Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens

Does this thing still exist?! I’m not entirely sure where to go with this update because so much has happened since the last time I wrote…six months ago… So a brief synopsis: During April, May, and half of June, we ran mobile clinics. I basically went and checked out a bunch of tent cities and some orphanages, and then later we went back and did clinics there. At our very first clinic, we saw 140 patients. With four nurses. On the porch of an orphanage. During those clinics, we saw just about everything you can imagine. And most of the time, we had no doctor, so all the volunteers were turning to me for the final say on diagnoses or prescription. Interesting experiences.

            During May, we also got five dirt bikes which we will use in our EMS response. We can put a medic with a bag on the back of one and they can get through traffic a lot faster than a car in order to stabilize a patient until the ambulance gets there. There is a group of Haitians students who had received a bit of medical training and hope to work as EMTs (once EMTs exist in Haiti). We worked with them in February during Carnival in Les Cayes. Mid-May we began training them to be the medics for our motorcycles. For about a week straight, every day when I got home from clinic, someone was coming up to me with some injury they got while training on the bikes. Even the teacher got an injury. Not his fault, though, one of the girls injured them both somehow. By that point, I was just bandaging whatever wound came in front of my eyes next. But they all lived to attend the classes we began in the beginning of July.

            So finally, what we’ve been working towards for over two years is here! We signed an agreement with the Haitian Ministry of Health and are in charge of their EMS system. Whatever training curriculum we come up with they will accredit and make the national standard. We also sort of became responsible for a lot of other things, like procuring the supplies for their ambulances (a recent donation from Brazil…35 of them). In the deal, we got two ambulances of our own. They have State plates on them, which Adam says basically means you can run over a cop and no one can stop you. That also means I’m allowed to drive. We have a limited number of people here who can drive a stick shift, and I’m one of them. So State plates and stick shift was the key to me getting the keys. Not only that, but the ambulance that I drive is the one for official use if needed. So if the President goes down, he goes in my ambulance.

            But just so we don’t get carried away with things going well and falling into place, let’s just have a little reminder that this is Haiti. Our very first day of class, for some reason (which I can no longer remember), we had no breakfast. Not a problem for us necessarily, but we had agreed to feed our students breakfast and lunch. What most likely happened was that our cook ran out of supplies and neglected to tell us until we were asking where breakfast was that morning. She’s the sweetest woman, but for some reason just can’t understand why we ask her to let us know 48 hours ahead of when she thinks she’s going to run out of something. So Becky and Alex (an EMT who was here for the summer) ran down the road to a street food lady and asked if she would make us 30 peanut butter sandwiches. She agreed and they told her they would be back in 15 minutes for them.

We were rushing to get out of the house because we had to make a stop at the airport, as Becky was heading home for good and one of the volunteers also had to go back to the States. He had arrived the day before, promptly seized in the airport and then again in the grocery store later that day. We all had to pile into the pickup truck because our other vehicle needed a new registration. Which we couldn’t get because it had been backed into a Mercedes in the parking lot of a grocery store and the driver of the Mercedes wanted $1000 US. Because of that, there was a court date. Which our driver didn’t show up to. Therefore, there was a warrant out for our Defender. At the end of our road, we stopped by the street food lady to pick up our breakfast order. She hadn’t started making the sandwiches. Not only that, but we came to discover that she didn’t have peanut butter. So we thought if she just gave us the bread, we would buy peanut butter and the students could make the sandwiches themselves. She only had two rolls. So she had agreed to make us 30 peanut butter sandwiches without having any peanut butter or enough bread to put it on. Happy Monday, everyone.

            But we continued on, and, because it was rainy season, soon found ourselves stuck in a pit of mud. At this point, Becky, Alex, and I hopped out of the truck, and I started yelling for our volunteer to do the same. He was less than amused. He also didn’t seem to understand the urgency of getting to the airport on time and the way the car traffic was going to keep him from doing so. So Becky and Alex took off running down the road to flag down two motos so that by the time the slow volunteer and I got to them, we wouldn’t have to wait. We left the rest of the volunteers behind to dig out the truck. By the time he and I made it out to where Becky and Alex had the motos waiting, the truck had been freed and was driving up behind us. The volunteer wanted to just get back into the truck and drive to the airport. Again, for some reason he wasn’t connecting the bumper-to-bumper traffic and the fact that it wasn’t moving an inch to his inability to make his flight. So we forced him onto the moto, and Becky hopped on hers as well, and that is how I said goodbye to the closest friend I had here.

