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By Meg Brizollara, R.N. A Nurse's Letters from San Antonio
Note: I wrote this when I could from a laptop donated
to the "Special Needs Unit" at Kelly AFB [Air
Force Base]. One of the SEIU Seattle nurses is married
to a guy who works for Microsoft and since there was no
way of keeping records on any of the "patients"
in the SN Unit she put out an SOS for a computer. We made
spread sheets and tried to keep track of the patients
but we'd come in at night and some patients would be gone
(we knew not where or why) and new ones would be in. Dispatch #1 Sept. 18, 2005 Hey everybody; Got here last night with another nurse from San Francisco
General and my head has been spinning ever since. San
Antonio is a typical American town, strip malls, big box
WalMarts, etc., with everyone going about their usual
business, seemingly unaware of the fact that just a few
miles down the freeway at a converted Air Force Base is
a huge airplane hangar housing around 2,000 evacuees from
new Orleans! That was the first thing that shocked me,
the "Two San Antonio's" similar probably to
the "Two Americas". We came to the AFB and met 6 other nurses, all volunteers,
all from various places around the country, mainly Seattle
at this point. We were given the "orientation": SEIU is essentially
running the medical service in this facility. FEMA is here but they do absolutely nothing; this is
not an exaggeration. They will not help us though they
have the only M.D. in the facility. They say they are
"disaster" oriented and are mandated to do "disaster"
medical service, so why they are here now, after the disaster
is over is a question we dare not ask them because they
look at us with such disdain as it is, we don't want to
make it worse. When the facility first opened, the FEMA medical staff
had their own section but decided to wall it off behind
moveable panels so no one can see them basically doing
nothing but playing cards and basketball. Like I said
they are unwilling to help us in any way and I have been
told not to ask them for anything. I'm also told that the City of San Antonio called the
local SEIU offices here to request nurses when they first
realized they were going to have between 1 and 3,000 evacuees!
NOT FEMA, not the Red Cross, SEIU. Why I'm not entirely
sure but will be learning more in the coming days. This
request was made to SEIU from a "Right To Work"
state, Texas, as most states in the South are. "Right
to Work" really means right to work at slave wages
without the ability to collectively bargain and join a
union. Brilliant designation by state GOP legislatures
a number of years back. This is the hugest building I've ever seen. It's wall-to-wall
cots, during the day neatly made beds with stuffed animals
and meager possessions piled on top while the occupants
mill around during the day. Meals are served by the Mexican
Army! I couldn't believe it. Mexican troops are ladling
beans, rice and meat onto Styrofoam plates for the residents.
I was so moved by this sight, especially when I think
of how we treat them up norte! The Navajo "scouts"
come around asking us if we need anything. Don't really
know what their function is but if i 'need anything"
I'll ask There's so many stories to hear from the people here
and I've only heard a few. I just walked by an elderly
woman who said to me when I asked her how she was, "I'm
blessed! Know what I'm sayin'? People here are so nice,
They gonna help me start a new life. I'm blessed! Do you
hear me?" God almighty, I just started. More later, Meg Dispatch #2 Sept 19 They held the plate glass window in their living room
for hours so it wouldn't break from the winds from the
hurricane. Olymphia Otis, her son, her husband, daughter and "grandbaby"
along with 2 "Iranians" who lived next door
in the townhouses in East New Orleans Parish. They kept
the window from breaking and letting wind and rain in,
though the ceiling in the bedroom had been blown off.
The townhouse of the 2 Iranians had been destroyed and
they had come over to the Otis' to see if they were okay
and stayed, holding up the plate glass window across from
the "man made lake" across the street. The sun came up and everyone breathed a sigh of relief
though they were standing in water up to their chests.
"The water will go down now. We're gonna be okay".
