Airport turned hospital: Escape from New Orleans
During the days that it took for that exodus to occur, we filled the airport to its bursting point. There was a time when there were 16,000 angry, tired, frustrated people here. There were stabbing and rape victims–and people on the verge of mobbing. The flight line, lined with two parallel rows of Dauphins, Sea Kings, Hueys, Chinooks, and every other kind of helicopter imaginable, was a dangerous place. But we were much more frightened whenever we entered the sea of displaced humanity that had filled every nook and cranny of the airport.
Only now that the thousands of survivors have been evacuated and the floors soaked in bleach, the putrid air allowed to exchange for fresh, the number of soldiers allowed to outnumber the patients, do we feel safe. I have met so many people while down here–people who were at ground zero at 9/11, people who have done tsunami relief, tours in Iraq, and every one of them has said this is the worst thing they have ever seen.
For those of you who want to help, the next step is to help those who arrive in your local area. The only real medical care these survivors will receive is once they land in safe, clean areas far from here. Many of the sickest simply died while here at the airport; many have been stressed beyond measure and will die shortly even though they were evacuated. If you are not medical, then go the shelters, hold hands, give hugs and prayers.
Talk to these survivors; hear their stories and what they have been through; look into their eyes. You will never think of America the same way.
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