Thursday morning the rains from Helene began in Asheville. The skies were dark, fog was dense, and the rains did not stop. Sheets of rain fell, and I began to understand the probable intensity and danger of these combined events on our land and community. By late afternoon, winds were 40-60 mph, and the rain was so dense that nothing outside was visible.
Coleen Kivlahan, MD, MSPH
FCM Professor Emeritus
As I find some still moments to express my unending gratitude for your messages of love and support in the past many days, the local NPR station is broadcasting in my periphery. Where to find field hospitals, how to get prescriptions filled or DME brought to you, and how to treat dehydration in the elderly who are denying themselves drinking water due to the shortage. The county water department chief stated, “I will not set a timeline to bring water back online to Asheville or other places in the County, nor will I set a timeline to set a timeline.” More than 90% of water lines are destroyed as are filtration plants etc. As they say on the radio, words alone cannot express our collective losses.
A very long few weeks ago, Dave was intensely caring for his mother in Sarasota with some complex medical issues, I served as translator from afar across multiple specialists and helped plan her ongoing care coverage. It was hard work for Dave onsite alone. Then on Tuesday and Wednesday Sept 24-26, prior to Helene, the rains in Western North Carolina (WNC) began. We live in the mountains and rain greets us every few days, keeping our home rich in vegetation and color. My amazing gardens began to show signs that Fall was approaching, and I pulled out all remaining crops into the compost with plans to plant cover crops for winter prior to the rains. But this particular rain kept coming. We briefly heard about how the local rains were supersaturating the ground, and that Helene was due to hit Florida late Thursday. Dave reported in Sarasota that so far, they were experiencing some winds and light rain. Floridians were still in shorts and tank tops.
Thursday morning the rains from Helene began in Asheville. The skies were dark, fog was dense, and the rains did not stop. Sheets of rain fell, and I began to understand the probable intensity and danger of these combined events on our land and community. By late afternoon, winds were 40-60 mph, and the rain was so dense that nothing outside was visible. The house shook, water pooled at the front of our house to at least 6 inches and surrounding trees leaned toward the ground. I sent videos to Dave so we both knew what we were facing in both Florida and North Carolina. Then our power failed that evening, internet and cell towers were gone. The extraordinary winds continued all night with intense crash sounds heard outside in the dark.
On Friday morning, the dawn never seemed to come. Rains continued and skies were dark. I could see downed trees in multiple directions. All praises for the presence of our non-environmentally PC gas stovetop! I could at least heat water. Until the water stopped after a couple hours. All external communication was impossible, and I had no idea what was happening to our community. I looked outside, down our 40-degree slope at the base of our attached deck. There was a gaping fissure in the slope and a landslide had begun. During a small break in the rain, I ventured out to find my neighbors and check our slope. I was struck by the absolute silence. No highway or road noise, no birds or voices or kids on bikes. Just an eerie silence all around me.
Seven hours of driving later and hundreds of downed trees, power lines above and below us, and the rising water that looked like an ocean with waves that overwhelmed houses, forests, fields and lifted roads vertically.
Coleen Kivlahan, MD, MSPH
Then I panicked about having no way to contact my son Kevin, who lives on the eastern side of Asheville only a couple miles away just on the other side of the French Broad river. I started planning to find him at all costs, from wading across the usually shallow river to floating across it in a canoe and walking the miles to his home. How ridiculous was all of that, but my panic grew. Steve, my neighbor, came across the street to look at our slope and made some urgent recommendations. We both saw that the fissure in the ground of our slope was undermining the deck supports for our attached deck. He told me to drain the hot tub. We assessed our collective food supplies and made welfare checks on our neighbors. Our friends across the street had a tree fall on their deck, and trees were down in the area, but no major damage on our street.