            The next details of the day are a bit fuzzy, but we must’ve dropped everyone off at the training compound and then Thony and I returned to the house to take Venese to the market. Alex stayed at the house to begin cooking what she could of lunch without Venese so that we could make it back to the training site in time. So the three of us get to the market, park the truck, and walk inside. We spent about an hour gathering all of our various items. When we went to return to the truck, it was gone. At first I thought it had been stolen (our back window was broken out…we got it replaced one time and that very night a doctor somehow broke it again). Anyways, after some investigating, we come to find (I believe from the sugarcane sellers we parked in front of) that our truck had been towed. Where to? No idea. Which police group? No idea. Well that’s great, so I guess we’ll just walk around the city until we find it?

            I sent Venese to go catch a moto so she could get back to the house and cook while we figured out what to do. Finally, I told Thony that we were going to rent a taptap. He looked at me for a bit, clearly not excited about the idea. There was one a few yards from us, and I asked him to go talk to the guy. Eventually we worked out a price and we headed for home.

            A very long time later, the food was finally ready. Alex and I got in our rented taptap and took off for the warehouse. When we arrived, we come to find that we are so late that all the students have already gone home. I hope everyone is incredibly hunger for rice and beans.

            Obviously, the days since have gotten better. Similar days occur every now and then, but that was probably the most ridiculous. (We managed to find our truck that day and get it back the next – it was taken to the police commissariat right next to our training facility.) We trained our own moto medics to the US equivalent of a first responder, and they are now working towards EMT-Basic. We are training the government employees (who are already working on the ambulances…I did a few calls with them to oversee and it’s a scary, scary thing) to the level of EMR for now and they will receive EMT training later. There are 80 MSPP (Ministry of Health/government) students. No one likes testing with me because they think I’m too difficult. I would rather call myself a perfectionist.

            It’s really exciting to see this finally coming together. We’ve all worked a long time for this, and we’ve done some strange and mildly disturbing jobs/patient transports to keep things moving. Obviously, it means a ton more work and me trying to put together EMS curriculum oddly enough, but so far it’s a good ride.

            Hurricane season makes things more interesting as well. They must’ve painted Isaac as a heart-wrenching story on the news in the States. I’ve heard from reporters that any time the media can connect a story to Haiti, they’ll do it. So despite what was said, at least for Port-au-Prince (where all the tent cities are that I’m sure they talked about), there was hardly any damage to think of. There was some wind and a continuous (but not heavy) rain for a day, but that’s all. It did manage to knock out one of the city’s main transformers, though, so we were without city power for a week. Apparently Joyce is heading our way next, so I look forward to whatever excitement that might bring.

            And in the midst of all these happenings these summer, I got a kitten. He is a spaz. I’ve never met a kitten who gets so wound up about things. Anything. Toilet paper, contact cases, coins, fans. He loves being with people and being held, but not like a normal cat. He likes to sit on my shoulder and nuzzle my ear. Or bite my earrings, depending on his mood. I have a shelving unit in my bathroom, which he has gotten quite good at climbing up. But getting down is something he still needs to master. Because of that, he’s taken to leaping from the top shelf (about 5 feet tall) onto my back while I’m brushing my teeth or doing something else unsuspecting. I do not find it amusing.

            We’ve had some trouble thinking of a name for the kitten…nothing seems quite right. So it was kind of like he was a Jewish kitten, not being named until the 8^th day or something, and therefore I thought he should have a Jewish name. My dad suggested Abram, but I felt like Mo (short for Moses) was the better option. But my name choice was vetoed, so (for now) he remains just Kitty. I thought Mo would’ve worked nicely, because it sounds just like “NO!”, which I say to him all the time.

Rocks and Rolling

This morning I was standing outside our gate with one of the women who works at the house watching Thony and Jean, our two drivers, try to start a pickup truck in the field across the way. At one point, some children came up the road and stood by us, the littlest girl taking inventory of everything she could see. “Cow, cow, cow, white person, cow cow…”

After that I returned to the house and perched on my stool for my day of computer work. It seems relaxing after the last two months we’ve had here. The other group we used to live with (but no longer do) came last weekend to reclaim their internet, so I’m still trying to figure out this irritating little white thing we got. A few days ago I was reading my devotion book and saw the words “We lose interest…” and read it as “We lose internet…” and I thought to myself, “Oh my word! Oswald Chambers was prophetic! And he knows just how I feel!”

