Your Survival Blog
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Love thy neighbor
Imagine a really massive disaster: a 9-point earthquake in your city that buckles bridges, collapses buildings and highways, destroys gas and water mains. A tsunami or tornado that wipes away most of the homes and stores in your town. A volcanic eruption that fills the sky with ash, ensuring that no flights will be able to come in or out of your area for a week.
Who do you suppose will help you, during the first days and even weeks after the catastrophe?
Not the emergency medical technicians or police or firefighters; not the National Guard or similar at-home military force; not international aid agencies.
No, the people who will save you, if you’re at home and you need assistance, are your neighbors. (If you’re at work, the first responders will be your coworkers and workers in surrounding offices or shops or buildings. If your children are at school, they’ll rely on their teachers and school staff. With luck, eventually, you can all reunite at home — if it’s still there — and then you’re back to working with your neighbors.)
Now I live in a cohousing community, a kind of neighborhood designed by the people who live there; we’re committed to knowing our neighbors and working together on a regular basis. Not everyone is so lucky. But if you’re in the same sort of bind we were in our previous house — where you live on big lots out in suburbia, kids need playdates to see each other, and you can’t even remember most of your neighbors’ names — there are ways to get to know them.
- If there’s an existing neighborhood association — or even a PTA or similar group with heavy representation from your neighborhood — go to one of their meetings or events, and say hello to people. If there isn’t one and you think there’s a good reason — many of you oppose a certain development in your area, or need to lobby your town for better water, or whatever — start emailing a few people and create one.
- Hold a block party. Put flyers on everyone’s mailbox suggesting a gathering and soliciting a team to help plan it. If your locality requires permits or fees for street parties or alcohol consumption outside homes, cross your t’s and dot your i’s before you continue: being shut down by the police is no fun. Plan several activities (popular ones include face-painting for children, live music, races or contests, bouncy castles, talent shows, and sprinkler or other water play), issue another round of flyers inviting everyone to the party, and enjoy!
- In small towns, there are often unexpected hangouts: the town dump (or “transfer station"); Town Meeting. Go socialize at these whenever possible.
- Invite the dozen closest families to a party at your house with games for the kids and tasty-but-light beverages for the adults. (This might be a look-it’s-spring! celebration, barbecue, back-to-school party or even holiday party, depending on the season. If holiday, though, make it as secular as possible, so neighbors from different religious and cultural backgrounds will be more likely to attend.) Find openings to chat with each neighbor and to introduce them to each other.
- Take a walk around the neighborhood with small packages of cookies or home-baked bread, introducing yourself to everyone. (If you’ve lived in the neighborhood for years and so have they, this will feel completely intimidating; I know, because I chickened out on doing it myself. But depending on how extroverted you are, you might succeed.)
And think of all the other benefits of getting to know people. Not only are you more likely to work well together in an emergency, but everyday safety will be enhanced (neighbors are more likely to look out for each other, and for the other children in the neighborhood, when they know each other). You’ll be able to borrow a cup of sugar more easily when you need it, or find a babysitter in a pinch. You’re less likely to argue over minor annoyances like barking dogs. And you’ll find people who potentially share your interests. If luck is with you, you may even expand your circle of friends!
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Wednesday, February 17, 2010
“No other medicine / but only hope”
After Hurricane Katrina, the chronically ill who’d escaped without their medications were among the first survivors to die.
Many evacuees had high blood pressure or asthma with no way to control their disease. Kidney recipients escaped without their antirejection medications, and lost function in their transplanted organs. Type I diabetics were stranded without insulin. By some estimates, six percent of the people of New Orleans had some form of diabetes, and a medical professor was quoted as saying that if fifty thousand people were crammed into shelters, that was three thousand diabetics “with no medication and no testing supplies.”
Which made me wonder: what would happen to my friends and neighbors in a similar disaster?
