Sunday is frisbee day. Last semester a group of teachers and others in the area would gather on our dirty, nasty field on campus and play Ultimate Frisbee. We would run, jump, and play each and every Sunday afternoon. We haven’t been able to partake in this glorious Sunday afternoon ritual for months because our field has been in the process of getting artificial turf installed. Last week the turf was finished and we were cleared to bust out the frisbee again.
So yesterday afternoon we got the frisbee and assembled on our brand new turf. The field was so smooth, so squishy, so great to run around on and play like we hadn’t been able to in months. Teams were divided up, 4 on 4, and play began. After one team had scored, not 15 minutes into the game there was a collision; my mouth & jaw with another player’s ankle. I can’t give any more detail than that because I honestly don’t remember. All I remember was pain in my lip and jaw and blood everywhere. For the record: I distinctly remember not spitting the blood on the field! We walked off to the side and rinsed my mouth out. The consensus was that I would need stitches. Ben walked me across the street to see if Miquette, our resident nurse, was around. She wasn’t and we decided I needed to visit Hopital Lespoir to see if they thought I needed stitches and to get them if I did.
Someone tracked down the keys to one of the school cars and Jill decided to go with me (many offered to go, but eight white people walking into the hospital would draw a lot of attention). Jill has been learning to drive standard transmission (what all of our school cars are) but was a little nervous about driving on main roads, so I volunteered. We got directions to the hospital and off we went. We got there in about 10 minutes and the parking lot was mostly empty, thankfully.
Jill and I walked in and the blood on my face (which wasn’t terribly shocking) gave the lady at the front desk a start. Shouldn't she be used to people coming in bloody and bruised? She ushered us into the emergency room and showed us to the nurse waiting there. The nurse examined my lip with all the tenderness of a battering ram. A man walked in (about my age, not the seasoned doctor I was hoping for) and examined my lip. I had asked the nurse if I would need stitches and she nodded her head yes in a way that communicated “yes, you idiot.” The doctor (I’m assuming that’s what this guy was) spoke with the nurse in very hurried Creole, but what I could gather from their conversation was a glimmer of hope that I would not need stitches. I have never had stitches and didn’t want Haiti to be the place I experience that blessed event for the first time. The doctor looked at me and said “nou pa bezen fe sa.”…”we don’t need to do that.” I threw my hands up in the air in jubilation!
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| I'm assuming this says "Emergency Room." |
The nurse came over and began to clean out my lip, which means she began to squeeze my lip attempting to get all the blood in my body out of that one cut (which she did very well). She began to look alarmed and called the doctor over. He took one look in my mouth and then took back the wonderful words he had just spoken: you need stitches. Bah!
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| Questionable looking bottle of brown goo. |
They laid me on the table and got out the stitch kit. The nurse-lady was getting step by step instructions and the stitches kit she opened up had directions similar to those you get when you buy a desk from IKEA so I was getting a bit nervous. The nurse lady got the anesthesia ready and jabbed it into my lip a few times and instantly my lip went numb, hooray!
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| Doc checking things out. |
She then moved into place to do her sewing. She had the most unsure look I’ve ever seen on anyone’s face, ever. She would glance back at the doctor every other second or two desperately searching for affirmation that she was doing her job correctly. He was chatting animatedly on his phone and would give her a nod every once in a while. After a few minutes and four stitches, two of which made me feel like a fish being dragged into the boat after being hooked, we were finished. I sat up and got confirmation from the doctor that we were done. The only instruction he gave me during this whole ordeal was “No kissing for one month.” Didn’t tell me how to clean it, didn’t give me a list of “dos” or “don’ts”; only “no kissing.” Thanks doc.
Jill and I settled the bill and got some medicine from the lady at the front desk and a few minutes and $7 US later we were headed home. My lip is disgusting, hurts a little, and will probably look a little funny after the stitches come out, but it was quite an afternoon! Thanks Jill for sharing the adventure with me!
WARNING: Semi-disgusting picture below...
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| yuck! pre-stitches |
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| still yuck! post-stitches |
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