            Anyways, a few highlights from the last few weeks. When I returned after Christmas, my cousin came with me. I thought it might be weird to have my two worlds mixing, but it wasn’t. We had kind of a low-key week, aside from trying to break into my old house. I think it all would’ve worked out if I had been wearing chacos instead of flip-flops. Next time. The more she saw, the more I realized I wanted her to see…how do you show somebody your life in one week?

            On her last night here, we were planning to just hang out and stay up talking. But while I was in the shower, Becky came into my bedroom and started yelling to me about how there was cholera somewhere. Apparently Jon had seen something on the internet but hadn’t actually been in touch with anyone about it. So we spent the next 14 or so hours trying to find someone who was actually in Pestel and could give us a read on the situation.

            There was a fair amount of debate between the two of us about whether or not we should go. Pestel is 8-10 hours away, and the number of cholera cases reported seemed incredibly insignificant for that amount of travel (obviously I mean numbers-wise…I’m sure the puking people feel that it’s significant). But our caravan headed out of the city around 6pm that evening, right as the sun was setting.

            As I’d only slept for two hours the night before, I found it really difficult to stay awake on the ride out. Thony and I were in our pickup, stuffed to the gills with supplies which meant I couldn’t put my seat back. But I also felt bad that he would be awake by himself. Not bad enough, though, because I still tried sleeping. I assumed every uncomfortable position I could think of and didn’t manage to sleep much, though I was still in some sort of fog. For the last three hours or so the roads were incredibly bumpy and I felt like we were just driving around lost, heading for the edge of the world. Katrina, our long-term volunteer who was awake, was commenting on the roads and said she took comfort in the fact that she knew I was praying. But we finally arrived around 3am…I have no idea how…and I was curled up on a cot under my towel in the freezing cold supply depot (it also doubles as a church) by 4:15.

            The issues in Pestel stemmed from the fact that they are up in the hills and the nearest cholera treatment center (CTC) is a several hour walk. So the group we stayed with out there was setting up their own primitive CTCs to try and fill the gap. (We ended up in meetings with WHO/PAHO about this when we arrived back in Port-au-Prince.) The man we were working with, George, is absolutely wonderful but not medical, and he was trying to learn as much as he could. We visited the different sites each day, some by truck, one by foot, taking care of the patients and trying to do some teaching.

            On Saturday afternoon, the team (with the exception of Jon and I) headed back to Port-au-Prince. Some had to get to the airport, and some had to meet incoming volunteers. We worked late that night at a clinic where the staff seemed to be encouraging the patients to die. Luckily there were only three patients so it wasn’t a fiasco to get under control. To avoid the cold, I took to sleeping inside the truck.

            We continued visiting clinic sites and rounding on the patients the next day, giving instructions to the nurses. We were on our way to the last site when we saw a crowd gathered along the side of the road. There were 15-20 people carrying a woman on a bedframe. They said she was 3 months pregnant and had been bleeding for 23 hours, so they were carrying her to the hospital. It would have been another two hour walk to the hospital they were going to. As we’d been there the day before, we knew they didn’t have any of the equipment they would need to assess and treat this woman.

            I examined the patient to the best of my ability and started a line on her. Jon had gotten a hold of a doctor we knew, and I explained what I was finding over the phone. I had told Jon earlier that I wasn’t sure this woman was actually pregnant – it seemed like her uterus was too big for 3 months and not in quite the right place. He asked what I thought it was, and I responded by saying that my guess would be a fibroid tumor, though that wasn’t necessarily the most educated of guesses. I relayed all this to the doctor, and she assured me that a baby at 12 weeks would be about that size. She then suggested that we do a pelvic exam and told us how to do it over the phone. I volunteered Jon for that task, as the instructions “A healthy cervix should feel like the tip of your nose” just weren’t convincing me that I would do it correctly or find what I was supposed to be looking for. Regardless, she needed an ultrasound, and the closest hospital that could do that was 4 hours away in Les Cayes.

            Jon and I decided that we would take her back to the camp with us and monitor her overnight, then head home early in the morning, dropping the patient off at the hospital on the way. We were still waiting on a contact to confirm that they would take her. We went to sleep around 1am, with the intent of getting up at 3, having everything ready to go by 5.

