Storm Warning

Featured in The Drama Newsletter - March 18, 2009.


Rachel Wharton passed by the door of the recreation room, stopped, turned around and returned to the doorway.  The television screen showed the radar picture of Hurricane Marion spinning in the Gulf, tracking toward the coastline.  At the window-rattling volume required by most of the hearing-impaired residents, the forecaster’s voice blared out the latest statistics on the storm.

“Packing winds of 135 miles per hour, this Category 4 storm is moving northwest at about 25 miles per hour and should make landfall somewhere within this Cone of Uncertainty in about 48 hours.  Of course there is always the possibility that this ridge of high pressure to the west could move in and nudge it bit more to the east than the Cone indicates.”

Rachel shook her head. And still nothing about whether they’re going to evacuate. She stopped by the nurses’ station where a coworker was studying some patient charts.

“Gloria,” she said in a low voice, “have you heard anything about a possible evacuation?”

Gloria shook her head.  “Not a word.  Nor have I heard of any real stockpiling of supplies.”

“If that storm hits anywhere near here, there’s sure to be a power outage.  What’re we supposed to do with so many of our patients on respirators?  Not to mention all of the other power-sucking equipment. They should at least have extra fuel for the generators.”

“You’d think so.  I heard a weatherman the other day saying that storms at this time of year were usually worse than those earlier in the season.  Something about the waters in the Gulf being warmer, making them stronger.”

Rachel shook her head and left to make her rounds checking on the patients.  I hope they don’t decide to try and evacuate.  Last year was a disaster! 

Entering a room, Rachel saw Mrs. Macy watching the television screen with an anxious expression on her lined face.  Her frail hands were constantly twisting the edge of the sheet.  Rachel walked over and patted her gently on the shoulder.

“How are you doing this morning?”

The elderly woman looked up, her gaze searching Rachel’s face.  “What’s going to happen to us?”

“Don’t you worry,” Rachel answered with a smile that she hoped conveyed more confidence than she felt and laid her hand atop both of Mrs. Macy’s.  “We’re going to take good care of you.” 

As Rachel checked Mrs. Macy’s pulse, she glanced toward the next bed where Mrs. Baylor lay staring at the TV seemingly oblivious to the images it showed. I only hope we can keep that promise.  These people need us.  Oh why doesn’t management do something?  Why aren’t they boarding up the windows?  Why aren’t they bringing in extra food, medicine and water?  How can we be expected to take care of our patient’s needs when we’ve got nothing to work with?

Rachel went from room to room and patient to patient checking vital signs and noting that all of the most lucid patients seemed worried and anxious as they watched the weather updates.  Others sat or lay exhibiting no interest in their surroundings. If they do evacuate, how many will die as a result of the trauma?  They are too frail to spend hours sitting in traffic on congested freeways. Not even considering the breakdowns from overheating engines, or worse the brakes.  Like that bus inferno last year that killed Linda – and 23 patients! She fought back the tears that sprang to her eyes at the memory of her friend’s fate.  Burned to death as she vainly struggled to get all of the patients off the flaming bus.  She shuddered, recalling the images that had flashed across the TV screen.

Working through the unit housing the most severely ill patients, she struggled to ‘put on a happy face’.  Most of these people would never survive an evacuation if they call for one.  How sad to have someone else entirely in control of what happens to you.  I hope I never have to live like this.

By the time she was finished with her rounds, her feelings of total helplessness were making her feel depressed.  She detoured to the dining room for a cup of coffee. 

Rachel was sitting, staring morosely into her cup when Maggie, the head cook, approached.

“I got just the thing to cheer you up, missy,” she said with a wide smile.  “We just took a batch o’ pies outta the oven.  How ‘bout I bring you a piece?  They’re still warm!”

Rachel gave her a weak smile.  “I don’t think so, Maggie.  Thanks anyway.”

The old cook pulled out the chair across from her.  “Why you lookin’ so glum?  Ya worried ‘bout this storm acomin’?”

Rachel nodded.  “Sort of.  I just wish they had stockpiled things we might need if it hits near here.”

