"Ever since that first year, I tell everyone they need to go to Haiti once in their lifetime, like a hajj [pilgrimage], so when you come back you're grateful for every little thing you have," Gashti said.
"I don't come from a very rich family or a rich place. I know what poverty is," he continued. Haiti, though, ?s "beyond poverty. It's not like people are poor. They just don't have anything. Poor means you have little. These people have nothing."
The first time Osly had ever seen a doctor was in 2005, at age 9, when he and his mother trekked to Milot the week that Gashti was there. Osly's case was simple - a small fluid-filled cyst under his right arm needed to be removed. It required only a local anesthetic.
Most surgeries Gashti does in Haiti are simple in the United States. But by the time patients in Haiti finally make it to the hospital to be seen, what could have been taken care of easily when it was small has grown so large that surgery is now quite problematic. Their goiter is so large they struggle to breathe. Their untreated hernias may require removal of the affected organ. Their infected appendix is ready to burst.
Last May, when Gashti returned to Haiti, Osly was back at the hospital. In the spot where the small cyst had been, the large ugly tumor had taken its place.
The tumor was painful. Osly couldn't put his arm down. He could barely fit into his shirt. Gashti saw right away that this tumor might kill the boy if it remained. At the very least, he would likely need his arm amputated.
The surgery couldn't be done in Haiti. It was far too complicated. Arteries, veins and nerves could all be involved. Osly would likely lose blood, and the hospital can't do transfusions. A skin graft, which he might need, was out of the question in this operating room, with its malfunctioning lights, shaky tables and shortage of antibiotics.
Gashti took 10 or 15 minutes to think. He looked at Osly. If this boy were Joshua, his now 15-year-old son, his wish would be that someone do everything possible to help. So he did something he had never done. Gashti had the Creole-speaking nurse tell Osly and his mother he wanted to bring them to the United States.
Osly's smile went from ear to ear. He grabbed the doctor's hand, shaking it with joy.
His mother was jubilant. "She said she woke up that morning and knew God was sending somebody to help Osly," Gashti recalled. "I thought maybe that someone was us."
