diaries of a wannabe doctor

Thoughts on the Eve of Departure

2011-10-06T19:51:00.000-04:00

It'd been a long week. Several bunk beds later, even more tape measure and tool identification tests later, and even more more time spent explaining the merits of learning a skill and the delayed reward of being an apprentice first and then an accomplished tradesman later. A difficult concept to convey: delayed gratification. Especially when much of the population may go without a meal for a day or two. In the midst of all this I will miss faces and smiles and laughter.

As I said my goodbyes to the guys at the transition house, one boy who I had struggled to get to know and connect with, gave me a hug, looked me in the face and said, "We'll miss you." I smiled and tried to hide how surprised I was. I think this moment, more than anything, fulfilled that selfish little need to feel useful and beneficial. For some of these boys I had pushed them pretty hard, maybe too hard. I had not given a free lunch to anybody. They knew that when it comes to me, if they worked hard I would reward them... otherwise, they needed to get out.

What I've learned is that Haitians are strong people. They are smart, kind, funny, and resilient. The most frustrating thing to me about Haiti is not the people or the somewhat backward mentality of things. No... it's the unfortunate reality that 10s of thousands of purely altruistic and well-intentioned NGOs have given the local Haitian community little room to develop ownership, leadership and personal responsibility. Do they need to be educated? Yes. But in such a ways that their education can lead to financial and material independence from the NGO world. My hope for Haiti is not with Politicians and multi-million dollar budget NGOs... it's with the small handful of boys that taught each other how to read a tape measure and cut a 2x4. I taught one or two and they taught the rest. To a very small degree, I've worked myself out of a job and that truly is the greatest reward for any humanitarian volunteer.

Will we return to Haiti? Yes, for sure. It is a land pregnant with possibility and potential and I believe that in time the DNA of the NGO world will realize that the true goal of a servant is to become less so that those you serve may become more.

Mwen Renmen Ayiti

An essay from Haiti

2011-10-02T10:31:00.000-04:00

What Motivates Me

In America this wouldn’t have happened. There would have been somebody to help, another hospital with a NICU. At least there would be enough bili lights to go around. We wouldn’t have needed to drive to the other side of town bouncing little Doula all over the back of the truck. Her foot was barely the size of my thumb. Her skin was yellowish green from jaundice with little bumps all over her tiny eyes, presumably from an STD passed on from her mother. It was a sad sight. The doctors sped in and out of the makeshift triage. A woman nearly collapsed outside the tiny emergency wing, flailing in agony at the sudden news of a loved ones death. How is there not room for a miracle baby born 5 weeks premature, barely the size of my hand, in a tent city? It should be so much better, but it isn’t. This healthcare system is broken. This is Haiti. This is the Third world.

I have been here barely a month but I have likely seen more rare disease than many physicians in the U.S. After playing a match of soccer the other day, the nurse said, “That’s Jean, he’s lost thirty pounds from tuberculosis.” It seems that every other day I meet someone who has had malaria and the word on the street is that a couple of the local orphanage boys are spreading around mumps. Gas gangrene and systemic infections are not uncommon. This world is unlike the life I have lived thus far. The kids from the orphanage don’t want to take their medicine for intestinal worms because of how horrible it is when the worms come out of every orifice in their bodies. I never even knew this type of worm existed. A simple question confronts me as I gaze out my window at the neighboring tent city: What does this have to do with me?

Just yesterday one of our team members tested positive for malaria. Word spread quickly among the Americans working here in Port au Prince. A hushed silence seemed to reverberate in the guest house and subtle glances shot across the halls to where Angelo lay quietly on a mattress. We had ventured into a realm of sickness outside of our American conscience. Malaria is caused by a ‘third world’ parasite. We Americans shudder at the thought of getting malaria and pay a pretty penny for our doxy or chloroquine prophylaxis. Here in Haiti however, malaria is just another sickness and not nearly as bad as cholera. Yet, this is the reality here in Haiti. What should be simple is hard, and what is hard has become normal. Following a heavy dose of chloroquine, Angelo recovered in two days. This would not be the case for someone who lives in a tent city or the countryside. The disparate worlds re-appear and again I ask myself, “Where do I fit in this conundrum?”

Today I visit the only permanent hospital on the island of La Gonave, Haiti. An estimated 120,000 people live here and yet the only consistent healthcare available is the 30 bed Wesleyan hospital erected in 1958. As we walk down the corridors, I can’t help but notice the dark brown stains on the floor. I know what these are from. Then I see in the corner of the “operating room” a rusting World War II era sterilizing machine, a memorial to medicine’s history and a reminder of Haiti’s need. Above are four lights positioned over the operating table but only one works. We walk past the ‘NICU/Nursery’ and our guide quietly says, “This is the same room they use to triage patients who arrive with emergencies.” His face revealed the desperation of the situation. We swerve in and out of gurneys cluttering the halls with patients. I can feel the stares of the sick. I imagine that they must wonder why this white man walks down the halls of sickness simply observing their misery. The stares reveal the poignant reality that I have nothing to offer them. At least, not yet.

I tell you these stories because they are the memories that echo in my head and drive me to become a doctor. I feel that I am obligated to invest my American prosperity and education into the cause of providing quality healthcare for the beautiful baby Doula, or Jean who works tirelessly to get his tuberculosis medications, or the dirty island hospital full of the hopeful suffering. I know the learning curve of medical education is steep, but the faces I see in my dreams who long for relief will be my motivation.