I then ventured out to a neighboring street where we have dear friends. On the street (like the Living Dead) I saw my neighbor Jay walking, who has a Rivian truck (who knew what THAT offered!). Jay’s house had several trees fall on the back porch and water was pouring into his house. Yet Jay asked about Kevin (who is known to most of the parents as the babysitter of two toddlers). Seeing my distress about being unable to contact Kevin, Jay immediately suggested we set off on Friday to find him (no one better to be out on the street with—he is a PA and we have the same willingness to put ourselves in harm’s way for a good purpose). Seven hours of driving later and hundreds of downed trees, power lines above and below us, and the rising water that looked like an ocean with waves that overwhelmed houses, forests, fields and lifted roads vertically... The Rivian’s superpower to lift itself up by 22 inches was helpful but it just could not move the trees 3-4 feet in diameter from the roads. We plowed through water and over and under downed power lines in the road but failed to pass any streets that got us closer to Kevin. We came back defeated and hovered in a friend’s house who had a Tesla power wall. What a miracle electricity and running water are…
That night I headed back to our house, praying that the deck would hold even if there was more rain and wind. I truly had no idea what the rest of WNC had faced; we had no way to see photos, videos or hear radio or read news. Saturday morning, we awoke to the same bleak gray skies with wind and occasionally more rain that we now know ranged from 14-28 inches in Asheville. Yet that day began the wondrous community compassion in which I have basked for the past weeks.
Neighbors began pouring out of their houses, we pretended that there was a Verizon service center at the end of a street on a hill since a few folks were able to send a text to those they loved; most of us were left with no such solace. Yet we began to cut downed trees, empty refrigerators and cook communally on the street, shared water and hugs. Jay was relentless; he found me again that morning and off we went to capture Kevin from whatever isolated space he was in. Again, it took us hours to finally find a street that was not blocked by massive trees, hot power lines or emerging rivers. We arrived at his place with no warning and gave him 5 minutes to get ready to leave; he also had no power, water or internet. However, by the time we left his house, the roads had closed again, and it took 5 hours to find a route to get to our home just 4 miles away. I could breathe again knowing Kevin was with me and safe.
We spent the next 2 weeks building drains around our house, putting straps around our deck posts, learning the value of structural and geotechnical engineers, drying our crawl space, putting plastic film on the slope to reduce further water damage, applying to FEMA, being refused coverage by insurance and trying to make meaning around the devastation to our community and homes and beliefs about our own safety.
So many awarenesses over those first days that continue to evolve with each passing day: how alone I felt even though there were neighbors nearby, how much I missed my far-away family and Dave, how Kevin is a guy to have with you in any doomsday scenario, the power of a single electric light, the taste of fresh water from a spigot, how addicted I am to news and texts from loved ones, how privileged I am to own my own home that is still standing, and to have money to replace what we lost. I especially felt the pain and loss of every human being who has faced climate or environmental disasters. How ill-informed those of us in the midst of disasters are, how shocking it is to see the extent of the damage, how traumatizing it is to drive or walk through the wreckage, how hard it to see children’s worry and hear their questions, how sad to see parents’ blank stares, and how dates and times no longer matter.
The systemic awarenesses include the total failure of homeowners insurance (<1% of NC families or businesses are insured for this 1000 year flood); the failure of decades old water systems; the failure of overhead power lines; places that are 2000 feet above sea level can flood; deep hollows and valleys are lethal during floods; climate disasters are a risk to each of us; none of us is exempt from our common humanity of being decimated by water, soil, wind, or fire and we collectively feel the loss of homes, businesses, family and personal safety.
Today: Two thirds of Asheville residents still have no or dirty turbid water. We are all under a mandatory boil order for our water. Most of us have power back. Many have no internet. Schools are closed until at least the end of October, dentist offices and nonessential businesses are shut down, many are permanently out of work. Our artists have no place to live or work. Their original art is gone as are most of their tools. Our restaurants are doing their best to serve us, but many are shuttered or gone. Our town and our people are resilient. There are whisps in the air of rebuilding Asheville, but we are humbled by towns where most of the people and homes are simply drowned in the mud. As for us, we await the engineers to tell us how we can best stabilize our deck/house and slope, then we search for contractors to take it on. This morning a man came into the YMCA where I work who was found by the National Guard with no water; turns out he has had no water since last November. A woman from Hendersonville came for a shower to the Y and had lost her home, all clothes and her business. She had no food or water. The amazing staff at the Y gave her 90 days of Y membership free and loaded her up with supplies. We provided 800 or so showers per day to people so deeply grateful to have hot water on their hair, the humbling nature of their gratitude would stop you in your tracks. Target and Home Depot staff are living in the stores. First responders and FEMA staff are managing the disinformation. Community and religious organizations and volunteers are helping countless numbers of people 24/7.
