Collection

As I write this personal statement, I am sitting in a hospital bed in a small rented home in Baton Rouge. Two months ago, I would never have imagined that my family and I would be in this position. To understand what I am going through, I must tell you about my life before Katrina.\r\n I am a twenty four year old native New Orleanian who was educated in the public school system in New Orleans. I lived with my parents in a spacious home in the Lakefront located four houses away from the 17th Street Canal. I have an older brother who just got married. He and his wife lived uptown. We lived with our dog whose name is Einstein. He is a mischievous mutt whom I adore. I am a junior at UNO in the general studies department with a concentration in pre-counseling. My goal was to graduate in the Fall of 2006. My plan was to go on to graduate school to get a master?s degree in either social work or counseling.\r\n I am a quadriplegic who has spina bifida. I am mobile by using a power wheelchair. My mom owned a large handicapped lift van to transport me. We used the van to go back and forth to UNO, to doctor?s appointments, to the mall to shop, to the movies and to go to other social activities. The van gave me the freedom to get out of the house. My parents built the home we were in with my disability in mind. It had ramps to get in, wide halls and doorways, and a large roll-in shower. I had a wonderful personal care attendant (PCA) named Theresa. She took care of me while my parents worked. She helped me at UNO as well as with activities of daily living such as eating, brushing my hair and teeth because I can?t do them for myself. I thoroughly enjoyed Theresa?s company. She was a friend and like a second mom. \r\n \r\n In general, life for me was good. I had loving parents who provided for me in any way they could. I had a PCA that I trusted. I lived in a nice home that accommodated my disability. I had excellent transportation. I participated in a wide range of activities. I had a lot of friends who lived close by my home. I felt happy, content and safe. \r\n For someone who is disabled, whether or not to evacuate and where to evacuate for a hurrican threat is always a complicated and difficult decision. Last year, my mom and I evacuated to a cousin?s home in Denham Springs for Hurricane Ivan. A trip that normally takes about an hour took eight hours. It was difficult for me to be up in my wheelchair that long. My mom and I were both exhausted when we arrived. We had to sleep in uncomfortable beds and eat food that we weren?t accustomed to eating. Even though our cousins invited us to their home, we felt like we were imposing on them. The worst part was that our previous dog, Zeus, ran away from our cousin?s backyard. My mom searched for him, but she never found him. She and I both cried for days. We missed him terribly. That is why we adopted our new dog Einstein. \r\n Due to our terrible Ivan experience, my family and I decided to do a highrise evacuation in New Orleans. We had done that successfully several times before. We made reservations at the Fairmont Hotel where my dad had stayed during Hurricane Betsy. He believed the hotel was the safest place to be. We figured that we would stay several days, wait for the electricity to go back on and then go back home. We left the van at home thinking that our home was on high ground and that the van would be safer there. Boy were we wrong!!! My brother and sister-in-law had encouraged us to evacuate with them to Baton Rouge where my sister-in-law?s parents live. We were concerned that my wheelchair couldn?t get in their house. After Ivan, no one wanted to spend hours in a car traveling to Baton Rouge. The decision was made: if the Fairmont was safe enough for Betsy, it was safe enough for Katrina.\r\n Before going to the Fairmont, my dad dropped our dog at the veterinarian?s office. We knew that the kennel was on the second floor so we figured that the dog would be safe. At least we knew that the dog wouldn?t run away.\r\n We checked into the Fairmont the Sunday morning before the hurricane. We had a lovely room, and two very nice meals. We went to sleep late Sunday night only to be awakened at 4 am Monday morning when the power went out. Using flashlights, we hurriedly bathed and got dressed. Little did I know that this would be my last bath in four days or that I had already had my last shower in my roll in shower. We took the one generator operated elevator to the lobby where we watched the hurricane from the lobby windows. The lobby was lit with lights from the generators also. It was awesome to watch the hurricane. While the wind and rain were very powerful, the damage seemed to be very minimal - a few broken windows, a few torn awnings. We enjoyed visiting with both the New Orleanians as well as the out-of-towners in the lobby. I did notice that the lunch and dinner meals didn?t seem as plentiful as the day before. By early evening, people started talking about water rising in the street. We didn?t have access to television, radio or internet so we didn?t know what happened. We watched as the water rose higher and higher on both sides of the hotel. The manager pulled my dad aside to tell him that there was a breach in the 17th Street Canal. I could tell my parents were terrified. This made me feel apprehensive as well. We couldn?t get any more information about where the breach was, how serious the breach was, and most importantly for me, how much damage had it done to my home. The hardest part was not getting much information and not being able to verify what we had heard.