One Hell of a week in Louisiana...
~*Disclaimer: this is verrry long, probably rambles a bit, but gives a detailed account of how things have been going here...it was helpful for me to write this down. It is entirely from my point of view, so I hope no one is upset or offended by it. I just thought, since i wrote it, I might as well share it with all of you.*~
A little over a week ago, I was annoyed at being caught in New Orleans' evacuee traffic. I had been teaching Barbizon at the New Orleans facility (the part-time job I've had for the past 3 years now) Saturday afternoon when we got the call to postpone, dismiss early, and get out. SATURDAY AFTERNOON! (Don't believe all of that stuff that New Orleans residents had daaaaays to evacuate. At that point we were 38 hours from landfall. That was when our governor called for a "voluntary" evacuation of Jefferson, Orleans, and more southern parishes. Jefferson Parish (which includes all areas of metro N.O outside of city limits) refused to call mandatory evacuation for liability purposes. (Orleans and others eventually called mandatory evacuations.) And let me tell you, that after living here 7 years and seeing all of the near misses N.O. has had, I didn't take it seriously, and I know many others did not either. This was a rainstorm from Miami (in fact, at that point I was more worried about hearing from my friend in Miami and making sure she was safe than evacuating.). And no rainstorm was going to destroy our city.
I drove out, intending to drive back in the following weekend, which would have been today, to hold rescheduled Barbizon classes.
I was frustrated. David (my fiance) was flying in from a week in Connecticut and we had planned to spend a romantic evening in the French Quarter as an early celebration of my birthday. I was looking forward to it because work at the hospital (My "real job" is that I'm a charge medical technologist at Our Lady of the Lake Regional Medical Center in Baton Rouge) had been rough. And now, I was stuck in traffic. And realizing I was due for an oil change. Blah. I just wanted it to be Monday night, for the storm to blow over, and life to be normal. There are 60 miles between the Barbizon facility and my house. Those 60 miles took me 3 1/2 hours that day.
On my way home, David called and informed me that four of my in-laws-to-be were on their way to stay with us. His mom (Carol), grandma, niece (Emily), and nephew (Jacob). At the time, I was annoyed because they didn't ask permission. Annoyance is fleeting in the face of tragedy. Mostly, I was embarassed because I'd been working non-stop and the house was messy. Messy is now a very relative term.
I arrived home at about 5:30 pm, around the same time David was arriving in the airport that is now a triage center. He had literally flown over the storm, having a connection in Tampa. News was swirling, evacuation was now mandatory in many areas. My hospital told me to pack a bag and stand ready to be called in if needed. David arrived home around 9. Carol and the rest of the family arrived around 9:30.
We spent Sunday trying to gather supplies, but things we already being scarfed up. The kids were scared because their parents (Bobby & Fawn (Fawn is David's sister)) were still in Metairie. I got a call to come in "as early as possible" Monday morning, and "be prepared to stay for 48 hours". This was all supposed to be over then. My evacuees only had a few days' worth of personal items. And that was the routine. People evacuate, life gets hectic, but then, after a day or two, life normailizes, businesses reopen, we go on. Through every tropical storm and hurricane, that is how we've functioned. This one was big, but...that was our routine, that WAS our personal emergency preparedness plan, People who had somewhere to go, would go for a few days, people who didn't, would find high ground, go to the Superdome (if allowed, during many storms they refused to open it after some vandalism issues after our near run-in with Hurricance Georges), they would find means of getting out of town.
But this time was also different because even before this storm, gas prices were astronomical. And I know if I was cringing at gas prices in all of my yuppie-esque glory, in my fuel-efficient Volkswagen, the poor of New Orleans had to feel helpless. Even if they had cars, how could they fill them enough to withstand at least 3 hours' evacuee traffic without overheating? I've said it many times this week, and I'll continue to say it, you've never know poor people till you've seen the poor of New Orleans. It is sad that so many have turned to violence because, while people are shrugging them off as thugs and druggies, the grandparents and children of those thugs and druggies are dying silently. Some of them honestly don't know much better. Take that, and combine it with extreme stress, fear, and hunger, and...it's dangerous. I'm not defending what they're doing, but it's a shame that the sporadic violence is causing innocent deaths.
