Everyone in the Joplin area alright?
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jason
Well-known member
More tornado producing storms expected on Tuesday. It is supposed to be a really bad day.
rackranch
Well-known member
Thoughts and prayers for the Families...
SWMO
Well-known member
I don't know for certain but unless a smaller tornado went through their area they are South of the tornado that went through Joplin on Sun afternoon. Death toll now stand at 116 and I expect that number to rise. The damage to homes and businesses is hard to fathom. entire blocks have completely vanished. Joplin lost their High School, their Technical school and damage to several of their other schools. Starting school this fall will be a huge task. The damage to the tax base of Joplin is tremendous. Many businesses are no just damaged they are gone. St Johns hospital looks like it was hit by a very large bomb.
It has rained heavily off and on all day today hampering the search and rescue efforts. Many people are still missing at this time. Hopefully just displaced and not gone forever.
Judy
It has rained heavily off and on all day today hampering the search and rescue efforts. Many people are still missing at this time. Hopefully just displaced and not gone forever.
Judy
cowgirl864
Well-known member
they are in our prayers
coachmac
Well-known member
First, thank you to everyone from around the SP nation. The prayers are being heard and answered. It was a rough evening night for everyone in our area. I havent takled to one person that has not had someone impacted by this storm. Like Judy stated, current, still accumulating total, is 116. My brother works for Crossland Heavy and we utilized their equipment last night to clear streets from main and 22nd to Conneticut. For those familiar with Joplin, where JHS was you could see the heavey equipment staging area in the Academy parking lot and the EMS staging area on 21st and main at the same time with NO obstructions in between. It is the most amazing thing I have ever been involved with. We worked from 7pm till 630 this morning and then I had to break free, come home, feed cows, and go teach. My brother and the crossland crew (God Bless them) continued to work throughout the day. People that are helping are exhausted but you really feel like you have to go back and throw your hat in the ring. The Looters need dealt with as with any disaster of this magnitude. They are heartless people that I hope I run into while searching. Now we are flooding pretty badly. Not sure how much rain we have had, but some friends had to come over tonight because their house is flooded. IF we do not have school tomorrow, I am going back to joplin to do what I can. I have quite a few pics that I will post later and many chances to take pics that I had to pass on. Some things just left me numb and almost unable to move. There will be many stories of heroics from this storm in the next few days, but each person will tell you they arent heros, just people that are doing what is right to help their neighbor. The pictures on TV are amazingly bad, but I dont have the vocabulary to descrbe just how horrible it is. All i can ask for is prayer for Southwest Missouri, as prayer is really affordable and abundant when called upon.
coachmac
Well-known member
From the path of the tornado, the Glenn Oak/Hartman sale should not be affected by it. Now, that does not mean that Dr. Fackler is not working his fingers numb dealing with the the huge numbers of injured. It is really bad and for those that come into the sale in the next week or so...... be prepared. Like I said before.... pictures give you a small window of what you will get to see if you choose.
jason
Well-known member
coachmac said:
The photos are unreal, I can't imagine seeing it in person. Thanks for being able to help out. (angel)
Sassy2899
Well-known member
- Joined
- Aug 11, 2010
- Messages
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It is very unfortunate what has happened to the people of Joplin. Prayers went are out for everyone affected by the storm. I heard that there were two Police officers that were unfortunatly struck by lighting this evening. My prayers reach them as well. (angel)
Jason said:
(angel) My prayers are with all of the people in Joplin!!! It always amazes me to see how fast a community can come together to work towards a common goal. Makes me so proud to be a part of something bigger that is helping people. Very blessed that all of my friends and family were ALIVE and ok.....damage to homes, but still are alive
And Coachmac you are right----to see the devastation in person is unimaginable compared to what you see in pictures. I was in the Tuscaloosa, AL Mall for work (opening a new store) when the tornado hit. When we walked out and saw what mother nature was capable of in a short amount of time took the breath out of me. I felt so helpless for all of the people just wandering around--knowing that I was coming back to KS to my home and town perfectly in tact. Now for Joplin to happen is so sad. Prayers to all of you and your families!! (angel)
BarRcattle
Well-known member
The Hartman/Glen Oaks sale is still on as scheduled. This has been confirmed on both of their web pages. If you are traveling there do not try to stay in Joplin. (The hotels are without power for the most part) Neosho, Miami and Carthage hotels are ok.
SWMO
Well-known member
God Bless Crossland Construction and their crews. They are alway some of the first to respond when help is needed in our area.
I would agree with Bar R. The hotel situation in Joplin will not be good this weekend. PM me if you need phone numbers for hotels in Carthage.
