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Small Miracles |
The Placebo Effect
When I was 16 years old, I went with my mother, my stepfather Achilles, my sisters Marise and Elsie, and our young helper Leone, to spend a week in Source Chaude, a small town in the northwestern part of Haiti. My stepfather, then the director of the northern district of CARE, had gone to that town to repair a school, which had been devastated by a hurricane. The workers were paid with oil, flour, and powdered milk.
Next door to where we stayed was the only little medical clinic in that town.
On the front porch of the clinic lived a lady who was only skin and bones. She was half-naked, with a small baby girl, a few months old, attached to her breasts, which resembled flattened mangoes. She sat next to a fire made of dried kindling she gathered from around the village. One day, as I passed by, I saw her roasting a small green mango that had fallen from a nearby tree. When the skin was all burned up, she peeled the mango and started to feed the baby with it. I watched and then ran to the house to tell my mother what was going on. She decided to go with me and talk to the lady.
"My name is Mireille," she told us. Mireille was sick and all alone, too weak after the baby's birth to work. She only had enough strength to find immature mangoes to feed herself and her baby. She had not been able to produce milk. My mother promised Mireille that she would feed her and her baby during our stay.
That afternoon, we heard Mireille screaming and moaning. She had severe cramps and diarrhea. Since she had not eaten solid food for so long, her body couldn't tolerate the rich food my mother had given to her.
"Do not worry," my mother told her. "I'll come back with some tea to help." We returned to our house. My mother went to the kitchen, where she kept a brown bag full of dried leaves. She carefully chose a few of them and made a strong tea, which we took to Mireille. We sat down next to her while my mother held her gently and helped her sip the tea. Mireille kept thanking my mother, telling her she was an angel. My mother did not say anything.
"I am only doing what I am supposed to do," she finally told Mireille. "I am lucky now that I have a roof over my head and more food than I could ever eat. I have had some bad times myself. I know how hard it is to be hungry and watch your children go hungry." Mireille got better very soon.
Joseph, a male nurse, headed the small clinic. I asked if I could help him. Sick villagers would arrive from far away before the doors were opened. The clinic had acquired medications and supplies, donated by a religious group from the United States. Joseph listened with patience to all the complaints. For payment, Joseph would get a live chicken, a bag of fruits, eggs, or a little change.
I learned that the people believed in injections and the more they hurt, the better! When I noticed that some patients got only painful injections of sterile water and asked Joseph about this, he said that there was not enough medication to go around and his only alternative was to give the painful sterile water injection - what we would call a "placebo." Most of these trusting people would be cured just by the fact that Joseph told them he was administering medication to heal them!
These two experiences confirmed my decision to be a doctor. My stepfather would feed the poor while I healed them. My plan became: complete pre-med in Haiti, go to the United States to join my father, and then proceed to medical school at a French-speaking university in Europe, and one day go back to Haiti. When I left Haiti for the United States at the age of 20, I had big dreams.
Small Miracles Archive
Taking it One Day at a Time
Better Stay Put
Deliver With Mother
The Placebo Effect
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