Another thing that was different about this storm is that it used to be that my friends and classmates working at the hospitals of New Orleans would go there and work as on-call because it was "the safest place to be" in the event of a storm. But not in the event of this one. (I will revisit this thought later.)
So Monday morning came, and I set out for the hospital as the storm was opening up on Baton Rouge (4 am-ish). Rain bounced across the pavement like sleet. It was scary, but it was a 10 minute drive. There are no windows in my lab at work, so for the next 13 hours, I was buffered, with the exception of phone calls from home and short glimpses of the news which I caught on my break.
Meanwhile, at home we lost power around 8 am on Monday when the wind brought our neighbor's tree crashing down, and it took with it various power and phone lines, which in turn ripped the power boxes off of both our next door neighbor's and our houses, leaving behind a small hole in our roof over the laundry room. Tree limbs fell like rain themselves in our old, heavily-wooded subdivision. We later removed what looked to be nearly an entire tree off of our shed roof (which also had some damage, tho' slight). Lines were hanging low in the street, but not down.
Our entire evening shift (which is my usual shift, but I was filling in for a friend and ended up on-call), who is an amazing group themselves, straggled in, through the storm, providing us with much-needed relief, so I got to come home, though I was again to reprort as early as possible the following morning. We spent the evening trying to clean up the yard and staying cool, though the news reports were VERY upsetting. The places we had known and loved were flooded. There were so many people we didn't even think to get contacts for in the midst of everything, and now New Orleans area code phone numbers (and most phones in general) were not working. It was an evening of disbelief, uncertainty, fear, sadness.
Tuesday's work day came and went without much incident. (Only a 9 hour day!) Though I arrived home to find my house barricaded off from the rest of the subdivision because a utilitity truck had come through and ripped down our low-hanging lines.
But Tuesday evening was when we got news about the levy breaking, and Fawn and Bobby were still there, and we still had no eletricity, so our news reports and contact with the outside world was spotty. I felt like an old-time messenger or something, going to work, watching the news in the breakroom and spreading it to the family. (Since David works out of our home and we had no power, his work was pretty much in limbo, but I was able to get through to his company and then he finally did too, and they have been amazingly supportive. They are Houston-based, so they are getting a first-hand look at the situation with the Astrodome evacuees.) So we spent the night huddling around the radio, worried about Fawn & Bobby, calling them and begging them to get out. Carol was frantic, which is understandable. It was up to the kids and I to keep order, which was frustrating, but again, understandable. Fawn and Bobby were holed up in their house which was a block from where they were dropping off evacuees from the Superdome to be heliported...we worried because reports of violence were spreading..it wasn't just an issue of flood water.
I finally talked to Fawn and she PROMISED they'd get here Wednesday morning. They actually left Wednesday afternoon, and it took them a while, but after 4 1/2 days, Emily & Jake were no longer worried about being orphans. Of course, we now had 2 more refugees, but it was worth it to bring the family together...even in a cramped house without electricity.
I had been scheduled for a day off on Wednesday, and my boss insisted I take it. So I did. I spent the morning trying to distract the kids, and David spent the day trying to find a place for Carol and his grandma. We went to the mall and the toy store (FYI, Toys R Us turned out to be a welcome, untapped resource for batteries!), but everywhere we went, there were evacuees, news, sad stuff. Jake & Em are great kids tho', and took it in stride. As we were stuck in traffic, they slept in the A/C'ed car like little angels. And when they were awake, they wondered about friends and relatives, in particular their Uncle Al (Bobby's brother) and his family...
