Saturday, March 30, 2024

Faith Is Dead... Hope Is Dying...

So I just got something in the mail. It states that my exwife hasn't paid anything in months on her half of the debts we'd collected. Now they are going to garnish my wages and take almost $700 a month to pay off the debt she'd taken responsibility for. The debt is almost $7,000. Since my name is on this debt I can be held liable. I called her and she says she has been making the payments except for these last two month because of the hurricane, which is understandable. The law office said they don't have record of those payments though. Someone is lying.


I called the law office that's making the garnishments through the courts and they're being kind to me as I explain my story but that still doesn't mean I'm off the hook. We're going to have to work something out some kind of way even if that means me getting my own attorney and fighting for her to reimburse me or something. There's got to be a way for me to not get fucked over, but there still is a high possibility that I may because this kind of shit happens everyday; I've seen it.


Anyway, if this garnishment goes through I'll be broke as all hell. I won't be able to afford my house. Again, I'm being placed in this position where I might lose everything because of someone else fucking me over. Why can't I get any peace? Why do I deserve this? Everything feels so hopeless... everything always does...


Faith is dead... hope is dying...

[ TheSaga | 9:09 PM | 0 Newton-meters ]

Just Friends...

I have this friend that I've known for about 7 years. We met at UNO (Univ of New Orleans), when we were both freshmen, through her sister, who was my old high school friend. This friend, who I'll call V, is a girl that I've always found as an attractive girl who has a great head on her shoulders. She's very responsible with her money and credit, with her grades, and even has good style without all the flashy tight clothes. We were considering dating when we first met but we became close as friends so that's where we decided to stay. We just didn't see us clicking like that because of different lifestyles; she's the moral church attendee who doesn't curse and asks me not to curse around her, never goes clubbing (and I stress NEVER), listens ONLY to gospel, has had sex but has decided to abstain until she feels morally comfortable, etc... while I'm the one who curses up a storm, does NOT attend church for anything, loves to socialize at clubs from time to time while peeping out the girls in their short skirts, listens to the most violent of music, and has sex, sex, and MORE SEX!!!! We just found each other's way of life completely unacceptable to form a dating relationship but enjoyed each other's company enough to stay friends. Somehow, despite all of our differences we've always been able to have laughs together and have great conversation.


V and I don't always keep in close contact. In fact, it had been months before we'd spoken before yesterday. We usually talk for a few days and update each other on what's going on in our lives then lose contact for a month or 3. Yesterday I decided to give her a call and pay her a visit. I told her everything that's going on in my life and she told me about hers. I had just left the gym and was starving so I asked her if she wanted to go with me to the Cheesecake Bistro, my treat. She was cool with it. We had dinner and joked and laughed for over an hour; it was a lot of fun. As we spoke I couldn't help but to notice how pretty her smile was, how cute her laugh sounded, and how her eyes were something to keep a man mesmerized. While she spoke, I wondered if she found me attractive in the same way. When we'd walk to the car or to the table I'd stare at her figure, her curves. She's definitely sexy. Waiting for the valet to bring my car around, we cracked jokes and laughed, taking small glimpses at each other; I wondered if she found me sexy in the same way. Now, don't get it twisted, she's JUST a friend... but a very beautiful one, inside and out, and one that I've always admired because she's always maintained her focus and her beauty. I took her straight home afterwards and when we got to her apartment complex I walked her to her door. We had a couple of laughs on the way to her front door and again I couldn't help but to admire her beauty. We hugged goodbye as we normally do but as we hugged I noticed something: I didn't want to let go. I felt comfortable embracing her, very comfortable... so I hugged her a little more tightly than I'd hug any other lady friend of mine and it lasted a little longer than a normal friendly hug, just a tiny bit longer. Coming from her end, the hug felt equally firm and prolonged. It felt as if neither of us wanted to let go. I didn't pay it no mind though and just shrugged it off because I know where we stand and that's definitely where I want things to stay and it's where she wants it to stay also. I mean, we've spoken about it before and it's where we feel comfortable... where we've always felt comfortable, so I just gave her the wink and told her goodbye.


The issue is that I've got other attractive female friends that are just friends and I can't look at them like this. The thought of me and them just doesn't click. There's no unexplainable funny feeling between me and them, not like last night. Nothing's ever happened between V and myself, not a kiss, no cuddling, nothing. We've always just been friends and we've always respected each other's lifestyle but there has always been this funny vibe. What's going on here?

[ TheSaga | 9:08 PM | 3 Newton-meters ]

Saturday, October 08, 2005

A Spy Among The Ranks

The hurricane has made some serious changes in my life. My baby's mother has been living with me for some time now because her place was completely destroyed. We did plan on moving to Houston and establishing our own lives apart there but still keep in close touch for the sake of the baby but another curve ball came out of nowhere. So for now she's staying here at my place. We've been getting along quite well lately. We really have no choice; I mean we have to for the baby. Plus, we're going to be in each other's lives for the next 18 years or so, so we may as well get along. Someone is trying to sabotage that though.