Then the water rose and rose. They went to the second
floor, then the third. 3 days had gone by and they had
eaten all the food in the house. The water got higher. They had to take 2 tables, one
from the dining room, then the kitchen table and stack
one on top of the other. They then broke a hole through
the ceiling and helped each other up onto the roof. Olymphia
is obese as is her diabetic husband and she teared up
when describing how hard it was for the Iranians to get
both her and her husband through the hole onto the roof. Olymphia and her family, the 2 Iranians and their wives
and children (2 babies, totaling 3) were up on the roof
for 5 days. The Iranian finally said "We're gonna die here and
I'm not dyin' on no roof". They decided to swim, somewhere. They got a mattress
from the bed on the third floor and put the babies on
them. Then they started swimming. Olymphia can't swim. They grabbed a board that was floating
and pulled her along with her hanging on to the mattress
and the board. One of the babies fell off the mattress into the water.
Olymphia grabbed his little shirt while she could still
see him under the water and pulled him up and back onto
the mattress. They swam for an unknown period of time until a New Orleans
police boat came by and plucked them all out of the water. They took "women and children first" and Olymphia's
daughter and the grandbaby went with the NO police in
another boat. They then took the rest to the Convention Center in New
Orleans that was so filthy, no lights, no water-they stayed
outside since the stench was too horrendous to go inside
and there wasn't any room anyway. Olymphia didn't know where her daughter and grandbaby
were taken until she got here in San Antonio at Kelly's
AFB and the Red Cross did a search for her daughter. Found her in Shreveport and she is coming here to be
reunited with Olymphia and her husband on Friday. I will be here on Friday but not until after 11pm! Damn!
I'd give anything to see this reunion. Meanwhile I am the only nurse from SF who will do the
night shift here at Kelly AFB "Special Needs"
area. My partner is Don Miller from Seattle and what a
doll he is. Funny as hell and compassionate, shaming the
FEMA people into helping us with a young man who had a
seizure for a LONG time on the floor here at 2 am. I smoke outside in the smoking area and have spoken to
Rachel and her daughter Rachel. Mother and daughter with
the same name. Both beautiful with classic features. Both
were in the Superdome. "Everything they done said
is true, Miss". Navajo Scouts have helped me twice now get an elderly
woman from the cot to the wheelchair so I could take her
to the bathroom. They wait around til she's done to help
get her back in again. They speak Navajo. Oh and the Mexican Army shouldn't be cooking Jambalaya.
Or home fries either. The rice and beans are good though! More later. Addendum to dispatch #2 Olymphia Delfine Otis. But no one call me that,
they call me Dell. Not Olymphia, understand, Miss? Sitting outside smoking with her and Rock, an 80 year
old man who swears that they "opened the Spillway
to flood everybody but the rich Lakefront people, just
like they did with Bessie". He's referring to the Hurricane Betsy in the 60's, and
Lake Pontchartrain. Dell agrees with him and is also convinced
that the spillway was opened so that the floodwaters in
the upper class lake front district of Orleans Parish
could go down and people there could get out. The pumping station on Broadway St was done with cheap
materials due to corruption on the part of City Officials
they say. Veracity of this unkown, time will tell. 800 people went to Abrahamson Middle School which had
been turned into a shelter and every one of them drowned
according to Dell. Later I read in truthout.org's Mayday
Mississippi Delta section that this didn't happen, no
one who took shelter there died. Dell is out there every night smoking because whenever
she closes her eyes and tries to sleep she feels like
shes drowning inside a "concentration camp".
Oh, and she's the executive chef at the Marriott New Orleans.
"I'm one hell of a damn chef Miss, if I may say so
my own self" One Red Cross volunteer, a white guy from here in San
Antonio said "If these folks think they're gonna
get a free ride here in Texas, they got another thing
comin'. We oughtta lasso up every one of 'em and drag
'em behind a truck". I didn't hear this directly,
Don told me about it. Executive Chef at the Marriott. Damn welfare cheat. I'm
blessed by having met her. Dispatch #3 Sept. 20 Don and I come to Kelly AFB tonight anxious about Hurricane
Rita and what it's going to mean for the folks here in
the shelter and for Texas and the gulf region. Mainly
Don wants to know if he's going to be able to get the
hell out of here on Friday to go home. He's exhausted,
he's been here longer than any of us. We can't figure
out whether everyone is overreacting because of Katrina.