Which is the reason that when we arrived back home to find 5 people and a dog whom I'd never met before, sitting on our front lawn, there was no way I could turn them away. I pulled in the driveway and was like, "Who are these people?" and Emily blurted out, "It's Uncle Al!" It felt like a miracle. We had reunited this family. All they had was our address and a few directions scribbled down, but they found us, even despite the barricades. It was a moment where, here I was, in my own eyes a little girl, but I had all these desparate little faces staring at me. Not knowing what else to do, I got them all a dixie cup of water and explained that I had no electricity, but even if we had to set up tents, they were welcome. (The five people included Al, his wife, his mother, and their 2 kids)
Al was beside himself. They had come from a shelter in Metairie which was housing 350 people, but could not withstand the levee break. Al was actually one of the people in charge of the shelter, which started trying to evacuate on their own as water rushed in Tuesday night and early Wednesday. There was no official evauation, and rescue crews have not been to that shelter, as all eyes are on metro New Orleans. Al's wife, Patty had just had a hystectomy and was scared because flood waters had gotten in her incision, and it was red, inflammed, and a little torn. She also had had her medication stolen while at the shelter. So she became the first priority. I called an urgent care facility they we are clients with, knowing the ER was overwhelmed with local heat-strokes and evacuees. I explained the situation and when we arrived, they were waiting to treat Patty ahead of everyone else. :) While Al & Patty were at Urgent Care, the kids and I set off to find supplies...to not much of an avail. There was no ice left in the city. Gas stations had lines for miles, Home Depot had generators, but there was a 3-hour wait to get in the building because they were letting people in two at a time for fear of hoarding and/or looting. Discouraged, we went home.
When we got home, Bobby and Fawn had finally made it in, bringing with them some supplies they had stored, their dog, their cat, and a baby squirrel they'd saved from the floods.Bringing our grand total to 13 people (including David and I), 2 dogs, 1 squirrel, and 4 cats, no electricity, and 1000 sq feet. Luckily, I was able to use my old herpetology gear--my tent, head lamp, maglites to help us out. Urgent Care fixed Patty up and that night the kids slept in the tent.
Wednesday night most of our subdivision had their power restored, but we didn't. There were still wires, which Bell South had warned were "extremely live and dangerous" in the middle of our street! So, Thursday morning, feeling frustrated and concerned because I was now housing 4 children, called Entergy, our electric company and pleaded with them. I told them it was unsafe..there was literally a pole HANGING by threads...it could cause more damage! And our situation was that we'd basically set up a refugee camp. The lady on the phone was very sympathetic, and with in 30 minutes there were 7 utilitity trucks on our street. It took them 9 hours, but our power was restored Thursday night.
Weeks before all of this, my boss had scheduled a luncheon for us to show his appreciation, because as I said, even before this, things at work were tough. That was nice, and a much-needed therapy for all of us. My boss, Joe is from New Orleans, and has a full house right now as well. And everyone was anxious.
While I was at work Thursday, Bobby made arrangements for Em and Jake to go live with their aunt in Columbus and drove them to Memphis, where his sister met up with them and took the kids. Meanwhile, Jesse (our other young male refugee, he's 13) manged to toss a ball on the roof, and in retireving it, fell off a ladder, and broke his wrist...so there was yet another trip to the Urgent Care. And at the same time, an apartment complex called to let David know that Carol had gotten an apartment...she can move in Sept. 6th. So Thursday was a big day for our people.
At work we'd started getting specimens and patients from the triage sites around town Wednesday night and Thursday through now have been intensive at work. It's like doing the work of 3 hospitals, plus our outreach clinic work. The triage centers have been taken over by the military and we have been instructed not to give out supplies without "official permission" from hospital administration. A rule I've been personally inclined to bend when nobody's looking...and the patients are SO sick. They are taking priority over ERs, because honestly, most people who come to the ER willingly aren't THAT sick. (Not to say that we're not hustling with ERs, but...)
Our hospital is on total lock-down. There is only one door from which you can enter or exit. Guests must sign in and out and we are not admitted without name badges. Baton Rouge is over-crowded and there are reports of violence, and not all are rumors. And supplies are still limited. Many of our grocery wholesalers are New Orleans-based and it's taking a long time for stores to regroup.
Friday was my birthday. And it was the day when they admitted that hospitals in New Orleans were still not cleared out. Images of MCLNO (Charity) Hospital patients being rescued made me cry. It was two-years to the day that I had started my phlebotomy (blood-drawing) training at Charity. It infuriated me that the old "the hospital's the safest place" proved so wrong.
I announced to my household that "birthdays have been postponed until further notice." Neither they, nor my coworkers listened tho', and after a hard day, my colleague Kathleen called a "meeting" (despite us being BUSY!) where we had brownies she'd made and milk (a hot commodity right now which we secretly sell in our cafeteria at work) and bread, knowing that we'd lost all of our groceries in the power outage (we were without for nearly 3 days longer than most of the city.). It was touching. I cried a little.