Oddly, someone sent some posts to her BP account from my blog regarding other women I've dated. They sent them with insults towards her and me. I'm wondering why someone would intervene like that. They sounded as if they didn't know that I'm open with my baby's mom. They tried to throw the fact that I've been with other women in her face. She knew about all that though. She did not know the details like what I do with those girls, how I felt about them, etc, but she did know that I wasn't limiting myself to just one woman. I mean, I just don't commit and she knows that. She knows... she knows we're not in a committed relationship. She knows that I've been with other women. She knows where we stand as far as being able to do what we want when we want, and you didn't start an argument between us last night. We're just trying to stay in a positive light so we can both work together in raising our little boy.


This person, the one who sent the note, comes across to me as some one very, very spiteful, a coward, and not very intelligent. Why, you ask? For one, why the insults and why all the spying? What does that person have to gain? Is it that they want us to "split up" (even though we're not together) so they could get with her or me? If so, then why the insults towards each of us? And if they are going to insult us, why hide their identity. They sent the notes from a BP page with no pics or info about themselves that could give them away... a cowardice act. I thought about sending them a note but then I figured all I'd do is just create an online argument and to be honest, I don't care for those because it doesn't solve anything. They can't be that intelligent because what intelligent person creates this kind of trouble and then hides? An intelligent person would do something that gets results and brings forth some kind of benefit, not nothing. A person with a low IQ goes off of first instinct all the time. They get mad so they fight; they fall in love without thinking about whether this person is good for them or not and end up in bad relationships; they get money and go spend it all at once; etc. They do things without thinking what's in their (and others') best interest. They just act without fighting their own feelings, knowing that it won't bring them anything. Sometimes though, a person just likes to start trouble and then walk away to let everyone else deal with their creation. They could be one of these people, but this still isn't something an intelligent person would do.


Now, I said I wasn't going to send them a note to avoid an online argument, so what am I doing here, in this post? Honestly, it's my blog so I'm stating what's on my mind. It's what this blog is here for. I can probably expect something in retaliation along the lines of a spiteful comment or BP note, or something else from my blog to be sent to my baby's mother's BP page. Again, they'll remain in secret, showing that they aren't brave enough to start shit and stand up to it like a man/woman; again they won't gain anything, showing that they aren't smart enough to realize that they're just wasting their time; again, they'll show that they aren't disciplined enough to fight whatever spiteful feelings they have for whatever/no reason.


Why not just ignore you? Because I want you to know that I'm willing to confront you, intellectually or physically. I'm willing to talk to you with reason. I'm willing to listen to your argument IF you can present one that can stand on it's own, not one that's just full of curse words and insults. Can you make that happen? Can you prove that you're worth the effort? Can you prove yourself to be of higher intelligence and of sterner metal? I'll be honest, and I'm not saying this to insult you but because it just comes across as factual according to your actions, I don't think you can prove it. I don't think you're brave enough to take someone on and I don't think you're smart enough to do so either. All I can expect out of you is words to try and make me angry, to not challenge me, and quite frankly I've had enough drama and problems in my life to waste my time dealing with you. If I'm going to take on a problem, a challenge, I'm going to make sure it's one worth my time and effort. I'm going to make sure it's with someone that is on my level, not an elementary one. I mean, let's be honest, even YOU have to agree that your actions were those of a teenager, ESPECIALLY since you choose to hide. If you can't come like someone worthy enough, then I'm just going to keep ignoring everything you send. Your notes will go unread and deleted and so will your comments... by both of us. You'll just be wasting your time. Perhaps though, if you do it enough, if you keep cursing enough, if you keep making enough insults (which will be ignored) you'll vent the steam that you need to let off... and hopefully that will make you a happier person, hopefully that will make you move on with your life, on to do more productive things with it.


Anyway, since I see my privacy is being invaded, I'm going to move again. I'll either be moving to a place that's password protected or just take my blog offline altogether. If I move to a password protected blog, I'll be giving that password to the few who've visited my blog and laced it with positive thoughts and challenging ideas. I thank those of you... you know who you are.

[ TheSaga | 3:09 PM | 5 Newton-meters ]

Monday, September 26, 2005

Katrina III (Last One)

I hadn't heard from my son for a while. The phone lines were filled with people trying to locate their loved ones. Somtimes I was able to get through to my ex-wife's cell phone line but she never picked up. It would just go to her voicemail. I'd left her several messages and sent numerous text messages but I still got nothing. I was starting to worry, not for my son's safety though because I knew that he was safe with her, but because she wasn't answering any of my calls. Was she doing this on purpose?


A day or two later I get into an arguement with my newborn's mom and she starts talking about taking the baby to Seattle, and for me not to worry about the baby. Damn, at a time like this I'm being threatened to have my baby being taken from me. She was explaining that she was just tired of dealing with all this and wanted to be able to move on peacefully with her life. I told her that we were now bound together through this child, even though we no longer were together. She stayed silent.