“The miserable have no other medicine/ But only hope: ” —Shakespeare (Measure for Measure, Act III, Scene 1)
My dear friend Colin (all names have been changed to protect identities) has Addison’s disease. It’s an adrenal-gland insufficiency which (like HIV infection) used to be a death sentence, but now is a perfectly manageable chronic illness — providing a patient takes meds on a daily basis. He takes dexamethasone (or prednisone) and fludrocortisone every morning; without them he’d be dead in three days. I asked him his plans in the event of a disaster. “I have a month’s worth of prednisone,” he said, shrugging. Fludrocortisone? Nope. He talked to his doctor about stockpiling it once, but was told insurance wouldn’t pay for it.
Kerry and Aidan carry EpiPens (epinephrine injectors) — Kerry’s due to unfortunate experiences with stinging insects, Aidan’s because of a dangerous food allergy. Last summer Kerry discovered the EpiPen in her purse had expired two years earlier, which might have been a tragic oversight if the dive-bombers at her picnic had been a tad more aggressive. Aidan, a second-grader, has already gone into anaphylactic shock during his short career at school. Yet Melanie, a school nurse in Washington, notes that because EpiPens are specifically prescribed for certain children, her school could not keep extras on hand: “If a kid was dying of a bee sting and they had a different kid’s EpiPen in the cupboard it would be against the law to use it.”
Melanie also told me about a child she’d encountered with adrenal hyperplasia syndrome: “She was too young (or the dosage was wrong) for pills, so she had to have a liquid form that needed replacing constantly. They wanted to keep a backup amount but it was very expensive, so they always had to remember to put the new medicine in the ‘backup’ spot and use the former backup medicine up. It was doable, just something they had to constantly do properly.”
James and Robert are young cousins with moderately severe ADHD, and both take stimulants based on methylphenidate. While their parents are able to cope (with gritted teeth) on days they don’t take their meds, the need to focus on tasks in hand in a real emergency might make a difference in their risk of serious injury or death. While stimulants are tightly controlled by the United States government — it’s not even possible, in many cases, to replace a prescription that’s been lost or damaged — James’s mother has carefully saved enough pills over the months they’ve been filling prescriptions (by not always giving meds on weekends and holidays) that she’s squirreled away an entire month’s backup supply, ready to go in case of emergency evacuation.
Ann has epilepsy. After years of experimentation, she hit upon a drug which works very well for her, carbamazepine; without it she’d be “a complete mess.” But she lost her job and has lived without health insurance for a long time, surviving partly on the contributions of relatives toward her medications. The drug used to cost over $100 a month without insurance coverage; she considers herself lucky right now, because a big-box retailer offers a special discount program on certain selected medications, and she can now buy carbamazepine for $17/month. It prevents her from having grand mal seizures, leaving only myoclonic jerks. Another drug she takes daily, clonazepam, smooths out the “kinda twitchy” aspects; she says she wouldn’t function well without it, but at least she’s able to obtain it at reasonably low cost from warehouse-store pharmacies. She hasn’t tried to stockpile either drug, however, and is now curious about how to do that; she gets a month’s worth at a time, and is often down to a four-day supply before replenishing.
She points out that epilepsy, like many illnesses, is made worse by stress and lack of sleep; with exhaustion and anxiety, seizures become difficult to control. And if her illness is not controlled, she cannot live an independent life. But she wonders how people on limited incomes, without access to extremely discounted drugs, can manage their illnesses on a regular basis — much less in an emergency?
Doreen has a thyroid disorder, which she takes pills for. “I am pretty sure I wouldn’t die without it,” she says, “but it is fairly essential to proper metabolic function.” Her mother, in an independent-living retirement community, has Parkinson’s, Crohn’s, and major depression, and is on “a boatload of drugs” for these and other chronic conditions. “We normally all have at least a week’s supply, maybe two, extra,” says Doreen. “I don’t think we can make any plans to stockpile, because the pharmacy won’t let you renew beyond 15 days out by mail order, one week out in person.”