And I arrived home to find that my little refugees had trekked to the store with David's help, and gotten balloons and cake, and even managed to find ice cream! Robyn (Patty & Al's daughter) made a card that thanked me for "Saving them". I don't know that I saved them, but I really feel good about doing what I can. There is SO much need and it is SO widespread. It's unfathomable, even when you're in the midst of it.It had been a hard ay at work (so many people critical...) so I didn't feel like celebrating, but the others said it helped them to get their minds off the situation, so we sat up and talked and tried to laugh and such. It was very, very touching. Even more so, because I knew that the Forchas (Al's family) would be leaving for Boston (they decided to relocate because that's where Patty's family is) before I returned home from work in the afternoon the next day. (We've decided the next party we have is going to be to celebrate everyone's homecoming...hopefully.)
So yesterday Patty, Jesse, and Robyn went to Boston and Al went back to the shelter (he took the dog with him for company) to help rescue and care for the people who are left there. They are in contact with the Salvation Army and now have running water (tho' no electricity), but there has been at least one death there as well, so it is sad, and I hope they are able to get them out and Al can join his family soon. He would not hear about not going back. That's his home. He is passionate about it.
We have been able to get first hand accounts from Al. And we also got updates on how some of the houses look. Carol's has roof damge, but her we know one of her cats (she didn't bring them because this was all supposed to be over withing 48 hours!!!) is ok for sure. Fawn & Bobby's didn't appear to have fallen to looters, which was their primary concern, and David's aunt's house looks spared for the mostpart. Grandma's old folks' community has water damage, but the old folks are regrouping here in town, and she may soon be able to link up with them, and she is very excited. However, it will be weeks at best before they'll be able to think about going back to live.
So right now it's me, David, Carol (D's mom), Grandma, Fawn, Bobby, and Bobby's mom. We're doing ok. Carol and Grandma have the apartment pending and Fawn & Bobby are going to head to Houston to stay with relatives once we find a place for Bobby's mom (who'll probably be going to Lafayette, where her daughter lives.).
The world is so different now. I think most of us have given up on things ever being "normal" again. I cycle between emotions, but for the mostpart am able to maintain a facade of being calm and collected, which has been helpful. We've all broken down, my break downs are just much more brief and privcate, i think. We all feel forgotten about. But those of us who've been spared the brunt of it also feel lost, scared, guilty...survivors' guilt. Surviving is hard right now. I keep thinking it too...what the hell did i do right that i'm safe, when just a week ago, I was there?
You feel selfish for feelings of loss. Like, I think of all of the places I may never get to go again, places that were so familiar, but now are barely recognizable. I've heard the hotel we were going to stay at on our wedding night has both water (of course) and fire damage. (wedding plans seem so trivial right now, but being a theatre-minded couple, we've decided our "show" must go on.)The house I called home for a year is messed up, and it's neighborhood is mostly demolished. The med school building, not far from the broke, rotting Superdome, where we holed up studying at all hours, is in shambles. ...a year ago today we were in Biloxi, MS on vacation, watching as Hurricane Ivan terrorized Florida...to think that everything between here and there is devastated is hard to handle...and on top of that, there are so many people we have not heard from...there is so much uncertainty
I know i've lost former (maybe current?) students. It hurts and it's scary. and...the people they rescue are SO sick. And people are scared, but...I'm trying to keep the faith that things will get better and that for all of us who were spared, God has a purpose. So we just need to stand our ground, help where we can, and pray. That's all we can do. Nothing makes sense right now.
People keep asking me why I don't just go back to Michigan and start over. The thought crossed my mind once this past week, but all inklings were wiped away when I realized these people NEED me. Everything happens for a reason, and I've always spoken about my magnetism toward New Orleans (which started when I was in 7th grade!), and maybe I was meant to be here, to help those I can. I don't know...and I don't even think the help I've given is that phenomenal, but...it was something...and if we all do something, perhaps we can overcome. New Orleans IS worth saving, whether you have compassion for those suffering or not. It is home to so many things great and small. And the fact that it seems lost breaks my heart...and is taking its toll on everyone in this household.
