Honoring the Heroes Who Weathered the Storm

Gregory K. Unruh, M.D.

had an article all set to go for the October NEWSLETTER about the Committee on Credentials for the Annual Meeting House of Delegates and activities just completed at the August Board of Directors Meeting. As most of you know, the NEWSLETTER deadline is about a month before publication date. I thought (modestly) that my article was newsy and informative. As I watch the coverage of Hurricane Katrina and New Orleans and surrounding areas unfold, however, I thought it better to discuss other things, and I scrapped the original article.

I, like most of us, watched in quiet dismay as the images rolled by — water and wind-wrecked destruction that I can only try to imagine. The toll in lives makes me unbelievably sad, and the thoughts of the injuries and the families torn apart further compound these feelings. On top of that, I can do nothing. I read about the devastation. I listen to the radio descriptions, but my life goes on; working, running the kids to their activities and making sure their homework is done. I made a donation to the American Red Cross, but I can still personally do nothing right now except worry.

I worried about our President-Elect, Orin F. Guidry, M.D., and his wife, Nancy, until I heard that they were safe. I worried about all the other anesthesiology friends from Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama, many of whom I have come to know over years of ASA activities. My family and I prayed for their safety and the safety of their families.

I wondered what I would do in that type of situation and started to ponder where I would be. Would I have sent my family away with a few of life’s precious possessions? Would I have gone with them? Would I be at the hospital waiting and anesthetizing our usual patients, or would victims of the disaster need my help? Would it be dark? Wet? Would we have supplies? Could we get more? Would our disaster plan (so grudgingly practiced) work? What would I eat? Would there be plumbing for toilets? How would I get there? Where would I sleep? Could you sleep in the face of so much difficulty and suffering? Would I be able to communicate with my family? Would I know they were safe? Would they know how I was doing?

I came to the conclusion that in the dark, heat and humidity of New Orleans, the anesthesiologists were selflessly working hard. They were there for their patients. They are professionals. If patients need them, they are there. I suspect that not only were the anesthesiologists carrying on, but nurse anesthetists, anesthesiologist assistants, O.R. personnel, surgeons and other physicians, nurses and allied health professionals also were there answering the call. Our profession does not define us, but in this case, it is who we are. We care. If the patient needs an anesthesiologist, we will relieve his/her pain and make sure he/she safely transitions the O.R. period and beyond. We have the skills and the intellectual gifts to make this happen. We use them for good when the time arrives.

I imagine that by the time you read this, many of the major problems will be overcome. I know we will hear story after story of personal and professional sacrifice. But for now, I continue to worry about the health and safety of our colleagues who are there helping out. I know conditions will only worsen in the next many days, and I think they are heroes on behalf of their patients for working in what must be awful conditions without regard for their personal health and safety. I wish them the very best and pray for their safety. I hope they, in retrospect, will recognize that we were there with them in spirit and are so very proud of them.

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