My good friend Dr. Reza Nabavian, surgeon and burn specialist, wrote this tonight, at 3.30 in the morning, after operating here at St. Damien's all day and most of the night. The NPH doctors here are incredible, as are the doctors who joined them from Sean and Diana's J/P organization. Unlike me, they don't get much of a chance to express their feelings, as they are all working too damn hard, so I thought I would pass this along to give you a glimpse into what is happening all over this country right now, in hospitals where walls have crumbled, in tents, in shacks, and often right out in the open. Maria texted me to report that she had visited the General Hospital with Sean and Diana and team, and that conditions there are unbelievably bad. As I wrote earlier this evening, our team worked for many hours in a huge military tent at the airport, one of many at that site. They hadn't had food since breakfast, and not one of them thought of leaving long enough to even get a bite.

An hour rarely goes by where I do not get an urgent email from some small medical group that has run out of meds or pain killers. Even at the airport, surrounded by all those brilliant military and NGO doctors, I was stopped by a volunteer team from a small, badly damaged town where they are desperate for pain killers and antibiotics. We are helping them out, and Sean and Diana and J/P team are putting a plan into place to help get medication to patients in far flung areas, snarled by traffic, and to airlift patients to where they can get help.

Still, in it all, the Haitian people show such amazing dignity. Today we drove through what has been described as the most dangerous slum in one of the most dangerous cities in the Western Hemisphere. We went without security, with two soft-spoken women as our guides. At one point, when visiting a school that Lionsgate is generously supporting, our two vehicles could not move. Blocked in, unable to go forward or back, we were suddenly surrounded by hundreds of Haitians.

An Italian relief organization had brought one small truck to distribute some food to these starving people, and it looked like a riot was in the making. But this group had called ahead to the local community leader, told them they had food and would bring it if the people were orderly. And within moments, this mass of people formed up in four straight single lines, blocks long, and quietly followed the truck down the street to where they were to be given food. There was no way in hell there was enough on that truck for all these people and their families; the haitian people could see that as easily as I could, they were never going to get halfway through that line before running out. But still, these starving people just lined up and walked patiently, and gratefully, behind the truck.

I am off on a tangent, apologies. I am sending you this letter because I believe it expresses what most of the doctors in Port au Prince feel right now. And as they see the major news services packing up to leave, they can't help but wonder what is going to happen when we are onto the next big story and Haiti, and all its limbless and crippled children and adults, is once again forgotten.

We can't let that happen this time. These people need real help, not a quick fix that makes us all feel good that we did our bit for the poor and can get back to our comfortable lives.

Reza told me tonight he did not want to leave as planned, even though he has important burn surgery planned in LA on Monday. He decided to compromise. He is leaving, doing the surgery, getting the tools and medication he needs and coming back as soon as he can. And we are thrilled he has made that decision, and are going to get him whatever support he needs.

I am so incredibly proud of the doctors here. And especially proud to call Reza my friend.

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