A harrowing week at the hospital followed the trip to Port-au-Prince. In addition to the fifty to sixty patients who came through on each of the four clinic days, there had been two late night emergency blood transfusions, one in maternity and one in pediatrics. Andre, the night watchman, rounded up two donors from a list that Bob kept of potential donors and their blood types. I did the cross matches and drew the blood while Bob prepped the patients. The village generator had been turned off by the time we started so Bob started the big hospital generator located in the pump house half way between the hospital and our houses at the back of the compound. Both patients survived but I was feeling the lack of sleep.
The following weekend the Baptists had a picnic at their guest houses perched on a wooded bluff overlooking the Mon Joli beach. I liked the view from here—the ocean reminded me of the Illinois prairies, far to the distant horizon, sometimes a squall, a curtain of rain hung from a dark cloud would move across the sea. Below the beach was surrounded by a reef and the white capped breakers looked like the pearls that wore with a blue dress the color of the sea. Mon Joli beach aroused feelings of the exotic mixed with homesickness.