Editor’s note: Dr. Robert K. Minkes is chief of pediatric surgery at Louisiana State University in New Orleans and Children’s Hospital of New Orleans.
This column is an edited version of an e-mail that he sent to friends and associates about the hospital’s experiences during and after Hurricane Katrina. He’s temporarily living in Miami.
Our hospital, Children’s Hospital of New Orleans, sits on the edge of the levee of the Mississippi River in Uptown New Orleans.
There were more than 700 people in the hospital when Hurricane Katrina hit, but we survived the storm and the rising waters from the break in the levee by the lake.
We were well-prepared. We had enough fuel, food and water for more than a week.
There was access to the city by roads, air and the Mississippi River. We, in fact, had a delivery of fuel the day after the storm but diverted most of it to a nearby hospital since we had enough until other reserves arrived.
We were in contact with local, state and federal agencies including FEMA and Homeland Security. We had landlines, Internet access and intermittent cellphone service.
We functioned on generators, and I performed several procedures. Our emergency room remained open, as did our intensive care units.
The day after the storm, sporadic looting and violence began all over New Orleans, including our area. Most people trapped in the city either at their homes or in the Superdome and convention center were not the thugs. They were mostly my patients and their families, my co-workers, my neighbors and friends. They were being dominated by a few ruthless thugs and like us were distraught over the lack of help and order.
We had initially planned to provide food and water for any citizens seeking them from us. We soon observed strangers walking through the halls. We quickly realized that our visitors were threatening the safety of our hospital. After they were escorted out, we locked our doors.
Although we were never attacked, looters drove by several times and knew we were functioning with electricity and water. The potential for tragedy in our hospital was enormous.
We contacted local police in Orleans and Jefferson parishes, state officials, including Gov. Kathleen Blanco’s office, FEMA and Homeland Security asking for armed assistance.
We never got any help. There were three local police officers guarding a supermarket a half-mile down the road, and we never got any assistance.
Even though fear and despair was rampant throughout the hospital, everybody, I mean everybody, continued to do their jobs while the hospital administration and leadership begged for assistance.
On Wednesday morning, Aug. 31, we lost water pressure and therefore running water and full air-conditioning capacity. This was the first real threat to our patients’ health. Dr. Joseph Caspi and Dr. Timothy Pettitt, pediatric cardiac surgeons, and I discussed our growing concern. Dr. Caspi and our CEO, Steve Worley, quickly agreed evacuation was in order. They were also calling law and government officials for assistance for a potential evacuation. It quickly became clear that we were on our own.
Over the next 24 hours we evacuated our entire hospital by whatever means we had. The only outside help we had was from the medical community across the country who accepted our patients and sent helicopters for some of them.
Our evacuation started Wednesday afternoon when Dr. Caspi and Pettitt led a team to Baton Rouge in six ambulances and some SUVs. Many of the babies in those vehicles were hand-bag ventilated.
Patients were discharged so that families with transportation could leave the hospital. As the number of patients dwindled, staff was evacuated.
As evening approached we learned that National Guard aircraft were at the airport and could fly out most of our remaining ill patients as long as they could get there by 7 p.m. We quickly mobilized a caravan of about 40 cars, trucks and SUVs. Dr. John Heaton, head of anesthesiology, led a team of physicians, nurses, staff and patient family members to the airport. On the way back to the hospital they were stopped by police. Learning that they were headed back to Children’s Hospital, the officer responded, “Are you crazy, you are taking your life into your own hands,” and asked if they were armed.
Following that evening evacuation, the hospital was down to a few pediatric intensive-care patients and patients who could not get rides. Through the night the intensive-care patients were evacuated. At 4 a.m. a state trooper arrived to support a chopper that came in to evacuate a patient. He informed us that conditions were worsening and recommended that the remainder of the hospital be evacuated at first light. We were able to get two state trooper vehicles for the first caravan out. They informed us that they broke rank to help us and that we were “low priority.”
A helicopter from Miami Children’s Hospital arrived around 8 a.m. to transport the last two babies. Dr. Heaton and I then led the final caravan to Interstate 10.
Everyone made it out safely.
Some important points to remember:
There was no help for anyone in the entire city due to a lack of security. Our hospitals were as unprotected as the neighborhoods, the Superdome and convention center. The thugs were a minority and could have been controlled.
Our local, state and federal governments were not and are not prepared to rapidly respond to a homeland disaster. We can and must do better and be prepared for the next disaster, natural or terrorist.
Our politicians can be heroes by acknowledging the hard truth and speaking out now.
