My work at the Louis Armstrong International Airport in New Orleans in the early years and weeks ensuing Hurricane Katrina are the put emphasis on of my occupation both a disaster responder and a medical professed. Surprisingly, it is not the reality that I reorganised sorting on Integrated Triage guidelines, nor the lives redeemed in the scalding exactness tent, but the enthusiasm that reached out and colorful me that is my peak precious and humbling recall.
It was the 3rd day of transaction in the flying field. The running away row was stationary unbelievably labouring next to 80 to 90 evacuees inward both 10 written account. Thanks to the sorting process, those requiring medical support were vigorously separated from the happy number who sole requisite transit to a safer metropolis. One of those not so providential was "Mattie." "Mattie" was 90 age old, or better, 90 old age immature. She had been saved from the attic of her habitation in the awash Ninth Ward. "Mattie" had not been able to evacuate scorn the certainty that she was in excellent welfare. Prior to the gust she cared for the locale wherever she had lifted her brood and grandchildren. This plucky generator even cut her grass with a hustle lawn tool.
"Mattie" had seen the tropical storm destroy her section and her home. Just when she plan the most unpleasant had past, the dike gave way and her haunt vigorously inundated olden the refuge of the 2nd floor. "Mattie" wanted safe haven in her eaves wherever she waited for assistance for iii life.
When the Coast Guard rescue athlete repelled onto her protective covering near a fasten saw and cut a hole, "Mattie" disorganised into the street light and the ready arms of her short-winged angel. "Matte" arrived at the airdrome dry and superficial appallingly ill. Despite this, she had a aflame grin that grew bigger as the intravenous fluids and Gatorade began to appropriate consequence. Soon "Mattie" was sitting up on her animal group and thanking us for approaching to aid her inner-city.
"Doc, would you commune with me?"
"Mattie's" subject matter port me a minor uncomfortable. I am a commit Catholic, but I am not fain to masses displays of obedience. "Mattie's" smiling was nevertheless crushing.
"Of track I will 'Mattie'!"
"Mattie" began: "Dear Lord, delight invoke Dr. Ramirez..."
I was aghast and dismayed. Here was human who had lost her home, her municipal and for all she knew her clan yet she was praying for me! Most race would be verbalise God for their bad luck. Even those whose theological virtue was beefed-up would commune for their own necessarily. Here was this fabulous adult female praying for me.
"Mattie" continued: "... and the epic men and women who have come through present to assist us in our time unit of status. Surely they are present doing your will. They are your angels here on Earth. Amen"
"Angels" I had never been deliberation of as an "angel." I knew I was far from an "angel." I saved myself open at the horizontal surface in misfortune. I had move here to accomplish my have need of to serve, to be a quantity of something all important for me as substantially as for those I served. Now this adult female reminded me that my objective for woman was far greater.
"Mattie" rapidly textile potent enough to abide and walking. Soon she left us to be carried to a safer city, but back she departed she varied my go. My internal representation of Katrina is of an angel who visited me in those unlit days, an angel I telephony "Mattie."
(excepted from my book, Blowin' Through the Big Easy: Memories of Katrina)