Genre: Nonfiction, Personal Essay
I have lived in dry climates all my life. Where most people use rain as a euphemism for gloom, to me rain always represented hope. I was always happy-ish when it rained.
It was hot during the first part of September 2013. To quote the Boulder Daily Camera, “the talk on the street the first full weekend of September was about the heat. Boulder tied a record for the date with 93 degrees that Sunday.”
I was living in a mobile home park in Lafayette, Colorado, and working the night shift as a resident assistant in a retirement community with independent apartments, an assisted living center, and a long-term care center. I liked working the night shift. If things were quiet, following my rounds through the halls of the apartments, I had ample time to complete my clerical tasks and then work on my own projects. Or play games.
Let’s not tell anyone about the playing games part. It makes me sound less than focused and determined and more like the disorganized mess that I truly am.
I worked Thursday through Sunday nights. I have never done well working 40-hour weeks. The fact that I could work 32-hour weeks, get full benefits, and make a couple bucks extra per hour for weekend and night shift differentials made this job a reasonably ideal fit for me.
When it started raining on September 9, which was a Monday, I was happy. I didn’t expect it to last for long. I was pleased when it continued raining on Tuesday and Wednesday. On Thursday, when I was due to go back to work, I started thinking that maybe it would be best for the rain to wrap things up, but it just kept hammering down. When one of my co-workers called to ask me if I would be able to make it in to work, I said that I would try.
By the time I realized I should have turned around and headed home, I couldn’t. Beyond Arapahoe Avenue, Baseline Road offers few places to turn off, and I was boxed in between a truck and another car. My only choice was to continue to Boulder.
As I approached the Baseline Reservoir, I saw that what was usually a field with a small stream had become a lake where the wind whipped up choppy waves that rolled across Baseline. As I followed the truck, one of those waves slammed into the side of my car. I was terrified that I would be swept over the guard rail and into the newly formed, angry lake. I managed to keep the car on the road.
I was in shock when I arrived at work. My heart was pounding. Everything was chaos. I walked like a zombie into the wellness center, changed into my swimsuit, and got into the therapy pool to start my workout as usual. I was about 15 minutes into my workout when I heard a transformer explode outside. That was it for the workout.
I made my way to the locker room to shower and change into my work clothes in the dark. Fortunately, the backup generator kicked in.
As I was trying to get dressed, a confused resident came in and started demanding to know what was going on. I told her that I could help her when I had finished dressing, but she wasn’t hearing it. Fortunately, by the time her husband came in to find her, I was fully covered.
I took my gear upstairs and found my evening shift co-worker, who ended up staying overnight. People from all departments worked together to try and assist the disabled residents from the long-term care center. At one point, Linda and I had to assist a long-term care resident, who had been placed on a couch, in changing her incontinence brief. We did our best to block her from others’ view as we helped her. She couldn’t walk to the bathroom, and we didn’t know where the wheelchairs had been taken.
My sciatica was already bad, and it became worse after this incident. The independent living section was four floors and some 250 apartments. I walked a couple of miles every night. Without the elevators to assist in my rounds, my sciatica was exacerbated.
The administration tried to keep us on site after our shifts, but Linda and I both left around ten in the morning. She wanted to check on her elderly mother and I wanted to make sure my cats were all right. I remember my little Lafayette, who I would lose a couple of years later to multiple system failure, greeting me. He was always happy to see me.
I had trouble writing for around a month following this incident. I felt that I didn’t deserve to indulge myself with such a luxury. Only four people died in the flood, but that was four people too many. Why would someone as worthless as me survive while others died?
When I returned home, I was relieved to see that it only looked like a hard rain had fallen. Just a few miles to the south, an entire road was washed away. It has never been replaced. 345 homes in Boulder were destroyed and 557 were damaged, some to the point where they were unlivable. My home was spared.
Many of my co-workers lost their vehicles, which were in the flooded underground parking garage. When the water was drained from the garage, the vehicles were stacked on top of each other. My vehicle was spared because I parked in the above-ground lot.
I came out of this incident relatively unscathed. I am thinking of it now because the Western United States is in the middle of a mega-drought. It’s very dry where I am, and I am wishing for rain, but not too much rain. The parched ground wouldn’t absorb it properly.
I am also thinking about this incident because I am once again feeling bad about my writing.
998 words
Here are the total amounts of rain from Boulder, Colorado’s 100-year flood.
Mon., Sept. 9: 0.25 inches
Tues, Sept. 10: 1.02 inches
Weds., Sept. 11: 1.92 inches
Thurs., Sept. 12: 9.08 inches
Fri., Sept. 13: 2.44 inches
Sat., Sept. 14: 0.01 inches
Sun., Sept. 15: 1.94 inches
Mon., Sept. 16: 0.49 inches
Eight-day total: 17.15 inches
Source: https://www.dailycamera.com/2013/09/21/eight-days-1000-year-rain-100-year-flood/
Wow - that would be terrifying to experience. You were amazing to help out as much as you did. That would have been an incredibly difficult time for so many. My mom's in LTC with dementia and that would be terrifying for her. You did good!
ReplyDeleteSurvivor guilt comes in all forms and takes different shapes within us. Be kind to yourself - you deserve it! Sending hugs your way
I'm sorry to hear about your mom. My dad had vascular dementia when he passed away in 2010 at 74 years old. My aunt had probable Lewy Body Dementia as did Gem, my partner. I was always good at working with dementia patients until it became personal. Then I ended up going to the other end of the spectrum and working with special needs kids.