Disparity and Romanticized Poverty

2011-09-27T08:48:00.001-04:00

Karibe Hotel is a place of beauty, excellence, serenity and peace. There a illuminated fountains with ornate ceramic backgrounds. Solid stone flooring and large grand pillars. Well dressed workers with smiles on their faces and food around every corner. Even the tap water at this Hotel is safe, at least I hope it is.

Whitney and I spent a night and a day at this hotel celebrating our anniversary. She kept prodding my sullen face as my "rest time" consisted of reading Polman's "The Crisis Caravan." A short book about the well-intentioned disaster that is often humanitarian aid. I struggled as I sat by the pool on a comfortable leather bed surrounded by pillows, drink in hand, basking in the sun. Why do I deserve to sit here and receive the treatment of a king with thousands of malnourished faces and distended bellies only hundreds of feet away in the streets? Was I so special or did I achieve something so grand? The feelings floated around in my head and heart and only dissipated after a stern look from my beautiful wife that said, "We're paying a ton of money for this so you'd better get in this pool and start having fun with me!" I did.

But the reality remains. There is a vast disparity between the haves and the have nots and the only difference I can see is to whom and in what country you were born. It's not my fault I was born to a middle-upper income family in a wealthy nation. It's not their fault they were born in a tent city. So I ask again, if it is only due to my birth place, why should I receive the treatment of a king and they not? I imagine you might say, "Well, that's just how this world works." Or, "Jesus said, You will always have the poor with you." Really?! That's the answer. Come on. Needless to say I struggle with this reality and I don't expect to come to a happy conclusion and rest my conscience before I see the manifested Kingdom of God on the earth.

On another note. I find it intriguing that poverty is so easily romanticized and that the poor are people to receive only merciful love and tolerance. Some would say, "When I see these poor people in the streets, I see Jesus." Forgive me for being rash or too bold, but for many of the kids in Haiti... it is precisely this treatment that has turned some of these kids into little monsters. Is it really caring for these kids to constantly be dishing out gifts? A free coke, free food, free toys, free water, more free food and oh, sure, you can climb all over me and hit me and say mean things to me and yell at me and I will just sit here and see Jesus because you are so poor and your dad probably beat you and left you to die. Yes... that was sarcastic and maybe too harsh.

But here is my heart. I love these little guys but I want them to have dignity. Dignity never comes through hand outs and a free pass to do anything you want. Love can sometimes be most captured in discipline. Not the discipline that births from a place of anger or insecurity but discipline that longs for wholeness, dignity and worth to be developed in the mind and heart of a child. A free handout teaches these kids that they need others to always help them that they can't stand or be strong on their own. Do they always have food and water? No. Do we want them to die? No. But if they always depend on you for food and water, will they always have you? Or will the short missions trip end? You will return home and tell of how the kids loved you so much and how poor they were. I am convinced of this, the worst type of poverty is not the one that makes someone live in the dirt but the one that corrupts the heart and the mind. The poverty that tells a person they can only survive by the giving hand of a white Westerner.

When I leave Haiti in a week and a half, I will have done little. But I know that the little I have done will have infused a few boys with dignity. I have demanded much from them and in doing so I believe they have seen that they are capable of much more than they thought before. They are not to be pitied, but to be pushed to see and envision their own destiny on their own two feet.

Two years

2011-09-25T16:19:00.001-04:00

Whit here...

Jd and I celebrated our 2 year anniversary on the 19th of this month. On the day of our anniversary, we woke up, did our normal Haiti morning routine and only remembered it was our anniversary when I saw it was Carlin Song's birthday on Facebook. We have a special connection with Carlin and his wife Jas since we share September 19th with Carlin's birthday and both of our anniversaries. So where have we come in 2 years.

-We've lived on Harrison St. in Wilmington, with the Landon's in Hockessin, on the Dawn Treader in the Bahamas and now in Annapolis, MD
-We've both attempted once to get into medical programs and if at first you don't succeed, try. try. again.
-We've plugged ourselves into Annapolis attending church at Revolution and hope to build more of a community there.
-We've taken up rock climbing as a couple
-We are certified wilderness first responders and have discovered a passion for disaster relief medicine
-That passion has lead us to Haiti and to planning a conference centered around Haiti's earthquake and subsequent recovery and development
-Kids are still a long way off but our future family is an ever present thought and discussion
-We've come to Haiti to be apart of the Manassaros work and come to love the family they have formed here. Haiti will definitely be in our future.

If I were in charge of all the NGOs....

2011-09-18T16:54:00.000-04:00

....the first thing I would do is make each and every worker, executive director and board member memorize this short little proverb.

"A man without a vision is a man without a future;
a man without a future will always return to his past."

Then I would do an in-depth survey/observation to see if each and every project supported and inspired the following axioms.

Each non-governmental organization project MUST:

1. Seek to instill dignity and ownership to the Haitian people by creating opportunities for employment.
2. Develop independent, skilled workers who take pride in their work and are effectively able to teach their skill to other Haitians.
3. Require and reward honesty, ethics and quality work.
4. Continually look for opportunities to create Haitian independence by delegating more responsibility to the Haitian people.

5 5. Design a sustainable organizational structure focused on outsourcing foreign aid workers with local Haitian employees.

The NGO conundrum is simple. If the primary aim of an NGO was to 'work themselves out of a job' by doing the aforementioned axioms, then where would they go and what would they do. The corporatized structure of NGOs seems to force them into always growing in size, budget, and most importantly...their usefulness. If their usefulness is in question, the entire structure begins to crumble and they will then need to find another place or country to be useful in. The pressures which then develop are the same as a fortune 500 company. The shareholders become the financial supporters and backers from the rich western nations, and they expect to see a return on their investments. Thus we see the pretty newsletters and updates outlining all the glorious work being done to help the poor Haitians.

