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On one particular day, the mental health clinic was well staffed, so we were told to just walk among the crowd in the As- trodome and help in any way we could. We were really excited as this gave us the perfect opportunity to listen to the many sto- ries that had to be told. We redirected those who were lost, listened to those who need- ed to vent, shared hugs with those who needed them, and joined in on the many activities. As we continued to walk, we heard a woman screaming un- controllably in the corner. We noticed that a Red Cross volunteer was attempting to console her agonizing cries of pain and grief. We quickly went into action, identifying ourselves as psychi- atric nurses here to help. We called for a wheelchair as she was stricken with such grief she could not walk. We continued to as- sess and monitor her every move. She was unable to answer any questions at that time. Her 17-year-old son was at her side and had just told her the news he received by cell phone: Her 20-year- old daughter, his older sister, was dead. We made our way through the crowd. We knew she may need emergency medications. A social worker was on duty and assisted with the emergency. We encouraged the woman to cry and allow the shock of disbelief and grief to take place. As we knelt by her side to comfort her, held her hands, and fought back our own tears, we knew we were at the right place at the right time. She would now get the help she needed. —Laurie Meredith, RN and Catherine Montgomery, RN UC Irvine Medical Center When Hurricane Katrina hit the Gulf Coast, the devastation was so intense. Life was turned upside down, as if one's life never existed, permanently erased. Baton Rouge is no exception. People from New Orleans and Mississippi started evacuating here. We heard heart- breaking events from patients. One was about an 83-year- old woman who sat in her wheelchair for four days before being rescued. On one bus from New Orleans, one person died on the way and one died as soon as the patient got to the hospital. A 22-year-old woman, who was heavily sedat- ed, screamed as she woke up. I met a retired woman who is severely depressed because her husband was swept away by a water surge. She said there is no longer a reason for her to get up in the morning. She was placed on suicide watch. The unit where I was assigned was closed prior to Katri- na's havoc. It was an OB area which had been converted into an ICU, so there was some difficulty looking for supplies, some supplies were limited, there were new surroundings, forms, and routines. I had to adapt quickly. Because some of the phone lines were damaged, there were even problems paging physicians. I felt as if I was in a time warp. At one point, the hospital was expecting eight babies— including a pair of 24-week-old twins—to be flown in from Lafayette, a town that was evacuating because of Hurri- cane Rita. The NICU RN volunteers were off that day, but they were notified by the charge nurses that they were needed, otherwise there wouldn't be enough nurses to han- dle the admissions. These nurses rose to the occasion; they went down to the NICU at 0200H to admit these babies. We made history. —Carmelita Del Mundo, RN Cedars-Sinai Medical Center 12 N O V E M B E R 2 0 0 5 C A L I F O R N I A N U R S E This is my second day of work here at the Houston As- trodome. I went back to pediatrics. It looked like we were really well staffed, so I asked the charge nurse if I could go check on moms and babies. I found out immediately that most of the moms and babies were at the Reliant Center, so I decided to go there. A volunteer from the Red Cross and I walked together, and he had some good tips about how to approach some things. Respect is a big issue here. This is the south, so you never call anyone direct- ly by their first name. It's always "Ms." Leslie or "Miss" Barbara. If you can imagine just a huge, big, massive auditorium of peo- ple, high ceilings, bright lights, cots and cots and cots and cots of people. That's pretty much what it was like. I did some walking up and down the aisles. I found two elder- ly women—one in her 60s and one in her late 70s—sitting on their cots, next to a person sitting in a wheelchair, wrapped head to toe in a blanket. They keep the lights on in here 24/7, and there's a loudspeaker above making announcements. This is the environment that people have to sleep in. The man in the wheelchair turned out to be the older woman's husband. She said the low cot was too uncomfortable for him, so he basically sleeps in the wheelchair. I asked how long they've been there. She said for over a week. I spoke to the man, and he said the same thing: It was too hard for him to be able to get into this low cot. I went into the makeshift clinic there and asked staff if they were aware of this situation. They weren't. A volunteer came by, and together we went to see if they could find something to help this family. The volunteer knew where the supplies were brought in. We went down there and also got the help of six men from a Louisiana church. We found three baby mattresses and some high- er cots. The men carried the mattresses to the family in Section GH. We switched out the cots and put the mattresses on. We were trying to figure out how to attach the cots together since there was no rope or twine. I found some 4-inch silk tape and took that back and taped the cots together. That worked. We were even able to find some sheets and blankets. So we made him a bed and were able to get him to lay down. I cannot tell you how ecstatic and ex- cited he was. His wife was practically in tears. She was also very elderly, so we found her a little mattress for her cot, too. —Leslie Hawkins, RN Kaiser Permanente, Fresno Feature Story Volunteer RN Carmelita Del Mundo (left) quickly bonded with this staff RN at Earl K. Long Memorial Hospital in Baton Rouge, La.