Capt.
Jonathan Heavey, a Walter Reed surgeon, center, and Capt. John Knight,
a physician assistant, right, created Hope.MD while serving in Baghdad.
(By Ernesto Londono -- The Washington Post)
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BAGHDAD -- A couple of months after Capt. Jonathan Heavey, a Walter Reed Army Medical Center
physician, arrived in Baghdad, an Iraqi doctor handed him the medical
file of a 2-year-old boy with a life-threatening heart ailment. The
doctor said the boy couldn't get the care he needed in Iraq.
Heavey decided to help. He e-mailed a copy of the child's electrocardiogram and other information to a former colleague at the University of Virginia,
who agreed to treat the boy for free. Then Heavey began the
many-layered process of applying for U.S. visas for the boy and a
female guardian. Among other things, Heavey had to provide proof that
the guardian wasn't pregnant. Two months into the process, the boy
died.
"It was pretty crushing," said Heavey, a 33-year-old battalion
surgeon assigned to the 1st Battalion, 502nd Infantry Regiment of the
101st Airborne Division. "It was incredibly disappointing to know there
are academic facilities back home willing and able to help. But there
were just too many logistical hurdles."
Appalled by the state of Iraq's health-care system and frustrated by
rules preventing military doctors from treating Iraqis, Heavey and a
colleague, Capt. John Knight, 36, began arranging for sick Iraqi
children to receive free medical treatment abroad. During their
year-long deployment, which ended last month, they created a nonprofit
organization that has sent 12 children overseas for medical care,
funded by $17,000 that Heavey and Knight have contributed from their
own pockets and raised from family and friends.
Heavey, who is so polite and soft-spoken that he seems out of place
among gruff infantrymen, and Knight, 36, a physician assistant, worked
at a small aid station inside the high walls of Forward Operating Base
Justice, a U.S. military base in the Kadhimiyah section of northern Baghdad.
Late last year, they visited a hospital where malnourished and
neglected children rescued from an orphanage were being treated. A U.S. Army
civil affairs unit had visited the orphanage and discovered children
lying naked on the floor, surrounded by excrement. The plight of the
children, some of whom had cholera, drew media attention in the United
States and elsewhere.
Heavey and Knight, who both have young children, were haunted by what they had seen.
One day, as they worked out in the outpost's windowless gym, the
pair decided to start an organization. They had their doubts: Maybe
there would be mounds of red tape and cultural barriers to overcome.
Maybe they'd be able to help no more than a handful of kids. Maybe it
wouldn't work at all.
But as Knight later explained it: "We want to help people. We still really believe in what we do."
When they floated the idea around FOB Justice, many of their
superiors and colleagues rolled their eyes. Then they approached
military lawyers to ask whether, as Defense Department employees, they could solicit contributions.
"They were flippant about it," Knight said. "They didn't think it was going to go anywhere."
From that point, Heavey and Knight spent every spare minute on the
organization. They lugged their laptops along on missions so they could
work on their project during downtime. They spent hours downloading
documents using the outpost's maddeningly slow Internet connection.
They reached out to nonprofits and sent e-mails to friends,
acquaintances and friends of friends asking for help.