But is the reality on the ground always accurately portrayed in the graphically designed high resolution newsletter? An unfortunate pressure to 'look' useful and effective undermines the humbling raw honesty that is necessary for genuinely effective improvements. No organization is ever perfect nor will any organization ever meet every need. Simultaneously, no organization will ever become more effective without that raw honesty to say, "Are we really helping here?"

It is a difficult balance. A tight rope needing to be walked but a highly precarious existence waits on the other side of the NGO efficacy chasm. The worst part is...most every NGO is full of loving, caring, altruistic hearted people. They give their time, energy, and money to help others expecting nothing in return. And yet, I fear that I am guilty of creating a stubborn entitled child who demands what he has not earned.

We must never abandon Haiti. We must always seek to love and bless her. And we must focus on becoming useless to a Nation that must become strong enough to stand alone...proud and prosperous.

The goud, the dollar, and the future of haiti

2011-09-13T21:24:00.000-04:00

I love Haiti.

It is a place full of insanity and seemingly asinine contradictions. For example, the denomination of the actual printed money used here in Haiti are called "gouds." The exchange rate from gouds to US dollars is 40 gouds:1 USD. However, there is another 'imaginary' currency that is the official currency...the Haitian Dollar. You could spend your life searching haiti for an actual haitian dollar, but you will never find one. It is an imaginary currency that goes like this...1 USD = 8 Haitian Dollars = 40 goud. It really isn't that big of a deal, until your seamstress shows up asking for money in Haitian dollars and you start doing the translations in your head. You turn around and say, "So 400 goud is what you need right?' Only to be told, "We don't deal in gouds, that's imaginary currency."

That's right. It wasn't a typo. The currency which has no physical existence is the 'real' currency, while the physical denomination of gouds is imaginary.

Again. I love Haiti.

I love Haiti because in the midst of over-NGOed, foreign aid entitled people, there is a young man willing to learn, work hard, and make an honest wage for the sake of his future and his family. He sticks out among the masses because at the end of a long day of my free labor in Haiti, he looks me square in the face and says in broken English, "Thank so much for the teaching me today." It is for this young man my heart longs to see this nation walk in prosperity once again.

Our home away from home

2011-09-10T17:46:00.003-04:00

Whit here...

I feel much more encouraged today, so thanks to everyone that lifted me up in prayer. I had a great talk with a local woman that is helping me with the sewing program and I'm working on a plan, I'll update more on the progress soon.

But for now, I'd like to introduce you to the Transition Home and it's sewing room, aka my home away from home.

Phara working on the overlock machine

Dana in the workroom she created and wearing a dress she made!

Chirley and Chedline working on a pillow case

Part of our walk to the transition home

Welp, it's Saturday evening which means we're off to Port au Prince Fellowship tomorrow. We're excited to see more of the city and meet some more people. Next week will include shopping for some fabric and working on organizing a schedule for the trans home. We're pumped!

-whit

SEE ONE...DO ONE...TEACH ONE

2011-09-09T23:53:00.001-04:00

Jd Here...

One of my duties here in Haiti for our VERY short month, is to teach the kids who are interested in woodworking about....building stuff with wood. The hope is to inspire hard work and impart a skill set to improve their chances of employment as they finish their schooling. But teaching something like carpentry or woodworking is difficult. Primarily because, there are projects that NEED to get done. I could accomplish so many projects in a small amount of time and of course the kids would be 'involved'...sure they'd be involved...yeah. They'd be busy holding a piece of wood, moving materials, cleaning up and watching the Americans build stuff. However, if you asked them to go and measure something, design something and build something. It could potentially be a modern art exhibit when all said and done. A seeming waste of precious resources.

SEE ONE... DO ONE.... TEACH ONE
The carpenter Jesus of Nazareth taught in a radical and risky way. He'd walk around exemplifying to his little worker bees what it looks like to be a crazy teacher doing signs and wonders. He'd show up, do a miracle, and then have a chat about what just happened. Then he'd look over to his groupies and say... now you go do it. Once they were finished attempting, messing up, attempting again.. then maybe kind of getting it... Jesus turns around and says, now go and get a bunch of other people to watch you and do the same.

THE TRICK
It is easy to not want to let go. If you let a 14 yr old Haitian boy take over your project, you might just end up with a pile of scrap wood. It may not look very good, it may be flawed, but these are necessary steps. Nobody became an expert without messing up...over and over and over again. So what is the trick?

The trick is to focus on the person... not the project. I learned from an amazing teacher who once said, "There's nothing you can do, that I can't fix." As a newbie carpenter, these words were both relief-giving and frightening. He would say this as my trembling hands cut a $300 piece of wood or marble. He would let me know it was expensive but upon failure always reminded me that literally, "There was nothing I could do, that he couldn't fix." Albeit some mistakes were more costly than others.

But the truth remains... if I am to actually teach these boys anything at all, it will require failure. It is only in the failing that the correct path becomes clear. For example, Emmanuel Victor is a local Haitian boy who has been diligently absorbing every ounce of information I can feed him. After I overwhelmed him with the fractional math necessary to read a measuring tape or ruler, I unleashed him to figure out how to change out some door locks and add a new one to an existing door.

