Evacuees

Note: “The views contained in these web pages are my personal views and do not

represent the views of NYU Langone Medical Center.”

I had this delicious, chocolately treat yesterday at the Silver Moon Bakery on 105th and Broadway on the Upper West Side. It was incredible. Actually, every treat I've had from this packed little French bakery is worth writing about. But tonight, I wanted to tell the story of how I got to be in this bakery yesterday with my two little girls.

Thursday was supposed to be a day of sleep. I was scheduled to work nights all week, and planned, against better judgment, to stay up all day on Wednesday to enjoy Halloween with my girls. Then after a full night at work with one or two freshly post-op patients, I hoped to sleep the day away. But Hurricane Sandy changed all of that....

On Sunday, just after noon, as sweet Brother Vogelman was going a little over-time with his Sunday School lesson, several cell phones started making emergency alert noises. Instead of a typical third-hour church meeting, our ward leadership pulled the whole congregation together to let us know that word had just been received that there was a mandatory evacuation of Zone A, the perimeter of downtown Manhattan and other sites in several boroughs, due to the approaching Hurricane Sandy. This area encompassed a large portion of our ward, including our own apartment on the South Street Seaport. As everyone began making arrangements to campout at a another place, host an evacuated family, or gather necessities to ride out the storm at home, we called my brother-in-law Jordan to ask if we could crash at his place. Honestly, I didn't think much of it, since Zone A had also been evacuated for Hurricane Irene, but not much had happened in downtown New York. I assumed this would be the same, but figured we might as well enjoy the family time.

We loaded up and headed to Jordan and Kristi's place (Kristi and their daughter were actually visiting family in Utah), carrying two days' worth of clothes and a couple gallons of water. On Monday, the subways were closed and James was exempt from going in to work, so we enjoyed a leisurely day together, actually waiting around for the storm to show up. I was still scheduled to work Monday night, and since the wind and rain were picking up in the early evening, I headed in about 6pm to make sure I didn't get held up by worsening weather. My cab zipped down to NYU Medical Center on nearly deserted roads. The closer we got to the East River, the worse the wind was whipping around the car.

As I stepped into the elevators to head to the 15th floor, I felt that knot in the pit of my stomach that caused me to say a quick prayer for strength to deal with whatever comes, thinking it was likely due to a sick patient that could have a difficult night. Jill, the day shift nurse practitioner, gave report on the 6 kids in our Pediatric Cardiac ICU, and then showed me the emergency food supply (chips and cookies!) that her and Maura had hoarded all day, just in case.

At about 7:30, the computer stopped working. Then the phones went out at around 8pm. The day shift nurses were still giving report to night shift when the power went out, and we switched over to generator power. Not a big deal, and almost expected. We ensured all the critical care equipment was plugged into the red emergency outlets.

A short while later, the generator tripped and our equipment reverted to battery power for about 10 minutes, though a few overhead lights stayed on. Our unit then returned to generator power, but we received word that the other pediatric units on the 9th floor were without the backup power. Several of our staff members (including 4 that had already worked 12 hours that day) went down to help the PICU and NICU staff support their patients and search for backup batteries for the fading equipment.

Around 10pm, I was informed that administration had announced we were to evacuate the hospital. NICU and PICU were to go first, and we were to be the last pediatric unit to go (except our one intubated patient), as we still had generator power.

The next two hours consisted of calling every hospital accesible with the closed bridges and tunnels to see who would take my patients. As planned, our intubated patient was the first to be transferred (and among the first of all the pediatric patients). The cardiology fellow carried the baby down the stairwell to the waiting ambulance, while our fabulous charge nurse manually ventilated the patient with a bag attached to his breathing tube.

I was still in the process of negotiating placement for the remainder of our patients when, just after 1am, we lost all power. The unit was pitch black, except for the red glow of the EXIT signs and the green glow of our battery operated medication pumps. I ran to the room of each patient to make sure everyone was OK, then called one of the hospitals back to inform them of the change in our condition. The fellow said she'd work on getting as many of our patients there as possible, but would need attending approval first (which is standard).

 

In the meantime, the FDNY showed up and said that we had to evacuate immediately. I wrapped up and held the patient I was most concerned about moving, and each nurse grabbed her patient. We were instructed to use the stairwell on the east side to carry the patients down the 15 flights. By the last flight of stairs, my legs were shaking from carrying the 34 pound child and my mind was endlessly repeating a prayer of pleading to steady my feet.

All five patients were safely brought to the lobby. And within several minutes, the outside hospitals graciously agreed to accept our patients. One hospital took four of our remaining patients (and a couple others of our surgical patients that were in the NICU), but asked that we provide staff to care for them as the additional patients would overrun their capacity. Nurses that had worked all day and now halfway through the night didn't think twice as they offered to stay with the patients as long as necessary.

Once I knew all my patients had a place to go and a team to transport them, I jumped in the ambulance where two of our nurses held babies in their arms. Our ambulance crew had driven most the day from their homes in Michigan to be on hand in case assistance was needed. It was quite the scene to see the seemingly endless line of ambulances that had come from across the country to be on call for just such a need.

The receiving staff at the outside hospital greeted us warmly and our patients were shortly made comfortable in their new beds. I was brought to the command center to obtain temporary credentialing and was amazed as I walked into a room of dozens of former adult NYU patients tucked into every corner or the large room. The activity was nonstop, but somehow felt like an organized form of chaos.

I was overcome by the positive attitudes and charity that was demonstrated in every phase of this unbelievable night (I only heard one grumbler, and she was doing it behind a closed door where she thought nobody could hear!). The nurses were the stars of the night. They worked tirelessly (and sleeplessly), providing the highest quality of care. They stayed calm, while preparing for the worst, and worked together in every step of the way. And I'll also be forever grateful to the attending doctor who walked down 48 flights of stairs in the dark and caught a cab in the flooded streets to come relieve me so I could go home to my family!

We came to find out that the hurricane led to storm surges above 13 feet, meaning waves from the East River were crashing against the east side of Manhattan. The hospital basement flooded severely, and our generators were no longer able to function. But miraculously, every patient was safely evacuated.

One of my fellow nurse practitioners took my Tuesday night shift to cover at the outside hospital so I could rest fully. And then all the patients were transferred on Wednesday to facilities that could care for the children with the staff they already had.

Leading me to an unplanned vacation with my family, safe on the Upper West Side, as we wait for the return of power to our devastated downtown. So here we are. And life goes on. The girls enjoyed trick-or-treating in makeshift costumes. And yesterday we stopped by a bakery for a chocolate chip cookie.