After the surprising amount of blue sky we enjoyed yesterday, I had dared hope that Hurricane Ike and his remnants were finally behind us. I'd already gotten my first exposure to 'cane country last Friday. I awoke at 5:44am when the power went out, and went to look out the window at what was a truly frightening view: it was Ike, leaping off YouTube's most watched videos and into scary reality. Trees bent double; continous, massive sheets of rain; yowling winds; the whole enchilada. For the first time in years, I was actually afraid. Here I was, stranded in a place I didn't know, where I knew nobody & had no electricity (I did have the presence of mind to turn off my cellphone to conserve its battery). My fear was irrational, of course, but I couldn't deny it. Hell, there wasn't even enough light to put in my contact lenses, so I was functionally blind. It was a blessing that I was so exhausted; it didn't take too long to ignore the noise of the wind and fall back asleep. In the end, we were very fortunate: our power was restored about six hours later. That afternoon, I traveled down to the Uptown district to view the house that as of Saturday became my new home. Two days of exploring the local area led me to Cafe Brazzo and their homemade gelato (yum!), and the truly excellent coffee at Riccobono's. It's amazing how quickly I could put the fear behind me, but I thought I had done all I could - staying in an interior area, windows secured, cell phone turned off.
Today was Orientation Day. I awoke to an overcast sky and steady rain. Is the bayou country afraid of sunshine, I wondered? It didn't affect the attitudes of my fellow new employees; though still sleepy eyed, they managed to smile and participate in the "icebreaker" activities such as "find someone in the room who's done something embarrassing during Mardi Gras". I'm convinced that such activities are meant as much to keep us stimulated so we don't lock in one position, as to get us talking to each other. Amidst the discussion of the hospital policies and procedures, patients' rights, and health benefits afforded employees, one story made a huge impact on me. At one point, the leader of our morning's activities, Stacy, told us about the hospital's experiences in recent years. A group of dozens of doctors and staff met a few years back to brainstorm over better ways to serve the community. One doctor commented that "we seem to have a culture of 'no'. I'd like to see us cultivate a culture of 'yes'." These fateful words were spoken one week before Hurricane Katrina destroyed much of New Orleans.
This hospital was fortunate; they'd recently renovated their building and their main campus (where I will be working) did not flood. They remained open throughout the crisis immediately following the hurricane, surviving on generators. However, they had no contact with the outside world due to loss of electricity and phones. It was at this point that they first began putting into practice the idea of "a culture of yes" - what can I do? What haven't I thought of? What MORE could I do? While doctors volunteered to serve food to exhausted staff members, and x-ray technicians volunteered their time to bail out water in the halls, they noticed that the rescue helicopters were flying right past the hospital and out of New Orleans, taking those rescued from rooftops to safety elsewhere. It was then they realized that nobody knew they were open and fully functional. How to let the world know? A radiologist grabbed some surgical tape and threaded it together to make four letters, each seven feet high: O, P, E and N. This was placed on the roof of the hospital and within hours, the rescue helicopters were flying first to this hospital, without having to leave the region in order to get help for the seriously injured.
I don't think I can describe properly in words how it feels to be an employee of a hospital that, though secular, understands the basics of systematic theology so well. I'll simply say that in the future, I'll remember this picture when I stop at the basics, and start considering what hasn't occurred to me, and what more I can still do.