I could have changed the lock and been finished in "two seconds", instead, I let him attempt to put the lock in upside down... backwards.... inside out... and every other way possible. Each time he realized the mistake and reverted back to try a different way. I sat back to watch the wheels in his brain spinning to solve this mechanical difficulty. Then the light sparks and he sees the correct path. A beautiful thing.

Tomorrow I will continue teaching him how to read a Tape Measure in sixteenths. Emmanuel hopes to be an architect one day and I know that although we spent 60 minutes installing one door knob, his experiential knowledge of working through the process of trying, failing and trying again will be the key to his success in life.

ZOOMING WAY OUT (My application for Haiti)

Haiti is known as the Republic of NGOs. Indeed, there are over 11,000 different non-governmental organizations operating in Haiti from all over the world. The best of intentions and the purest of motives are at the bottom of most of this presence in Haiti. However I wonder if all the NGOs have fallen into the temptation of being so project oriented that we've forgotten to step aside and let the person be the priority. What I mean is simple... perhaps Haiti would be better off if the outside 'teacher' were only there to train and then make recommendations. Emmanuel did all the work on that door knob and only at times did I step in to slightly guide him in his own pursuit of accomplishment. Is it possible that the overwhelming altruism of the NGO community has in fact created a situation of crippling dependency? At some point, we will have to hand over the tools of development and progress to say, "Okay guys, have a go, we'll be right by your side if you need us." When will the day come when the NGOs are the ones who are simply holding the wood while the skilled laborer makes measurements, decides on designs, and even uses the power tools!?

It may not be time. But I can tell you this... Emmanuel will be building things and designing things in no time. They may not be perfect, but they will be designed, built, and owned by him and him alone.

-jd

P.S. This orphanage/school/program has become a real source of refreshing enjoyment for us. The people are open, hungry and honest about the difficulties realities of life and yet see the greater reality of God's hope and desire for the wholeness of the world. Thanks so much to everyone who allowed us to have this wonderful experience.

Start Small

2011-09-08T23:57:00.000-04:00

Whitney Here...

The day started with getting dressed. I wore my pink EMS shirt with a zebra on it and Jd wore his new Child Hope screened shirt that also happened to be pink (his first pink shirt ever). We were matching. So in honor of that, we opened the pink envelope sent by the Landon/Hilferty group, a note from Mamma Tracey.

Let me back up a minute, our jobs while we are here in Haiti will be to work with the Child Hope transition home. And the kicker is, when we arrived on tuesday, we had until thursday night to learn everything before our predecessors left town friday morning. Jd is standing in for David, the heart and soul of the transition home and I am replacing Dana, an incredibly talented 20 year old fashion designer that created a sewing program out of nothing in one month.... Daunting?

You took the words right out of my mouth.

So back to this morning, the pink shirts and the subsequent pink note. The card said Start Small. I opened it and immediately said, "well that's appropriate!" and as you can guess the rest of the note from Momma Tracey was right on the mark as well.

We've come here with essentially two things, the skills we have, and the big trump card, an awesome God. All we can do as finite beings is what we know how to do and pray and release the rest. Stressing about every aspect that Dana and I cannot fulfill or about all the projects David started that might lag in his absence will not make them come to fruition. Doing the very best I can with the woman or child right in front of me and trusting that God can do a much greater work than I could imagine, now that's something I can handle.

All that being said, I have learned a ton from Dana in the last 48 hours and she will be greatly missed. I also have some serious brain storming to do to come up with teaching plans, projects and possibly some business lessons (I'm open to suggestions!). But I now have some new priorities, start small, focus on the person in front of me and pray for the peace to not stress the things outside my control.

(internet is spotty so no pics yet. coming soon...)

Day 1 Haiti:

2011-09-06T21:42:00.001-04:00

After waking up to an annoying little beep at 3 a.m....zooming to the airport....standing in lines....standing in longer lines....becoming an ethnic minority on an airplane....and pushing through the gauntlet of broken english 'bag toters'....

We are in Haiti.

There are already too many stories, sights, and experiences to recount in this short post.... however, here are two quick thoughts I've had so far.

1) This country is more in tact that I expected. Yes, we passed dozens of tent cities where people washed in the streets with dirty water. Yes, there were buildings broken in half. Yes, there are few intelligible roads and no road signs.... But people are working, building, driving, biking, living... Life has not stopped in Haiti and while the poverty is real, there are many who have jobs and are making it ok. I suppose I was expecting hoards of zombie like people crawling all over the streets.

2) Secondly, I have become more convinced in this first day that this nation is suffering from too much help in the wrong places. Yes, the work of the NGOs is amazing and I love Child Hope and the staff already. But what NGO is going to raise money to pave roads, create irrigation pathways for street runoff, and support and educational system that allows every young person aimlessly walking the streets a chance to become literate. No government or public sector is perfect and neither is any NGO. But at the end of the day, the goal should be to have a stronger national haiti, not a modernized NGO headquarters.

Blessings and love to you all. We are tired, but inspired for the work that lays before us.

Jd & Whit

Collective Guilt and the Health of a Nation

2011-09-01T16:40:00.000-04:00

In 5 days I depart for Haiti with my wife. It will be our first humanitarian trip together since our wedding less than two years ago. In fact, we will celebrate our 2nd year anniversary somewhere in Haiti.

In 10 days I will finish my applications to three highly competitive universities who will decide whether a skinny kid from south jersey with no AP credits or Ivy League logos deserves a spot in their small, customized programs.

In about 100 days I will lead a group of students and professionals back into the heart of Haiti discussing disaster relief and the future development of Haiti.