When people would hear of my story from others, they listeners would tell me, "God is gonna bless you." They'd tell me this over and over again. Well, here I was, being blessed by God in this form. I'd felt abandoned by Him, even though I was still alive I didn't know what had been left of my house, what had been left of my car, where one of my sons was, and the other was being threatened to be taken from me. God was blessing me.


I listened to the radio and watched the news and all I heard, on top of how much the hurricane had destroyed numerous homes, was the amount of looting that was taking place on the Westbank, the metro area of New Orleans in which I lived. I heard about how businesses and houses were being broken into, looted, and destroyed. I was scared that I may not have a home to go to... God was going to bless me.


I decided that I needed to keep moving to keep my mind off my potential losses and the hectic past few days. I decided to volunteer at a shelter in Baton Rouge. After a friend wired money for me to buy supplies for the shelter, I went to Sam's Club to purchase diapers, water, and baby food for the shelter. There I ran into the head nurse from the New Orleans hospital. We hugged tightly, not believing we'd just run into each other. Her husband then walked up and shook my hand with a very firm grip and then gave me a hug. We spoke for a while and she told me that some of the nurses heard many of the cars in the parking garage being destroyed. Now I had good reason to believe my car had been demolished by looters... God was going to bless me.


I went to the shelter shortly after and witnessed the despair of those who'd lost everything. I distributed the supplies I'd bought and volunteered to give other needed supplies to the victims themselves. I handed them clothes, food, hygiene supplies, etc. I also walked around and spoke to the some children. As I walked, older evacuees... victims, would look at my shirt which read USMC and give me this nod of approval. Some would even voice it, "Marine Corps," and crack a smile at me. I felt a certain amount of pride come down on me because people were looking up to me, but it still wasn't enough to take away my concerns. I just had to keep moving. I kept moving because I was hoping that some of the good will would be returned to me when I needed it.


Eventually I got a call from my son's mom and I heard my baby boy's beautiful voice. I'd missed him so much. He'd been asking about me for days. It felt so good finally speaking to him. We spoke about everything under the son. I promised him I'd see him as soon as possible. I'd lost sleep most days wondering if he thought I'd abandoned him. I kept praying, wishing that he know, that he voice it to himself that his papi loved him, that he remember how often I'd told him that even in death I'd always be there for him. All he'd ever have to do is just look over his shoulder and I'd be there... even in death.


Eventually I was able to work something out with my ex-wife so he could stay with me for 3 days. I took him to see his baby brother in the hospital, played kick the bottle, and hugged him while telling him how much I loved him endlessly. My ex called telling me that she was going to Orlando, Florida with her boyfriend. There they could put him in school and find a place to stay because he had family there. I figured my son might as well go because I barely had a place to stay myself. I was staying with different friends and aquaintances and even in my aunt's truck. I couldn't provide anything for my son. The night before he was to leave we played kick the Sprite bottle again and I indulged in his laughter. I then sat down on the grass and held him as I told him he'd be moving for a little while and I didn't know when I'd see him again. I started to tear up as I told him because it killed me not knowing when I'd see him again. His eyes, unwantingly, started to tear also so he wiped my tears and told me, "Papi, don't cry. Don't cry, papi!" He didn't want to see his strong father figure break down, I understood that, so I held it in... and I cried as I held him while he slept. I didn't know when I was going to see my son again... God was going to bless me.


The following afternoon I met up with my ex and her boyfriend and we all went to Celebration Station to spend time with my son before they took him with them. I decided to take my digital camera so I could get a few last pictures of my son before he left. In that camera I had pics of my two sons and myself that I cherished because they'd come out so perfect. They were my visual memories of the last time the 3 of us had been together at the hospital. My camera, the insignificant device that held significant memories within was then stolen while my back was turned. I spent the rest of the time looking everywhere for the camera, hoping that somehow I'd get those pictures back. I looked for nothing though. The camera was gone. Despite all that I'd given to those less fortunate than me and after all my sacrifice on top of having lost so much, my pictured memories of my two sons had been stolen from me... God was going to bless me.


After I hugged my son goodbye and told him that I loved him, I put him in their car and shut the door. I heard his muffled voice loudly tell me, "BYE PAPI!!" and I saw his beautiful smile for the last time through tinted windows. I went to my truck and reflected on God's blessings. I felt cursed. I felt like I'd given too much; I have this theory that very often it's the good people who get it the worst in life. Well, here I was proving this theory true.


For the rest of the time, filled with uncertainty, I was eventually able to patch things up with my newborn's mom as far as us not feuding the way we'd done that day she threatened to take my son. She saw my point of view that we could still work together, even though we were no longer together, in raising our new son. At the same time, I agreed to lessen the arguements on my side. I've been able to talk to my son almost every day and I found out he'd be back next month. I'll be able to have both of my sons together very soon, where I can take new pictures of both of them together, while my baby is still young. I can make and photograph new memories. I was able to sneak into the closed off New Orleans Uptown and get my undamaged car from the parking garage. And I came home to a house that had only mild wind damage.