            So around 7am, we were finally ready to go. The woman and her bedframe and mattress were strapped into our pickup (a shortbed, so we let the tailgate down and tie backboards, etc. in with rope). Her husband and I were sitting on the side of the truck bed with her, and I was holding her IV. It was a painful ride. It was also really cold – I’m not sure I’ve ever prayed for the sun to hurry up and warm me in Haiti, but I did that morning.

The roads were actually really scary, and I was glad that it had been dark on the way there. About an hour into this journey (which we were anticipating would take about 6 hours, as we had to drive slower with our patient who was in a lot of pain), we were following a big truck up this ridiculously steep hill of big rocks and dirt. The truck was kind of like a dump truck, stuffed full of people, animals, vegetables, and other random things. I suddenly had this thought that maybe we shouldn’t be following it so closely in case something happened or it started sliding back down the hill. About the time I thought that, Jon stopped driving. Within several seconds of that, the back fell off the truck, and a woman fell out on top of it, along with some bags. A goat, which was tied inside the truck, also fell out. For some reason, I didn’t care about the woman; all I could focus on was this goat, bouncing and twitching off the end of this truck while it was being hung. Meanwhile, the truck kept going up the hill a little further. (The woman did get up and start walking then. She was fine, I assume she was just very sore the next few days.) When we drove past the truck, the goat was inside and was shaking itself off. I guess it’s hard to hang an animal with a neck that strong.

            The rest of that portion of the trip was much less eventful, and we actually made it to the hospital in 3 hours. I’m not sure if I could’ve sat in that position holding an IV bag for any longer. We met our contact who got us in and got our patient taken care of, and she then took us back to her house so we could recharge all of our electronics. We stayed there for several hours, then as we were leaving discovered that the keys were locked in the truck. Thankfully, the replacement window in the back of the truck doesn’t always go up straight. So we managed to stick a piece of rebar in from the back right window and hit the unlock button on the driver’s side. We made it home about five hours later.

            We were greeted by the rest of our team, which again included the boss, as Adam was back from Afghanistan. After a bit, Jon and Adam went out to catch up. I showered for the first time in five days, talked to Becky for a bit, then got ready for bed. It was nearly 11pm, I was exhausted from the lack of sleep and the conditions we’d been in for the previous six days, and I was just about to crawl into bed when Becky came into my room saying we had a call. One of the security guys we know had called to let us know there was a bad accident on Delmas. Most of our equipment was still packed into the Nissan, which was out with Jon and Adam. Who weren’t answering their phones. The Defender was out of commission, and Thony had taken the other vehicle home. So there was nothing for us to do but wake Thony up and ask him to come get us. So much for a quick response time. But it did give us a few moments to gather up other supplies.

            We raced down the empty roads in the back of the car, hoping we didn’t have a lot of people to put into it. Our backboards would have to lay sideways to fit, and they were tilted upwards since they were laying on the folded down backseat. On our way, we called another paramedic we knew to see if he might meet us there and bring some equipment. We had no idea what the situation was. He said he’d think about it. Great, thanks. I’m a nurse and Becky’s a newly licensed EMT, so we were trying to figure out exactly how to operate when we got there, depending what we found. Someone with a bit more prehospital experience would have been fantastic, but nevermind, we’ll do it ourselves.

            As we neared the end of Delmas 33, a crowd suddenly appeared. Thony parked the car a bit away, and we took off running. I was definitely not expecting what we found. Becky and I had come up with our plan (mostly), so as we neared what I thought was the main scene, I started giving instructions and making observations out loud. “Okay, moto vs. truck, that one’s dead, dead, move on and…whoa, Becky…what just happened here?” We stood there together, for the briefest of moments, confused. Hundreds and hundreds of Haitians were standing around watching, and there was big Caterpillar equipment in the street. We began running again and found some other responders, journalists, and UN police to explain what happened. A dump truck full of rubble was coming from the opposite side of the intersection and lost its brakes when it went to make the left turn. It took out a whole bunch of motos stationed at the corner, as well as street food vendors before it rolled onto its side and crushed three cars. Two of the cars were still underneath the truck, feet from where we stood. There were bodies everywhere. I’ve never seen anything like it.