I would agree with Bar R. The hotel situation in Joplin will not be good this weekend. PM me if you need phone numbers for hotels in Carthage.
firesweepranch
Well-known member
<I would agree with Bar R. The hotel situation in Joplin will not be good this weekend. PM me if you need phone numbers for hotels in Carthage.>
Judy are you going? I was thinking about going just to see the cattle, but not sure now.
Did you guys get any damage? We had something hit (either small tornado or high winds) near us in Freistatt, trees and power lines down in roads and such, a few homes in Monette destroyed, but we were fortunate and only lost a few fence lines from trees going over. All of those but one were in pasture that was empty getting ready to cut for hay, so no cattle out or lost.
Bracing for tonight; another one set up to hit our way!
Kris
Judy are you going? I was thinking about going just to see the cattle, but not sure now.
Did you guys get any damage? We had something hit (either small tornado or high winds) near us in Freistatt, trees and power lines down in roads and such, a few homes in Monette destroyed, but we were fortunate and only lost a few fence lines from trees going over. All of those but one were in pasture that was empty getting ready to cut for hay, so no cattle out or lost.
Bracing for tonight; another one set up to hit our way!
Kris
coachmac
Well-known member
Update - Gov Nixon held a prayer service with community religious leadership and asked for assistance from a higher power. President is suppose to be in Joplin Sunday. Communities around Missouri and the Midwest have been sending assistance I the form of workers, police, fire, clergy, and loads of supplies for people that are displaced. They attempted to make homeowners come by and get a card that allowed them into certain areas. After 700+ people showed up and inundated them, they aborted the idea... But not before quite a bit of time was wasted by those in line. Live and learn. While we are accustomed to having tornados, we are learning as we go on many levels. Crossland continues to work diligently on many different fronts. I worked beside Mark Sell (owner) for a good portion of the day yesterday helping families recover what took a lifetime or more to collect... And seven minutes to devastate! The local restaurants, church groups and other volunteers did an awesome job bringing food and water around to the people working in aid of others. It is overwhelming at times and is next to impossible to remove yourself from the effort. Even while we were back in school today, mentally, my mind wasn't there. I listened to many stories yesterday from people that lived through the tornado. Truly amazing stories of survival, faith and unbelievable resolve. I can't finish this without thanking Jimmie McAlister and Dave Ritcheson for working the biggest part of the last three days doing whatever they could with the backhoes they were operating. Still under a search and rescue operation. No live recoveries today and the death toll is now up too 125 after three bodies were found overnight. Currently 14,000 out of power butcrews from across the country are working hard to help reduce that number. 417 659 5464 is the number you need to contact to find out about loved ones for those wondering what/who to contact. Any donations are readily accepted including toiletries, but money donations could be the most useful at this point as well!
coachmac
Well-known member
Been hearing story after story from families about their experience during this storm. Just asking for more prayers! Close to three hundred still missing. Keep the missing as well as their families lifted up if possible.
CAB
Well-known member
A friend sent this to me today.
45 Seconds: Memoirs of an ER Doctor from May 22, 2011.
My name is Dr. Kevin Kikta, and I was one of two emergency room doctors who were on duty at St. John’s Regional Medical Center in Joplin , MO on Sunday May 22,2011.
You never know that it will be the most important day of your life until the day is over. The day started like any other day for me: waking up, eating, going to the gym, showering, and going to my 4 00pm ER shift. As I drove to the hospital I mentally prepared for my shift as I always do, but nothing could ever have prepared me for what was going to happen on this shift. Things were normal for the first hour and half. At approximately 5:30 pm we received a warning that a tornado had been spotted. . Although I work in Joplin and went to medical school in Oklahoma , I live in New Jersey , and I have never seen or been in a tornado. I learned that a “code gray” was being called. We were to start bringing patients to safer spots within the ED and hospital.
At 5: 42pm a security guard yelled to everyone, “Take cover! We are about to get hit by a tornado!” I ran with a pregnant RN, Shilo Cook, while others scattered to various places, to the only place that I was familiar with in the hospital without windows, a small doctor’s office in the ED. Together, Shilo and I tremored and huddled under a desk. We heard a loud horrifying sound like a large locomotive ripping through the hospital. The whole hospital shook and vibrated as we heard glass shattering, light bulbs popping, walls collapsing, people screaming, the ceiling caving in above us, and water pipes breaking, showering water down on everything. We suffered this in complete darkness, unaware of anyone else’s status, worried, scared. We could feel a tight pressure in our heads as the tornado annihilated the hospital and the surrounding area. The whole process took about 45 seconds, but seemed like eternity. The hospital had just taken a direct hit from a category EF-4 tornado.