Rita is so far only a category1. But we come in at 11 pm and it's chaos. They want to
move everyone here at Kelly to another shelter to make
room for possible evacuees from Texas because of Rita. We are outraged because these people were already moved
from an old Levi Strauss factory TO Kelly and there seems
to be no reason for this-why not move Texas evacuees to
the Levi Strauss factory which is now empty? Nobody can
answer that question. FEMA came by today and ordered everyone to fill out these
ridiculous forms, yet another of many many forms these
people have had to fill out. Some of these people are
illiterate but are too embarrassed to admit that so they
just say "yes, ma'am" when I ask if their form
is filled out. it's taken us several hours to figure out
that these forms, which evidently are vital to their getting
services, are in fact not filled out so Don and i do it
for them. FEMA asshole just came by and barked at us about whether
we got everyone signed up, forms filled out. Don lit into him saying "We're nurses. We take care
of medical needs. You want forms filled out? Get one of
your beancounters over here and help these people".
He walked away. We don't know if we're going to be coming back here tomorrow
night or not. The evacuees here don't know either and it breaks my
heart. On a lighter note, I was outside smoking last night with
a group of the "usuals", among whom is David
Otis, Del's husband . When he found out that I live in
San Quentin California, he asked me if I knew Scott Peterson
or Charles Manson. Without waiting for an answer he said "Now, I'm
against the death penalty, you understand. But they shoulda
fried that muthafucka's ass right off!". When I started
laughing he looked at me perplexedly, not seeing any irony
or contradiction in what he had just said and said "Imagine!
Killing ya own flesh and blood!" Right now there's no other place on this earth I would
rather be. Dispatch #5 Sept 22 Yes, they indeed moved all the "special needs"
people from Bldg. 1536 where they (and we) were. But they
didn't move any of the supplies or records. I can't believe how chaotic this is. I went in to Bldg
171 at Kelly last night to report for a night shift and
saw a slew of Red Cross nurses who FINALLY realized that
coverage for the night shift was needed. One of the SEIU nurses brought the records (which they
had made, no records or ability to MAKE records there
when we got there) to bldg 171 and installed them there. But most of the people I knew from the last few nights
at bldg. 1536 were gone, placed in hotels or HUD apts
around San Antonio earlier in the day. That includes Del and David Otis, whom I hear was in
tears on the way out. Why I don't know-I don't think it
was tears of gratitude or joy though I could be wrong. I don't think he was wearing well, last I saw him he
was getting irritable so I left him alone. The Red Cross nurses at 171 ignored me, started fussing
over the medical records WE developed where there had
been none and acted like she's been in control the entire
time. She left-and left me with an LPN who looked to be on
heavy doses of methadone. Over the next few hours several
Red Cross people had come by and asked if we needed anything. I resented this because they were nowhere to be found
all week and now acted like they were here to save the
day. One of the patients, a sweet old man who is 80 years
old named Rock who had been one of the group of smokers
outside during the wee hours of the morning at 1536 the
last few nights was there. He was overjoyed to see me and I was to see him. I tried
to introduce him to the Red Cross staff but they were
not at all interested. They huddled together talking amongst themselves, ignoring
both me and the patients, and I found myself becoming
angrier and angrier. Rock knows how to get ahold of me as I equipped him with
my cell phone number. Wish to God I could bring him a
bottle of Crown Royal, which is what he drinks at home.
