[StBernard] Former Greeley resident remembers Katrina

[Westley Annis]

Former Greeley resident remembers Katrina

At night, Jon Sewell would grab a sheet to lie down on top of the hospital
roof. The evening sky was quiet over New Orleans, though he was only able to
catch 30 to 45 minutes' rest before he had to start checking on everyone.

But Sewell couldn't fall asleep. An eerie sound flowed through his mind, and
it's etched in his memory.

"I kept hearing the dogs that were left behind by owners, howling and
barking, wanting help," said Sewell, former CEO of North Colorado Medical
Center. "I knew they were up on the roofs of the homes, trying to seek
shelter. Just to hear that howling at night, it was just awful to hear ...
I'll never forget that. It's one of my worst memories."

Tuesday marks the first anniversary of Hurricane Katrina's landfall in New
Orleans. The storm killed almost 2,000 people, destroyed thousands of homes
and created lifelong scars for residents in Alabama, Louisiana and
Mississippi, and across the world.

At the time, Sewell was CEO of Chalmette Medical Center in Chalmette, La.,
about 15 miles from St. Bernard Parish. He rode out the hurricane with about
200 patients, staff, family members and several dogs and cats.

Shortly after the levees breached, the hospital's first floor was completely
underwater. The water rose all the way to the first step of the second floor
before it stopped.

"Now all we had to do was wait until we were rescued," Sewell said. "That
took longer than we thought. I always tell people ... 'Sometimes the cavalry
doesn't show up.' And that's what happened."

For four days, Sewell and the others waited. There was no electricity,
back-up generators or phone service. They lost all communications with the
world outside the hospital walls.

To make matters worse, about 200 residents who didn't evacuate their homes
found their way to the hospital and started coming into through windows.

That's when the staff and patients started to get frightened.

"St. Bernard Parish is a rough community around us," he said. "I'm sure some
of them had guns and knives with them."

Stranded residents piled into two large conference rooms, where Sewell
decided to lay down the law.

"I grabbed two of my biggest male employees and stood them in front of the
auditorium," he said with a chuckle. "I told the people they were off-duty
sheriff's officers and they were here for safety and order and they are
armed. It worked for us."

Sewell had to improvise.

"Basically we were our own city and had our own rules," he said.

Finally, helicopters arrived to take patients to a makeshift hospital at
Louis Armstrong International Airport. Everywhere Sewell looked, he saw
patients lying on the floor on cots.

"I remember the staff walking around them like they weren't there," he said.
"It was as if they were plants. It was so depressing."

Sewell's staff members volunteered to help out however they could. Some
physicians assisted in medical care and certified nurse's assistants mopped
the floors.

"But then a FEMA official told us we were not authorized to work or help out
and we were ordered to stop," he said. "I had nurses and doctors crying
because they had to be pulled out of there."

Two weeks after the storm, a hospital in Las Vegas, owned by the same
company, offered him a position. He took it, knowing all his possessions in
Louisiana were ruined in the storm.

Sewell values the memories, however painful, and the lessons he learned
about himself and others.

"My clothes, my radio and my new, two-week old plasma TV are gone -- oh
well," he said. "You gain a new sense of appreciation for life."