Day Six - Resiliency

I have breakfast with one of the guys from another division in our state who came down a day before I did. We talk about how a trip like this can change you. Any time you can get outside your normal life, it can't help but make you different.

What impresses me is the resiliency I see in people's eyes and their voices. You ask people for their address and they say, "Where I used to live? or where I'm staying now?" Maybe they haven't hit the angry portion of the grieving process or maybe they have just blew right on by it. I imagine what I would think if I saw my house flattened into a timber, a mound of wet irrecoverable junk. What would I grieve for -- a crushed car? a smashed computer? a lifetime of collected books ruined by water and mud? Seeing it all piled together makes me see how little material possessions mean. These people have made it through their darkest of storms, and in the morning, they look at their homes, and what they see rising out of the rubble of their old lives is their families, their grandparents, their mothers and father, their own children. "I lost everything, but my family made it through, praise mercy." I hear that over and over again. "My family made it through."

Another think that has impressed me is the kindness people have showed us. EMS people often complain this is a thankless job, but I have never been thanked more than in this last week. From patients to store clerks to people on the street, thank you was all we heard. It made you feel good about your life's choice of work.

I'm glad for the opportunity to come down here, and I hope more of my fellow employees will get to come in future weeks.

I work again today with the guy from Portland, which is good because he's a nice guy and I like having a regular partner. We are posted down by the water. There is a good breeze blowing, and I try to imagine what it would like to sit there in the ambulance as a hurricane came in. I imagine the ambulance being picked up and whisked away like Dorothy in Oklahoma, ending up miles away in a big tree.

We examine the Treasure Bay Casino or what's left off it. It looks like a true shipwreck.

Compare that to the photo on the casino's website:

Treasure Bay Casino

We park next to what once was a Burger King -- only there is nothing there but one table and chair.

It is surreal down by the water. The area is blocked off by razor wire and then only let down rescue personnel, construction workers and residents looking to go over the shambles of their homes. It is not uncommon to see rescue workers walking around with cameras talking pictures of the destruction like we are in some living museum. I have so far resisted talking any novelty pictures. There is a minature golf course where someone has put Humpty Dumpty back on the wall and police and firemen line up to have their pictures taken with him. At one house that like so many is just a slab, someone has set up a porcelin toilet. I have heard of people having their pictures taken, pants around their ankles, reading a newspaper as they sit on that toilet with all the outdoors around them. I have such mixed feelings about taking any pictures at all. I put my camera away, but then fifty yards later see something so amazing I have to take another picture. I waver between respect for what happened and the natural human desire to laugh. I finally relent and pose for a picture drinking a Coke at Burger King.

We give out some tetanus shots, then a car drives up and worker gets out with a huge gash on his arm where he cut it on a piece of tile. We wrap it and take him to the hospital. There we talk with the nurses about the coming hurricane. They call up satellite photos and path projections on the hospital computer and give us a lecture on hurricanes that is quite impressive. It seems just about anyone who has lived ten years on the gulf coast knows enough to be an expert. They talk about the pressure systems and barometer readings and cite how Elaine bounced like this, and Ivan turned right like this. They all think the new hurricane will turn right and hit right on the Texas Louisiana border. The real tell they say is to watch the weather channel. One of the old guys on their is the one to watch. Wherever he sets up is where it will hit. Old so and so always knows where the hurricanes are going. If he comes to your neighborhood ahead of the storm, look out.

We sit around. It is a quiet day. I eat an MRE for lunch. It is very good. Jambalaya. You drop the package in a plastic bag that has some kind of heating coil in it that is activated by water. It steams the meal in just a couple minutes. The MRE package also includes wheat bread, cheese sauce, a powdered grape drink and a pack of MMs.

Around one, they call us back to the base. It seems they are going to be taking our car and sending it to Texas to get ready for the storm there. Since it is slow, they tell us to take the rest of the shift off. I want to go back on the road, but they say they have enough cars on. I'm not happy to be sitting around camp. I'm down here to respond to help, but what can you do if you don't have a car. I guess the afternoon off is good for some of the people who have been here longer than me or who are less used to working every day.

I watch them prepare the ambulances, loading them with supplies and a portable generator. Two of the people going to Texas are guys who lost everything in the storm here. It sort of a good will message. You helped us, we'll help you.

The only benefit to being in camp is they are serving fried catfish for dinner, and it is some fine eating catfish. I eat my first dinner at four, then have a second dinner at eight.

That night I talk to a woman from one of our state's divisions. She has traveled all over the world on humanitarian missions. She has enjoyed her week here, but is ready to go -- a week is enough. There are emergencies at home too. We work in an ambulance, we respond to calls. There are people coming down to replace us. There are more than enough calls waiting for us at home as well. Wherever they need us, we do the same work, up there or down here.