I'm sitting in the "command center" at the hospital right now. It's 10:00 p.m., and for the first time today the room is quiet. I thought I would try and describe this experience, and I'm not really sure what to say.
From a work perspective, it's strange to actually take part in a mass casualty/disaster situation. I've participated in a couple of disaster drills, and it's comforting that "the real thing" has been running just as smoothly as the fake disasters we've participated in.
From a personal perspective, everything is very surreal. From the moment I smelled smoke yesterday and the air grew hazy, I wondered how serious this situation might get. When I woke up at 5:30 this morning to see the busy street in our suburb packed with bumper to bumper traffic, I wondered if people were overreacting. When we turned on the TV and realized we were part of the evacuation area, it all started to hit home.
We threw shoes and clothes and laptops into our cars, took a few digital photos of the apartment for insurance purposes, and joined the gridlock on the freeway.
We spent the entire day monitoring the fires on TV; every 15 minutes someone here at the hospital would have to run home because they'd just learned that their home was in a new evacuation area. I've heard of employees who have lost their homes. So far more than 500 homes have burned, in just a few short hours. Some of those homes are not terribly far from where Jason and I live - 4.8 miles to the northwest, about 3 miles to the east... Although I imagine our apartment will be just fine, it's a strange feeling to be temporarily homeless and have to rely on someone else for a place to sleep. Multiply that feeling by almost 300,000 - last I heard, there are more than 265,000 displaced San Diego residents who are sleeping on hard floors in local evacuation centers.
Right now the ashes in the air are so thick it's like a snowfall. The air quality is terrible; it's hard to breathe. It feels like the entire city is burning.
My final thought for the evening: when I lived in Grand Rapids, I volunteered for the American Red Cross for a couple of years. At the time I knew their mission was an important one, but now more than ever I understand how important it is for people to support the Red Cross and its disaster relief efforts.
6 comments:
I'm so glad you're ok. Not that I want to be you, but being in a real command center would be interesting. I've been through so many drills too. Are you wearing a vest? At our last drill, we realized we didn't have the vest.
What a first-hand experience! I too am glad you are okay. In the midst of so much tragedy, it is amazing all the little blessings. Keep counting them... and hang in there.
Tina
I have been wearing a vest :-) Navy with silver reflective stripes.
I am so glad that you are OK. It's a scary thought to know that you are in the thick of it. Hopefully everything turns out well. We miss you!
Tania -
Glad to hear that you and Jason are fine. Have you been able to go back to your apartment yet? I hope you have had some time off to rest. Take Care.
Just talked to you an hour ago. Am so releived that you and Jason are back at your apartment at that you are both safe. I have been worried since I saw your blog on Sunday and the pictures and then the call Monday saying you had to leave. I imagine your job over that last few days has been pretty interesting and a new experience. The news stories have been amazing. Who knew when you moved out a year ago you would be in the midst of one of the worst disasters in the state. Hope the air clears up soon. Take Care.
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