Donna Barry — The Human Spirit

“What kept me going, despite the devastation and incomprehensible conditions, was the resilience, strength, gratitude, hope, and spiritual grace of the people of Haiti. It was evident with each patient encounter, and again each evening when the haunting sound of 30,000 voices from the tent city below would join together in prayer and song.”

Of all the accomplishments in my nursing career, I am most proud of the opportunity to be a part of a federal medical team that responds to disasters. It has allowed me to serve my country in a way I never dreamed possible, but it has also been the most difficult. Working in a disaster situation challenges the physical and mental stamina of both responders and victims. Sleep easily rejuvenates the body. It’s the emotional impact that can take its toll. 

Disaster medicine wasn’t a career goal. In fact, I knew nothing about it until Hurricane Katrina occurred.  There was a desperate call for medical help, so I volunteered but wasn’t deployed until Hurricane Rita struck Louisiana three weeks later.  A disaster medical team was on site in Lake Charles, Louisiana and I joined them, working 12-16 hour shifts. Many patients were evacuees from fishing towns along the coast that were decimated from storm surge. Some were searching for family members who had refused to leave. As each story became more heart breaking, I recognized how much of a toll the experience was taking on my own mental health. Journaling each night after my shift helped a great deal to memorialize the experience and process the sadness I was feeling for my patients. I also began to look for at least one positive aspect of each patient encounter and focus on it. It was amazing how suddenly the resilience and strength of these individuals was so apparent and so contagious.

There have been several deployments since that time, but the most memorable was the 2010 Haiti Earthquake. By that time I had joined a federal disaster medical team. I never questioned whether I could handle the physical and emotional demands of Haiti that lay ahead. It just didn’t cross my mind. 

Nothing could have prepared us for Haiti. We arrived at Port au Prince airport to extreme heat and the putrid smell of burning garbage, tires, and human remains. Running water and electricity were nonexistent, and toilets were cardboard boxes lined with plastic. Under military guard we were transported in the back of dump trucks to our assignment. The team commander warned of horrific damage, intense odors and bodies lying in piles along the road. That was the moment when I recognized the importance of “filtering out” those sights too difficult to handle emotionally. It became a tool used frequently in the next three weeks – learning not to look at the horrors present, and to focus on the job to be done.

Since healthcare in Haiti is virtually nonexistent, and living conditions are a breeding ground for disease and malnutrition on the best of days, to provide a level of care that could not be supported afterward meant the individual would most likely succumb regardless of our actions. But many others with a greater potential to survive could be treated effectively. It was fundamental mass casualty field triage and agonizingly painful. 

Many of us would sit at night and talk through the decisions made, knowing that our choices of care would have been much different in our country. We cried and supported each other, and the conversations became a nightly therapeutic ritual. 

Each mission since my first deployment has helped me understand the trauma of disasters for both responders and victims. What I have seen in common with each is the strength of the human spirit if we allow ourselves to process our experiences in whatever way works best. Journaling was the means I chose during Hurricane Rita, and it helped, but I found what worked well for me was to share my feelings with fellow teammates who validated I wasn’t alone with my emotions. 

But, truth be told, it has always been the patients I’ve cared for during these missions that gave me the ability to cope with whatever was happening. I had been sent to help them as victims of a disaster, and yet it was they who gave me strength and resilience. I call it the therapeutic human spirit.

Excerpted from Courageous Well-Being for Nurses, Strategies for Renewal.