Dr. Will Conner walks into a small office at the back of the Haitian hospital where several of his patients and their families lie on mattresses spread across the floor.
They greet the Matthews doctor, who’s at the end of his spur-of-the-moment, four-day shift in earthquake relief, calling out “Dr. William, Dr. William.”
They reach out to shake his hand, pat his back, squeeze his arm, and touch his hair.
“Don’t go,” they say in broken English. “Thank you.” “Merci.” “Bon voyage.”
Conner stops in front of a 6-year-old girl with a gash in her left leg so deep her bone is visible. He bends over and takes off his red backpack.
He pulls out a black-and-white penguin with orange ears.
A large smile breaks across Eunice Jouissance’s face as Conner hands her the doll that his own daughter Zoe, 8, had dressed up like a doctor.
She told her father she wanted him to give it to a sick child.
“Merci,” Eunice whispers, then presses the penguin against her cheek.
Conner stands up to say more goodbyes.
Mathaus Cazeau, 13, who two days earlier was screaming in agony as Conner treated his two amputated fingers, is now smiling and laughing.
In the hallway, Conner hands his stethoscope to a Haitian medical student who assisted with patients. Dr. Mark Nelson, a family practitioner who works in Ecuador, gives his colleague a hug.
“You were wonderful,” he says.
Conner, who runs the Conner Family Health Clinic in Matthews, arrived in Haiti on Sunday, drawn by the massive earthquake to the country where he had worked three times before.
Now he is leaving. He climbs into the jeep of his friend and guide, Donald Chaudry, and heads for the border.
On the ride of more than two hours, Chaudry teaches Conner some proverbs spoken in Haitian Creole.
One of them goes like this: ” Fe bien, tout cote, tout gens, tout facon, pau tout mounn, just le ou pa ka pab anko.” It means “Do well, in all things, to all people, in all ways, from all the time, as long as you are able.”
Conner came to Haiti with three bags, including an 80-pound suitcase filled with medicine and supplies. He’s leaving with only his smallest one, which carries a rain jacket, a broken camera and a cap.
He gave the medicine to Samaritan’s Purse, the Boone-based relief agency that ran the hospital where Conner worked. He gave Chaudry his clothes and his backpack.
On the plane, he breaks down in tears worrying about the patients he left behind. He had roughly 70.
He makes a list of their names: Ronite Tisme, Estime Gesner, Clotilde Compere, Youen Cano …
He says he can tell a story about every one.
Ronite, 18, was trapped under her school for three days until her father heard her calling him by a nickname. Four floors fell on top of Estime, 40. Clotilde only wanted Conner to change the dressing on her amputated foot.
He worries she may lose more of her leg to infection. He worries others won’t fully recover because they won’t get physical therapy.
He says he will cherish his patients’ warmth and willingness to help one another in desperate times. He mentions Linda Pierre, who has a full cast on her right leg, another on her left arm, and a 10-inch laceration across her forehead.
When Gesner was reeling in pain Wednesday as Conner treated his broken and infected leg, Pierre, 40, began to sing, “Gen konfyance nin bondye, Gen konfyance nin bondye.”
Each time Gesner moaned, Pierre sang a little louder. Other patients and their families joined in until nearly the entire room was singing. “‘Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus. Just to trust him at his word.”
Before boarding the plane in Santo Domingo, Conner calls home. His wife, Natalie, has told him that friends, neighbors and strangers have responded with pledges of food, child care and prayers. One doctor offered to see any of his patients who needed immediate care.
“One act of love and compassion has set off a chain reaction,” Natalie says.
While he talks of coming back to Haiti to help the country recover, Conner says he’s ready to be with his family.
His flights lands in Charlotte at about 11:30 p.m. He rushes to the baggage claim, where his wife is waiting at the bottom of the escalator looking overwhelmed and relieved.
He hurries down the escalator and grabs her.
“Let’s go,” she tells him.
