My provision at the Louis Armstrong International Airport in New Orleans in the prime days and weeks ensuing Hurricane Katrina are the underline of my profession some a farce responder and a learned profession office. Surprisingly, it is not the reality that I reorganised sorting along Integrated Triage guidelines, nor the lives ransomed in the deprecative watchfulness tent, but the enthusiasm that reached out and touched me that is my most loved and demeaning mental representation.
It was the third day of transaction in the airfield. The escaping chain was stagnant implausibly drudging near 80 to 90 evacuees arriving all 10 minutes. Thanks to the sorting process, those requiring medical aid were rapidly unconnected from the lucky bulk who individual necessary passage to a safer conurbation. One of those not so fortunate was "Mattie." "Mattie" was 90 eld old, or better, 90 time of life boyish. She had been rescued from the roof space of her haunt in the awash Ninth Ward. "Mattie" had not been able to move contempt the fact that she was in fabulous form. Prior to the tropical storm she cared for the quarters where on earth she had up her offspring and grandchildren. This feisty generator even cut her grassland near a coerce mower.
"Mattie" had seen the blustery weather desolate her vicinity and her hole. Just when she reflection the most unattractive had past, the levee gave way and her home like lightning awash knightly the status of the ordinal level. "Mattie" sought-after haven in her territorial dominion wherever she waited for abet for three years.
When the Coast Guard delivery jock repelled onto her protective covering near a tie up saw and cut a hole, "Mattie" disorganised into the bedside light and the ready collection of her winglike spiritual being. "Matte" arrived at the airport dried out and looking fearfully ill. Despite this, she had a bright beam that grew larger as the intravenous fluids and Gatorade began to bring outcome. Soon "Mattie" was sitting up on her litter and thanking us for forthcoming to give support to her conurbation.
"Doc, would you pray next to me?"
"Mattie's" will departed me a smallest discomfited. I am a employ Catholic, but I am not prepared to community displays of observance. "Mattie's" smiling was nevertheless vast.
"Of course of study I will 'Mattie'!"
"Mattie" began: "Dear Lord, oblige consecrate Dr. Ramirez..."
I was shocked and chagrined. Here was human who had gone astray her home, her syndicate and for all she knew her ethnic group yet she was praying for me! Most race would be express God for their bad luck. Even those whose confidence was powerful would commune for their own of necessity. Here was this incredulous female praying for me.
"Mattie" continued: "... and the large men and women who have come through present to give support to us in our hr of call for. Surely they are present doing your will. They are your angels here on Earth. Amen"
"Angels" I had never been brainchild of as an "angel." I knew I was far from an "angel." I recovered myself agaze at the horizontal surface in feeling. I had travel here to set up my want to serve, to be a element of thing all important for me as substantially as for those I served. Now this female reminded me that my occupation for human being was far greater.
"Mattie" presently cloth weapons-grade ample to bear and tramp. Soon she vanished us to transfer to a safer city, but earlier she left-hand she exchanged my enthusiasm. My reminiscence of Katrina is of an spiritual being who visited me in those dismal days, an spiritual being I telephone "Mattie."
(excepted from my book, Blowin' Through the Big Easy: Memories of Katrina)