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Ketly's Story
By Kathy Kangas
In late spring of 2004, Tyler and I visited Carrefour, a section
of Port-au-Prince, with a gentleman named Obenson
(How It All
Began). We were there to help Obenson with his “Ministry Taking
Care of Children.” This was our second trip to Carrefour with
Obenson, and we planned to meet the children he wanted us to
help him care for. Our goals were to meet the families, see the
needs first hand, and document through photos that each child
truly did exist.
It was just a few hours into our second day. We had been walking
around Carrefour meeting one family at a time, taking photos and
writing notes of each child, when we came to three factory
buildings. They were long buildings with no windows and just one
door at the front. Many families lived in these buildings, with
each family securing a section for themselves by hanging sheets.
Inside it was pitch black and intensely hot.
As soon as we arrived, the children, most of them without
clothes, surrounded us with big giant smiles. We were
interesting looking guests. Soon the parents
followed
their children in greeting us. We were the Americans that
Obenson had told them about. As people gathered about, a lady
holding a newborn caught my eye. She was a petite, older woman,
and the baby was her new granddaughter Babara, who she proudly
showed to everyone, including us. Babara was very small and
looked jaundiced, and I was concerned. Through our interpreter
Ernst, I asked about her and learned that she had been born one
week ago. Then I asked Ernst about the mother and requested that
she come out so I could meet her. (I have an extensive
background in childbirth having studied midwifery, taught
childbirth classes, and attended hundreds of births.) As soon as
I saw the mother up close, I knew she was sick. The young
woman’s name was Ketly. She was 18 years old and a single mother
living with her mother. She was suffering from sore breasts and
could not breastfeed, but I suspected she also had a uterine
infection, because even a week after delivery, she was still
having painful contractions.
By this time, Tyler had finished taking pictures, and the men
were preparing to leave. But in my heart, I knew I couldn’t just
leave. So I talked to Ernst about Ketly. His first response was
that there was nothing we could do. I explained to him, and he
explained to Obenson, that if we did not get medical attention
for Ketly and her baby, they would both die in a few days. After
a few moments of discussion concerning the cost and feasibility
of taking them to the hospital, we made the decision to put our
plans on hold and take Ketly and her baby to the hospital, which
was about a mile away. Tyler and I would assume responsibility
for payment. (In Haiti, patients aren’t even seen without
payment up front.)
We left the factory building and began the one-mile walk to the
hospital with Ketly, her baby, her grandmother, and a friend.
(Yes, we had to walk. There are no ambulances available in
Haiti.) I carried Babara because Ketly couldn’t. She was very
weak and struggled with each step to move forward, plus she was
having severe uterine contractions. On top of the infection,
Ketly hadn’t eaten in days and was likely malnourished. Tyler
walked next to her, and every few moments he offered to carry
her, but she declined.
When we finally reached the hospital grounds, some 30-40 minutes
later, we entered the first building we came to, only to
be sent to another building for the emergency room. Ketly and
Babara were allowed to go into the E.R. and lie on a bed while
Tyler, Ernst, and Obenson registered them and paid. An hour
later they returned with the news that payment had to be made in
Haitian currency, which we didn’t have. So I left with Obenson
to get a cash advance from my credit card to pay for Ketly’s
10-day stay. However, nothing is easy in Haiti. When we arrived
at the bank, we were told they wouldn’t do anything without my
passport. We left the bank, went to the hotel for the passport,
and returned. Then they would only give me U.S. money, but the
hospital had already told us they would only take Haitian
currency. So we were off looking for a money changer. Finally,
one and a half hours later, we returned to the hospital with the
necessary funds.
While I stayed with Babara in the ER, Ketly was sent to a
different building, with Tyler, Obenson, and Ernst in tow to
pay. Once payment was made, the men then needed to go to the
pharmacy (a different building on the same campus) to purchase
all the medical supplies that Ketly and the baby would need
while in the hospital. These included a thermometer, IV bags,
needles, etc. (Haitian hospitals do not provide patients with
any supplies—everything has to be purchased and given to the
nurse.)
The baby had not eaten in days, so she just slept while I kept
watch over her.
In
Haiti, everything is difficult. Things we take for
granted here in the United States, such as a
person’s medical needs taking priority over payment,
don’t exist there. Ketly and her baby were dying
from things that we wouldn’t imagine dying from in
the United States. But they couldn’t pay. In fact
they never even sought medical care, because it was
beyond their reach. Most Haitians cannot afford to
eat everyday, let alone see a doctor.
We at TLOT feel blessed that we were given the
opportunity to provide for Ketly and her baby. And
it is our hope, we can continue to step in for
others in Haiti, giving God all the glory.
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We were in a small
room with three beds and a single light bulb hanging off wires from
the ceiling. Next to us was a woman who sounded as though she was in
labor. Two young girls nervously watched her. I noticed a great deal
of blood on the floor and had concerns for her. After a little
while, the girls came over to ask me to look at their friend. They
were talking in Creole, but from their hand gestures, I figured out
that their friend was pregnant with twins, and the twins had died.
The laboring woman was lying on a bare mattress, unconscious and
unclothed. One leg was set in a stirrup, and the other hung off the
bottom of the bed. Occasionally she would thrash with her
contraction. I had to quickly let go of my American sense of
privacy, because if someone didn’t step in on her behalf, this woman
was going to die.
The men returned about an hour later, and now with an interpreter, I
was able to ask the nurse my questions about the young woman. She
needed a cesarean, but her husband had not yet come in with the
$200-payment for the procedure. Frantically, we tried to figure out
the financial details. First there was the procedure, the hospital
stay, drugs, medical supplies, and possible complications. But it
was all too late. As I checked in on her, she was agonal breathing
(a type of breathing that occurs right before death) and in a few
breaths she was gone. Instantly the air filled with the wailing
screams of the two young girls who had stood by their friend.
As I stood there listening, looking at the woman on the blood-soaked
bed. I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed. A laboring woman,
knowing she was in trouble, had somehow managed to get to a
hospital, only to lie on a bed and die because no one had come in to
pay. All the while, a doctor walked about totally unconcerned.
Finally, after all of this, Ketly and Babara were brought to their
rooms (mother and baby were housed in separate buildings). Ketly was
diagnosed with breast, uterine, and lung infections. With
antibiotics, she recovered slowly. Babara suffered from dehydration,
but she improved quickly with intravenous feedings and formula.
A few days after Ketly’s admission to the hospital, Tyler and I had
to return to the United States. However, we left Ernst and Obenson
with enough money to complete the payment for the hospital stay and
to buy food and formula for Ketly and Babara. Both men were so
faithful in their stewardship and visited Ketly and Babara everyday
to bring food and check on their progress.
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NKJV …If
anyone ministers, let him do it as with the ability
which God supplies, that in all things God may be
glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom belong the glory
and the dominion forever and ever, Amen
1 Peter 4:11 |
Today Ketly is
involved in our WORK Haiti Program and is one of our
cross-stitching ladies. Tyler and I have a very special bond
with her and feel as if she is our own daughter. We are happy to
have been a part of Ketly’s and her baby’s recovery.
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