Flood

We stepped over a makeshift barrier – a wall of concrete blocks and weighted plastic across the sidewalk – and out onto the low bridge across the Susquehanna.  Other than occasional sirens it was eerily silent, the road lonely in the dusk and stripped bare of cars.  As we hung over the railing to watch, the river rushed by only a few feet beneath.  By the time we went to bed that night, the street perpendicular to ours was already mostly covered in water.  Life was a prayer for the floodwalls to hold.

I woke to a different world. 

"Residents of New Street, come to your doors.”  The police bullhorn instructing evacuation of the next street over continued as we began to pack for imminent evacuation.  The floodwalls held, but the river was still rising, almost to the top of the wall.  The top of a tan car was just visible above the restless brown of the street-turned-lake.  We showered in the dark as the water dripped through dark ceiling, watched as the water leaked over the floodwalls to creep up the street and cover the sidewalks, joked half-heartedly about kayaks to get across the river to the hospital, set out extra food and water for the dog, piled into the car to drive the few miles down the road to the University shelter that already housed almost 1600 people.

Little did I know when I left Potsdam the morning before that I would be spending Thursday afternoon on my former college campus. 

“Hi.  I got evacuated this morning and I’m a Registered Nurse…do you need any help?”  The rather harried-looking resident just looked at me for a moment, startled.  And then I went to work.  A rather faded Mercy Ships badge from the rear-view mirror of my car served as identification as I joined EMS, nurses, and medical residents in treating any sick and injured among the crowds already sheltered in the Events Center.  Cots covered the floor where I had once watched basketball games, families huddled in the ticket area with their pets, uniformed military and police guarded the doors and maintained order, and in a back room we had three cots set up as makeshift exam rooms.  Another basketball court served as a special needs area and pharmacy – staffed by volunteers and nursing students, and a few instructors I recognized from my own days as a student there.

When I left 8 hours later to spend the night at a friend’s house, our shelter was already full and the river had finally crested…25.7 feet.

Now in East Texas, I find myself ironically wishing for just a few hundred gallons of that floodwater – to somehow dampen down the tinder-dry foliage and see the hills green again.