Things will be ok though. They have to be.
Please keep the faith.
Love,
k
A little over a week ago, I was annoyed at being caught in New Orleans' evacuee traffic. I had been teaching Barbizon at the New Orleans facility (the part-time job I've had for the past 3 years now) Saturday afternoon when we got the call to postpone, dismiss early, and get out. SATURDAY AFTERNOON! (Don't believe all of that stuff that New Orleans residents had daaaaays to evacuate. At that point we were 38 hours from landfall. That was when our governor called for a "voluntary" evacuation of Jefferson, Orleans, and more southern parishes. Jefferson Parish (which includes all areas of metro N.O outside of city limits) refused to call mandatory evacuation for liability purposes. (Orleans and others eventually called mandatory evacuations.) And let me tell you, that after living here 7 years and seeing all of the near misses N.O. has had, I didn't take it seriously, and I know many others did not either. This was a rainstorm from Miami (in fact, at that point I was more worried about hearing from my friend in Miami and making sure she was safe than evacuating.). And no rainstorm was going to destroy our city.
I drove out, intending to drive back in the following weekend, which would have been today, to hold rescheduled Barbizon classes.
I was frustrated. David (my fiance) was flying in from a week in Connecticut and we had planned to spend a romantic evening in the French Quarter as an early celebration of my birthday. I was looking forward to it because work at the hospital (My "real job" is that I'm a charge medical technologist at Our Lady of the Lake Regional Medical Center in Baton Rouge) had been rough. And now, I was stuck in traffic. And realizing I was due for an oil change. Blah. I just wanted it to be Monday night, for the storm to blow over, and life to be normal. There are 60 miles between the Barbizon facility and my house. Those 60 miles took me 3 1/2 hours that day.
On my way home, David called and informed me that four of my in-laws-to-be were on their way to stay with us. His mom (Carol), grandma, niece (Emily), and nephew (Jacob). At the time, I was annoyed because they didn't ask permission. Annoyance is fleeting in the face of tragedy. Mostly, I was embarassed because I'd been working non-stop and the house was messy. Messy is now a very relative term.
I arrived home at about 5:30 pm, around the same time David was arriving in the airport that is now a triage center. He had literally flown over the storm, having a connection in Tampa. News was swirling, evacuation was now mandatory in many areas. My hospital told me to pack a bag and stand ready to be called in if needed. David arrived home around 9. Carol and the rest of the family arrived around 9:30.
We spent Sunday trying to gather supplies, but things we already being scarfed up. The kids were scared because their parents (Bobby & Fawn (Fawn is David's sister)) were still in Metairie. I got a call to come in "as early as possible" Monday morning, and "be prepared to stay for 48 hours". This was all supposed to be over then. My evacuees only had a few days' worth of personal items. And that was the routine. People evacuate, life gets hectic, but then, after a day or two, life normailizes, businesses reopen, we go on. Through every tropical storm and hurricane, that is how we've functioned. This one was big, but...that was our routine, that WAS our personal emergency preparedness plan, People who had somewhere to go, would go for a few days, people who didn't, would find high ground, go to the Superdome (if allowed, during many storms they refused to open it after some vandalism issues after our near run-in with Hurricance Georges), they would find means of getting out of town.
But this time was also different because even before this storm, gas prices were astronomical. And I know if I was cringing at gas prices in all of my yuppie-esque glory, in my fuel-efficient Volkswagen, the poor of New Orleans had to feel helpless. Even if they had cars, how could they fill them enough to withstand at least 3 hours' evacuee traffic without overheating? I've said it many times this week, and I'll continue to say it, you've never know poor people till you've seen the poor of New Orleans. It is sad that so many have turned to violence because, while people are shrugging them off as thugs and druggies, the grandparents and children of those thugs and druggies are dying silently. Some of them honestly don't know much better. Take that, and combine it with extreme stress, fear, and hunger, and...it's dangerous. I'm not defending what they're doing, but it's a shame that the sporadic violence is causing innocent deaths.
Another thing that was different about this storm is that it used to be that my friends and classmates working at the hospitals of New Orleans would go there and work as on-call because it was "the safest place to be" in the event of a storm. But not in the event of this one. (I will revisit this thought later.)