He's sharp as a tack, but I noticed he's now in a wheelchair
which he wasn't before. It's unbelievable to me that these people are as friendly,
courteous and good spirited as they are considering what
theyve been through and the reason they are here. I hope they can last and this doesn't degenerate into
more chaos, anger and difficulties that a group of people
this size can potentially generate. Whenever you go in or out of the front entrance to any
of these football field- or -2 sized buildings you must
be searched, wanded, etc, just like on the airlines. Yet
you can walk halfway through the buildings and go out
a side door and come and go as you please with no one
batting an eye. Must be how this 20-year-old blind kid managed to get
crack cocaine and come back high as a kite and almost
delirious. He had done it before but Don and I were afraid
they'd put him in jail so we pulled his cot up to the
front near us to keep an eye on him until the crack wore
off. Now I hear he's done it again and I don't know where
he is. 2 am last night I'm feeling really sick and the RC nurses
are ignoring me anyway, the patients asleep so I decide
to leave. I walk out to the parking lot and see throngs
of teenagers outside listening to rap music on a boom
box. One of them chatted me up, calling me by name since
it was on my nametag. I called him by name too since it
was tattooed on his arm. Kurtis. Kurtis says he's a member of the Sacramento Crips. This
he tells me when I tell him I'm from the Bay Area. I acted
impressed, even scared of him but he was too sweet for
me to keep the act up for long. We high fived each other
as I tried to find my car in the huge parking lot. I don't exaggerate or glorify at all when I say these
people are polite and kind, apologetic even for needing
anything, almost without exception. If you were from Mars and had just been beamed down here
you would NEVER guess what these people had been through.
We try to figure out why-glad to be alive, southern manners,
probably a combination. I feel deprived without my memory foam mattress and Whole
Foods down the street! I asked David Otis what he thought about the huge number
of cops in each building-he says it's "for our protection".
I looked for a hint of irony, thinking he was kidding
but no. He wasn't-he'd been at the Convention Center in
New Orleans, several others in our group were at the Superdome
and they are GRATEFUL for police presence. Rita again has flooded the 9th Ward in New Orleans, East
of downtown. EVERY SINGLE HOME has been destroyed by Katrina-no
one left to be impacted by Rita. Here in San Antonio the sun is out, it's beautiful, I
have the day off. There's nothing here I want to do really
but GWBush is coming! Now THAT will give me something
to do! Dispatch # 6__________________________________________________________________ Went to building 171 today without the intent of working
because I wasn't scheduled but to find out what the nursing
coverage was for the next few days. Krista, the charge
nurse (who replaced Carmen whom I did not talk to much
since she was on during the day and I was there at night)
said she had nobody from 6pm to 11pm and could I stay. Of course I can stay. Half an hour later I meet Juan Carlos, a doctor from
Mexico who was volunteering. An endocrinologist. Fabulous,
I said, lots od diabetics here. Another few minutes later
and in walk a retired ER physician, another doctor from
India and another RN. No one knew they were coming-obviously what started out
as a shortage of staff turned into a glut. I'm irritable and trying desperately not to show it.
Krista asks me to fax some prescriptions to a private
pharmacy, which will be reimbursed by FEMA for meds needed
by both Katrina and now Rita evacuees. No one knows how to use the state of the art printer/scanner/photocopier/drycleaning/cloning/whatever
machine. NO ONE KNOWS ANYTHING here. No one knows where
the "special needs" unit is or where to get
a blanket for a patient, yet there are throngs of Red
Cross volunteers, all of whom appear to be Junior League
dilettantes or disaster gadflies, or just plain ne'r do
wells who volunteer with the Red Cross. They all love talking into their walkie talkies and use
their lingo into cell phones in conversations of the utmost
importance but I can't find a single person to help take
old ladies to the bathroom. A man has a blood pressure of 210/110. He doesn't feel
well and thank God Juan Carlos is there and we decide
to send him to the hospital for a workup. The ambulance
drivers show up but don't know what hospital they will
be taking him to. I want to give them the unit's phone
number but can't count on anyone answering the phone if
in fact they remember to call us. Maybe they can walkie talkie the location of the hospital
this man ends up in. Someone said "take him to Baptist" which I
guess is the local hospital. I write it down on the "chart"
I made up for the man (who didn't have one). One of the other SF nurses had a hissy fit about something
I know not what and left to go back home to SF. I'm just
as frustrated as she is with the Red Cross but I still
feel there are things I can do. Rock asked me to smuggle him in some rum and I'm damn
tempted to do it. They sit on their cots all day, mill
about, have nothing to do until a permanent place is found
for them but of course all that is on the back burner
with the influx of Rita refugees. Houston is unscathed by Rita so now everyone who came
to San Antonio wants to go home but cant because
gas is sold out everywhere. The freeway going to Houston
is one big parking lot. Gina told me (she's the nurse who went home) that a Red
Cross volunteer told her to be careful about distributing
supplies because "some of these people are hoarding".