Now I've got electricity, clean water, food, and my newborn here at my house... my home. In less than a month my older son will be coming back home. Things are still uncertain because progress is a bit slow, with respect to a city that's still up and running and where people still live regular, routine lives but I'm at least returning to my regular life. Throughout the whole ordeal, I always understood that I had it better than many people, but the thought of not knowing the fate of my children was unbearable and it broke me. It still has my faith shaky... I still don't know if I can trust Him, even though things seem to be turning out okay. I don't know if things will stay okay because of everything that I've seen this past month... all this desolation. For now, I'm just grateful I'll have my family together again, my two baby boys.

[ TheSaga | 7:00 PM | 3 Newton-meters ]

Friday, September 23, 2005

Rita

(sigh... rolling eyes)

[ TheSaga | 7:44 AM | 0 Newton-meters ]

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Katrina II

I'd suggest You read part one, Katrina, for the full story. I know they are long but I had to write it all.


After assisting in the evacuation of the hospital everyone relaxed. We ate what food we had left and talked in the NICU lounge. I went to my car, which was on the 4th floor of the parking garage, and got my guitar. I'd brought it with me because I figured I was going to need something to entertain myself wherever I evacuated to. It was too late to evacuate now though; our part of the city was under 6 or 7 feet of water. We had no air conditioning, no power, and no running water or sewage. We were trapped in a bare structure with nothing but each other and the comfort that at least the critical patients were safe.


While in the parking garage I looked over as much of the neighborhood as I could. I could only see some car roof tops. People were literally swimming to higher ground. They were using broken wood to help them float to safety. I stood there dry while people swam to whatever destination they were headed. They swam in dark, murky, polluted water. One could smell the stench of raw sewage, oil and other pollutants created a visible film on top of the water, helicopters hummed over us, heading in all directions, making this American city sound like a war zone in a third world country. At times I couldn't believe I was witnessing and being a part of all this, other times I wasn't surprised because I knew that it was just a matter of time before THE ONE, the perfect storm, hit us. It was just a matter of time before this city was left in ruin by the power of God.


I went back to the 6th floor where it was quiet. The lower floors, in particular the 2nd, were loud and crowded with patients, visitors, and people who had nowhere to go so they came to the hospital for refuge. Eventually the hospital was becoming overcrowded and they had to stop people from entering. I'd heard that one man brought his family and they didn't want to let them in because of the overcrowded-ness so he pulled a gun and threatened to shoot the person through the glass door if they didn't let them in. They let them in and they joined everyone on the 2nd floor. The stench that lurked on that floor was unbearable. It came from the carpet, wet from evacuees' drenched shoes and clothing; it came from the patients who couldn't be evacuated because their condition wasn't critical; it came from the sweat that dripped off everyone's bodies from the intense heat. The visitors and evacuees slept among this stench, they lived for days among it. I was fortunate to have access to a floor that didn't have drenched carpet and numerous bodies, living and dying. I reached the 6th floor with my guitar and sat down in a secluded spot, alone from all the NICU nurses, and I played my guitar. They heard me and I overheard compliments about my playing. I played just to bring me peace though; I needed to get my head clear. My thinking gears had been doing overtime during the evacuation and I needed to give them a break. I played while thinking of my two boys. Were they safe? Did my baby reach the hospital I'd been told or were he and a bunch of other babies just taken to any hospital, unregistered with only their safety in mind? Was my older son asking for me? Did he think I'd abandoned him because he hadn't seen me in some days? When would I see them again? I felt like this was the beginning of my family's break up: one son would go live in one state and I'd only get to see him certain times of the year and the other's fate was completely unknown. The only thing that mattered to me, my family, my two sons were far away from me and I knew nothing of their condition. Phone lines rarely worked, cell phones rarely worked, there was little to no form of communication.


Night fell and I was at a room in the corner of the hospital. The city was pitch black. I stared out of an open window into darkness, into nothingness... then I heard a machine gun fired off in the distance and some people screaming. Then it all went silent. I just went to sleep thinking of my sons, trying to figure out how I was going to see them. My mind never stopped thinking of ways to get my family back. In the middle of the night a phone call came through to the NICU and it was for me. It was my newborn's mom. She was trapped on the 2nd floor of her apartment with her 5 year old daughter, mother, and neighbors. I asked her how they were on food and water and she said fine. We spoke for a little while and assured each other that we'd be okay, although we didn't know how we'd get out of the city, how long we'd be stuck in our buildings, and how long what little food and water we had would last us.


The next morning I awoke and went and looked around the hospital to see if any of the nurses needed help with the remaining patients. It turned out the newborn babies that weren't part of the NICU were still there, being tended by the nurses. I stared at their tiny faces and helpless bodies, feeling sorry for them. Later on that day they'd be evacuated along with most of the other non-critical patients. Around mid-afternoon, they started evacuating the visitors and non-hospital personnel. The head nurse came to the two other NICU parents and me and told us to pack a bag, that we were leaving. I couldn't take my guitar because we couldn't bring too much baggage so I put it in the car of one of the nurses that had parked closer than me. I'd get it later... even if it was a month later. We were to be evacuated by air boat to the corner of Napoleon and St. Charles, where there was no flooding. We'd heard people were being taken to the west bank of the river and other shelters throughout the area. We were trying to avoid the Superdome because we'd heard rumors of rapes and a killing that had gone on there. If we could reach the Westbank, one of the NICU parents could get her sister to pick us up and take us to Baton Rouge to be reunited with our babies; now we had a plan. We said goodbye to the nurses. Some cried seeing us go. The head nurse gave me a tight hug with tears in her eyes, telling me she didn't know how she was going to make it now that I was leaving (she'd depended so much on me); her husband shook my hand tightly and thanked me for all the help. He reached in his wallet and gave me $60 in case I needed it in an emergency. I felt so close to all these people, I didn't want to leave them, but I had to. I had to get to my baby.


