A city in ruins—This picture by Barbara White shows the devastation wrought on New Orleans by Hurricane Katrina and the damaged levees. This unprecedented occurrence of nature has brought to the fore the issue of race and addressing the needs of the poor. (photo by Barbara White)

by Patricia O’Flynn Pattillo
Next week, commemorates the one year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina and the devastation it wrought on the Gulf, particularly New Orleans, Saint Christian and Biloxi, Mississippi.

Hundreds of thousands of people were evacuated to cities like Milwaukee, Atlanta, Houston and Dallas. Sadly, only a small faction of former residents have actually returned to New Orleans. Though some coastal cities have experienced more returns, New Orleans has only 23% of their residents back.

Katrina directly affected our family.

Aunt Carrie, now 98-years-young, was a nursing home resident. She was evacuated on August 28, 2005, when the National Weather Service advised all of us to leave. She and 65 residents of the rehabilitation complex were first moved to Dillard University. They remained there a few nights, sleeping on cots, eight inches from the floor.

Cots are difficult for younger evacuees, but particularly for seniors. Yet, Aunt Carrie managed. When the levees broke and more of New Orleans was swept into the flow of Lake Pontchartrain and the ocean, Aunt Carrie and the residents were huddled into buses again. They were motored to Baton Rouge, the state capitol. They remained there for one week.

The nursing center began to develop long-term plans for the residents, as many were in need of medicines, therapies, or more stable care. And, the stress and trauma of the moves--the instability of the new environment--soon began to exhibit itself physically and emotionally.

Aunt Carrie, an elegant woman, fastidious decorator and youthful senior, was instantly non-talkative and unresponsive. While resilient and abundantly positive, she became more involved with what would happen than the moment. She suddenly had difficulty walking.

This powerful nursing home diva was now unable to walk and began using a wheelchair. This resident who normally reached out to others with smiles and conversations, was now being given words of encouragement and invitations to join others in bingo. The psychological changes were immediately evident.

Aunt Carrie has adjusted to the normalcy of her new nursing home. For months, she lamented the loss of her apartment. She sobbed for coats she had owned for 50 years, given to her by her late husband; the last tangibles of her life when it was young, vibrant, hopeful and healthy.

She hated living in rooms with people she did not know, four to the room, with varied health conditions. Some of her roommates were unable to see, others were hard of hearing, and another permanently confined to her bed. But she understood that but for the grace of God, she too could be in those conditions.

A wonderful gentleman known only as Mr. Johnson, had traveled with her from the home in New Orleans to the new home in Spring Hills, over 300 miles north.

He assisted her throughout the travels.

Mr. Johnson soon became her advocate, her friend, and her confidante, the one who wheeled her to bingo, the dining room, and the television room. He was a lifeline back to a degree of normalcy. But as soon as his children could find a facility in New Orleans, they came so that he would be closer to them. Again, Aunt Carrie was alone!

We began trying to find facilities nearer to our home. No longer was she insistent on remaining in Louisiana. But before we could begin another transition, she began the downward spiral. Not only could she no longer walk, she was now beginning to have renal trouble.

As the winter followed so did the colds, flu, and pneumonia. Twice they called, and we traveled to be near her. She responded and was released from the hospital. She lost her new dentures, a $1,000 expenditure, just before Katrina. And, she was no longer reading, though her eyesight, after lasik surgeries, was better than our own.

A fall from the wheelchair while reaching for something on her bed stand resulted in a severe hip injury. The resulting surgery was spectacular. Even the doctors were surprised that she came through it so well. Everything looked positive, "We shall proceed in getting her here," we thought. Then there was pneumonia, again! Serious, this time.

Will she make it through this one? Cats have nine lives, it has been said. Aunt Carrie’s scares were mounting.

Everyone said, "Well she’s lived a good life." And of course, we agreed. But life is life! You cannot turn your head because she has reached 98 years.

And your love does not dissipate simply because years mount.

Her example, her strength, her resilience became even greater lessons about life and living!

This weekend they called again! Saturday morning she had no pulse! I washed the beautiful undergarments she had given me, four years ago. She had declared, without emotion, "These are my burial clothes. You keep them. I know you will make sure they are there when I need them."

When we asked should we come, the nurse stated, "no need!" So, we waited, thinking that we would end up motoring back to New Orleans, preparing for her funeral. The priest came immediately and administered "last rites." By five in the evening, we again called. She had refused meds. She had talked. We told the nurse to tell her that we loved her. We were told that her response was, "I love them too!"

God only knows what will happen between today and the anniversary of Katrina, but we can state unequivocally that Katrina’s effects continue to play out in its evacuees, daily! Like the mold that grows on walls and remaining tangibles, its damage will be long reaching with tentacles that reverberate in families, communities, healthcare facilities and lives.

Katrina, like 9/11, will affect our nation for many years to come.

As we pray for Aunt Carrie, we pray for the hundreds of thousands who valiantly attempt, daily, to move on. Katrina is more than a memory. Katrina lives on!