Then it was over. Just 45 seconds. 45 long seconds. We looked at each other, terrified, and thanked God that we were alive. We didn’t know, but hoped that it was safe enough to go back out to the ED, find the rest of the staff and patients, and assess our loses.
“Like a bomb went off. ” That’s the only way that I can describe what we saw next. Patients were coming into the ED in droves. It was absolute, utter chaos. They were limping, bleeding, crying, terrified, with debris and glass sticking out of them, just thankful to be alive. The floor was covered with about 3 inches of water, there was no power, not even backup generators, rendering it completely dark and eerie in the ED. The frightening aroma of methane gas leaking from the broken gas lines permeated the air; we knew, but did not dare mention aloud, what that meant. I redoubled my pace.
We had to use flashlights to direct ourselves to the crying and wounded. Where did all the flashlights come from ? I’ll never know, but immediately, and thankfully, my years of training in emergency procedures kicked in. There was no power, but our mental generators, were up and running, and on high test adrenaline. We had no cell phone service in the first hour, so we were not even able to call for help and backup in the ED.
I remember a patient in his early 20’s gasping for breath, telling me that he was going to die. After a quick exam, I removed the large shard of glass from his back, made the clinical diagnosis of a pneumothorax (collapsed lung) and gathered supplies from wherever I could locate them to insert a thoracostomy tube in him. He was a trooper; I’ll never forget his courage. He allowed me to do this without any local anesthetic since none could be found. With his life threatening injuries I knew he was running out of time, and it had to be done. Quickly. Imagine my relief when I heard a big rush of air, and breath sounds again; fortunately, I was able to get him transported out. I immediately moved on to the next patient, .an asthmatic in status asthmaticus. We didn’t even have the option of trying a nebulizer treatment or steroids, but I was able to get him intubated using a flashlight that I held in my mouth. A small child of approximately 3-4 years of age was crying; he had a large avulsion of skin to his neck and spine. The gaping wound revealed his cervical spine and upper thoracic spine bones. I could actually count his vertebrae with my fingers. This was a child, his whole life ahead of him, suffering life threatening wounds in front of me, his eyes pleading me to help him.. We could not find any pediatric C collars in the darkness, and water from the shattered main pipes was once again showering down upon all of us. Fortunately, we were able to get him immobilized with towels, and start an IV with fluids and pain meds before shipping him out. We felt paralyzed and helpless ourselves. I didn’t even know a lot of the RN’s I was working with. They were from departments scattered all over the hospital. It didn’t matter. We worked as a team, determined to save lives. There were no specialists available-- my orthopedist was trapped in the OR. We were it, and we knew we had to get patients out of the hospital as quickly as possible. As we were shuffling them out, the fire department showed up and helped us to evacuate. Together we worked furiously, motivated by the knowledge and fear that the methane leaks could cause the hospital could blow up at any minute.
Things were no better outside of the ED. I saw a man crushed under a large SUV, still alive, begging for help; another one was dead, impaled by a street sign through his chest. Wounded people were walking, staggering, all over, dazed and shocked. All around us was chaos, reminding me of scenes in a war movie, or newsreels from bombings in Bagdad . Except this was right in front of me and it had happened in just 45 seconds. My own car was blown away. Gone. Seemingly evaporated. We searched within a half mile radius later that night, but never found the car, only the littered, crumpled remains of former cars, and a John Deere tractor that had blown in from miles away.
Tragedy has a way of revealing human goodness. As I worked, surrounded by devastation and suffering , I realized I was not alone. The people of the community of Joplin were absolutely incredible. Within minutes of the horrific event, local residents showed up in pickups and sport utility vehicles, all offering to help transport the wounded to other facilities, including Freeman, the trauma center literally across the street. Ironically, it had sustained only minimal damage and was functioning (although I’m sure overwhelmed). I carried on, grateful for the help of the community. At one point I had placed a conscious intubated patient in the back of a pickup truck with someone, a layman, for transport. The patient was self- ventilating himself, and I gave instructions to someone with absolutely no medical knowledge on how to bag the patient until they got to Freeman.
Within hours I estimated that over 100 EMS units showed up from various towns, counties and four different states. Considering the circumstances, their response time was miraculous. . Roads were blocked with downed utility lines, smashed up cars in piles, and they still made it through.
We continued to carry patients out of the hospital on anything that we could find: sheets, stretchers, broken doors, mattresses, wheelchairs—anything that could be used as a transport mechanism.
