Doom.

[sunshine_queen]

Okay. I'm starting to get worried.

The newspaper is filled with what to do if there's a hurricane, what we should be doing now and later and during and after. Projected paths keep altering and changing and times are changing and it makes me want to throttle the damn meteorologists. Yes, we know meteorology is not an exact science. No, we don't care. I, for one, want answers. Concrete, is possible.

Mom and Mel have gone out in search of batteries. We don't have hurricane shutters, but our house is made of stucco and we have a new roof. We'll live in the hallway, I guess. And be bored for God knows how long.

We have to bring in all kinds of things from outside. The table, the chairs, the refrigerator and TV by the pool, the bike, the lawnmower, the barbecues... this is crazy. Go away, Frances!

In other news, I am totally disturbed by the Chechens taking that school captive. Can you imagine holding 900 some odd children hostage? It's just so wrong and horrible. Where are the real life Syds and Nikitas to stop these things?

And about last night:

Okay. I'm sure those who've read this LJ before know just how much I loathe volunteering at MCH. It blew, it truly did, doing mindless filing and typing and paperwork and all that jazz. Well, now it's been over forty hours, so I went to a workshop so I could leave the hell that is the staffing office and instead work with kids.

Now, Mommy works at the same hospital. It is a hospital for children (hence the name, Miami Children's Hospital.) Meaning there are sick children there.

Momma and I are some of the most sensitive people on teh planet. We cry at everything. Momma has been working at MCH upwards of 25 freaking years. How does a sensitive woman work with dying children, some of whom have actually died in her arms?

I have no idea.

Before the workshop, I was discussing with Mommy how there was no way I'd be able to handle working with sick kids. As in, put me in the child care place for the workers' kids, the ones that aren't freaking sick, because I couldn't stand it.

Anyway. Went to workshop.

I almost cried in there about twenty times. We got a whole bunch of info on what many children think- from infants to adolescents- and the most heartbreaking was that of the preschoolers- those who thought that becoming sick was their fault, that when they went home no one would love them.

There was more, some of it worse, but that's what stuck with me most.

So, I am simultaneously thinking, 'Oh, shit, there is NO WAY I could work in a unit because I'd die. Seriously.' and 'How can I not help these kids.'

Ah, conflict. So fun.

So when there was a break in the speakers, Nuria, the head of the volunteers, who knows my name for some odd reason or another, calls me and places me. And I could've asked for child care. But instead I just asked her to put me with the youngest kids possible. And she put me in the 3 NE, which turns out to be where Momma works. She knows everyone there, and it turns out it's not too bad a floor and it's got just about all ages.

I've also heard stories from 3 NE.

Doom. And sadness.

And, honestly, I hate that this scary hurricane is named Frances. FRANCES. How can we be afraid of a thing called Frances? It's just so wrong.

Comments

[hayzucristo.livejournal.com]

hahaha yeah why cant it be called hurricane BRUNO or something...

then i'd be scared

[thepodsquad.livejournal.com]

Dude, Madi, good luck honey. The hurricane freaks me out and it's nowhere NEAR me. *shudders*

And I could never work with sick children, I would be in a state of emotional unending distress. I can barely handle sick adults, but sick children would just...gah, I couldn't handle it.

[xcoquette.livejournal.com]

Ms. Baby. . . FRANCES. . .Houseman. Sorry. That's what I think about.