Deployed to Haiti for six months − 7 September, 1997
I then understood the notion of being to hell and back...........
Tamanmone Casmir: Lest we forget
By Navy Lt. David B. Oates
U.S. Support Group-Haiti Public Affairs
PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti (AFNS) -- Thanksgiving for most at U.S. Support Group-Haiti consisted of enjoying the elaborate dinner provided in Camp Kinzer's and Fairwinds' dining facilities, followed by watching football on satellite television.
But, for a young boy born nine days prior, his Thanksgiving was spent struggling for his life.
Tamanmone Casmir laid semi-comatose in the 355th Air Transportable Hospital Nov. 27. He was covered in tubes, some for an oxygen tank five times his size and 50 times his weight. Other tubes were for an IV and a heart monitor. Tamanmone's crib was a field hospital bed with makeshift cardboard walls. He was wrapped in blankets.
Tamanmone was first seen Nov. 26 during the ATH's weekly health call at the Missionaries of Charities in Cite Pele, one of the most deprived areas of this city in the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. Through an interpreter, Tamanmone's mother said he had been running a fever for the past three days, and hadn't eaten for more than 24 hours. Tamanmone was also suffering from violent seizures.
"We brought him back to the hospital that day and performed a spinal tap," said Air Force Capt. Lorri M. Clark, a pediatric nurse practitioner with the 355th ATH. "The test showed he had bacteria in his spine."
Meningitis.
The bacteria causing the painful, and potentially fatal disease was one of three types. ATH's do not have the appropriate equipment to identify the type of bacteria it was, according to Clark.
"Normally someone (military servicemember) this sick would be back in the states fast," said Canadian Air Force 1st Lt. Heather L. Russell, a staff nurse training with the 355th ATH.
Transferring Tamanmone to the U. S. was not an option because the child is a Haitian national. But that did not stop Clark or Russell from attending to him around the clock.
"The first night here, he seized all night," said Clark. "We gave him three different types of medication. His temperature came down to normal, and he seemed to be getting better."
The next morning, Tamanmone suffered a major setback. His brain began to swell and his body temperature and heart rate lowered considerably. Thanksgiving evening saw Tamanmone getting better, only to reverse again the next morning.
The roller coaster progress brought emotions to their brink, even to those like Clark, who has been in this line of business for more than 11 years.
"It's tough. Thanksgiving Day, I was in tears," said Clark whose dark circles under her eyes displayed the amount of attention she had given Tamanmone. "No matter how many times you see this, it never gets easier. "The day it does is the day I leave," said Clark
Another point of frustration was the realization that this illness is preventable in countries like the United States and Canada, because of the investment placed in public health and prenatal care programs, according to Russell.
"They (Haiti) just don't have the public health infrastructure," said Russell. "It's scary, sad."
Sitting side-saddle in an adjacent hospital bed were Tamanmone's parents. Their longing faces displayed their fear and uncertainty whether their newborn would live to see his first birthday. Their knowledge of modern medicine was limited, so explaining procedures to them became tedious, according to Russell.
"I don't think they understand the technology," Russell said. "We try to tell them we're doing everything we can -- certainly more than anyone else can in Haiti."
Clark sought help with the other physicians in the ATH and pediatric specialists by phone at the Air Force's Wilford Hall Medical Center in Texas. Nevertheless, the human body is as much art as it is modern science. So Clark and Russell, at times, were forced to simply wait, monitor and pray.
Haiti's mortality rate is high by any standards, but even more so when compared with its Caribbean neighbors. The numbers are so large that they become mere statistics.
As Tamanmone laid in his quasi-crib, the statistics became real. He was, in fact, a child like all other children.
"He's so cute when he yawns," said Senior Airman Debbie L. Naegele, a medical technician with the ATH.
Despite the expertise and compassion of the dedicated staff, Tamanmone Casmir was pronounced dead Nov. 29 at 6:23 a.m. The only consolation in such a tragic case is looking at another statistic, the one that shows that more than 45,000 people walked out of more than 550 humanitarian assistance calls healthier and happier, thanks to medical teams like the 355th ATH.