Sound stressful?

It is... but I believe that is only because I don't fully understand the plight of those I wish to serve.

makeshift cholera clinic

Currently in Haiti nearly 6,000 people have died from a completely treatable disease! Cholera runs rampant in the dirty streets of the tent cities. The U.N. continues to officially deny being the source of the cholera outbreak. For three months now I have been reading books, articles and watching documentaries about Haiti. Anything I can get my hands on and much of it leaves me saddened and discouraged.

And yet, I have been inspired... much like the prophet Nehemiah. It is time to rebuild the walls of Haiti. And this time, we will rebuild them better. You see, to see a vision of a beautiful, growing, and prosperous country on the western end of Hispaniola is radical. It's overwhelming but it is exactly what the whole of Scripture and true religion requires... that in the place of destitution... we work towards redemption. Where we see sickness... we spend ourselves in the way of supporting health. Where we see abuse... we stick our necks out to defend the weak. I can tell you that Haitians are proud of their country and they are on the forefront of making things better.

COLLECTIVE GUILT

For many years I struggled with the concept of collective guilt. I was a fortunate soul to be born into an intact nuclear family with a middle-upper income standard of living and attend a private high school and undergraduate institution. Meanwhile, the majority of the world focuses on maintaining food, water, and shelter security. In the pursuit of purging this guilt, I sought to run from the wretchedness of wealth, riches, and the upper elitist of government and academia. To walk in the shoes of those many minimalists who live day by day on pennies... this surely would be the righteous response to my predicament. And then I met a man from Malawi.

Robert Manda, an educated Malawian who focuses on the vulnerable populations of rural Malawi... women and children. My family has essentially adopted him into our lives. I remember one day Robert smiled and looked deliberately into the eyes of my family. He said, "I pray for God's blessing and prosperity on your family. Because when God blesses the Landons, he blesses Malawi."

With this statement my world slowly shifted. How does one respond to the blessings of wealth, family, education and privilege? You start by being the smartest, wealthiest, and the best you can be in your field.... then you give yourself to the work of rebuilding the world better. If you are an architect, you strive for low-cost building solutions that will withstand the onslaught of hurricanes and earthquakes. If you are a doctor, you become the best doctor possible and find new strategies of health for vulnerable populations. If you are a computer geek, go help find IT solutions to increase accessibility to education via internet learning in rural villages. If you are a businessman, learn to create jobs and train the next generation that will support long-term prosperity for communities in need. Regardless of where we find ourselves or what fields we are passionate about, there is always a way to increase the quality of life for another. We must not run from our privilege but use it tirelessly for the plight of the poor.

To be a privileged American means only one thing.... that I have the privilege to open my eyes to the sea of suffering and do something.

Why do I go to Haiti? And why will I go to Malawi?

Because I can... and because I must.

The Skinny on Haiti

2011-08-14T12:23:00.000-04:00

Hi, Whitney here, I'm guest posting on Diaries sharing the skinny on our trip to Haiti. On September 6th Jd and I will be flying to Haiti to serve for a month with the NGO Child Hope. We were introduced to Child Hope through our church Revolution Annapolis and I immediately felt the Holy Spirit's tug on my heart to go. As it turns out, we are not the first from Gordon College (our alma mater) to go to Child Hope. Kaitlyn Evans, a fellow Gordonite, coaching classmate and fighting scot athlete also worked with Child Hope, the path was being laid. With the amazing support of our families, (this is a theme in our lives) we will be able to leave our jobs and sign on with Child Hope for the month of September.

So here's the official Skinny:

Child Hope is run by the Manassaro's, read their story here, it's amazing
We will be helping with their transition programs doing carpentry, sewing, maybe some screen printing and whatever else we can come up with
We'll hopefully get to help in their clinic, serve alongside their orphans in their feeding program and play lots of soccer
We'll get to use our admin, organizational, photog, filming and general jack of all trade skills
We'll be loving on some really awesome kids, staff and interns and the people of Haiti
We'll be developing on the ground contacts for a Disaster Conference that we will be helping lead in January (more on that later)
And we'll be keeping you posted on what we're doing here on this blog

We would greatly appreciate your encouragement and prayers while we are away. Pray that we will be joy filled servants, that our hearts would be broken for Haiti, that we will be Christ's hands and feet and that our time there would be a blessing to the Mnassaro's and interns of Child Hope.

We hope that you will be our cloud of wittnesses as we go on this journey.

We already appreciate the support. We couldn't do this without the blessings of friends in family.

Please contact us if are interested in supporting us financially.

Blessings,
Whitney and Jd

calculus take two.

2011-07-18T14:11:00.000-04:00

For all those who read my last confession:

I am thrilled to let you all know that my second calculus test went swimmingly. While I won't divulge my exact numerical score, it is the kind of grade that keeps a smile on your face all day.

A big thanks to God and all the encouragement to press on from friends and family. This was a wonderful relief and a great inspiration to continue working hard.

On another note, Whitney and I are planning a trip to Haiti for the month of September. We are quite excited about working with an NGO called Child Hope. I'll write more details of this story later. We are waiting for the final confirmation from the NGO to buy tickets.

Enjoy the sun!

failure

2011-07-05T13:33:00.000-04:00

CONFESSIONS
Today is a day for confessions. Here is my first.

I struggle with failure. Few things make my stomach twist and turn. But when I ponder the thought of failure, it nearly debilitates me.