DeleteThanks for your visit and your kind comments.
That's a lot! Dementia is hideous and it takes so much from people and their families. I've worked with special needs kids a lot over my teaching career, too. Learned a lot from them that has helped me help mom :)
DeleteHi - those kind of weather-stormy days and nights are just plain frightening to be amongst... and can so easily go wrong - I'm glad you got through to tell us your story. Also that you had the strength to help others ... Jemi's comment is a thoughtful caring one ... take care and all the best - we need caring carers with your calibre to help those in need ... Hilary
ReplyDeleteA natural disaster of this magnitude is terrifying even to read about. It must've been horrible to live through. You're so brave.
ReplyDeleteI remember that flood. I was living in Westminster. And, this year was that terrible fire! The world continues to groan, doesn't it? You are valuable, never forget that. There's only one of you. I'm sure there are those who love you and appreciate you. I totally get how you feel though. I often feel the same. Writing is so personal. As we grow in our lives, so our writing grows and we can better capture what it is we want to say. My slogan is from Galaxy Quest. Never give up. Never surrender.
ReplyDeleteNancy
That must have been seriously scary! I was horrified reading the bit about the possibility of your car being swept into the water as I know of people who've been washed away in a car in Mumbai flash floods, it's awful.
ReplyDeleteTo be able to keep it together and still do your job under so much stress isn't a marker of a worthless person, more like a sane, cool-headed citizen. Please do not undervalue yourself.
Sending you lots of healing energies. Best wishes always.
I am trying yet again in the hopes that blogger has relented. My country is often drought stricken, and parts of it are still. Other parts have recently had horrendous foods. Lives and homes have been lost. Livelihoods destroyed. And some are totally unaffected.
ReplyDeleteDownright terrifying. As extremes of weather so often are. My usually drought stricken land has had floods this year. Lots of them. People are dead, homes destroyed and some lives ruined. And other people's lives haven't missed a beat...
And yes, please be kind to yourself.
My goodness what an ordeal! I'm glad you were okay. Nature has a way of causing us to take a hard look at ourselves.
ReplyDeleteThat sounds like a terrifying experience. Rain is vital to survival, but too much at once can be deadly and destructive indeed. Thank you for sharing this experience with us.
ReplyDeleteSurvivors guilt is harsh. I was home alone when flooding hit our area in Pennsylvania. In the back yard I had to dig ditches to route the water pouring off the hill behind us around to the side of the house. While praying the electric didn't go out because that's what ran the sump pump in the basement. I couldn't imagine the damage a flood there would create. My efforts paid off. The water made it into our enclosed patio, but no further. The sump pump kept pumping.
ReplyDeleteOMG, I've never seen so much water. The amount that fell in a matter of hours was beyond belief. Like you we did all right, so many others didn't. You did a great job of sharing your story.
Feeling bad about your writing is part of the territory, I think. I deal with those issues too, but one of my favorite sayings is "tomorrow is another day" I'll deal with it then. :)
Ornery Owl, that was mega. Autobiographical is fine. Sometimes it's hard to know if we're reading a true story or not, but you made it clear at the start. I'm used to floods and mega rainfall in Queensland following dry spells. Fearing being swept off a bridge would be terrifying.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry you're having such a hard time and that you consider yourself a 'hot mess'. Maybe things will look up for you soon!
That's a bad experience to go through. I'm scared of big water anyway so floods freak me out.
ReplyDeleteCrazy how rain can be like that. I remember about twenty years ago in Philadelphia there was a drought, and then it poured all weekend and there was a flood, but then it was a drought again because the ground didn't absorb enough.
ReplyDeleteSurvivor's guilt can be really hard. It isn't ours to know why some come and some go, only ours to make the best of the time we're given.
So sorry to read about this. You did your bit, that's all that I can say and you are brave to share this here.
ReplyDeleteTruth is stranger than fiction. That sounds like quite an experience. That big wave smacking into the side of your car must have been terrifying. Glad you lived to tell the tale.
ReplyDeleteI'll echo what others have said about survivor's guilt. It can be hard to have survived or to have not lost something when others have lost so much.
ReplyDeletePeople often don't realize that floods follow fires, at least for us here in Colorado. After we fled the Waldo Canyon Fire, we returned home to a home in good shape, but we had pieces of people's furniture that had gone up in smoke and drifted on air currents to drop into our neighborhood as mostly ash, but with some bigger pieces. And bits of wood, light as Styrofoam. But then the floods followed, and we watched as surrounding areas flooded time after time. I'm near Manitou, and once sat, helpless, as a friend returning to Woodland Park from Colorado Springs got caught in a flood on HWY 24. He was posting video of the water surrounding the cars. Absolutely terrifying. I was caught in a flash flood as a child, but my mom got us through it. It's amazing how something so necessary and life bringing can be so terrifying.
Wow, that is an intense experience. I worry about fire sometimes, but rising waters can be just as scary. I'm glad you were safe, even while feeling for the others {{hugs}}
ReplyDeleteWhat a well written account of what must have been terrifying.....especially when you feared being swept over the guardrail. A few years back governments said addressing climate change was too expensive. Not addressing it will cost more.....and more than money. Thanks for sending me this link. Was glad to read it and glad you made it home safe.
ReplyDelete