life lately

Hell hath no fury like a hurricane named Helene

October 6, 2024 Elle Life

When I went to bed on Thursday, September 27, 2024, I had no idea how much life would change over the next few weeks. As a native South Carolinian, I’m no stranger to wind, an occasional tornado, and lots of rain associated with hurricanes. I’m located approximately 150 miles from the SC coast. Most hurricanes weaken significantly over land and such was expected with Helene.

However, Helene didn’t get the memo to do what she should have done and normally hurricane safe areas like Augusta, GA, Greenville, SC, and Asheville, NC took the brunt of this storm. As of today Sunday, October 6, 2024, a full 9 days after the storm, I still don’t have power. Or running water. Or flushing toilets. In the grand scheme of things, I’m OK, the kitties are OK, and the house is OK. There is a lot of property damage and probably close to 100 trees down, but all the work this summer of tree maintenance really paid off.

Roads turned into sink holes

Rivers overflowed their banks and flooded neighbourhoods

On my way into work on Friday morning [because #healthcare] my normal drive of 30 minutes took 2 hours. I stopped counting after 25 downed trees partially or totally obstructing road. Not to mention trees taking down power lines literally everywhere. Even my detours had detours.

One of many, many detours I had to make on Friday morning

Regular people out with chainsaws early Friday morning before officials even had time to make assessments.

It was even worse in North Carolina as all the rain caused mudslides and rock slides in addition to the flooding by rivers overflowing their banks. Interstate 40 between North Carolina and Tennessee is gone. It just fell into the Pigeon River and it’s a universe miracle that no one was actually on the part that fell into the water. Two weeks later, transportation officials are estimating that it *should* be restored by 2028! As someone who drives to Knoxville, on a some-what regular basis, this makes my commute nearly twice as long. So that sucks.

I’m thankful that the trees missed my house.

A lot of coworker and friends have made regular trips to Asheville area, myself included. The damage is catastrophic. Words like that are used a lot in the quest for sensational journalism, but actual towns are gone. Rushing water [24 inches in 2 days!} bent sSteel beams holding bridges up got mangled by rushing water.

I mean I can’t even tell what this was. Now, it’s just storm debris.

We’ve gotten a lot of assistance from the National Guard. I’ve seen linemen from Canada working on my road to cut away trees, rebuild substations, and restring. electrical lines. Who knows when the lights will come back on. Despite everything that has happened over the last week, I’m still grateful that it wasn’t worse for me.

‘Murica–and all that entails

March 10, 2019 Elle Peace Corps Wanderlust

Did I really just go to good ole ‘Murica? Only a few days back in Rwanda, and the entire trip back to South Carolina feels like a dream. I left Rwanda on a Saturday night and was in my own bed by Monday. Lucy and Molly inspected me with above normal curiosity… Maybe they know I’ve been cheating on them with Sadie Mae. Thanks to the generous soul who came to fetch me, my first America meal was a home cooked feast complete with time spent with some of my favorite people. The combination of a full belly and a little more than 24 hours worth of travel had me collapsing into bed around 10p despite the party that was still going on downstairs.

Christmas lights at Biltmore in Asheville, NC

My nearly one month back in ‘Murica had me meeting my new niece [born November 14 ], seeing friends and family, visiting the DMV [in person!], checking out Christmas lights at America’s largest house, dealing with the state nursing board [on-line], making doctor’s appointments, doing some light decorating to my house, and eating pizza! and salads.

I weeded through piles of clothing for clothes that fit [I lost 35 pounds while in Rwanda], donated two large tubs of clothing to charity [maybe I can buy them again in Rwanda], ate out with friends, sat in hot tub, and just enjoyed America’s luxuries in general.

We have matching gold reflections in our eyes

Here’s some general observations I have about going back to America after living 7 months in the rural Rwandan countryside:

America is rich. Excessively so. Even though I stayed in my own house [modest by American standards], I was amazed at the luxury I have. 2 acres of land. 3 TVs. Running water that you can drink straight from the faucet. Toilet. Washing Machine and Dryer. A car.
American bureaucracy sucks just as much as Rwandan bureaucracy–I just understand the language better. #governmentshutdown
Americans eat so much. My Burrito Bowl? Easily 3 Rwandan meals; it lasted for two in America. Nearly every meal I had in America was easily 2-3 Rwandan meals.
Small towns are the same wherever you are. Even though my American neighbors don’t call me ‘muzungu’, they were definitely aware and curious about the fact that I was home.
I got off the plane and went through a fancy customs kiosk. But it literally stunned me, how professional the airport security was. They called me “ma’am” and said “please move this way”. Did you know there is no Rwandan word for please? Professionalism is something we DEFINITELY take for granted in America. It’s expected that you will be treated with respect and courtesy when you enter a service situation where money changes hands. Professionalism in Rwanda? Definitely not what Americans are accustomed to. People are late, answer their phones in meetings, sometimes even drink beer during training. Professionalism is not a value in this culture. As Rwanda tried to increase it’s service sector and therefore its economic position in the world, its people could learn a thing or two about professionalism, courtesy, and manners.
It was nice to be back in an area that is diverse–even if only somewhat. Rwanda, of course, has foreign visitors. And even refugees from Congo and Burundi, but Rwandas are just Rwandan. They have made a concentrated effort to stamp out any ethnic diversity in part due to their history. I love diversity. I love seeing different races and nationalities in the same place at the same time. I love hearing multiple foreign languages spoken at one time.

I haven’t been back in rural Rwanda long enough to assess my feelings. I had to go back to America; I didn’t have to come back to Rwanda. Appointments to manage, licenses to renew, certifications to maintain, and medical appointment to see about. These are things I could not do from Rwanda, and these licenses weren’t something I was willing to let lapse. I also took the GRE, and while I could have done that in Rwanda, it was just easier to do from America. I wanted to see my people, and despite all the rumors you hear about Reverse Culture Shock, being back home felt ‘right.’ Oh sure, some things felt foreign, but overall, it felt comfortable, and I ‘adjusted’ real quick.

‘Light’ decorating… in my office at home

There are decisions to be made for sure, but none of that has to happen right now. And for now, I can enjoy my remaining time in Rwanda whether it be weeks, months, or two years, hang out with friends, and enjoy exploring this tiny, yet incredibly diverse country.

I even managed to get in the wood during my return to Murica

Wake me up when September ends

February 9, 2014 Elle Advice (that you probably shouldn't follow)

Remember your why.

People often proffer this advice whenever attempting something hard. Like running a marathon. Or starting, then completing an advanced degree. How about starting a blog. Or a new job. Life is hard, and certain seasons are harder.

You could see the despair in their eyes. The hopelessness. The helplessness. The longing for a life that will never be the same. And me? Well, I was overwhelmed, but I tried not to show it.

The ink on my actual diploma was barely dry. My actual certification was less than two weeks old, and my license to practice had been granted just three days ago. I worked my final shift at the hospital I first started my job in a healthcare career a mere 36 hours before starting my first ‘grown-up’ job. I was scared to leave the secure environment I was in– scared to leave my friends and my supportive co-workers. But growth comes at the end of our comfort zone, and moving 4 hours away to start a job in a pediatric hospital with a level 1 trauma center, level 3 NICU, pediatric cardiac unit, was way, way outside my comfort zone.

I was supposed to start in September

September 12 to be exact, but I graduated August 10, took my licensing exam on the 12th, and was granted my license on August 15. I called my soon-to-be new program, told them my ‘good news’, and my subsequent start date was moved up to the 22nd. So on August 21, at 8am, after a 12 hours shift, I wished a Happy Birthday to my best work bud, and left all I knew behind. Two weeks early. A whole extra ‘adult’ paycheck. Let’s do this.

The job asked for volunteers on Thursday. Despite being employed there for only 4 days, I jumped at the chance to ‘go into the field’. I only hoped I wouldn’t be in the way. I knew enough to know I didn’t know enough to be actually helpful, but I was hopeful I could be of some value.

On Friday afternoon, I packed my backpack. Who really knows what to pack for a natural disaster? I packed as if I were going camping. Tech pants, wool socks, hiking boots, a hat, my Steri-Pen, my (brand-new) stethoscope, and basic some toiletries like a toothbrush. National Guard transported us and we were allowed one bag. On Friday night at 11pm, I and a handful of other healthcare volunteers, were picked up by the National Guard convoy headed to Mississippi. If things went well, we’d be back in about two weeks.

Spoiler alert: Things did not go well

A little hurricane name Katrina made landfall and damn-near wiped New Orleans off the map. Hospital generators failed. Patients died in hospitals and other care facilities. Roofs turned into front porches. And we waited. Waited because we couldn’t advance. Waiting even though people we dying. Waiting for the storm to pass. Which it did–eventually. And then the people came. Without anything. No medical records. No identification. Not even a spare change of clothes.

I triaged more people that I’d ever seen in my life. I saw more death than I’d ever seen in my entire life. South Mississippi looked like a war zone. New Orleans looked worse. But we didn’t make it that far. People came to us broken and tattered, and we did what we could to comfort them. To treat them. To make things normal. But life would never be normal again. Not for anyone Katrina touched. Wake me up when September ends.