            Becky and Thony and I stood together trying to figure out what to do next. The report was 56 injured, 27 dead. The survivors had been loaded up and taken to various hospitals, the last vehicle was just leaving as we arrived. (Many have since died.) So we needed to figure out if any of the trapped people we could see were still alive. One woman had had a pulse, but it was irregular, and then she lost it. My back was to the accident as we were talking. I can’t remember at this point what I said, but Thony responded to me by saying, “Adam is here!” “What?” “Adam, he is here, he is on the truck!” Of course he is. I turned around and there he stood on top of the wrecked dump truck. Which was also on the edge of a three foot wall. Becky and I ran over and found Jon. That was the best part of the evening – our team was separated and unable to communicate and we still ended up together at the accident scene.

            We remained there for about five hours. Adam was heading up the extrication and moving of the vehicles, as well as directing the equipment. They lifted the dump truck up a bit so we could pull out the black car, which no longer resembled a car at all. I’ve now told this story enough times that I can manage to censor it a bit. When we stepped in to pull out the car, the smell of blood was unbelievable. We removed four people from underneath the truck and in the vehicles. Bystanders and cops and UN were crowding around taking pictures. Becky and I were yelling at people, she more effectively since she speaks four languages, and she told a cop, “These people’s family members probably don’t want pictures taken of their dead bodies.” He shrugged and said, “They’re not my family.”

            This all took place outside a TV studio, where Haiti’s President happened to end up observing. Afterwards, he met Adam and Jon and said he was impressed with DIRT’s work. During that time, Becky and I were off on the other side of the road treating a man who had cut his leg somehow and then just laid down in the middle of the road. He was quite drunk.

            The next afternoon we were sitting down to lunch together to try and catch up and have a meeting. I got an email from our Les Cayes hospital contact: “Your pt. had her sonogram yesterday; she has ovarian cysts and a large fibroid tumor. She is discharged with Iron, vit, antibiotics and will return in 30 days for surgery. Our visiting surgeon will do the surgery
Thanks guys.” I had little time to celebrate the fact that my diagnosis was correct (in a surprised, “I can’t believe I was right” kind of fashion), because shortly after that, we received a call. The same guy who had called us the night before was letting us know about a bus accident that happened on the road to Jacmel – about three hours away. Reports said dozens dead. We discussed a bit whether it was practical for us to drive out there, if things would be cleaned up by the time we arrived, what contacts we had to get more information. Finally we decided we should just go.

            When we neared the place where the accident would be, we saw an ambulance coming around the corner, so we flagged them down. Inside were three patients. Jon and I ended up assessing them and riding along, as the “ambulances” here don’t actually have trained medical staff on them. They basically serve as taxis. One man had a broken arm, another was just banged up and sore, and another had a possible head injury and broken ribs. As I was checking him again on the way to the hospital, I told Jon that he might possibly have a pneumothorax, but I wasn’t positive. When we got to the hospital, we found that both patients in the back with us had pneumos. The three patients were construction workers, driving a dump truck that flipped. So we hadn’t even found the bus accident.

            It was around this time that we began meeting with the Secretary of State for Public Security. I honestly don’t know exactly how this came about, but he seemed to like us a lot, and we got food every time we had a meeting with him. We were also donated a “mobile command unit” – a gigantic bus that has an exam room, all kinds of cabinets and refrigerators for meds, and sinks for hand washing. The combination of these two happenings meant that we became involved in the medical response for Haiti’s Carnival (Mardi Gras). It was being held in Les Cayes this year, the first time Carnival would not be held in Port-au-Prince.

            I’ll spare the details and give an overview – Becky and Katrina (who wasn’t even technically our volunteer) and I ended up trying to pull this all together by ourselves because everyone else ended up having to be in the States for various reasons. Even now as I write this, all I feel about Carnival is irritated and slightly bitter, so you all are in luck and you’re getting the shortened condensed version! We took 40 people with us. Adam, Jon, and Thony were working at the dispatch center (we basically ended up taking over the event, because literally no other group there who was supposed to be organizing it had a plan), and Becky and I were manning the bus and organizing our volunteer teams. The bus was parked close to the parade route with all of our equipment, so we couldn’t leave it unattended. That meant that she and I got to babysit constantly. We were working 3pm-3am each day, so until we wrapped things up and got to bed (we both slept on the ob/gyn exam table) it was 4:30 or 5, and we would start getting calls from the team or needing to organize things by 7 or 8 the next morning. How we did not all lose our minds still amazes me. The people who got to leave the bus got to shower (we found some missionaries – they knew the people I knew in Saint-Marc). Becky and I walked around in our uniforms (thick long pants, socks, boots, 20lb tactical vests) every day for five days and did not shower.