We went downstairs and walked past the patients that were unable to be evacuated. Their age was against them. They were elderly, unable to move and tend to themselves. I know what everyone was thinking as they walked past their old, dying bodies: their lives aren't as important; they've lived long enough. The nurses struggled to maintain their health but eventually they ran out of resources and there wasn't much they could do but keep them cool by fanning them by hand using folders and notebooks, and giving them as much water as they could. Eventually all of this work would go to nothing; 44 patients would be found dead at the hospital, this one hospital. With no electricity and a shortage in medication and an intense heat of over 100 degrees, those patients had no chance. Their age was against them, they'd lived long enough.


We got in line to be evacuated by air boat. We passed an historic part of the city. Most of the houses' first floor was covered in water, despite being elevated off the ground in their design. We reached Napoleon and St' Charles and I couldn't believe how dry it was there. Just about a mile down the road and it was bone dry. When we got there, it turned out no one had been evacuated yet. Later on we found out that the police had been requesting transportation for 5 hours but no one responded to their calls. Evacuation to the Westbank was just a rumor. There was no plan to get anyone anywhere. Everyone there, including the police, had been abandoned. Hundreds stood at that corner from all parts of Uptown and the hospital. The few police that were there were armed with machine guns and shotguns keeping order. Everyone was just sitting there waiting for an unknown savior. The other parents and I noticed we were low on water. We looked at the corner Rite Aide and noticed it was being looted. One of the parents and I went in to see if there was any water left. We found several bottles and a couple of gallons and took them. This was for survival. When we got back we looked around and gave water to some people that were in need and kept some for ourselves. The cops eventually lost faith in anyone assisting them in getting transportation so they went to surrounding schools and other businesses that had busses, broke into them, and hotwired them. The head cop decided to take everyone to the convention center. It was better than having everyone out on the street with no shelter. He was doing what he could with what he had. I have to give it to these cops, they really did what they could to get all of those people off the street. They spoke respectfully and kept everyone informed of everything.


Before the buses came I thought about my newborn's mom. She was still trapped at her apartment with her little girl. I couldn't leave her; she was my son's mom and still in a very fragile condition from the caesarian. I left my things with the other parents and went to ask some of the airboat pilots to help me get them. They refused because they needed to keep evacuating the hospital. I asked several people with boats and no one would help me. I'd assisted in the evacuation of a hospital and no one was helping me. I felt so abandoned, but I had to remain strong. I kept thinking what I was going to do. I even thought about swimming but how would I get them back? Eventually two men offered to help me. We went a few blocks into deep water and came up on her apartment. Her daughter was so excited to see me. She was screaming, "Papi's here and he's in a boat!!" Nobody believed her until they came to the balcony. It turned out there were about 10 people, mostly neighbors, in that one apartment. 5 of them were children around the age of 10 or 12. The boatmen asked me who they wanted me to get. I just told them I wanted the little girl and her mom, they could rescue whoever they wanted after that. We got my son's mom, her daughter, her mother, and two of her cousins out. That was all that could fit in the boat. They told the rest of the people that they'd be back. Along the way to St. Charles and Napoleon we ran into other people screaming to be saved. The boatmen said they'd return to help them. I can only imagine how many families were forgotten because of there being so many people to be rescued. Every corner that we turned there were more and more people trapped in houses begging to be rescued. There simply wasn't enough manpower to save them all. Who knows how they got out of their watered homes.


We got back to St. Charles and Napoleon and just waited. While there, some of the hospital staff that had evacuated told my newborn's mom how I'd participated in the evacuation. She and her family called me a hero... but I didn't feel like one; there were still others to be saved and we were still in a very dangerous position. I wasn't going to be able to relax until we were in a safe house.