The dark eyes twinkled.  “Don’t you worry none, missy.  My kitchen’s ready for a li’l ol’ storm.”

“What do you mean?  They haven’t brought in any extra supplies.”

“You think I wait on them to stock up my kitchen!  No, sir, I ain’t waitin’ on nobody.”  The older woman grinned.  “I started last spring . . . orderin’ a little extra every week, ‘specially canned stuff . . . and water.  All these ol’ folks will have something to eat, that’s for sure.  My kitchen’s ready.”

“Well, I wish the rest of this place was.”

As the day passed, everyone watched the storm move inevitably closer, tracking on the path that would put the nursing home right in its sights.  When her shift ended, Rachel stopped by the nurses’ station to get her purse.  She caught up with Gloria in the parking lot.

“Don’t forget to gas up your car,” she called to her, and then added.  “Just in case!”

The lines were long at the gas station as Rachel pulled into the lot. Not nearly as bad as they’ll be tomorrow, she thought. If they were going to evacuate those patients, they should have done it today.  So many people wait until the last minute to leave. That’s what caused a lot of the problems last year.

When Rachel arrived home, she checked over her supplies.  The pantry was stocked with canned goods, spare batteries and a store of bottled water.  Her flashlights were bright and the battery-powered radio was working.  After taking her shower, she filled the bathtub with water, and then sat down in front of the television to check on the progress of the storm.

“Hurricane Marion, holding at a Category 4, is now located at 29.1 degrees north and 93.5 degrees west and tracking northwest at 30-35 miles per hour.  It looks as if we can expect the outer bands to begin hitting the coast in the early morning hours.  Residents of the coastal areas began evacuating early this afternoon.”

Rachel thought about the patients in the nursing home, and how many of them had been worried about the approaching storm. We’re far enough inland; everything should be okay if they had just brought in extra provisions. 

She’d heard on the news about many of the elderly patients in nursing homes dying within just a few months after last year’s horrific evacuation.  Doctors had blamed the rash of deaths on the trauma of upsetting the routine to which they’d become accustomed.  God, that had been traumatic for everyone.  I can only imagine how it would be for those so frail. Memories of the pictures of row after row of patients lying on baggage carts waiting for their flights to be loaded flashed through her mind; followed quickly by the inferno of the bus. How awful!  And another storm will make landfall somewhere, sometime tomorrow.

With a deep sigh, she rose to get ready for bed.

The next morning when Rachel left the house for work, she looked up at the lightening sky.  It had the greenish-gray color that preceded a hurricane’s arrival. 

As she pulled into the nursing-home parking lot, she noted that several men were putting plywood over the windows, while a couple more unloaded drums of fuel.  Better late than never; I just hope it’ll be enough. 

She glanced at the sky.  Already the clouds were scuttling across what was visible between the buildings.  It won’t be long now.

A couple of hours later the rain began splattering against the windows that had not yet been boarded up and the gusting wind whipped the smaller tree limbs.  Rachel stopped in a patient’s room and checked out the TV image.  The eye of the storm was edging across the coast at a point that indicated it was headed directly for them, but you never could tell for sure. 

She hurried to the nurses’ station.  “Get everybody that you can to grab extra blankets to hang over the unprotected windows and let’s move any patients’ beds away from those and toward the hallways.  We don’t want anybody cut by flying glass if a limb comes through a window.”

When the last patient had been moved and the last window covered, Rachel drew aside one edge of a blanket and looked out at the storm-lashed landscape.  On the front lawn, palm trees bowed before the wind, their fronds nearly touching the ground.  A stray garbage can rolled and bounced down the street, chased by a traffic sign that had been wrenched from its post.  The wind howled around the corner of the building and sheets of wind-driven rain pelted everything in their path.  How awesome the power of an angry Mother Nature, Rachel thought.

Just as Rachel dropped the blanket and turned from the window the bright fluorescent lights flashed out.  She held her breath until the dim emergency lights flickered on, and then hurried to check on the most critical patients. 