\r\n We decided that the best thing to do was to go to bed. We thought a good night?s rest would help us in making a decision what we should do. With water surrounding the hotel, we weren?t sure how we were going to get out of the hotel. As we approached the elevator, we learned that the only working elevator had stopped working. Because I am in a wheelchair, I couldn?t get up the stairs. So my family spent the night in the lobby. My mom and two bellmen climbed up ten flights of stairs to get our suitcases and my medical equipment. My mom and dad slept on the lobby floor, and I slept in my wheelchair. I have had problems before with decubitus ulcers, and this situation was a prescription for disaster. I was up in my chair way too long, and I wasn?t drinking enough water. \r\n By the time we woke up Tuesday morning, the situation had gotten significantly worse. As there was little or no security in the hotel, the people who were looting stores on Canal Street were coming into the hotel to attempt to sell their stolen goods. One man offered to sell expensive tennis shoes to my dad for $25.00. My dad declined his offer. Hotel employees were stealing food, sheets, towels (basically anything they could get their hands on) from the hotel. Anyone who who had a sport utility vehicle was able to get out of the hotel by driving across the Westbank Expressway. But we had no way out. My parents tried calling the police, the fire department, 911, ambulance companies and hospitals to rescue us. Even my brother and his friends were calling ambulance companies to come get us. My mom could tell that I was getting sicker and sicker. She could tell that I was getting pressure sores, and that if I didn?t get medical attention soon, I would become septic. The situation was becoming desperate. Finally, my dad had a brainstorm. He called a good friend who is a high ranking police official in a neighboring parish. He told my dad to be ready to go at midnight. At 11:55 pm, a large Army type truck arrived at the hotel. Now the question was how were we going to get the chair onto the truck since the handicapped entrance to the hotel was completely flooded. The hotel manager broke the ramp to the Blue Room to make a pathway across the stairs into the truck. My mom told me later that she was terrified that the ramp would break, dropping me and my chair into the dirty flood waters. But the ramp held. Once we were all loaded onto the truck, the police officers drove us across the Westbank Expressway to Gramercy. My godfather met us in Gramercy. My wheelchair couldn?t fit into my godfather?s car so we had to leave it with the police officers. I wondered if I would ever see it again. It is a custom made chair and impossible to replace. When the police officer transferred me from the truck to my godfather?s car, they dropped me and broke my arm. My godfather drove me to the emergency room at Our Lady of the Lake Hospital. I was admitted to the hospital because I was dehydrated and ill from the decubitus ulcers. The only thing that hurt was my arm.\r\n As we began to watch television, we came to realize that our home had taken on at least eight feet of water. We had lost our home and our van, the only means of transporting me. The hospital was to become my home for the next two weeks. My mom stayed with me at the hospital, while my dad stayed with one of my brother?s friends. \r\n The day after I was admitted to the hospital, the social worker confronted my mom about the necessity of finding an alternative place to live. The social worker wasn?t helpful at all. My mom knew she needed to find somewhere to live. She treated my mom like she was an idiot. She didn?t seem to understand how much we were grieving for our loss and what we had just experienced. After several failed attempts, my mom finally found a rental home in Baton Rouge, Unlike many of the price gouging people, the landlord didn?t make us sign a lease, nor did he raise the rent. We considered ourselves lucky. \r\n\r\n One of the hardest parts after the storm was locating friends and family. My grandfather lived in Lambeth House, an assisted living facility in uptown New Orleans. While we learned he had been evacuated, my dad didn?t know where to find him. After many frantic phone calls, he finally found him at St. James Place in Baton Rouge. Communication was difficult. Cell phones didn?t work. The only way to communicate was by text messaging. My mom had so many numbers written on sticky notes that she got a legal pad to write down number and important information. \r\n My mom spent a lot of time on the phone with FEMA and trying to track down the insurance agent. Once she got in touch with the agent, she told him about losing our lift van, and that my wheelchair was still in Metairie. My agent asked my mom so many questions about my disability that my mom was starting to get annoyed. As it turned out, the agent has a son about my age who is also disabled. The agent volunteered to pick up my wheelchair in his van and bring it to Baton Rouge. My mom cried like a baby when she saw the chair.\r\n Now we had to find Theresa. She worked part-time at Lindy Boggs Hospital. My mom called the Tenet employee hotline in an attempt to locate her. They wouldn?t give us her number, but they took ours so Theresa could contact us. Within thirty minutes, Theresa called us. She and her family were living in Brenham, Texas. She wasn?t sure of her plans, but wasn?t planning on coming back any time soon. I felt terribly sad knowing that she wouldn?t be with me.\r\n We found my grandfather, we found my chair, we found Theresa, but we still didn?t know what had happened to our dog. Somehow, my dad had the cell phone number for the veterinarian?s receptionist. He called and called until he finally got in touch with her. She told him that the vet had rescued the animals in a pirogue. My dog who had never been in deep water, swam to the boat. The vet brought all the animals to the Lamar Dixon Hall in Gonzales. My dad picked up the dog, but the landlord wouldn?t let us keep him in the house. Einstein is living temporarily with my cousins in Zachary, La. Every time my dad talks about finding the dog, he starts to cry.\r\n After I got out of the hospital, my mom made two trips to our home in New Orleans. She was devastated. All of our family pictures were wet and ruined. The home that my parents had built and designed for me was destroyed. While the upstairs was almost as it had been left, the downstairs looked like a filthy tornado had hit it. Furniture, clothes, bedding, towels, food, artwork, appliances and electronics, dishes, glasses etc were destroyed. My mom was able to rescue some china, jewelry and crystal but everything else is gone.\r\n What is most difficult now is the uncertainty. While my parents both have jobs that will return to New Orleans in January, we have no home in New Orleans. My parents quickly need to find a place to live. We don?t know where we?ll live, we don?t know which of our friends will return, we don?t know which businesses and hospitals will be operating. But we do know that we have each other. We will work our way back to normalcy.