The buses finally arrived and everyone crowded them. They took the elderly first, then everyone else. We didn't know how we were going to get in them if people kept crowding them. The other parents and I split up at this point. We had developed our own plans and had to part ways. I took everyone that was with me, my son's mom and her family, to a part where the crowd was thin. I figured our chances of getting on a bus were better there. We got close to the front of the line but I decided to go towards the middle to help a couple of elderly ladies on board. The cop that was loading the bus told me to get in front with my son's mom and her daughter because he wanted to keep families together. I thanked him and boarded with her and her family. By the time we got to the convention center it was dark, pitch black, just like the previous night. I looked around and saw the danger that could arise. There were people everywhere with very little security. The cops were outnumbered greatly. I couldn't have them there; it was just too volatile and dangerous. I sat for a minute and thought about how we could get to the Westbank. I then came up with a plan. I figured my aunt, who lives near me, had only taken one car when she evacuated. I could walk across the Mississippi Bridge to her house on the Westbank. I figure it was roughly 7 miles away. I could break into her house and see if there are any spare keys and take the truck. Then I could come back and take us to Baton Rouge. It was dangerous because it was dark and anything could happen to me but it was worth the risk. I didn't want to leave them alone but I felt like I had no choice. They couldn't make that journey, especially my son's mom in her condition. I was able to get a signal on my cell so I called my aunt who'd evacuated to Atlanta. I told her my plan and she told me that the truck was still at her house and where the spare keys were. I told my son's mom what I was going to do and that if I hadn't returned in 15 minutes, that meant that I'd started my walk to the Westbank. As soon as I started walking I decided to ask a cop if they'd let me into the Eastbank to pick up my family. He said he didn't know if there were any roadblocks into the Eastbank so I asked another cop. It turned out that the 2nd cop was a guy I used to work out with on base when I was in the military. He told me he'd give us a ride to a certain spot on the Westbank in a Uhaul truck and I could walk the rest of the way. I ran back and got my son's mom and her family and we hurried back to the Uhaul truck. We got in the back with 5 other cops and T, the cop I knew, pulled off. The minute we were leaving someone started shooting a gun. People were screaming, "Somebody's shootin'!!! Get over here!!! People are shootin!!" T stopped the truck and the 5 cops in the back, who were armed, told him to back the truck up. They were preparing to intercept the gunmen but then 2 cop cars drove to the area where someone was shooting. They decided to leave it to those units. We began our ride to the Westbank. While in the back of the truck the cops were angry, cursing up a storm because so many people expected so much out of them when they were outnumbered and abandoned themselves. They had their own homes and families to tend to. They asked me about my ordeal and I told them about the hospital evacuation. One cop even asked me if I was a "26", their code name for a cop. I told him that was just an engineer but that I'd been in the Marine Corps. Again I felt as if someone was seeing the leader in me. I almost feel arrogant in calling myself that but that's how people made me feel when they'd ask me who I was, what I did, and other questions that gave them insight into why I was doing so much. When we reached the Westbank, T got out and told me if I had a far way to go and if not he could get me closer. I told him where and he took me to where there were some Jefferson Parish cops. When we got out of the truck and started walking one JP cop, a tall Black man, told us to go back where we came from. I told them I lived nearby and he interrupted me and told me to turn around and go back. I told him I have a 5 year old and 2 ladies with me and we were near my home but he still interrupted and harshly told us to go back where we came from. The other cop, a short White man, looked like he was willing to listen and consider helping us but the other cop insisted that we leave because there was a curfew in place. He sounded like he didn't even care that we could get killed walking back into the darkness. T fortunately didn't drive off. He and 4 other cops got out and explained to the JP asshole cop our situation. He eventually said T could "escort" us back to my aunt's home. We all got back into the truck and T drove us near my aunt's house. We were about half a block away but a fallen tree blocked the road. I told T that I could hide the ladies and the girl behind a car parked in a driveway and I'd run and get the truck. He asked if I was sure and I told him yes. I hid the ladies and ran to my aunt's while T drove off into the caving darkness. I owe him so much for his help. With all the rush I barely got to thank him but if I ever see him again, I'll be sure to let him know that he saved our lives that night. I got to my aunt's house and punched in a small window that led to the bathroom. I squeezed in and ended up cutting my hand in the process but I didn't pay it any mind. I had to hurry and get my son's mom and her family. I found the keys where my aunt had placed them and drove out to get the family. I had to hurry because the cops could have given us a much harder time than they did earlier had they seen us out in the street. When we got in the house I could finally be a little at ease. My mind was still going a million miles a minute and my hands were shaking. I was still planning, trying to figure out how we could get to Baton Rouge on such little gas, trying to figure out a schedule for the following day. I couldn't stop thinking and planning. I had to keep thinking in order to keep my sanity. With everything that had happened, I couldn't relax. My nerves were completely shot. I couldn't get myself to believe that we were finally out of danger, we were safe now... we were finally safe.


The following day I'd finally calmed down; I'd gotten a good night's rest on a comfortable bed. We woke up and drove to my house. I found someone packing up some things in front of his house and I asked him about gasoline. He said there was a station open about 30 miles out. We went to my house, cleaned up, stocked up on supplies, rested, then left to fill up. We waited about an hour and a half in line to fill up. I was concerned about the station having enough gas but they did fortunately. We made our way out to Baton Rouge and went straight to see the baby. When we got to the hospital that they'd told me they were sending the NICU babies, they couldn't find my son's name anywhere. We started to get concerned. Had my fears of my son getting lost in all the rush come true? Eventually they found out that he was one of several babies transferred to another hospital not far away. We rushed to see him and there he was, safely asleep. The hell we had to go through to get to him. It was all worth it though.