So Monday morning came, and I set out for the hospital as the storm was opening up on Baton Rouge (4 am-ish). Rain bounced across the pavement like sleet. It was scary, but it was a 10 minute drive. There are no windows in my lab at work, so for the next 13 hours, I was buffered, with the exception of phone calls from home and short glimpses of the news which I caught on my break.
Meanwhile, at home we lost power around 8 am on Monday when the wind brought our neighbor's tree crashing down, and it took with it various power and phone lines, which in turn ripped the power boxes off of both our next door neighbor's and our houses, leaving behind a small hole in our roof over the laundry room. Tree limbs fell like rain themselves in our old, heavily-wooded subdivision. We later removed what looked to be nearly an entire tree off of our shed roof (which also had some damage, tho' slight). Lines were hanging low in the street, but not down.
Our entire evening shift (which is my usual shift, but I was filling in for a friend and ended up on-call), who is an amazing group themselves, straggled in, through the storm, providing us with much-needed relief, so I got to come home, though I was again to reprort as early as possible the following morning. We spent the evening trying to clean up the yard and staying cool, though the news reports were VERY upsetting. The places we had known and loved were flooded. There were so many people we didn't even think to get contacts for in the midst of everything, and now New Orleans area code phone numbers (and most phones in general) were not working. It was an evening of disbelief, uncertainty, fear, sadness.
Tuesday's work day came and went without much incident. (Only a 9 hour day!) Though I arrived home to find my house barricaded off from the rest of the subdivision because a utilitity truck had come through and ripped down our low-hanging lines.
But Tuesday evening was when we got news about the levy breaking, and Fawn and Bobby were still there, and we still had no eletricity, so our news reports and contact with the outside world was spotty. I felt like an old-time messenger or something, going to work, watching the news in the breakroom and spreading it to the family. (Since David works out of our home and we had no power, his work was pretty much in limbo, but I was able to get through to his company and then he finally did too, and they have been amazingly supportive. They are Houston-based, so they are getting a first-hand look at the situation with the Astrodome evacuees.) So we spent the night huddling around the radio, worried about Fawn & Bobby, calling them and begging them to get out. Carol was frantic, which is understandable. It was up to the kids and I to keep order, which was frustrating, but again, understandable. Fawn and Bobby were holed up in their house which was a block from where they were dropping off evacuees from the Superdome to be heliported...we worried because reports of violence were spreading..it wasn't just an issue of flood water.
I finally talked to Fawn and she PROMISED they'd get here Wednesday morning. They actually left Wednesday afternoon, and it took them a while, but after 4 1/2 days, Emily & Jake were no longer worried about being orphans. Of course, we now had 2 more refugees, but it was worth it to bring the family together...even in a cramped house without electricity.
I had been scheduled for a day off on Wednesday, and my boss insisted I take it. So I did. I spent the morning trying to distract the kids, and David spent the day trying to find a place for Carol and his grandma. We went to the mall and the toy store (FYI, Toys R Us turned out to be a welcome, untapped resource for batteries!), but everywhere we went, there were evacuees, news, sad stuff. Jake & Em are great kids tho', and took it in stride. As we were stuck in traffic, they slept in the A/C'ed car like little angels. And when they were awake, they wondered about friends and relatives, in particular their Uncle Al (Bobby's brother) and his family...
