Katrina: Experiences and Education

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ON AUGUST 29, 2005, at 10:10 in the morning, my laptop computer switched to battery power. Hurricane Katrina was making her grand entrance into Hattiesburg, Mississippi, only 70 miles north of Gulfport. Before her arrival, my husband and I made all of the necessary arrangements. We had additional water, nonperishable food, batteries, and a radio that operated using solar power. We thought we were ready.

As the hurricane moved across our part of the state, we watched as the trees blew toward the east for nearly 2 hours. Occasionally, we heard the muffled sound of a tree falling, each of us hoping that the damage would not be too extensive. A strange calm came over the house, and we realized that the eye was passing over us. We rushed outside to evaluate the situation; nothing seemed to be too serious. After 15 minutes of peace, the rain and wind started again, and we ran inside, sought shelter, and watched the trees now blow toward the west for 2 hours. Finally, the worst of the storm was over, and we had suffered only minimal damage. Trees were down in our yard, but we were safe and the house had only minor damage.

We made it through the worst hurricane to hit the United States in recorded history. We made it, but what about friends and family along the coast? Using a generator and a coat hanger as an antenna, we watched as a station from Biloxi, Mississippi, broadcasted scenes from the coast. My beautiful coast, one of the reasons I live in the humid south, was demolished. My husband and I had vacationed there only a week before. How could it be gone?

The next morning, as the water supply went from a trickle to nothing and we gathered water from a nearby lake to flush the toilets, my husband and I realized that it would be best to leave. After discussing the situation with my mother-in-law and father-in-law, who had evacuated from Bay St. Louis, we decided to travel west toward Louisiana and stay with family that had not been touched by the storm.

As I left my cocoon of safety, my heart sank with each passing mile. Streets were either impassable or open to only one lane of traffic. Fortunately someone cut through the debris that completely covered every street in our neighborhood. As we began on a 7-hour journey that normally takes 4 hours, I began to reflect on my life and the lives of those affected by this natural disaster.

I have lived in the south my entire life. Hurricanes are nothing new to me, but this one was unlike anything I have ever experienced. During our trip, I listened to the radio, which told a horrific tale of devastation. I heard stories of cities that no longer existed, barges that had been lifted out of the water, and people being rescued off of their roofs. I listened as doctors and nurses cried for supplies and relief in hospitals that no longer had power. Thousands were left homeless, and those individuals were seeking shelter. I could not help but think about my choice to become a dietitian. What was my role in all of this?

I worked as a clinical dietitian and was working in a dialysis unit when I decided to go back to school. Now I teach medical nutrition therapy to future dietitians. What was I going to tell the students when we finally returned to the classroom? How would I tell them about their future role as a nutrition professional, when I was not sure of my current role?

On television, I watched the hope in the eyes of survivors as they received Meals, Ready-to-Eat distributed by members of the armed forces, while others were transported to out-of-state hospitals for treatment of Escherichia coli infections because they drank contaminated water. And, to me, one of the most heartbreaking things was hearing the announcer on the radio broadcast a search for a dialysis patient. The announcer emphasized the need to find this patient; the staff at the dialysis center feared for the patient’s life because he had not been to dialysis in over a week. I could not help but wonder how many more dialysis patients were in a similar situation. When they were finally found, where would they go? How were the dialysis units going to meet their needs?

I returned home after being away for 8 days, and realized that everyone was returning to what was called the “new normal.” We were cleaning up the mess and determining how to start anew. The university planned to resume its fall semester 2 weeks after the hurricane hit. How would I teach about the new food guidance system when I had heard horror stories about people eating dog food when no food was available? Surely, some of my students and their families had lost something, if not everything, in the hurricane. I knew that I would have to meet the personal needs of the students without sacrificing their education. Still, I continued to question the role of the dietitian. Slowly the idea came to me…food is fundamental to life; therefore, our profession is fundamental in supporting life.

I have changed the way that I lecture. Although I want students to know and understand medical nutrition therapy, I now relate each of these lectures to food and the basic need for food. As we progress through the various disease states, it will be my job not only to teach diet modification, but also to generate an interest in how these needs can be met, even in the most difficult of circumstances. More importantly, I feel that educators need to teach students the basics of feeding people. It is all about the hierarchy of needs. Food is a basic need, and the future of our profession is dependent on us knowing how to fulfill this need.