It wasn't over yet though. There was still despair to endure. Fortunately it wasn't as bad as this episode though. More on that next blog.

[ TheSaga | 5:33 PM | 2 Newton-meters ]

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Katrina

Alright, I'm back home and online, folks. This post might be kinda long. Here's what happened:


The Hurricane


My baby boy was born prematurely on August 15 so he was put in the NICU. Exactly two weeks later Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. My baby was staying in a hospital uptown, his mother had evacuated with some family to Houston, and my older son had gone to Baton Rouge with his mother. Most hospital visitors that could evacuate left the hospital the Saturday before the hurricane hit, leaving behind loved ones and hospital staff (I gotta give them props, they were very brave to stay). Some other NICU parents and I decided to rough out the storm with the staff and stay next to our babies. The weather conditions deteriorated quickly the early hours of Monday the 29th. When light filtered through the hurricane winds early that morning, I could see out of a window that was uncovered and unaffected due to it's location; I had a clear vision of the pounding that the city was getting. I couldn't see far out but I saw the shooting rain, the water rising, roof shingles being blown off houses, and trees tumbling to the ground. On the 6th floor waiting room there was a glass wall that overlooked the city. I went to go stand near the entrance to that room when I saw that some of the glass panes had been pushed in by the wind. The hurricane was blowing directly into the building; water was everywhere. It wasn't rising but the carpet was wet so they closed off access to that area. I was looking through the doors' small glass screens and I could see the howling wind screaming its way into the hospital. Because the hurricane fluctuated between a category 4 and a category 5, I didn't know how hard the winds were pushing up against the hospital walls. Some gusts blew so hard I was scared the winds would get so strong that they'd peal the sturdy brick hospital walls, like Hurricane Ivan had done to Florida's tall structures. The building held firmly after hours and hours of abuse though. In fact, much of the city was holding up fine.


The Flood


Tuesday morning the sky was clear. It was a beautiful day. Long before then the city had lost all power and the hospital was working off generators. By late afternoon the waters had receded and I took a walk around the neighborhood. Light posts were laying down, electric lines hung low, and water marks on the walls of homes gave evidence of how high the water had risen. It looked like it hadn't gone up more than about 4 or 5 feet. After my walk around the city, I went back to the hospital to be with my newborn son. (When I got to the NICU I got word that a nurse that had decided to take a break and take her dogs for a walk had been robbed at gunpoint by 3 kids; this marked just the beginning of what was to come of those left in the city.) There were plans to evacuate NICU and all other priority patients to hospitals in Lafayette and Baton Rouge. The doctors, nurses, and visitors would have to find alternate methods of evacuation. I was fine with that because I knew were my newborn son was going and that he'd be safe. Everything looked fine... then I got word that the levee had broken.


Extreme flooding was expected around the city in no time. Just then a call came to the NICU that was for me. My newborn's mom had returned from Houston with her family, thinking everything was okay because the hurricane had passed. I told her that the levee had broken and that they'd be trapped in their houses. There was no time to evacuate... none. Those who were in the city were stuck there. I looked out of the window and I saw the dry streets begin to fill with water quickly. In about an hour the section of Uptown where the hospital was, not far from my son's mom, the water had risen to about 6 feet. In Slidell the flood waters covered everything to the 3rd exit after the Slidell twin span bridge. Many nurses had homes there and in Chalmette, which was now nonexistent. The twin span was deemed a total loss. I could see the despair on the nurses' faces as they worked but they held up fine and comforted each other. Just before the water got too high, a nurse told me that the newborns in the NICU would be evacuated to a hospital in Baton Rouge and told me not to worry and that I could leave before it was too late. I started to pack up but I couldn't leave my baby... so I stayed. I had to make sure he was on that helicopter to Baton Rouge.

The Evacuation

The plan was to get the babies on a helicopter to an awaiting hospital in Baton Rouge. We were to bring them from the 6th floor to the 2nd of the hospital where they'd be taken to the parking garage through a small passageway, then driven to the 8th floor where the helicopter landing pad was located. Some problems arose though: there was only one working elevator and it was slow and being held up by people literally playing around on other floors and we didn't know when to bring the children down. The head nurse got a radio so now we could get word on when to send them down, but how were we to bring them down from the 6th floor to the 2nd? We couldn't carry them because some were still in incubators, which were too heavy and bulky to carry down that many flights. There was a man who had a key to the one working elevator and could control it completely. I took the radio from the head nurse and told her I'd try to get the lines of communication patched up and secure that elevator. I went to the 2nd floor and told the woman in charge of prepping the patients to call me over the radio to let me know when to bring down the NICU patients and to signal the elevator guy to come to the 6th floor. Then I told the elevator guy to wait there and look for her signal to come to the 6th. Everything was cool now. We had a working line of communication and a method to bring down the NICU patients. I went to the 6th and told the head nurse who was relieved and very thankful. Then we passed the plan on to the other nurses. They went back to preparing the babies for transport while crying due to all the stress from the rush and from the loss of their homes and their belongings. We were told to bring the babies in the incubators first so we got them down. The last incubator was too tall to get in the back of the truck though. It would have hit the low ceiling of the garage so 3 nurses pushed it up the ramp from the 2nd to the 8th floor. The rest of the babies in the NICU, which included my son, were to wait until we got word again. In the mean time another unit was being evacuated. The nurses kept preparing the babies that were left. I helped the as much as could by changing diapers, feeding babies, giving them pacifiers when they cried, and packing their medical records.