Which is the reason that when we arrived back home to find 5 people and a dog whom I'd never met before, sitting on our front lawn, there was no way I could turn them away. I pulled in the driveway and was like, "Who are these people?" and Emily blurted out, "It's Uncle Al!" It felt like a miracle. We had reunited this family. All they had was our address and a few directions scribbled down, but they found us, even despite the barricades. It was a moment where, here I was, in my own eyes a little girl, but I had all these desparate little faces staring at me. Not knowing what else to do, I got them all a dixie cup of water and explained that I had no electricity, but even if we had to set up tents, they were welcome. (The five people included Al, his wife, his mother, and their 2 kids)
Al was beside himself. They had come from a shelter in Metairie which was housing 350 people, but could not withstand the levee break. Al was actually one of the people in charge of the shelter, which started trying to evacuate on their own as water rushed in Tuesday night and early Wednesday. There was no official evauation, and rescue crews have not been to that shelter, as all eyes are on metro New Orleans. Al's wife, Patty had just had a hystectomy and was scared because flood waters had gotten in her incision, and it was red, inflammed, and a little torn. She also had had her medication stolen while at the shelter. So she became the first priority. I called an urgent care facility they we are clients with, knowing the ER was overwhelmed with local heat-strokes and evacuees. I explained the situation and when we arrived, they were waiting to treat Patty ahead of everyone else. :) While Al & Patty were at Urgent Care, the kids and I set off to find supplies...to not much of an avail. There was no ice left in the city. Gas stations had lines for miles, Home Depot had generators, but there was a 3-hour wait to get in the building because they were letting people in two at a time for fear of hoarding and/or looting. Discouraged, we went home.
When we got home, Bobby and Fawn had finally made it in, bringing with them some supplies they had stored, their dog, their cat, and a baby squirrel they'd saved from the floods.Bringing our grand total to 13 people (including David and I), 2 dogs, 1 squirrel, and 4 cats, no electricity, and 1000 sq feet. Luckily, I was able to use my old herpetology gear--my tent, head lamp, maglites to help us out. Urgent Care fixed Patty up and that night the kids slept in the tent.
Wednesday night most of our subdivision had their power restored, but we didn't. There were still wires, which Bell South had warned were "extremely live and dangerous" in the middle of our street! So, Thursday morning, feeling frustrated and concerned because I was now housing 4 children, called Entergy, our electric company and pleaded with them. I told them it was unsafe..there was literally a pole HANGING by threads...it could cause more damage! And our situation was that we'd basically set up a refugee camp. The lady on the phone was very sympathetic, and with in 30 minutes there were 7 utilitity trucks on our street. It took them 9 hours, but our power was restored Thursday night.
Weeks before all of this, my boss had scheduled a luncheon for us to show his appreciation, because as I said, even before this, things at work were tough. That was nice, and a much-needed therapy for all of us. My boss, Joe is from New Orleans, and has a full house right now as well. And everyone was anxious.
While I was at work Thursday, Bobby made arrangements for Em and Jake to go live with their aunt in Columbus and drove them to Memphis, where his sister met up with them and took the kids. Meanwhile, Jesse (our other young male refugee, he's 13) manged to toss a ball on the roof, and in retireving it, fell off a ladder, and broke his wrist...so there was yet another trip to the Urgent Care. And at the same time, an apartment complex called to let David know that Carol had gotten an apartment...she can move in Sept. 6th. So Thursday was a big day for our people.
At work we'd started getting specimens and patients from the triage sites around town Wednesday night and Thursday through now have been intensive at work. It's like doing the work of 3 hospitals, plus our outreach clinic work. The triage centers have been taken over by the military and we have been instructed not to give out supplies without "official permission" from hospital administration. A rule I've been personally inclined to bend when nobody's looking...and the patients are SO sick. They are taking priority over ERs, because honestly, most people who come to the ER willingly aren't THAT sick. (Not to say that we're not hustling with ERs, but...)
Our hospital is on total lock-down. There is only one door from which you can enter or exit. Guests must sign in and out and we are not admitted without name badges. Baton Rouge is over-crowded and there are reports of violence, and not all are rumors. And supplies are still limited. Many of our grocery wholesalers are New Orleans-based and it's taking a long time for stores to regroup.
Friday was my birthday. And it was the day when they admitted that hospitals in New Orleans were still not cleared out. Images of MCLNO (Charity) Hospital patients being rescued made me cry. It was two-years to the day that I had started my phlebotomy (blood-drawing) training at Charity. It infuriated me that the old "the hospital's the safest place" proved so wrong.
I announced to my household that "birthdays have been postponed until further notice." Neither they, nor my coworkers listened tho', and after a hard day, my colleague Kathleen called a "meeting" (despite us being BUSY!) where we had brownies she'd made and milk (a hot commodity right now which we secretly sell in our cafeteria at work) and bread, knowing that we'd lost all of our groceries in the power outage (we were without for nearly 3 days longer than most of the city.). It was touching. I cried a little.