She found the respirators hissing and the heart monitors beeping out their rhythms as she made the rounds checking each person’s vital signs. Apparently no one is any worse off for that few second delay,  she thought as she compared the chart entries. 

By the time she had finished, the ambulatory patients had gone to the dining room and aides and volunteers were bringing trays to those who were either bedridden or chose not to leave their rooms.  On her way to the nurses’ station, Rachel met Gloria.

“Want to go grab a bite?” she asked.

“We might as well,” Gloria answered.  “Should be pretty quiet for awhile.”

In the employees’ dining room, they were greeted by a spread that included huge pots of soups, roast turkey, baked ham and every kind of salad.

Rachel chuckled.  “Maggie must have tried to clean out her refrigerator and the freezer.”

“Looks like it.  Thank goodness she has gas-cooking appliances.  Otherwise, we’d probably be eating sandwiches and pork-and-beans straight from the can.”

“Been there, done that.  Not my idea of a feast, but it’s better than starving.”

“Yeah, and if I were at home, that’s exactly what I’d be eating.”

Rachel nodded.  “Me too.  That’s the problem with an all-electric house.  When the power’s out, you got nothin’.”

“If you don’t have a grill, you could be stuck with the cold stuff for weeks.  Talk about a boring diet.”

“You got that right.”  Rachel took a forkful of salad and for a while they ate in silence.

When they had finished eating, Rachel stood up and picked up her tray.  Just as they placed them on the return table, it suddenly became eerily quiet.

“We must be in the eye,” Gloria commented.

Rachel nodded.  “God, you don’t realize how much noise these things make until it suddenly stops like that.”

“Yeah, when my kids were little and the eye of a storm came over they wanted to go outside and check out the neighborhood.  I had a heck of a time convincing them that the storm wasn’t over and it wasn’t safe, because it could kick back up at any minute.”


About a half-hour later, the strange silence was suddenly broken by another wave of wind and rain. 

As the day dragged by, Rachel lost count of the number of times she walked into a room or a closet and automatically flipped on the light switch.  Each time she would shake her head at herself and reach into her pocket for the mini Maglite she carried there. 

By late afternoon, the wind gusts began easing, but the rain continued to pelt down.  The radio reported street flooding over much of the city.  Will I even be able to get home? 

As the end of the shift approached, the day supervisor appeared by Rachel’s side as she checked on a patient.

“How’s everyone doing?” she asked in a low voice.

Moving a few steps away, Rachel replied, “I think they’re doing as well as can be expected.  Several were very upset watching the storm approach, but I think they’ve pretty well settled down now.”

“Good.  Come with me for a minute, I need to talk to you all.”

Rachel followed her toward the nurses’ station, noting that the supervisor motioned others to join them along the way.

When many of the nurses had gathered around, the supervisor explained her reason for the impromptu meeting.  “As you all probably know, many areas of town are flooded.  I’ve had calls from most of those who were scheduled to relieve you tonight, saying that their neighborhoods have too much water in the streets to even consider getting out of them.  I hate to ask you, because I know you’ve already had a really trying day, but we’d like you to stay over night.  We can set up cots in the recreation room and also in the conference room.  It won’t be like sleeping in your own bed, but I don’t know what else we can do.  If half of you work until midnight, the rest can catch a few hours sleep and relieve you then so you can get some sleep.  Hopefully it’ll just be for tonight.”

Not looking forward to a rough night’s sleep on an uncomfortable cot, without a shower or even a toothbrush, Rachel volunteered to take the first shift.  Maybe by that time I’ll be tired enough for it not to matter.

The next morning some of the relief nurses began straggling in with tales of flooded cars, soggy homes and trees coming through their roofs. 

A little before noon Rachel was relieved of duty and she walked out of the nursing home into the warm October sunshine.  Looking around the parking lot, she noted some large branches lying about and a peppering of roof shingles. Kicking a few twigs out of her pathway as she crossed the lot, she checked out her car.  Doesn’t appear to be any damage. At least I didn’t get any massive limbs coming down on it.  Now if the streets just aren’t flooded between here and home.  She smiled up at the sunshine. Well, we made it through another one.