            However, out of all these shenanigans came good things for DIRT. We worked with the ministry of health after being handed responsibility for all communications, we treated patients, and we ended up being the security vehicle for the President’s float during the last night of the parade. The next night when we were broken down along the side of the road, some people pulled up and offered to tow us. But only because they’d seen us at Carnival and on TV and knew who we were. Otherwise we were just another broken down vehicle of white people. So we’ll see where this takes us! I’m the only one currently in the country, and we just got down a surprise team of 7 EMTs. I can’t even begin to comment on the situation.

            Sidenote: Maeve is in the country right now, she came back and brought with her a team from Ireland to work for three weeks. It has been wonderful to catch up with her, and I’ve slept over at their air conditioned accommodations a few times. It was a little cold for my taste, but nice to be together again. Last Sunday we had Ralphie with us. The little bugger is walking now, still squeals periodically throughout the night, and picks up people’s cell phones to say hello. He’s got some sort of hair-do that makes him look like a little caterpillar. And at one point Maeve and I put someone’s headlamp on him and laughed a lot.

            That evening as we were winding down, talking with some of Maeve’s girls and getting ready for bed, someone came to get the two of us. There had been an accident up the road for the hotel. The report was that a truck hit a moto, the moto went airborne, and then the truck kept driving. Maeve and I arrived in our dresses (mine was still blue, so I think it should count as uniform), two white women in the middle of the street at 8pm. Both patients were still conscious but seriously injured. Someone was supposed to be bringing us gloves, but they were taking too long. So I dashed back across the street, stopping traffic as I went, to meet the security guards at the gate of the hotel. “Julie?!” I asked them. They told me in Creole that she was at the accident. So back across the street I went. But she only had gloves for Maeve. Someone else from the hotel joined us to try and assist and he had gloves. I kept requesting them but he was busy trying to be creative with a splint for the girl’s leg…wrong kind of splint, but details, details. So I started helping Maeve wrap this guy’s arm with no gloves. Surprisingly enough, I managed to walk away with his blood only on my hands and not my dress. Two points. Some of the worst breaks I’ve ever seen – this guy, who also had a head injury, had multiple compound fractures in his left arm, from his hand all the way up to his elbow. His hand was open. Maeve said she could feel his arm crunching while we wrapped it. The girl had multiple compound fractures in her left femur. After they were put in a vehicle and the crowd had cleared away, we walked back over to the hotel. The management was thanking us profusely but also looked us up and down and said, “Um…please don’t go into the restaurant.”

            This is where I give myself a pep talk! Unicef loves me, we’re going to give shots together, I love giving shots (my whole HOUSE IS GREAT, I can do anything good, yeah, yeah…) and my parents are coming next weekend!

Gedeon

I have every intention of one day writing about this past month, but until I get a chance to do that, I’ll simply write the rest of Gedeon’s story. Fortunately (perhaps only for me), he was never stable enough to leave the hospital. That meant that I could visit whenever I wanted to, even if it was 3am. He may or may not have appreciated the crazy white lady who kept talking while he was trying to sleep.

Around the beginning of December, he started posturing, which is something that happens shortly before death. But he remained alert up until the last time I saw him. I figured that he would be gone when I got back to Haiti after Christmas, so I told him what I wanted to tell him, I held his little hands, and I kissed his gigantic head.

On December 26, I received the following email:

Hi,

its Cindy, the social worker at Bernard Mevs Hospital. We've met twice I think, about Gedeon.

Unfortunately, I have some bad news. Like we all expected, Gedeon past away last week. When it comes to death, its always sad, but we all are kind of happy for him because now he is no longer in pain. We believe that he is in a better place right now.

On behalf of the Hospital, I wanted to thank you for caring so much for him. Not a lot of people do, not a lot understand how it must have been for him.

Again, Thank you so much. We all will continue to pray for him.

Sincerely

Cindy

I’m so glad to have been part of his little life. I hope he’s one of the people I recognize soon after getting to heaven. And I hope his head’s still a little bit big.