Hello from the newest member of the clinic team.  My name is Kindra Stoll.  I’ll be around for the next year, Lord willing, so I’ve been told I’m supposed to introduce myself to everyone.  I’m from Tennessee, and am the daughter of Ervin & Linda Stoll, for all of you genealogy-lovers out there. :o)  I’ve been here just a bit over two weeks now, and it’s beginning to feel like home. 

I’m still trying to find “my” place here at the clinic, so I’m a little unsure what I should write about.  I don’t really have a set-in-stone job, and I don’t always feel as though I’m being much help when I’m constantly calling for Whit or Ro to translate or tell me how to do something.  I am ever-so-slowly starting to figure out where things belong, who is who, and get a feel for the way the clinic runs, though.

As you may have guessed, learning the language is pretty high on my priority list right now, so I am trying to take the time each day to study.  Easier said than done, though, here at the mission.  People stay pretty busy around here.  There are always pills to count out, dishes to be washed, food to make, and people knocking at the gate.

Since I can’t speak creole, I’m fairly limited in what I can do at the clinic, as far as doing a consultation with a patient, and actually diagnosing their problem and treating it.  Things that can be done without having to hold a conversation with the person, such as taking vitals, or getting medicines, tend to fall more into my realm of work.  When I’m not busy with that, I just sorta float around and try to find someone that looks like they could use a second set of hands, whether it’s holding Whit’s burn patient’s leg up, or one of Ro’s abscess patients down.  

Those are the situations that drain me.  When children are crying, screaming, and begging you to please stop hurting them.  I can’t tell them that it has to be cleaned out, cut off, or stitched up to prevent an infection from claiming their limb or their life.  I can’t tell them that yes, it will hurt really bad for a bit, but it has to happen, and it will be over soon.  I can only stare into their dark, hurting eyes, and whisper the word for “I’m sorry.” 

Steve & Shana and their children, along with Whitney and Rhoda, went out to Petit Goave this afternoon.  Steve has to go to Port in the morning to pick up a couple at the airport, so they are spending the night in Petit Goave and the girls and Shana will stay there while he goes to the airport tomorrow.  They left me holding the clinic keys with rather shaky hands, the only blan nurse left at the mission, while I tried to reassure myself by repeating mentally that God will not hand me more than I can handle. :o)

I was supposed to be adding a picture of myself to this post, but since I forgot to get Whit’s camera card from her, I guess it will have to wait.  So, until next time…God bless!    


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