“How do each of you plan to make sure you have your meds with you in case of emergency evacuation — earthquake, wildfire, hurricane, flood, that sort of thing?” I inquired. “Have you talked to your doctors about emergency backup plans?” No, she admits: “That’s a good thought; I’m realizing just how unprepared we are. You’re right, we all need a disaster plan, especially with ill parents, pets, kids, spouses that work in different directions, and so on.”
And hers is an excellent summary. We all need a disaster plan — and if we take essential prescription medications, we need to be prepared to manage for days or even weeks without a pharmacy.
Posted by eks on 02/17 at 10:31 AM(1) Comments • Permalink
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
The power’s out. Now what?
Snap. Crackle. Pop.
There went all the lights, and the fan, and the music! (And, if you’re in one of those unfortunate homes where furnaces and well pumps depend on the power company, maybe the heat and water too.)
So how long are you likely to be in the dark this time? And what are you going to do with yourselves while the power’s out?
In my previous neck of the woods, power outages varied from a few minutes to much longer, though in a decade I don’t think we had one longer than fourteen hours (during the ice storm of December ‘08). We fell into a routine pretty quickly, though:
- Shut off anything we didn’t want coming back on unattended — computer equipment, a video/DVD player, the electric stove.
- Check with someone in another neighborhood, to see if they were out too (they often were, though sometimes it was just our street). Note that this requires a working landline or cell phone, as your Internet service goes out when the power does.
- Call the power company to see if we could get through and get an estimate (estimates were notoriously unreliable, but at least gave us something to work with). If it seemed like a long wait, often we’d give up and pile into the car for a day trip to some comfortable place which served food.
- Decide how long we could live without power, heat and tap water (yes, we were in one of those houses). On one particularly memorable occasion (during the ice storm), we packed our bags and went to stay with friends in another town.
Now let’s say you live in a household with no special needs — no people or pets requiring life support (that includes aquarium fish!), or with a major disability, or under the age of one. You expect the outage to be more than a few minutes, but less than a couple of days. What should you have on hand?
Light. Always on hand at our house: candles, matches, flashlights, batteries, light sticks, emergency lights (the kind that hang on walls and in closets, and can be pushed on and off) and camping lanterns. Never, ever leave candles unattended, or near combustible items like curtains — especially when people are sleeping! You don’t want to die in a fire just because your lights went out. If you want always-on light at night (we certainly do), stock up on various sizes of camping lanterns. Stash all of these items where you can easily reach them in the dark.
Warmth. Depending on your climate and the season, this could be anything from a long-sleeved shirt for everyone in the house to spare blankets and pairs of knit stretch gloves to down-filled, below-zero sleeping bags and winter hats and Gore-Tex parkas. If you live in a wintry climate and have a woodstove — and a clean chimney for it — by all means burn some wood to keep the place warm. (Do you have some on hand? and kindling, and matches?)
There are two things you should not rely on for heat. Fireplaces (the kind without woodstoves) often suck more heat out of your house than the provide — warm air escapes up your chimney, as cold air is drawn in through poorly insulated walls and windows elsewhere in the house. (We learned this the hard way.) Non-electric, non-vented space heaters (the ones which run on kerosene, gas or propane) are intended only to be used outdoors, as they’re carbon monoxide factories, become extremely hot during normal operation, and frequently burn people’s houses down while they sleep.
Note that I’m in a cool climate — if you’re in a hot one, this item might actually be about ways to stay cool without your air conditioner or fans. If your faucets still work, try a cool shower or draping cool cloths over your head and neck. Drink plenty of water (not, mind you, beer), and don’t forget to keep your pets hydrated too! Keep the curtains closed to prevent heating your house further. And if you can, go spend the day at a movie theater or other cool spot.
Drinking water, of course. (If your tap works and it’s a simple outage, great. If not, you know where your bottled water stash is, right?)
Hygiene supplies, if you live in a house with a well pump. (You won’t be able to flush, or wash from the tap — so have separate bottled water, baby wipes and hand sanitizer, and either a way to flush your toilet or an alternate plan for bathroom functions.)