The history of this struggle could point to 1st grade when the sticker poster was instituted. Imagine long rows and columns of boxes. The rows were each given a name of a student and each column was a different day, representing a different exercise or test in class. An uninterrupted line of stickers would indicate success and some form of unhealthy, tooth-decaying goodness that we all drooled over.

Without any sort of abnormal external pressure, I found myself deeply desiring, and needing a completed string of stickers. This weight and demand would only grow in my life and academic career to the point of cheating on an algebra quiz in 9th grade because it would ruin my perfect quiz score. After seeing the correct answer off a neighboring student, the guilt complex began and I eventually scribbled the wrong answer. I like to sleep at night.

I believe this potentially destructive obsession led me into identity issues. I found myself seeking approval and feeling valuable in and only in the midst of my successful performance. However, this embedded identity would come to have a paralyzing effect in the face of failure.

CALCULUS
The other day I received my first calc test back. In my world, the test score was a failure. One that will require a formidable amount of work to mitigate. I struggled through the rest of that day. Wanting to lash out in anger at those around me, while all the time knowing the simple fact that I felt worthless in this moment.

The discouraging thought pattern runs like this... "If I can't even get an 'A' on the easiest calc test of the semester, how in the world am I going to survive 7 years of med school and residency and the requirement of a good doctor to know and understand the most complex creature in our known existence."

Needless to say. I was discouraged.

A deep cut had been sliced into the foundation of my identity. The reverberations of this shook my seemingly determined purposes and plans for life.

So I treated myself to a big chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich, loaded up my tools, and went to build a floating dock. Hitting things and lifting heavy stuff always seems to help, just a little.

RE-ALIGNMENT

Two days prior, I had a conversation with a highly successful ER doc from Ohio. We talked about calculus and why I wanted to be a doctor, etc. He looked at me and said, "HEY... I hope you know that calculus doesn't have anything to do with being a doctor." He's a funny guy, so when his face became stern and penetrating, I thought I'd better listen. "I never took calculus. You'll never use calculus. They're hoops. Just jump through the hoop and keep moving. You'll make a great doctor, not because you know calculus but because you care for people." This guy also likes really nice motorcycles and has a beautiful wake boarding boat. We got along great. It was encouraging to hear a perspective from the other side of this 10 year journey.

I also heard from a wise woman that night. She said, "If your focus is on calculus, you're going to struggle. If your focus is on Jesus, the failing won't matter." I sheepishly looked up with that nod of the head indicating that I knew this already. She continued, "Remember why you're doing this. If you focus on Jesus first, becoming a doctor will fit into that focus. If you focus on calculus, where is Jesus?"

She was so right. I knew it. But still felt like Mike Tyson had busted a few ribs. She was talking about identity. She was talking about receiving value by doing great stuff instead of by being loved and created by my maker. It was hard to hear. But it was good. It was truth.

RESOLUTION
I have an uphill battle in calculus. But who cares. An F in calculus will not stop me from serving the poor, healing the sick, and noticing the least of these. I will work my tail off and put in more hours studying, no doubt, but when the fat lady sings... it will be my desire to love and be loved by my maker that inspires and upholds me... not my GPA.

Epic Day

2011-05-22T08:19:00.001-04:00

May 21, 2011.

BBC said the world was supposed to end and Jesus return. Ooops.

Instead of floating into the air with millions of other people whitney and I had the best day I've had in a while. It was a majorly belated birthday celebration that started with coffee and the best lemon strawberry scone you've ever laid your tastebuds on...

Then we drove the scenic and beautiful roads out to Rocks State Park, Maryland. Rock climbing!!!

A friend of mine let me borrow his 30lb pack of climbing gear and we hoofed it up to the ledge. The sun was shining, whit was getting a tan and I decided that I should be a professional rock climber... again.

This was our view all morning long. About 70 feet up and overlooking a small valley.


Correct. I DO have the coolest wife ever.

After sweating our butts off climbing a perfect flaky crack with a small overhang. We headed north through some more beautiful country scape that reminded us or northern maine or pennsylvania. Who knew Maryland could be so gorgeous.

We popped the boat into the water at the Charlestown, MD boat ramp and quickly proceeded to get her running. Once out away from the dock, Josh gave it some throttle and we.... didn't go very fast. BUMMER.

We certainly weren't gonna be able to wakeboard going 5 mph. So we brought the boat back into the dock and the mechanical engineer Josh started tearing the engine apart, found a water hose that was loose, adjusted the throttle and idle cables, fixed a spark plug and 1 hour later we were screaming across the water at closer to 40 mph. It was sunny, hot and a beautiful day.

Here is a short video of me loving Josh's boat!

We drove back to annapolis, met Whit's parents for dinner at a super fun and laid back place called Sly Fox. Then we buzzed over to the movie theater to finish off our night with Fast Five.

A truly fun day with a truly awesome girl.

I am a blessed man.

The Struggle of Time

2011-05-17T16:41:00.001-04:00

A close friend of many years recently chuckled after I explained my desire to become a doctor.

FRIEND: "Didn't you decide about 7 years ago that you didn't want to be a doctor because it would take you 7 years to do it?"

ME: (awkward thinking smile) "I know, it's crazy isn't it. I can barely believe it myself."

Time is a funny thing and despite all our dependency on the consistency of time, it seems to change... or perhaps our perception of time changes. Either way, time can be a struggle.

My friend was right. I did indeed view the medical pipeline with fear and the encroaching thought -- "dang, I would miss so many great surf sessions being in school for so long." So, I must ask myself this question, "What has changed?"

One thing is for sure, my perspective on time has changed dramatically.

