Bermudian Yelena Packwood headed to Haiti last Tuesday with the Seventh-Day Adventist (SDA) Church in Florida to not only assist in relief efforts, but also to record video footage. Miss Packwood, 25, will sleep in a tent outside the SDA hospital with 20 others from the Southeastern Conference during her two-week stay.

Here she writes about the scenes of tragedy that met her and her colleagues when they arrived.

After travelling to Miami, flying to the Dominican Republic, and driving for nine hours on a small bus from Santo Domingo, we arrived in Haiti. Everyone's spirits were high as the blue gates that separate the island of Hispaniola slowly opened and let us pass. A beautiful lake nestled between mountains welcomed us to Haiti and ushered us through the area known as Frontier land.

At first we only saw a person or goat here or there as we lumbered through potholes and watched as a young boy rowed a boat overloaded with charcoal he was bringing into Haiti from the Dominican Republic.

It didn't take long for us to start seeing the effects of the earthquake. At first it was only a house or wall every few minutes. However, the closer we drew to Port au Prince, the true extent of the devastation became bleakly apparent.

Everyone was outside, too scared to stay inside their houses. Traffic became more congested as we entered the heart of the city. Devastation was everywhere.

No amount of mental preparation was enough to imagine how bad the situation really is. The news has only shown a very small fraction of what life has become here.

Large slabs of concrete lay broken on piles of rubble where homes and businesses once stood. The air is rich with the stench of death. The tension is palpable. As we entered the market, fruits were scattered in the street as vendors sat on the ground near their wares. The traffic parted and someone on the bus shouted, "There's a man in the street, and he's bleeding." We all looked in horror, as a man bled profusely from his side and struggled to move. People stepped over him, and cars drove around him. Even we, a bus full of doctors and nurses, carrying medical supplies, could not stop. The desperation of the people could be seen as clearly as that man, and we would have been in imminent danger if we had stopped in the market with a bus full of food and supplies. A medical helicopter flew overhead, but we knew that it wasn't stopping to save that man. Sadly, we drove on.

I struggled to keep my hands from shaking as I continued to film the city. We did feel some hope as we watched where that helicopter did land. Another person was rescued from a fallen building, and the American soldiers were airlifting that person to the hospital ship in the harbour. Soldiers from all over the world have been policing the city. The road to the hospital was impassable, and we had to take an alternate route through rubble-covered streets. People pressed too close for comfort, and every time a car slowed in front of us, the driver honked profusely as even he was nervous if we should stop.

We finally reached the hospital in the afternoon. As we pulled through the tents and makeshift dwellings, we saw a handwritten sign indicating the post-op area. As we got situated, a few people got off the bus and had to use the bathroom. When one nurse returned, she told us that we have to be extremely careful because even the bathroom floor was covered in blood.

Tired and sad, we started our first day of work. However, everyone at the hospital is optimistic. They had a clean guarded area for us to sleep and use the bathroom. There are crews from France, Korea, and all over the US. As we began to work, we realised the overwhelming task that faced us, and everyone was put to work. Even I was forced to put down my camera and help where needed. Babies needed food and diapers. IVs needed to be checked, and the constant deluge of questions by scared people kept everyone on their feet. Some people have been awake for over 24 hours and still have not slept. The rest of us are in tents in the pavilion and on the roof where the guards can keep us safe.

But, the people are not entirely broken. Communities of bed sheets and tin have become home in fields near where homes crashed in on themselves two weeks ago. Nurses are shocked at the amount of pain the adults and children here are able to endure. I watched two men rebuilding a wall from the broken stones that lay around them. The hospital chaplain said that all around Port au Prince, there hasn't been any denomination or concerns with spirits, everyone has been praying together for Jesus to help them.

Help is exactly what they need. I wish I could better explain the situation here, but it still feels unreal to see it firsthand. It's like watching a war movie, except that this is real. Nurses, doctors, and chaplains are overwhelmed. Armed guards protect the hospital, and every night people are dying from simple problems that could be cured with supplies. Babies are going unfed, and the elderly are giving up hope. These people have lost what little they have, but they do have the spirit to fight. They are fighting here every day to survive.