Food you can get to and prepare during the outage. You do not want to open your refrigerator (or freezer) during a power outage expected to last less than a day, as it’ll let the cold air out and spoil much of the food. So you need canned, boxed and bagged convenience foods, along with a can opener and scissors (and maybe a bottle of juice you’ve stashed for the kids). If you expect a long outage, you might want to break out the paper plates and cups — or even a camping stove. (At the point where a simple blackout makes me feel like I’m camping, I generally start thinking about motels and restaurants, but I’m high-maintenance that way. I have been known to put a pot of canned soup on the grill, though.)
Entertainment! I don’t know about you, but without an Internet connection I’m often a little lost these days; I have to consciously remind myself of how much I love reading books, too. So have books everyone will enjoy at hand — if you have kids, this is an excellent time to start a family read-aloud session — and games that are easy to play by candlelight (cards? Trivial Pursuit? whatever works for you) — and a few favorite toys for every member of your family (for adults, this might mean a knitting project, or crosswords, or a guitar). Have a singalong! Play charades!
For a multi-day, can-we-tough-this-out-without-going-to-a-shelter outage, you’ll want other stuff on hand: extra first-aid supplies and medicines (if the blackout is related to a storm making travel difficult); that camping stove, and fuel for it; even a generator. But extended camp-outs are a topic for another day.
Posted by eks on 02/09 at 10:44 AM(5) Comments • Permalink
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Putting your eggs in one basket
Relatives of mine live in a largely rural town on the edge of a metropolitan area in the Northeastern US. Until their power company upgraded the lines (after years of blaming squirrels) their power would go out frequently, in probably a half-dozen significant outages a year. Once, during an ice storm years ago, they lost electricity for four days; they fled to a motel. During the ice storm of December 2008, they were out from early morning till nearly midnight.
So what failed during their power outages? Electric lights and appliances, of course. Heat: they have an oil furnace, but the ignition is electric. And water: their well pump is also ... electric. None of these basic needs has built-in battery backup.
They’d bought a generator after an earlier experience, figuring they could run at least some of the items that were important to them. But they learned the hard way just how important it is to test-start a generator at least once a month: a clogged fuel line kept them in the dark during the ice storm.
Fortunately they’re experienced cold-weather campers, and the electric company in their area promised quick restoration, so they figured they could tough it out until the power returned, and did. (And the ice storm only knocked power out to some towns in the region, so if they got too cold or hungry they could have driven to a warm motel or restaurant and get fed/sheltered/washed that way. Not something you want to count on, though.)
Does your plan for emergencies (the most likely emergencies in your area) have a similar Achilles heel?
Are you expecting your town water supply to work no matter what happens to other utilities, figuring you can shelter in place as long as you have access to a water supply? Water mains do break, especially in earthquakes, and town water-treatment plants depend on access to power.
Is your tornado plan basically “drop everything, grab the kids, get to a basement?” What if you’re all eating dinner or seeing a movie in a building built on slab?
Do you figure it doesn’t really matter what happens to your coastal town in a hurricane, because you can always throw your evac bags in the back of the truck and go? What happens if you forget to fill up the gas tank on the truck? Or the battery’s dead when you turn on the key? Or there’s so much broken glass or windblown debris on the highway that you lose a couple of tires?
And remember that Murphy is not only out to get you, he’s creative. Not only can anything go wrong and will — interesting combinations of “anything” might bite you when you don’t expect them. I know someone who planned a huge “rain or shine” yard sale for her new rural home, figuring that the combination of (a) an indoor setting for sale items and (b) excellent signage to her hard-to-find driveway would bring out the buyers. What she didn’t plan on was heavy rain on the morning of the sale, disintegrating all the signs she’d carefully hung.
The lesson here is: examine your assumptions. What am I relying on in this plan? What can go wrong? What else could go wrong? And what might I do about that combination?
If you have other examples, please share them in the comments!
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