Dr. Otuseso is a graduate of Medical College of Georgia (Augusta). The rural family that housed her was was uneducated in some of the basics of preventive healthcare. Although culturally and in terms of health beliefs Dr. Otuseso and the family that sheltered her could not have been more different, the host family offered remarkable hospitality by providing food and clothing.
“Tragedy brings different people together,” Dr. Otuseso told her niece. The next day, the hurricane had passed, and the host family transported her to Hattiesburg, Miss., a town a mere 100 miles north of New Orleans. She needed basics: shelter and transportation. Hattiesburg’s hotel lacked power and water, and gas was scarce. Eventually, Dr. Otuseso convinced a service station owner to help her retrieve her rental car and fill it with gas. She then set off for Jackson.
On arrival in Jackson, she checked into another hotel with no water or electricity, but eventually made it to work Tuesday. The hospital had electricity and an endless stream of patients. Dr. Otuseso says that her experience made her more empathetic to patients. She could understand the extent of their loss. And after a lifetime of giving to others, she learned to accept help, hospitality, and assistance from others.
In New Orleans
Rob Minkes, MD, chief of pediatric surgery at Louisiana State University and Children’s Hospital (both of New Orleans) started a shift on Sunday, August 28 that became a four-day tour of duty. With him were more than 700 patients, families, and staff. Throughout the ordeal, they had Internet access and intermittent phone service. It was almost business-as-usual: All employees reported for work, and they even performed procedures in the surgical suite.
Once the storm passed, patients of all ages began to appear needing help. With them came strangers who threatened the hospital’s safety Employees could see looters from the windows. Some visitors who had no official purpose roamed the halls causing fear and despair among employees; although they were few and far between, they created chaos. Once the interlopers were escorted out, the hospital locked down. Lacking armed guards, they contacted local, state, and federal authorities for help, but none came.
“The situation became surreal, like a Stephen King novel,” explains Dr. Minkes. “There was just enough of what was normal, but the workplace and general life began to blend into some kind of limbo.”
He praises staff members who kept doing their jobs. The physicians made rounds, the nurses provided care, the housekeepers cleaned. “People can behave commendably in a crisis,” says Dr. Minkes, who noted that Children’s Hospital was well prepared and their disaster training was effective. The hospital was so prepared, in fact, that it was able to divert a fuel shipment that arrived Monday or Tuesday to a nearby facility that had a greater need.
On Wednesday morning, Children’s Hospital lost water pressure, so running water and air conditioning were history. Hospital leadership made the decision to evacuate patients and staff using any available means. Some neighboring hospitals sent helicopters. A convoy of ambulances and SUVs, staffed with care providers using hand-bag ventilators, set out for Baton Rouge. Those patients well enough were discharged. Hospital leadership received word that the National Guard had aircraft at the airport and could take remaining patients if they could be there by 7 p.m.