October 29, 2012, was my nephew’s birthday.  He lives in California.  In New Jersey, I was in the dark; boats were floating past the house under the power of the tidal current and the ferocious wind.  The full moon high tide and the dangerous storm surge were still hours away.  Yes, I was scared.   My phone was still working so, I texted him to open an account for me to start this blog.  It seems very frivolous now, but it kept my mind off what was happening outside.  I thank him for taking time on his birthday to do this favor for his crazy aunt.

During the previous days, I contemplated the mandatory evacuation order.  This would be our first storm in this little, one storied house located just up the street from a creek off the Shrewsbury River.  We knew the high water mark for the one hundred year storm of 1992 and felt confident an extra two or more feet of water would not cause much damage.  With a sump pump and a submersible pump working any water getting in the basement could be dealt with.  Before we moved in seven months ago, we purchased a new, powerful generator.  Upon delivery we started the new generator and it started right up.  The day before the storm new gas and oil were checked and it was vented; the generator ran perfectly.  That is, until 7:10pm when the lights went out and so did the sump pump in the basement.  My husband ran down to the basement, starting up the generator; what a comforting sound of it humming, confident in the knowledge water is being pumped out.  Until, it suddenly stopped.  My breath stopped, I could feel the adrenaline stiffen my muscles.  It started again.  It stopped again.  This was repeated several times until it was silent enough to hear his footsteps coming up the basement stairs.  All our preparations were dashed and now, we were vulnerable.

As the storm raged and water began seeping into the house, I reevaluated our decision to stay.  This choice hinged on our past experience with a Red Cross evacuation center we escaped to during Hurricane Irene the year before which turned out to be a worse disaster than the actual storm.  I had a miserable cold; because of the vulnerable health of a family member, my cold exempted them from the list of possibilities.  Being dependent on an electric wheelchair caused access problems to nearly all of our friends’ homes; even if I got in the house, bathroom access would be difficult also.  Another factor to consider, many of my friends have homes in more vulnerable locations than ours.  In retrospect, we should have gotten in our van and headed for high ground to spend the night in a parking lot on the southwest side of a sturdy building.   Although it was terrifying, we survived.  Our neighbors did not fare as well; they came home to ruined houses which are still vacant three weeks later.

The concept of time has left my reality.  These past weeks seem to be one, long, sleepless night.  I seem to be suspended within the time of this catastrophe.   I would look at the calendar with amazement, how did it become November?  Was there a Halloween?  Thanksgiving is when?  I don’t know the dates of events beyond Oct 29^th.  I would sleep for ten to twelve hours and awake exhausted.   Being able to process events in real time will be a sign of true recovery.

PMF