A Man Named Joseph

I don't know how he has come to me, but he seems alone, and wants to help. I observe him as he silently watches the chaos in the OR and hovers nearby, not wanting to get in the way. I think he feels as helpless as I do, and I take him by the hand. I put a cap on his head, and a nametag on his shirt, and we get to work.

I find a rack in a room behind the OR, and clean it off. I wheel it out to the hallway, and we get to work in the procedure rooms. We trash all the filthy mess on the floors and tables. We take all the orthopedic supplies and organize them on this rack. We organize casting supplies, dressings, gloves, saline, gauze, and sterile supplies here. We wash the floors, disinfect the tables, and make the beds. It's a nice little project that makes us feel like we helped in some small way.

I thank Joseph for his help. But he is not done with me. He lingers, and I realize he has nowhere else to go. I take him with me on my next project. Now we find ourselves in a storage depot crammed with outdated supplies. So much has been donated during this crisis that we have to work to make room for it all, and we get to work again - a well -oiled machine now.

At the end of the day, we say our goodbyes. I am not sure whether I will see him again, his English is halting, and my Creole is non-existent. We find French, and I learn that he lost his two teenage sons in the earthquake. I am so heartbroken for him I can hardly breathe. Joseph is from Port au Prince, and is totally alone here in Milot. I ask him to meet again in the morning.

The next day, he is waiting for me at the gate. He stands proudly in his cap and has taped his name to his shirt - he is as official as I am, since I, too have a piece of tape on my scrub shirt. We walk to the hospital and get back to work.

Joseph spent 4 days with me, helping any way he could. I was able to get the hospital to pay him each day, but I don't know where he went at night, and now I wonder whether he even ate. He had nothing and yet he gave so much. His memory haunts me.

Dianne Koch, CST
Director of Surgical Materials and Sterile Processing
St. Elizabeth's Medical Center