I listened to the hand held radio and ICU, 2 floors above us, was trying to get in contact with the woman on the 2nd floor but she wasn't responding for some reason. I asked them what was wrong. It turned out their elevators weren't working at all and they had about 8 ICU adult patients that needed to be brought down to be airlifted. Even though it was in the same building, the elevator I'd reserved only went to the 6th floor so we couldn't use it. I thought for a second and told the ICU to hold on. I asked the head nurse if we were able to get the ICU down to the 6th, if we could use the 6th floor elevator. She said cool, so I told ICU that we had a working elevator on 6 if we could carry the patients down 2 flights. The lady on the 2nd floor called for the NICU so I gave the word and the nurses took the rest of the babies down. I got to see my son rushed out of NICU but I wasn't able to go down with him because I wanted to help evacuate the ICU. It hurt so much that I couldn't be with him all the way to the helicopter but he was on his way to safety and these other people didn't even know if they were going to be able to be evacuated. I just kept moving to keep from crying. I went to the 8th floor via the stairs to get an exact count of the patients and to see what they'd need. The nurses said they needed stretchers, big ones. We didn't have any on the 6th so I asked them if we could use some wheeled chairs that reclined. They said yes but 3 of the patients definitely needed those big stretchers. I told them to get the easy patients down first and that I'd try to find some stretchers. I ran back down to 6, told the nurses the plan and they helped me get the chairs and clear a path. With the help of some cops, nurses, and other men we were able to get the patients down the two flights and onto the chairs. Somehow some stretchers made their way up to the 6th so we were able to get those last 3 patients. The very last patient though was 325 lbs so we couldn't carry him down. We tried figuring out what we were going to do with him for the longest. Nobody could come up with a solution. At the last minute, however, the engineers got the 8th floor freight elevators working so they took him down that way. The people taking his stretcher down, however didn't know where on the 2nd floor to take him so I had to run down the stairs from the 6th, where I'd been at the time, and meet up with them to guide them to the staging area on the 2nd. All the ICU and NICU patients were finally either gone or ready to go. I was left completely exhausted by then.

Recognition

Throughout the whole ordeal people kept asking me what unit I worked for and I'd tell them I'm just an NICU father. Their eyes would open up wide with surprise. Nurses asked if I was "one of the husbands" referring to the nurses' husbands who were also there helping everything get underway. I remember overhearing a nurse tell another nurse, "Oh my God. Did you know he's just one of the parents? I can't believe it. I'm so proud...", that's all I heard before I had to start preparing for the evacuation; I don't know if she was stating that she was proud of me or of everyone or someone else. Everywhere I went people asked me my name, asked me what I did for a living, and asked if I was in the military because of my shirt, which stated USMC. I proudly told them I'd served 6 years. People wanted to know who I was; I couldn't believe it. Had I made that much of an impression on everyone? Did I look that strong? Did people look up to me as a leader that much? I finally saw the full effects of my Marine Corps training. I felt like I'd moved mountains... for the first time in my life.

After everything settled down, nurses brought me sandwiches, pulled up chairs for me to sit, glasses of water for me to drink, etc. One of the husbands shook my hand and said that not even half of what we'd done would have been accomplished without me. The head nurse hugged me with tears in her eyes and thanked me for everything, saying that she doesn't know if she'd have pulled it off without me. With all of assistance and praise I was getting I felt like a damn king... a tired one though. I'll admit the recognition felt good but I took it all in with grace and humility because I really did it because I wanted to make sure my son was on that helicopter. I kept moving because I needed to distract myself of the pain of being separated from both of my sons. I kept helping more and more people hoping that in my time of need, someone would be there for me... but eventually I would be abandoned by this wish. More on that next blog...

[ TheSaga | 7:19 PM | 4 Newton-meters ]

Friday, September 02, 2005

I'm Okay

I only have a minute to write this. I've evacuated to Baton Rouge. I'd stayed in the hospital to be with my son during the hurricane and got trapped afterwards when the levee broke and flooded the city. After the hurricane i helped evacuate the NICU and the ICU to Baton Rouge and was then left behind in the hospital because the airlift could only take out the patients. Eventually I ended up in a dangerous part of the city when they got me out and i ended up getting my hands on a truck and was able to evacuate my baby's mother and her daughter. During my evacuation I literally dodged bullets and had to avoid robbers and potential riots. When life gets a little back to normal i'll give everyone full details. in the mean time I just thank God everyone is safe. my older son is okay with his mom and i'm near my baby in the new hospital. It was hell... it really was.

[ TheSaga | 8:21 PM | 8 Newton-meters ]