When I have a cold...

...I wear a mask so that I don't infect Jess. Her white blood count is normal, so she isn't in risk of getting some horrific mega-cold, but she is having chronic back pain and you can imagine what a sneeze or a cough could do to her. So I sport this smashing blue mask whenever I'm with her and whenever I'm preparing food, drink or medication for her. I really don't mind it; it's the first time I've worn a mask and not wanted to pass out from the heat. Yay for the state of Maine!

 

 

What I particularly enjoy about the mask is that I lose it if I take it off and put it down somewhere. So instead of taking it off, I just shove my mask up onto my forehead when I want to eat or talk on the phone or be normal. Inevitably, I forget that it is there until I walk past a mirror. And then I laugh at myself. Does anyone else think I look like I'm doing a bad unicorn impression?

Kez Furth, RN, FOF

You know what RN stands for - registered nurse - but FOF? There's nothing official about those letters, I just like the way they sound, so I've claimed them as my other title. You see, during the week, I am an RN, taking care of Jess, but I usually spend my weekends on adventures with this motley crew of teenagers from Chop Point. We go sailing and canoeing, we have bonfires, we go to school soccer games, we cook pizza for 100 people, we go sightseeing in Boston, and we play ultimate Frisbee at all times: in the boats, in the rain, during the day and late at night.

 

Being a teenager isn't easy. There is so much pressure to be "cool", which by the time you're 16 or 17 generally means dances, parties, and alcohol. I want our teens to have something better than that. I want them to see that you can be a rule-abiding God-fearing person and still have fun, more fun, in fact, than our beverage-dependent counterparts.

 

 

 

 

For some kids, it happens naturally. But for the shy ones, the ones who don't speak much English yet, or the ones who are struggling with anxiety or depression, it helps to have someone making sure that everyone is included. Even the kids who seem well adjusted sometimes need the confidence boost that comes from just being wanted. I know because I was that teen not very long ago. So I try to fill that need, bringing kids together and teaching them about their worth in my eyes and in God's eyes, all through the language of fun.

 

 

FOF stands for Facilitator of Fun. Lucky me. I get to be an RN and an FOF. It's a pretty good life.

 

 

 

Cancer

Cancer's a funny thing. It eats away at you from the inside and slowly drains your strength.

Cancer treatment's an even funnier thing. It devours you from the inside and instantly swallows your strength.

How did we figure that one out?

Jess was in the middle of a course of chemotherapy when I arrived in Maine. After 5 days of pumping poison into her system to slow down the growth of her tumors, she was exhausted. Her blood counts were frighteningly low and it wasn't long before she picked up a secondary infection. We've had two 5-day hospitalizations in 2 weeks now, both due to complications secondary to the cancer and its treatment. I was relieved when her doctor said that he wanted her to take some time off from chemo to let her body recuperate a bit because he was afraid the treatment would kill her long before cancer could.

I've never done this before. When people have cancer in Haiti, they simply die. There are only 2 or 3 hospitals that can treat cancer and they are many hours from Gonaives. It's amazing to me that in developed countries we can prolong life this way, but it's sad that the cost must be so high.

Pray for strength. Pray for relief from pain. Pray for peace.

The faces of last year

Each Haiti year tends to have one particular person as its "theme", a patient or a child who especially captures my heart and seems to direct the course of my year.  The 2012-2013 year had two: Lovena and Rudenchly.

 

Lovena is living at Dorothy's right now. Her grandmother was afraid that someone would try to steal her again or that her own husband, Lovena's grandfather, would try to sell her. So for Lovena's safety, we moved her back to Dorothy's and she is very happy there. I got to visit her briefly in September before I returned to Maine.

 

 

Rudenchly is at home with his mom and siblings. He is walking around like a champ, talking in broken sentences, and showing off. When I came to his house, he immediately grabbed my finger and starting walking me around, exactly the way I used to make him hold my hand and walk around the clinic when he was learning to walk on his burned foot. Any doubt that he remembered me - gone.

 

Tabloids

For years, I have compared living as a white person in Haiti to being a celebrity in the US. People stare at me when I walk down the street, they clamor for my attention and get giddy if I simply smile or wave at them. People I've never met before know my name and strangers try to convince my friends to get them an introduction with "Miss Keziah." And I imagine that celebrities wonder just like I do: are you my friend because you like me for who I am or because you like what I can get for you? At least we don't have the paparazzi...oh wait, I have definitely been photographed by strangers on over a dozen occasions!

 

Last week, my friend Grace and my ex-roommate Chris got married in Gonaives, Haiti. If ever something would convince me that we are indeed the Haiti version of celebrities, it was this wedding.

 

 

Everywhere I went, the wedding was all anyone could talk about. Patients outside clinic, neighbors near my house, families in Jubilee, other missionary groups...If it had been Brad and Angelina, I swear, there wouldn't have been more gossip!

 

What is Grace going to wear? Who are Grace's bridesmaids? Where are you having the ceremony? Is anyone going to get drunk? What food are you making? Who is the best dancer at the reception?

 

If Gonaives had tabloids, we would have been on the front page of every single one!

What happens next

It's that time of year when I usually return to Haiti and pick up where I left off before my summer break at Chop Point.

This year's going to be different. A friend of mine and fellow staff member at camp has been diagnosed with bone cancer, so I have decided to stay in Maine and help with her care. I'm flying to Haiti tomorrow to say good-byes and gather some of my belongings and then I will return to Maine on September 4th where I will remain for an indefinite future.

It is going to be a difficult road. Walking with a friend through a terminal illness is challenge enough, but add to that the fact that I will be living in America for the first time in 6 years. That may not seem like anything to you, but it's a frighteningly strange concept to me. I'm sure there will be days when I wish fervently that I'd chosen Haiti over cancer, but for now, I'm focusing on the good side of it.

I'm going to see the seasons change and be able to walk down the street without being stared at. I'm going to attend church in English, I'm going to wear wool socks, and I'm going to drink milk. Most importantly, I will get to be with my friend at a time when she needs me, and hopefully I will be able to support my Chop Point community in the same way that they have supported me for so long.

Give me back my heart

Jean, Chop Point's founder, told me this year that I had about another 20 years of loving kids before I become callous to it all. Twenty more years?! I'm not sure I can handle loving and losing twenty more years worth of amazing teenagers.