Stress and the aftermath
If you rode out the storm forty, fifty, or more miles away, you probably won’t be able to head home for another two or more days. Most roads and highways are impassable. Trees and power poles are over roads, some are flooded, bridges are damaged, closed, or totally gone. Even sections of interstates are closed. Those that are open are clogged with convoys of official vehicles.
EDITOR’S NOTE: SEE PART II AND PRIOR OF THIS AMAZING SERIES BELOW
If you are closer to home, you may have a chance the day after the storm. But, it may be wise to keep access to where you just left in cast you find getting home proves out of reach.
Every road is an obstetrical course. You creep along, winding your way around light poles, trees, parts of buildings, and over power lines. Think 45 minutes to go three miles. In addition to the obvious obstacles, there are nails, screws, broken glass, and shards of Plexiglas everywhere. Christina swept a path out of the hotel parking lot with a palm frond while I eased the car out to the road the day after the storm. (The only car in the lot with no significant damage. However, water and wet insulation had forced their way in around door and window gaskets.) Be prepared to drive through ditches, across lawns, and over people’s treasures like toys and family albums.
As you survey the massive damage, including a freight train laying on its side by the tracks, your anxiety level increases. What will your home look like? Will you even have a home? The stress ratchets up with every downed forty-foot pine tree, every power pole in the ditch, and every section of roofing spread over the road. The steeple from the church 3 blocks away is on a car in the middle of the road.
Tension takes on a whole different meaning. Nerves are stretched as tight as banjo strings and tempers are on the very precipice of no control. This is a time for teamwork and patience. Snapping at each other fixes nothing.
The last two blocks to our home was a maze of downed pines. We walked. Damage? Of course. Every house in the complex had roof damage, some with gaping holes. Many lost chimneys, siding, garage doors, and ceilings from penetrating rain. We fared better than most. Some missing roof tiles, but the rubber membrane was intact, so no water damage. A pine tree standing in the swimming pool, having entered via two of the top cage screens. Another large pine laying in the driveway and shredded landscaping everywhere. A great relief after expecting to find a slab with a few 2x6s standing.
Now the reality of personal issues begins to dawn. Hurricane insurance policies carry a 2% deductible or higher. That is 2% of the insured value. So, if your home is insured for $400,000 you must pay the first $8,000 before insurance kicks in. Few people have that sitting in a checking account. More stress. Then there are all those items that insurance doesn’t cover. Things like trees down (unless on the house or driveway), landscaping, broken sprinkler system, and great gouges in the sodded lawn. Other items that may not be insured could include that $2,600 Big Green Egg, the dog house, a storage shed and the lawn tractor and other tools it held. Don’t laugh, it adds up quickly.
Do you have full replacement coverage? If not your roof may get a patch job vs. replacement. Does your policy provide for depreciation recovery? Oh yes, they depreciate your roof. If you have a roof rated at 30 years and it is 10 years old then you get 2/3 of what it costs to replace it. That will likely cost you another $8,000 or more.
Rebuilding will be daunting and very costly in time and money.
Government at all levels performed well. We had EMS units and law enforcement from at least five states going door to door checking on people, any needs for medical care or medication, oxygen, and such. However, keep in mind that their primary focus is on search and rescue for several days, perhaps for weeks. There is never enough manpower of course. Even though there were convoys of EMS, police, and utility units that strung out for miles on every major approach to the area.
Panama City and its related five suburbs have 100s of miles of streets to clear. The county even more. That must be done first so that hundreds of power company trucks and crews from all over the S.E. ( and beyond) can begin to set thousands of power poles, string miles of new wire and mount hundreds of transformers. The county fairgrounds became the staging area for all that material. All the trucks, generators, bulldozers, front-end loaders, and shredders take fuel. Convoys of fuel trucks follow the clearing crews.
Since traffic signals don’t work, there is a law enforcement unit at every major intersection. Water and sewer plants must be brought online. Landfills quickly become overwhelmed.
Your stress level continues to build as you realize that no stores or service sources are open. No bank, no grocery, no gas station, and very few repair facilities. No, you can’t get y our car fixed. No, you can’t get a roofer or a tree removal company. No, you can’t get the pool cage fixed or an electrician, or a carpenter. Most of those service companies are simply gone. The few that are still standing probably have no phone service. We finally got a gutter repair company on the phone and were told that we were number 2,000 on the waiting list. Stress.
The stress levels mounts hourly. Every time you flush the toilet and nothing happens. Every time you flip a light switch and the lights don’t come on or the ceiling fan refuses to rotate. No air conditioning so you sweat. Sleep is fitful and you find that you are developing sleep deprivation.
Then you realize that these conditions are not just a short-term inconvenience. These problems and many others will be the “new normal” for weeks. You are constantly inventorying your food supply, water supply, and the shrinking cash in your wallet.
Part IV will examine the lessons learned. and relearned.