As a young dude of 16, I doubted that I would survive the age of 21. In my mind I would have either drowned after attempting some wildly stupid surfing feat or I'd be martyred in some third world village for preaching the gospel. Seriously, this was my thought process. Doesn't leave much room for a 7 year medical program. Besides, I only wanted to be a doctor so that I could get into closed countries like Saudi Arabia or North Korea.

Today I see time differently. I am a happily married man, which also means that I get to make love to my wife (something I'll never miss a chance to thank God for publicly... I waited a long time:). There is often a by-product of this happily married love making industrial complex and those are babies.

In comes a new paradigm for my short sighted, 'I'll be dead tomorrow' surfer outlook.

POSTERITY

All you socially and culturally advanced people may see all this as silliness. You probably planned your life at age 10... well, not me. It has taken me many years to come to a point where the lives of my children's children inspire me and inform my desires for today and the future.

With posterity in mind, I have come to the conclusion that medicine, but more specifically health and healing are worthwhile investments into the future. I want to be the grandpa that put away funds for my granddaughters education. I want to be the grandpa doc that still takes calls on sundays and will get up late at night to help a neighbor in need. I want to begin a legacy for our posterity that says, "serving people is the most valuable thing I can do with the privilege of life."

I chuckle about my wandering circuitous path back to medicine. But I wouldn't change a thing, my struggle with time has left me doing a balancing act between long-term investment and living every day as if it were one's last mark on the earth.

They say that the true adventure is in the journey. Well, I'm glad I like adventure because my journey into medicine is going to be a long one.

Republicans for Voldemort? wuh..

2011-05-03T08:46:00.000-04:00

On our way home from breakfast at a local spot in Annapolis, a bumper sticker caught whitney's eye.

Thought i'd share.

Has anybody seen this?? What are they trying to say??

What specialty should I pursue?? Help me decide.

2011-05-02T20:39:00.000-04:00

Last night I was perusing various websites that described what each medical specialty focused on and the type of person it seemed to attract. I stumbled onto these two schematic things and thought it'd be interesting to get other peoples thoughts on what I ought to pursue.

Read through the schematics and answer each descriptor as you see me, then let me know where I end up...

Enjoy.

Pt means patient.

this is a funny schematic.

Risk Calculations

2011-04-30T06:41:00.001-04:00

abby sunderland...one of my heroes

Tonight at dinner we had a wonderful conversation about Abby Sunderland, the 16-yr-old California girl who attempted to circumnavigate the globe and was capsized by a rogue wave in the Southern Indian Ocean.

The question is simple. What is too risky? Why would we ever allow our youngsters to attempt such dangerous things?

The argument was thrust forth that kids of these ages lack the life experience to evaluate and examine the risk of such a feat. They lack caution and wisdom and the 'I'm Invincible' syndrome would likely lead to an unnecessary death.

Well... I disagree.

Life is a gift. It is at times very fragile and at others amazingly resilient. At the end of the day, we fool ourselves in thinking we control our safety. So here the course bifurcates: do we become wildly irresponsible and reckless because tomorrow we die or do we hole up into a padded room and ponder the many dangers and terrors of life. I'd rather walk the line.

Here is my example.

At age 14 one of my best friends and role models died in a motorcycle accident likely caused by his own reckless driving. It rocked my world. He was the quintessence of the invincible spirit. Full of life, full of adventure, at times full of rebellion. Nonetheless, he was one of my heroes. It was a devastating loss.

So is that it? Do I walk out and vow to never ride a motorcycle? Do I let fear rule this small area of my life? No, I buy a motorcycle and teach my self to be the best dang rider out there.

But why?

Because life is not about what you can hide from or what you can avoid. Life is about what you look dead in the eyes and say, "Here I am, I'm not moving." It's about the day you walk through the woods in the pitch black and conquer the darkness. It's about staring at the crowd of 5,000 and giving your speech with passion. It's about sailing through a gale on 4 hours of sleep.

Great people...who change the world... aren't great because they made sure their seatbelts were on every time they turned the key. They were great because they assessed the risks, calculated that they had a chance and pulled the trigger on life.

One day I will be a father. I will tell you now that you won't want your kids to hang out at jd's house. I probably won't have liability insurance and I will most likely have a difficult and awesome rock climbing wall. I don't want to be a parent who chastises my kids for every semi-dangerous thing they do. I want to be the one who challenges them to climb higher, harder, better.

Here is my reasoning. I would rather take an active role in the dangerous desires of youth and be a guide to intentional thought processes and wisdom, than say "that's dangerous!" and have them do it anyway with their buddies. I am no fan of outright stupidity. But calculated risk is a gauntlet that reaps a reward won by no other means. It is the treasure of knowing oneself in the midst of real danger and real risk. It is at this point one gains this elusive 'experience' of life.

"To live is to risk, to live well is to risk wisely." - me

So, to end this late night rambling. Let me leave you with a wonderfully inspiring story.

Click here to see more of the story and a book promo for Abby Sunderland.

A Hiatus to Make You Chuckle

2011-04-28T08:25:00.002-04:00

if you haven't seen this story yet. it's worth the couple minutes.

perhaps my favorite song right now.

i love these guys. check em out. http://www.youtube.com/user/schmoyoho

german cars

2011-04-27T22:28:00.001-04:00

Following a gin and tonic with our new dock friends from the distressed sailboat; Sebastian, the Brit (read thick british accent and all the 'proper' sayings) and his wife Liz got up to leave for the night. They were heading up to Baltimore from Annapolis.