And I arrived home to find that my little refugees had trekked to the store with David's help, and gotten balloons and cake, and even managed to find ice cream! Robyn (Patty & Al's daughter) made a card that thanked me for "Saving them". I don't know that I saved them, but I really feel good about doing what I can. There is SO much need and it is SO widespread. It's unfathomable, even when you're in the midst of it.It had been a hard ay at work (so many people critical...) so I didn't feel like celebrating, but the others said it helped them to get their minds off the situation, so we sat up and talked and tried to laugh and such. It was very, very touching. Even more so, because I knew that the Forchas (Al's family) would be leaving for Boston (they decided to relocate because that's where Patty's family is) before I returned home from work in the afternoon the next day. (We've decided the next party we have is going to be to celebrate everyone's homecoming...hopefully.)
So yesterday Patty, Jesse, and Robyn went to Boston and Al went back to the shelter (he took the dog with him for company) to help rescue and care for the people who are left there. They are in contact with the Salvation Army and now have running water (tho' no electricity), but there has been at least one death there as well, so it is sad, and I hope they are able to get them out and Al can join his family soon. He would not hear about not going back. That's his home. He is passionate about it.
We have been able to get first hand accounts from Al. And we also got updates on how some of the houses look. Carol's has roof damge, but her we know one of her cats (she didn't bring them because this was all supposed to be over withing 48 hours!!!) is ok for sure. Fawn & Bobby's didn't appear to have fallen to looters, which was their primary concern, and David's aunt's house looks spared for the mostpart. Grandma's old folks' community has water damage, but the old folks are regrouping here in town, and she may soon be able to link up with them, and she is very excited. However, it will be weeks at best before they'll be able to think about going back to live.
So right now it's me, David, Carol (D's mom), Grandma, Fawn, Bobby, and Bobby's mom. We're doing ok. Carol and Grandma have the apartment pending and Fawn & Bobby are going to head to Houston to stay with relatives once we find a place for Bobby's mom (who'll probably be going to Lafayette, where her daughter lives.).
The world is so different now. I think most of us have given up on things ever being "normal" again. I cycle between emotions, but for the mostpart am able to maintain a facade of being calm and collected, which has been helpful. We've all broken down, my break downs are just much more brief and privcate, i think. We all feel forgotten about. But those of us who've been spared the brunt of it also feel lost, scared, guilty...survivors' guilt. Surviving is hard right now. I keep thinking it too...what the hell did i do right that i'm safe, when just a week ago, I was there?
You feel selfish for feelings of loss. Like, I think of all of the places I may never get to go again, places that were so familiar, but now are barely recognizable. I've heard the hotel we were going to stay at on our wedding night has both water (of course) and fire damage. (wedding plans seem so trivial right now, but being a theatre-minded couple, we've decided our "show" must go on.)The house I called home for a year is messed up, and it's neighborhood is mostly demolished. The med school building, not far from the broke, rotting Superdome, where we holed up studying at all hours, is in shambles. ...a year ago today we were in Biloxi, MS on vacation, watching as Hurricane Ivan terrorized Florida...to think that everything between here and there is devastated is hard to handle...and on top of that, there are so many people we have not heard from...there is so much uncertainty
I know i've lost former (maybe current?) students. It hurts and it's scary. and...the people they rescue are SO sick. And people are scared, but...I'm trying to keep the faith that things will get better and that for all of us who were spared, God has a purpose. So we just need to stand our ground, help where we can, and pray. That's all we can do. Nothing makes sense right now.
People keep asking me why I don't just go back to Michigan and start over. The thought crossed my mind once this past week, but all inklings were wiped away when I realized these people NEED me. Everything happens for a reason, and I've always spoken about my magnetism toward New Orleans (which started when I was in 7th grade!), and maybe I was meant to be here, to help those I can. I don't know...and I don't even think the help I've given is that phenomenal, but...it was something...and if we all do something, perhaps we can overcome. New Orleans IS worth saving, whether you have compassion for those suffering or not. It is home to so many things great and small. And the fact that it seems lost breaks my heart...and is taking its toll on everyone in this household.
Things will be ok though. They have to be.
Please keep the faith.
Love,
k