By Don Melton
Citizen of McKenzie |
Don Melton underwent
life-saving surgery in the third world country of Haiti.
It was May 8, 2001, when I found myself on the way to
Port-au-Prince, Haiti. I had made this trip many times in
the past but this time it was different. I really believed I
would never return to the United States alive. I had been
having abdominal pain for some time and had actually lost
from 270 to a mere 188 pounds in 60 days. It was impossible
for me to eat without excruciating pain. I had a contract to
perform in Haiti but my main purpose for going was to see my
physician, Jean Pierre Eli. He and I had been friends for
many years and many times before he had solved my problem
with stomach pain.
At one time, I had spent over two weeks in a hospital in
Memphis because of stomach pain. After the expenditure of
several thousand dollars, paid by my insurance, they really
provided no answers. It took Dr. Eli exactly 15 minutes to
diagnose my problem.
Upon my arrival to Port-au-Prince, Haiti, I literally
crawled off the plane. When I arrived at the El Rancho
Hotel, I called Dr. Eli to ask him what time he closed his
office. He wanted to know my problem. After explaining, he
decided it would be best if he visited me at the hotel. He
arrived and administered a shot to relieve the pain as he
had done so many times before. He demanded that I come to
his office the next morning. But I, stubborn as ever,
insisted that I had to complete my business in the city
before going to his office.
But when the pain returned, it was so unbearable that the
next day I decided to go to his office. An associate and he
had decided I had a hiatal hernia that they thought they
would be able to solve with medication. For a few days, I
seemed to get better, but on Saturday, May 12, when I was
traveling from the job site back to the hotel, the pain
again became unbearable. When I arrived at the hotel, I was
so sick and weak that I could not even carry my briefcase.
There was an old man who worked as a bellhop and,
recognizing my problem, he grabbed the briefcase and
accompanied me to the room.
On the way, I could not control myself or hold back any
longer and I stuck my head into some shrubbery and vomited,
something I hardly ever do. I was unable to get the key in
the lock to even open the door so the gentleman took the key
and opened the door. How much time had passed, I am unaware
but, when I awoke, there set the old man beside my bed. I
had a wet cloth on my head and my shoes had been removed.
It comforted me that the old man had stayed with me. When my
friend, Alva Sergo, came to the hotel, I heard the old man
tell him that he thought I was going to die any minute.
After a couple of hours, though, I seemed to be getting
better so I assured Sergo he could leave.
Don Melton thanks the bellhop
whose kindness comforted him during his illness.
After a while, the pain returned and I was sure that I would
die, after all. I could not sit. I could not stand. I could
not lie down. There was no position in which I could find
comfort. The telephone system in Haiti was poor and, after
many attempts of trying to call Dr. Eli, I finally gave up
and tried to go back to bed. At four o'clock in the morning
I realized that if I tried to wait any longer I might not
make it. Again I tried to call Dr. Eli and, miraculously to
me, he answered the phone. Within 30 minutes, through the
door he came. He was truly an angel, though irritated with
me because I did not continue to call the night before. This
time he gave me a shot that would put me out the rest of the
day. He explained there was no way that a hiatal hernia
could be giving me so much pain. He told me to come to his
office first thing Monday morning and left instructions for
Sergo to purchase medicine for the pain. I was to take one
every four hours regardless of my condition.
Monday morning, Sergo drove me to the office. There, an
ultrasound discovered a blockage between my large and small
intestines. The technician turned to Dr. Eli and said, "Now
this is an emergency. The only way to solve this problem is
surgery and it must be done quickly."
Dr. Eli instructed Sergo to drive made to the hospital
immediately and have me admitted. I was self-employed at the
time and could not afford insurance but in Haiti I'm not
sure that would make any difference. Sergo signed all the
necessary papers guaranteeing payment of the hospital bill.
Soon after I was admitted, Jean-Pierre and his associate,
Dr. Claude Tallimax, arrived and explained to me the
preliminary tests showed my kidneys were shutting down. They
said they had to wait until my kidneys regained functioning
before they could perform surgery.
For the next few days, I lay there with tubes sticking in me
everywhere. Sergo would come to the hospital every morning
and sit by my bed until I had to run him off at night. One
evening, he had driven across town when my brother called
him on his cell phone to speak with me. Sergo cannot speak
English but seems to understand most. He told my brother to
wait as he drove back to the hospital and ran up the steps
to give me the phone. If you have ever been to Haiti, you
would know that cell phone minutes are expensive. I also had
several friends visit, giving me support. I wrote letters to
my children and gave to Sergo for safekeeping, in the event
I did not survive the operation. Of course Sergo, like all
my other friends, insisted I would have survive the ordeal.
Melton's best friend, Alva Sergo.
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Jean Pierre spoke with my brother by phone and explained
there was no need in him coming to Haiti because my "other
brothers"--he and my other Haitian friends--were with me and
the operation should only take about one and a half hours.
The hospitals in Haiti do not have the elaborate equipment
available in the United States, so they were not even sure
of what they were going into.
On my birthday, Thursday, May 17, at 5 a.m., I was awakened
by three young nurses shaving me from my neck to my knees.
This was to be a day that I would never forget. As they
rolled me down the corridor, I saw so many people suffering
with no air conditioning and for a moment I forgot all my
problems. When I entered the operating room, I was surprised
at how modern it looked. The anesthesiologist was a very
nice lady. I wish I had taken pictures of her. I do not
remember her name, but she would visit my room everyday
leading up to this time. As I entered the room, she greeted
me and started prepping me for the surgery. She whispered in
my ear," You are going to sleep now."
Five and a half hours later, I woke to the taste of blood
and the anesthesiologist was swabbing my mouth, telling me
that everything was going to be all right. My head was flat
on the table and I asked her if she could raise it and she
said, "Not yet." Even though I kept trying to go back to
sleep, she would not let me.
Dr. Jean Pierre Eli, the United
States-educated physician whose expertise solved
Melton's medical dilemma.
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I was taken back to my room, where Jean Pierre had hired
a special nurse to stay in the room with me 24 hours a day.
It was raining, which was very unusual in Haiti during the
day. I could not sleep, or at least I do not remember
sleeping during the rest of the day and night. At 6 a.m.
Friday, the nurse gave me a bath and I heard a welcome
sound. The bed motor was running and I could feel my head
coming up. I knew then I was going to beat the odds--that I
was going to live.
Six days later I walked out of the hospital and was driven
to another friend's house, Eric Mevs. I had worked for many
years for the Mevs family. Eric's older brother had been my
boss while I worked for the Haitian American Sugar Company.
He was killed in an electrical accident several years
earlier. The Mevs family is one of the wealthy families in
Haiti. Eric and his wife Barbara, an American, showed such
compassion for me that I will surely never forget.
I have been asked many times why I love Haiti so much and I
think this will explain it. If not for Haiti and all my
friends there, I would not be alive to tell this story. I
went through many financial problems created by my lack of
ability to perform my job.
I wrote this for several reasons. I want people to know the
real Haiti and the Haitian people. I wanted everyone to
understand the need for a national hospital plan that I know
for a fact works in Canada and Switzerland. Even though the
politicians and news media tell you how bad they are, I know
people who are from those counties and they praise it
highly. I also want you to know the new bankruptcy laws are
intended to hurt the middle class and poor people but allow
the rich to claim anything they want. As Americans, we have
made a tremendous mistake of not speaking out for that in
which we truly believe.
There is one thing of which I am certain: I am living a
miracle and it is not due to our health plans, our
government support, or our medical system. I am living a
miracle because of friends in a third world country and a
doctor who forgot about money and showed compassion for
another human being. Thank God for people like him.
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