She points to piles of stuff under various people's cots. Gina had the presence of mind to tell her that these
people have lost EVERYTHING they own. So what they take
some supplies not immediately needed; most of it sits
in a storage room undistributed anyway. Like Beefaroni in microwaveable cups. I heat up several
of these little cups and pass them out to the people who
couldn't tolerate the cold hamburgers served for dinner.
And canned peaches. I can't help but think this place is a tinderbox for
a race riot; ALL the Katrina victims are black, the Rita
evacuees are mostly white and Hispanic but the vast majority
of the residents here at Kelly are black and you can feel
the tension. Though I'm still amazed at how courteous and pleasant
the New Orleanians are. Anyplace else I think would've
erupted a long time ago. Think about it: thousands of black people in a huge Air
Force airplane hangar turned into a shelter. TONS of cops.
Volunteers to a person white. I finally leave around 10 pm, since they were far better
staffed than they expected to be. Now we actually have
doctors. One from Mexico. I still can't believe it. I took Caroline, a large Katrina evacuee to the store
earlier. She's schizophrenic I think, is on lots of psych
meds. She buys RAID because of the flies. Though truly,
the place is clean and I didn't see any flies. She bought
a new bathrobe at the dollar store and wanted to buy me
one. Took me awhile to talk her out of it. This place is like another planet. Oh and I feel really bad about saying that the LPN on
the night shift last night was on methadone. Truth is
he has cancer. He probably SHOULD be on methadone. Has
that pasty white skin pallor so common to methadonians. Krista, the charge nurse never did get to leave, though
she was supposed to leave at 8pm. New volunteers kept coming whom were not expected and
she had to give them the whole orientation. Including how to spend all their time on the walkie talkies
while old ladies need to be taken to the bathroom. Hopefully
tomorrow I will ask that no volunteer be assigned to our
unit unless they are willing to take people to the bathroom,
help them onto the commode, wait til they're done and
bring them back. If they're not willing to do that we don't need 'em. Went to downtown San Antonio last night to explore. Sweet
town! Cobblestone streets with large islands with palm
trees in the middle of the streets with benches to sit
on. Lots of families. Enjoyed myself. More later 6th and last dispatch Eileen and I go to bldg. 171 to work at 3pm and it's
madness. Nursing students, dilettante volunteers with
big hair and lots of make up, talking into their ever
present walkie talkies who don't know where to get another
bedsheet for an elderly patient who had wet the bed (cot).
They all ignore us except the patients whom we know and
say our tearful goodbyes to. Eileen walks around making
a map of the cots with patients names on them so
at least we know who is where. Katrina survivors mixed
with white and Latino Rita evacuees. An elderly senile woman with a face black as night, a
filthy wig and serpentine eyes is dropped off outside
by a bus that takes off and leaves her with us. She has
several of the paper bracelets on yet still no one can
identify her. They (the RC) put another one on her, one
that says 171. I object to this because we don't know
that she belongs here, we don't know where she belongs,
it may not be 171. The bracelet stays. No matter how senile one is, there's 2 things we never
forget: Name and date of birth. She tells us these things
but when we ask her if she knows where she is says "Why,
Beaumont Texas!". Beaumont is a town destoyed by
Rita I think, on the Gulf Coast. She doesn't understand
all the fuss and keeps saying, " Why can't I just
go home?" Breaks my heart again but I'm overwhelmed
and Eileen and I realize we have no say anymore in how
things are done so we finish up and decide to leave. Poor Krista, the RC "charge nurse" is totally
overwhelmed and is crying. We try to buck her up because
her "tour of duty" is just starting and a whole
lot of chaos has been dumped on her. We tell her she needs
to join a union. I haven't been able to sleep because I don't know what
will happen to these folks, where they will be placed
and if I'll ever hear from them again, though I've given
them all my address and make them swear to write me when
they get settled. There's no more we can do and we pack our bags and go
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