Toronto Star Article:
Tough mission: Focus on the living
Volunteer paramedics make a difference in Sri Lanka
Treat 3,500 patients, restore clean drinking water for more
RAHUL SINGH
SPECIAL TO THE STAR
Rahul Singh, 34, a Toronto paramedic, is one of several members of a volunteer health team responding to the tsunami disaster at their own expense. Singh, who founded the David McAntony Gibson Foundation seven years ago to provide medical help to developing countries, has taken previous leaves of absence to help set up emergency medical systems and equip hospitals in Iran, Thailand, Cambodia and Nepal. In this journal, he describes this team's experiences.
SRI LANKA—It has been a long and arduous journey to reach this country. Four flights, several time zones, a quick stop in Cambodia to purchase a bounty of desperately needed meds, and a flurry of aggravating customs checks.
Our team is exhausted but finally on the ground in Colombo. We are tasked to help in the Baticoloa district, in the middle of the island's east coast.
The 342-kilometre journey takes nine hours in a van packed with gear, passing through lush countryside that features wild elephants, military bases, washed-out roads and minefields.
Our team includes three paramedics from Toronto and two from Niagara; an American paramedic who flew in from Iraq; a nurse-paramedic from Edmonton who runs a clinic in the United Arab Emirates; a water technician from Whitehorse and a doctor from Toronto.
We all pitch in to help a local guesthouse owner clean up his rental rooms and establish a base camp. Camp Yukon is named for our water technician, whom we dub the water hippie in honour of his quick acclimatization to the 40-degree (Celsius) temperature change.
Our days start at 6 in the morning. Medical gear is sorted, vehicles are loaded and the teams head out into the fray. We partner up with local staff and make our way to the camps.
Carl Rotmann, a Toronto paramedic, at one point is forced to leave our vehicle behind and hike for half a kilometre with medical gear in tow — until his progress is cut off by a river. The bridge that once crossed it has been washed out.
Fortunately, Carl finds a local fisherman with a dugout canoe who agrees to ferry the team across. In the distance is a camp sheltering 465 families who haven't received any medical attention for the past six days.
The children are sick. They are dehydrated and becoming weak. Others are developing amoebic dysentery. Coughs, colds and fevers are rampant. There's no source of clean water. There's an imminent threat of a cholera outbreak.
The patients line up in a relatively orderly fashion, mothers clutching their babies. The team scans the crowd using a makeshift visual triage method, to ensure we don't miss flaccid and lethargic children.
The routine starts. We treat our patients with respect and dignity. Working through our local translators, we try to ensure that they know the outside world cares. Even if they have a cut toe, everyone gets their lungs auscultated (checked with a stethoscope). It makes them feel that they are being assessed more thoroughly.
Our medical teams treat their ailments. We dole out the amoxycillin, fungal creams and Cipro (an antibiotic).
"It is overwhelming to see the damage," says Dr. Karl Kabasele, a community-minded public health physician from Toronto. "It amazes me that all of our patients are smiling when they see us. They have such resolve.
"It is a race against time to prevent outbreaks of diarrheal disease from contaminated water and respiratory infections from the crowded conditions."
Dave Hutcheon is a 22-year veteran of Toronto Emergency Medical Services.
When asked about the working conditions, he admits, "It's hard to take a break when there is so much need. You feel guilty even trying to sneak in a power bar to keep yourself going. These are amazing people."
Exhausted at the end of the day and trying to get back to their camp before nightfall, the team crosses with the canoe and hikes out. Rotmann notices the smell of death emanating from the treeline. "You don't have time to collect the bodies. You must focus on keeping the living healthy," he says.
At the other end of the district, Victor Menkal, the Whitehorse water hippie, is elbow deep in dirty wells. He is showing the locals how they can clean their wells. They then fan out into teams and clean their neighbours'
wells. That helps rebuild a strong sense of community and, more importantly, give clean water back to the people.
As a paramedic, I feel pride at the team's accomplishments.
We've treated 3,500 patients, brought in more than $40,000 worth of medicine, built a clinic in a refugee camp, trained more than 60 people in water sanitation and mobilized 50 volunteers in Kalady to clean wells, thereby restoring safe water to about 100,000 people. And we've shown our fellow man that we care.