Rebecca: "Ok. Take care and drive safely tonight."

Sebastian: "Oh, don't worry I've got a German car."

(semi-confused look on everybody's face. what is this guy talking about?)

Sebastian: "Yes, the only problem is that whenever you open the bloody thing it starts chatting and telling you, 'Invade Poland Now.'"

word for word. i swear.

oops... my anchor is dragging

2011-04-26T20:11:00.000-04:00

Today I helped save somebody's beautiful sailboat. While minding my own business and steadily working away building a pump house for a landscaped stream; I noticed a gorgeous 1940's wooden yawl come flying into the creek under full sail with 25 knots of wind on the stern.

The boat we saved looked a lot like this, except with bright blue sails.

It was a picturesque moment for sure.

The captain and first mate, turned the nose of the boat into the wind, the sails flapped wildly and they dropped the anchor. Time for cold beer and rum!!

Not yet.

I turned back to my work, busily cutting, hammering, and pasting things together when my father-in-law called over, "Are you seeing this!?" "He didn't let out enough chain for his anchor." "I think he's dragging!"

Skip ten minutes.

We are fighting against a howling and growling wind to keep their sailboat from dragging into my father-in-law's boat and then the boat at anchor behind his and the rocky shoreline behind that. The captain, keeping himself together although obviously embarrassed, kept shouting his appreciation for our help over the white noise of the wind. After several minutes of confused chaos and the help of a bigger boat from the neighboring marina, we safely towed his 36ft, 26,000 lb piece of flotsam along side our dock and wrestled a few lines onto the pilings.

Turns out his engine hadn't been run in two years, so as his sailboat started to drag the anchor across the bottom, he became powerless to stop himself. In fact, he just bought this boat and today marked the celebratory christening sail. Talk about a rough first date with the future wife.

I left them this evening, covered in diesel, still trying to get the engine to run. Should they still be there tomorrow, I'll be sure to fix the engine and get pictures, or maybe video of our new friends.

In honor of our new dock friends, I'd like to provide a quick pointer on anchoring.

When it comes to anchoring, it's all about SCOPE. Scope is the ratio between the how much anchor rode (chain/rope) that you have in the water and the depth of the water.

Important rule: 'mas es mejor' or ' more is better'

If you ever find yourself dragging an anchor, first thing you ought to do is let out another 50 feet of anchor rode (assuming this means you have space behind you). Then wait and see if it holds.

When it holds... sit back, relax and drink a beer. If it doesn't, turn the engine on, cuss under your breath, and reset the anchor.

blue collar + white collar = 'baby blue' collar?

2011-04-24T22:24:00.002-04:00

my life is now on a course headed toward the 'white collar' world. the world that has much of the wealth of this nation and also pays most of the tax revenue. the world of the ivory tower and the separate elitist. of course, not all doctors fit these categories and not all white collar people are elitist. but let's be honest, a person with the opportunity to even consider med school is quite different from the guy who mulched the neighborhood lawns.

however, i am proud of my blue collar background. following a highly theoretical 'let's read this and talk about that' kind of education, i found myself diving into the challenges of the blue collar world. on any given day you'll find me fixing a leaky toilet, unsticking doors, running electric for new light fixtures, or maybe installing insulation under homes with cramped crawlspaces full of cobwebs, glass and animal bones. i know what it takes to shovel and spread 20 cubic yards of wet mulch alone... in one day. it is hard, hard work and the toughness of my hands proves the work i've done.

so what am i saying here.

one day i'll sit down with some blue collar guy and his family who speak no english and seem intimidated to be in the office of a 'white collar, white male, DOCTOR.' i'm gonna look at him, notice his calloused palms and the dark lines of fresh dirt under his finger nails... and i'm gonna smile....

i know this guy.

his blue collar life won't lead me to condescension or easy stereotypes about some non-tax paying, non-english speaking illegal immigrant... no, i'll be filled with respect and admiration for a man who works hard. a man who has a back ache not from sitting in a comfy chair but because he lifted 80 lb bags of concrete all day.

these guys are my heroes. i'll be a white collar doc who looks UP to my blue collar patients.

so i think i'll endeavor to be a 'baby blue' collar doctor.

my dirty face after a day installing insulation in an itty bitty crawlspace

laying the bathroom floor on the second floor

a bunch of kids thought it'd be cool to tear up all the bricks, more fun for me.

blow a hole in your wall... i did.

2011-04-23T11:23:00.001-04:00

Have you ever walked from one room to the next and been like, "i really wish this wall wasn't there," or said, "these rooms feel so small and claustrophobic."

Welcome to whit and I's latest project. We talked about it for a while and one night it happened.

A shot of inspiration moved into the realm of action and i whipped out the key hole saw and blew a hole in the wall.

The pictures today are after cutting out the studs (2x4s that hold up walls) and supporting the 2nd story with a double 2x12 header (the structural support over windows, doors, and big holes in the wall like mine).

2nd coat of spackle and I'll begin building the breakfast bar with 1x3 lengths of premium grade pine.

Once i finish the spackle and install the breakfast bar, we'll paint the kitchen and living room. We'll be sure to keep you posted and do the big reveal in hopefully less than a month (wink, wink). If you don't know this already, carpenters are predominantly known to have projects like this last for indefinitely long periods of time. My current count... 23 days. Let's try to keep it under 40 shall we?

Anybody else have those scary projects? Write me for design ideas and any help. Whit and I love this stuff.

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2011-04-22T13:57:00.001-04:00

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