I'd been wanting to write about our experience with Sandy, but didn't want to deal with it. Which sounds overly dramatic considering we were always safe and didn't loose anything, but this storm continues to effect my daily life and frustrate me. I tell my patient's to write things down to process them so here I am trying to take my own advice.
Sunday evening, the subways and buses were shut down. Cue anxiety about getting to work. Now they might have shut down the public transport, but I know as 1. a city employee and 2. working at a hospital, they would still "expect" me to show up. However, as we live over 6 miles away and I was not about to pay for a cab to get there, I didn't go. My co-worker on my unit lives a couple streets away from the hospital so she went and periodically texted me what was going on. Monday was pretty low stress and our home looked like this...
Lots of snuggles and netflix watching.
Then Monday night it got serious. We could see on the news that it was getting scary downtown and my friend who lives down there asked about our lights as her's had gone out. I then put out our stockpile of candles and filled the bathtub.
Tuesday morning, my co-worker went back into the hospital even though the electricity was out (basement with all generators was flooded) and she had to walk up 20 flights of stairs to our unit. I felt guilty, guilty, guilty. My team, my co-workers who had been stuck there since Sunday evening, we stuck there even longer and having to walk up and down all those stairs, deal with no plumbing, difficult to obtain food (patient's got food but employee's were kinda on their own), and only the most basic electricity. All while I sat in my apartment and made guilty pumpkin chocolate chip cookies to bring them on Wednesday when the buses started again.
Dan and I walked around our neighborhood and the bridge was still closed to cars. Everything was silent for the city that never sleeps.
Then Wednesday I went to work. I had friends who gave my pregnant butt a ride which should have taken 30-40 min and took 2 hours. Then I promptly began walking up 20 flights of stairs with a backpack full of water and food. I wanted to cry when I walked into the long entryway and this is what I could see...
My never ending, never empty, never slow hospital was black and echoing. Hospital patients were mostly still there, but all of the outpatient services were closed, numerous staff still couldn't get to work and it was scary to see the hospital like this. I got to my unit, apologized as best I could for leaving my co-workers to fend for themselves for the past two days and got to work with paperwork and finishing things up. Then we learned we were officially being evacuated. Thankfully my smart co-worker had already started doing that the day before, but we helped with other units and tried to be useful, all while scrounging for water and trying to find a toilet that wasn't too smelly.
When I left that night, it was pitch black and scary. There were no lights downtown and I was not going to be able to find a cab or fit onto any bus. So I walked three miles to get a little higher up and be able to catch a cab the rest of the way home.
This is what it looked like the next morning...
The next day things were finishing up and I left early. I couldn't handle the not drinking water because only disgusting toilets were available to dispose of that water. I felt wimpy but it's not just me in this body right now and I felt sick. The next day I flew out to CA for an already planned vacation which again made me feel guilty. Again leaving my friends and co-workers to be sent out and deal with the aftermath of a shut down hospital.
When I got back, I learned I would be reporting to a new hospital and would be working there until mine opened, which currently is supposed to be in February 2013. Three months after the storm. I was told I would be on a psychiatric unit again and it would be the same job in a new place. Then I arrived at the hospital and was told it would be on a medical unit rather than psychiatric. So now I have a new hospital, new co-workers, new supervisor, and I also have a new job. I know everyone thinks social work is all the same, but it really isn't. All of my education and training has been in therapeutic treatment and working with the mentally ill. I haven't the first clue what to do as a medical social worker to help patients. I don't know how to document, I don't know what the expectations of the MD are, and I don't know what referrals are helpful.
It's been a couple of short weeks (holidays thank goodness), and I don't know how to feel. Every day I have to go to a job I didn't choose and see all new faces. I don't know when exactly I'll see my friends again and I worry that I won't be able to see them and re-connect before I go on maternity leave. I know I've complained about my job, but I chose it. It wasn't pushed on me without my say. Change is hard and change you have no control over is not pleasant at all.
But I am grateful I have a job and that I know I'm getting paid still. I'm grateful that we were safe and protected in our home and haven't lost anything or anyone. We have been very lucky. I'm just having trouble shaking this feeling of powerlessness.