Seven years have gone so fast

Seven years passed since that first September when I considered a career in health care until I started in healthcare. At times, it seems as if no time has passed at all. Other times, it seems like a lifetime ago. And that’s the way life is sometimes. Time isn’t linear. Things don’t happen on schedule. People often quit when things get hard and that’s why it’s important to remember the why.

At the risk of sounding obvious, I got into healthcare to help people. But not just anyone. Of course, I will help anyone I can, but what feeds my soul, is being present when disaster strikes. I don’t know what all this means for my future career. But I do know that I’m where I need to be. At least for right now.

I May Be Crazy

January 1, 2012 Elle Advice (that you probably shouldn't follow) Featured Post Life Wanderlust

Life updates

Since my return from Italy, my travel and exploration game has been rather lackluster. I’ve had a few trips along the Carolina Coast and ventured up to the mountains a few times, but let’s be honest, nothing that could be labeled as epic. Oh, and to add some chaos to the mix, I decided to dive back into the academic abyss and pursue a degree in microbiology. As if that wasn’t enough, I even joined the fencing team, attempting to keep up with those energetic 18-20 year olds…well, most of the time. Fast forward to 2008, I found myself back in South Carolina, where I unintentionally stumbled into a romantic entanglement with a guy from my old workplace. You know, just your average, run-of-the-mill routine stuff. But deep down, something felt off. Could it be that I never received the contentment gene that makes people blissfully happy with a “normal” life? As my thirties and beyond loom ahead, it seems I have no real desire to settle down. Not with the frantic pursuit of a medical career, not with the town I’m dwelling in, and if I’m being brutally honest, not even with the guy I’ve somehow landed myself into. What on earth is wrong with me? Ugh, the mysteries of life…

I must confess, I went a bit bonkers with the hair dye and my once-purple locks transformed into a fabulous shade of blue! As if that wasn’t enough, the scorching sun decided to join the party and made it even more vibrant. Who needs a rainbow when my hair can brighten up the whole town?

Blogging beginnings

In my very fist post–way back in 2005, I yapped about how life was getting as stale as a week-old baguette. [ETA: I must confess, that post has taken its final bow and has been deleted. But let’s not dwell on the past, shall we? Because right now, I’m about to spill the beans on that very topic, just above this sentence]. When I first dipped my toes into the mysterious world of blogging in 2005, it was my funky way of figuring out and spilling the tea on life and death, love and loss, endings and beginnings, and all the curveballs that life kept hurling at my face. Back then, I had just flung myself into the real world after college [round one], relocated to a shiny new city, and started my first gig in the healthcare field, where I was moonlighting as a superhero, saving tiny humans, and battling monstrous illnesses. I coped with all these seismic shifts in my life by spilling my guts onto the pages. And going on wild adventures. Now, don’t get me wrong, I adore my job, but let’s be real, if I were to keep at it for the next 35 years, I’d probably go banana-pants bonkers. So here I am, conducting a full-blown examination of my life’s fancy blueprint. And guess what? Brace yourself, folks, because I’m mapping out my most epic escapade to date.

Me–hanging out in the breakroom at work circa 2010? Maybe I’m even planning a trip right there

The ‘other news’–the one where I may be crazy

While opening up the blog to the public is one attempt to stave off the potential mid-life crisis, some may say I’m already in full-blown crisis mode. So, earlier this week, I happened to stumble upon a hidden treasure while surfing the vast ocean called the internet. What, you may ask? an amazing airline deal! Call me impulsive, but without even giving it a second thought, I plunged headfirst into the grand adventure. Lo and behold, I managed to snag a one-way ticket from Charlotte to Caracas, all for the unbelievable price of $99!

Now, let’s address the obvious questions. Have I ever been to Venezuela before? Absolutely not! Did I even have a burning desire to visit Venezuela? Not really. But hey, I studied their history in college and my high school Spanish teacher happened to hail from that very land. So, it’s fair to say that I’m at least equipped with some basic Spanish skills. Plus, I’ve always dreamt of witnessing the majestic Angel Falls with my own eyes. This seems like the perfect opportunity!

Now, you might be wondering: What else will I do in Venezuela? Well, that’s a mystery waiting to be unraveled. Where will I stay? Your guess is as good as mine. And the million-dollar question: Will I be kidnapped by narco-terrorists? Let’s hope not! As for the most pressing question of all—when will I come back? Frankly speaking, I haven’t got a clue. Perhaps I’ll end up hating the place and return within a week. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll fall in love with Venezuela and concoct a plan to stay there forever. Only time will tell!

But follow along and see how this little Venezuela adventure plays out..

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