Friday - Horror
Sep. 2nd, 2005 12:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreI can't get her out of my mind. She was on my TV last night, standing outside of the Superdome with tears running down her face. She looked young, maybe 23. The baby in her arms looked about 8 months old. He was not moving. She said he was dehydrated. He was limp, and did not even stir as his mother cried and wailed and pleaded for help.
Why is this evacuation reminding me so much of the Titanic? The first class passengers of New Orleans fled because they had the means to - they had the cars to drive and the money to pay for hotels. Left behind are the people in steerage. Busses out the the city, the lifeboats, are being loaded first-come, first-served, instead of the very young and the very frail being given priority. I heard a reporter (with just a mike, no video) talking about the dead laying around him, including two babies. He was choking up as he described the situation.
I can donate money. I can donate the baby items I loaded in the back of my care (including a bag filled with food and medicine). But there is nothing I can do to help that mother I saw last night. There is no one to tell me that her baby is alive and well and has been fed, or that no other children are going to die of dehydration before they make it out of that Hell hole.
I held my own son a little longer this morning. I marveled at how beautiful he is. I tried to imagine the horror of feeling him die in my arms and not being able to do anything for him, and my mind hit a wall, a voice saying, "Go back, don't go there, you will go insane even thinking about this." So this is what horror feels like. It's not what you feel watching a scary movie or riding a roller coaster. It's not an adrenalin rush, it's a chill that runs through your entire being. It's just not fear, it's devastation and dread.
Why is this evacuation reminding me so much of the Titanic? The first class passengers of New Orleans fled because they had the means to - they had the cars to drive and the money to pay for hotels. Left behind are the people in steerage. Busses out the the city, the lifeboats, are being loaded first-come, first-served, instead of the very young and the very frail being given priority. I heard a reporter (with just a mike, no video) talking about the dead laying around him, including two babies. He was choking up as he described the situation.
I can donate money. I can donate the baby items I loaded in the back of my care (including a bag filled with food and medicine). But there is nothing I can do to help that mother I saw last night. There is no one to tell me that her baby is alive and well and has been fed, or that no other children are going to die of dehydration before they make it out of that Hell hole.
I held my own son a little longer this morning. I marveled at how beautiful he is. I tried to imagine the horror of feeling him die in my arms and not being able to do anything for him, and my mind hit a wall, a voice saying, "Go back, don't go there, you will go insane even thinking about this." So this is what horror feels like. It's not what you feel watching a scary movie or riding a roller coaster. It's not an adrenalin rush, it's a chill that runs through your entire being. It's just not fear, it's devastation and dread.
