by Sarah J. Blake
September 2, 2005
September 1, 2004
1:21 A.M.It seems that we're going to play run from the hurricane again. Mom called at 11:00 P.M. and said that my uncle is willing to pay for a flight out for me. Of course, this is all complicated because I want to take my cats. It's going to cost about $450 to get the cats out and back. That's twice what it will cost for my own ticket, and Mom thinks it's stupid and I should just leave them. But I couldn't live with myself if I did that! It would cost about that much to board them, and boarding them might not even be safe.
No one is awake. They all went to sleep, and I'm here with my adrenalin. My roommates are sleeping, and Christy is going to go to work tomorrow like nothing is going on. Knowing the past pattern, I wouldn't be surprised if I spend all this money to go be safe from the oh-so-deadly hurricane and then come home to a perfectly normal town and home. I hate this! I hate this so much! Most of all I hate the way people think my cats are so disposable, and I hate the fact that I am poor and can't do anything to improve the situation. God, please help me make the right choice--not just for me but also for my animals.
After much deliberation, I decided not to run away from Hurricane Frances. The storm came ashore on the other side of the state and was only a strong tropical storm by the time it reached the Tampa area on September 5. The power flickered a few times on Sunday, but we were able to run the computers and track the storm's progress throughout the day. One of my roommates and I stood out on the covered front porch with handheld cassette recorders and recorded the sound of the wind and rain with fascination. Listen as I walk out my front door onto the porch and take in about a minute and a half of the wind at 40 or so miles per hour, eventually gusting to 50 or so.
On Monday morning, the power went out. The storm was on its way out into the Gulf of Mexico, and the friend who had housed me during Hurricane Charley called to warn me about unexpected storm surge and suggest that we move to a shelter. There was only one problem: police were telling people to stay put because driving was too dangerous. Well, there was another problem: we couldn't have driven anywhere anyway; but that was a moot point.
The storm finally headed off, and my roommates and I grew restless and hot. A couple of us took cold showers, and we drank some bottled water. I debated aloud about whether to take the milk out of the refridgerator and divide it up between us since it might spoil anyway. Then I began to worry about sleeping that night without my breathing machine. I called the utility company and was told that if I needed to use medical equipment I should go to a special needs shelter or a hospital. "But you don't understand," I thought. "I'm not sick, and I don't need shelter. I'm just fine, and my home is fine. I just need to make sure I keep breathing while I'm asleep. I don't want a thousand-dollar medical bill that Medicaid won't cover just because my power is out!"
The cold showers only helped for about ten minutes. My roommates and I began to get very cranky. I wondered if the Walgreens across 9th Street had power. I could go there and buy us some ice cream. That would be cold. Wait... Power lines could be down. Never mind that idea--I might not be able to walk outside safely, and dog guides aren't trained to detect down power lines. Maybe we could take a cab over to get some lunch if any restaurants were open. I started calling around. Finally we found one. Yippee! A hot meal, and a nice, cool seat!
Maybe riding out the storm wasn't such a great idea, even if my home was ok.