that I would let them take whatever they want, but I will not risk for a moment my family's health and safety over the event. Certainly there must be a better way to make a living as a criminal than entering a dark house with an unknown floor plan, and possibly finding an armed, well-trained home owner inside. I can't imagine such a stupid undertaking.

Michelle

Today is my wife's birthday, and I had this shot framed for her office wall. First day of school, an emotional moment for both Mom and son.

A Buddhist in Church

Turtles sunning themselves on a log inside a San Francisco garden. Does having a buddha nature make the turtles Buddhist?

I attended my brother's wedding this weekend in a small chapel just outside of Raleigh, North Carolina. The ceremony was nice, small and non-denominational; and as I stood there looking around at the trappings of Christendom I examined my own thoughts and feelings. My initial impression was, "I'm Buddhist and not Christian, so I'll just sort of suffer through all of the Bible stuff." I immediately recognized this as 1) not being very Buddhist, and 2) teetering on the edge of religious snobbery at best, and intolerance at worst.

My thoughts and feelings as I stood there embarrassed me, and I believe this stemmed from my attachment to being Buddhist, or moreover, non-Christian. If I had a truly open and receiving mind I would have found the grace in my surroundings and not all of these mixed up feelings of conflict and intolerance. Nice lesson learned. I need to explore it more deeply.

Adventures With A Wiggly Buddha

My son has started kindergarten and is a few weeks into it so far. He's doing well, but finds himself in trouble every once in a while for being "wiggly". I take that to mean that he can't sit still when he's supposed to.

I Googled "wiggly kids" and got back a plethora of ADHD stuff, which astounded me to say the least. I don't think that he needs Ritalin (methylphenidate); he needs to learn to sit in stillness, or relative five-year old stillness. Ahhh, this is something that I can show him how to do.

Every morning before school and at night prior to bedtime the two of us retreat into our home's little tatami-matted meditation space. He climbs up onto a cushion, easily folds his legs underneath himself, and places his tiny hands in the cosmic mudra. There we sit, slowly counting our mutual breaths. When he moves or "wiggles" we quietly start over. After a while he settles into it and sits there waiting for the next breath to appear.

When he's done he gets to sound the gong three times, bows in gasho, and quietly walks out of the room.

Last week he came home with a perfect report card. He was not spoken to once for being "wiggly". This week we're on the same trajectory.

No, I don't think a five-year old is going to grasp the Diamond Sutra any time soon, but he can learn to sit in stillness, to know what it feels like simply to sit and pay attention to what's in front of you. What a great life-skill!!

A Wee Bit Backwards

"If you're young and not a liberal, you have no heart; if you're old and not a conservative, you have no brain."

— Winston Churchill

I appear to be living my life backwards. Sorry Winnie.

When I was younger it was business school, MBA and the like. Now its more akin to medicine in austere environments and Buddhist studies. Growth? I guess it depends on perspective.

#2363 - Final Thoughts

Taken by my wife at the finish line.

Final thoughts on Ironman. I completed the event in the top third of the field, and am happy with that. It was a long and painful day, especially running the marathon after putting out so much effort on the 112-mile bike route. I struggled with every mile, and they seemed to get longer and longer as the race wore on. In the end, I was happy to cross the finish line, to see my wife and five-year old son waiting for me, along with a few thousand other people.

The best part for me is that my triathlon season is finally over. My next scheduled work out is some time in... January. I've spent countless hours training for this season, lately putting in 4-6 hours a day. I'm burnt out and need a break. I hear a set of bagpipes calling me along with their friend, a pint of Guinness.

On a side note:

Jeff posted a comment about Ironman saying, "That's crazy, I could never do that". Sorry buddy but I have to disagree with you. With a certain amount of training anyone can complete the event. Sure you may not win the race, but winning is really a relative thing anyways. Your only opponent is not the girl or guy ahead of you on the bike course, but rather it's the little, nagging voice in your head that is telling you, "This is crazy, I can never do this".