And we, dear family and friends, keep learning and loving, and trusting that signs of life and hope will appear. Thank you for every ounce of your love and sweet messages for these past weeks. You are all that matter.
We spent the next 2 weeks building drains around our house, putting straps around our deck posts, learning the value of structural and geotechnical engineers, drying our crawl space, putting plastic film on the slope to reduce further water damage, applying to FEMA, being refused coverage by insurance and trying to make meaning around the devastation to our community and homes and beliefs about our own safety.
So many awarenesses over those first days that continue to evolve with each passing day: how alone I felt even though there were neighbors nearby, how much I missed my far-away family and Dave, how Kevin is a guy to have with you in any doomsday scenario, the power of a single electric light, the taste of fresh water from a spigot, how addicted I am to news and texts from loved ones, how privileged I am to own my own home that is still standing, and to have money to replace what we lost. I especially felt the pain and loss of every human being who has faced climate or environmental disasters. How ill-informed those of us in the midst of disasters are, how shocking it is to see the extent of the damage, how traumatizing it is to drive or walk through the wreckage, how hard it to see children’s worry and hear their questions, how sad to see parents’ blank stares, and how dates and times no longer matter.
The systemic awarenesses include the total failure of homeowners insurance (<1% of NC families or businesses are insured for this 1000 year flood); the failure of decades old water systems; the failure of overhead power lines; places that are 2000 feet above sea level can flood; deep hollows and valleys are lethal during floods; climate disasters are a risk to each of us; none of us is exempt from our common humanity of being decimated by water, soil, wind, or fire and we collectively feel the loss of homes, businesses, family and personal safety.
Today: Two thirds of Asheville residents still have no or dirty turbid water. We are all under a mandatory boil order for our water. Most of us have power back. Many have no internet. Schools are closed until at least the end of October, dentist offices and nonessential businesses are shut down, many are permanently out of work. Our artists have no place to live or work. Their original art is gone as are most of their tools. Our restaurants are doing their best to serve us, but many are shuttered or gone. Our town and our people are resilient. There are whisps in the air of rebuilding Asheville, but we are humbled by towns where most of the people and homes are simply drowned in the mud. As for us, we await the engineers to tell us how we can best stabilize our deck/house and slope, then we search for contractors to take it on. This morning a man came into the YMCA where I work who was found by the National Guard with no water; turns out he has had no water since last November. A woman from Hendersonville came for a shower to the Y and had lost her home, all clothes and her business. She had no food or water. The amazing staff at the Y gave her 90 days of Y membership free and loaded her up with supplies. We provided 800 or so showers per day to people so deeply grateful to have hot water on their hair, the humbling nature of their gratitude would stop you in your tracks. Target and Home Depot staff are living in the stores. First responders and FEMA staff are managing the disinformation. Community and religious organizations and volunteers are helping countless numbers of people 24/7.
And we, dear family and friends, keep learning and loving, and trusting that signs of life and hope will appear. Thank you for every ounce of your love and sweet messages for these past weeks. You are all that matter.
The systemic awarenesses include the total failure of homeowners insurance (<1% of NC families or businesses are insured for this 1000 year flood); the failure of decades old water systems; the failure of overhead power lines; places that are 2000 feet above sea level can flood; deep hollows and valleys are lethal during floods; climate disasters are a risk to each of us; none of us is exempt from our common humanity of being decimated by water, soil, wind, or fire and we collectively feel the loss of homes, businesses, family and personal safety.
Coleen Kivlahan, MD, MSPH