The one that sent me behind the medical clinic in tears was, from the medical standpoint, not much.

The teenager had a growth on her arm that was ugly but not dangerous. You could argue that ugly's not the end of the world, that her other attributes would more than make up for it. And you'd be right — in some places. In Haiti, attitudes toward people who have a disability or who are different generally range from indifference to isolation. The fact is, she would not have to live with it in most parts of the world. There are medical solutions just miles away. But it's not just one girl. And it's not just water separating us.

We talk about the gap in America between the haves and the have-nots. In Haiti, the gap is between the have-everythings and the have-nothings.

Despite "free" elections, Haitians don't even have access to their government, which conducts its business in a language few of them speak.

The Haitian government recently initiated a policy that requires citizens to get an identity card. To do that, they must have a birth certificate or other accepted "proof of identity." It has spawned a whole new industry, another chance for the have-nots to eke out a living. People who are literate set up card tables on the street, put typewriters on them and in these makeshift offices they create proof of identity. You negotiate a price, then the typist creates an identifying piece of paper to take to the government.

When I asked how they avoid fraud, I got blank stares. Huh?

I paid a lot of people $1 for the privilege of taking their photos. I didn't mind. Why shouldn't people who are starving make something of the one thing they control, their images?

But try figuring out how to put that in an expense account.

In America we have drinking water that won't kill or injure. The garbage trucks run. The roads get fixed. We have electricity during the day and power outages are rare. In Haiti, things we expect here aren't even dreamed.

The illiteracy rate is so high that I spent a memorable hour trying to convince a clerk in an "uppity-uppity" shop that a 1.4 percent transaction fee on a $70 purchase couldn't possibly be $98.

A near-death experience like cancer can change your perspective. So can returning to what a TV cameraman on the trip called the "Penthouse of the Planet" from a Third World country like Haiti. Our cities look beautiful, even in the more depressed sections. I-15 construction is a sign of better things to come, rather than the annoyance I'd thought it was.

That same cameraman, Dennis Kurumada, and I debated whether we'd kiss the ground in Miami or in Salt Lake City.

I can't get Haiti out of my mind. She's almost surreal as I resume my daily routine.

I loved her but I was glad to leave. I carry the people in my heart. I never met sweeter, more patient folks. Try getting an American to wait 14 hours for basic medical care. They have proven themselves to be survivors, soldiering on when many of us, more pampered and spoiled, would have called it quits.

I would gladly have brought a dozen orphans home with me.

And I would return in a heartbeat.

I regret that I wasn't able to touch them, to change their lives. They did both for me.

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E-mail: lois@desnews.com