As I finished up what I could do at St John’s , I walked with two RN’s, Shilo Cook and Julie Vandorn, to a makeshift MASH center that was being set up miles away at Memorial Hall. We walked where flourishing neighborhoods once stood, astonished to see only the disastrous remains of flattened homes, body parts, and dead people everywhere. I saw a small dog just wimpering in circles over his master who was dead, unaware that his master would not ever play with him again. At one point we tended to a young woman who just stood crying over her dead mother who was crushed by her own home. The young woman covered her mother up with a blanket and then asked all of us, “What should I do?” We had no answer for her, but silence and tears.
By this time news crews and photographers were starting to swarm around, and we were able to get a ride to Memorial Hall from another RN. The chaos was slightly more controlled at Memorial Hall. I was relieved to see many of my colleagues, doctors from every specialty, helping out. It was amazing to be able to see life again. It was also amazing to see how fast workers mobilized to set up this MASH unit under the circumstances. Supplies, food, drink, generators, exam tables, all were there—except pharmaceutical pain meds. I sutured multiple lacerations, and splinted many fractures, including some open with bone exposed, and then intubated another patient with severe COPD, slightly better controlled conditions this time, but still less than optimal.
But we really needed pain meds. I managed to go back to the St John’s with another physician, pharmacist, and a sheriff’s officer. Luckily, security let us in to a highly guarded pharmacy to bring back a garbage bucket sized supply of pain meds.
At about midnight I walked around the parking lot of St. John’s with local law enforcement officers looking for anyone who might be alive or trapped in crushed cars. They spray painted “X”s on the fortunate vehicles that had been searched without finding anyone inside. The unfortunate vehicles wore “X’s” and sprayed-on numerals, indicating the number of dead inside, crushed in their cars, cars which now resembled flattened recycled aluminum cans the tornado had crumpled in her iron hands, an EF4 tornado, one of the worst in history, whipping through this quiet town with demonic strength. I continued back to Memorial hall into the early morning hours until my ER colleagues told me it was time for me to go home. I was completely exhausted. I had seen enough of my first tornado.
How can one describe these indescribable scenes of destruction? The next day I saw news coverage of this horrible, deadly tornado. It was excellent coverage, and Mike Bettes from the Weather Channel did a great job, but there is nothing that pictures and video can depict compared to seeing it in person. That video will play forever in my mind.
I would like to express my sincerest gratitude to everyone involved in helping during this nightmarish disaster. My fellow doctors, RN’s, techs, and all of the staff from St. John’s . I have worked at St John’s for approximately 2 years, and I have always been proud to say that I was a physician at St John’s in Joplin , MO. The smart, selfless and immediate response of the professionals and the community during this catastrophe proves to me that St John’s and the surrounding community are special,. I am beyond proud
To the members of this community, the health care workers from states away, and especially Freeman Medical Center , I commend everyone on unselfishly coming together and giving 110% the way that you all did, even in your own time of need. St John ‘s Medical Center is gone, but her spirit and goodness lives on in each of you.
EMS , you should be proud of yourselves. You were all excellent, and did a great job despite incredible difficulties and against all odds
For all of the injured who I treated, although I do not remember your names (nor would I expect you to remember mine) I will never forget your faces. I’m glad that I was able to make a difference and help in the best way that I knew how, and hopefully give some of you a chance at rebuilding your lives again.
For those whom I was not able to get to or treat, I apologize whole heartedly.
Last, but not least, thank you, and God Bless you, Mercy/St John for providing incredible care in good times and even more so, in times of the unthinkable, and for all the training that enabled us to be a team and treat the people and save lives.
Sincerely,
Kevin J. Kikta, DO
Department of Emergency Medicine
Mercy/St Johns Regional Medical Center, Joplin , MO
45 Seconds: Memoirs of an ER Doctor from May 22, 2011.
My name is Dr. Kevin Kikta, and I was one of two emergency room doctors who were on duty at St. John’s Regional Medical Center in Joplin , MO on Sunday May 22,2011.
You never know that it will be the most important day of your life until the day is over. The day started like any other day for me: waking up, eating, going to the gym, showering, and going to my 4 00pm ER shift. As I drove to the hospital I mentally prepared for my shift as I always do, but nothing could ever have prepared me for what was going to happen on this shift. Things were normal for the first hour and half. At approximately 5:30 pm we received a warning that a tornado had been spotted. . Although I work in Joplin and went to medical school in Oklahoma , I live in New Jersey , and I have never seen or been in a tornado. I learned that a “code gray” was being called. We were to start bringing patients to safer spots within the ED and hospital.
At 5: 42pm a security guard yelled to everyone, “Take cover! We are about to get hit by a tornado!” I ran with a pregnant RN, Shilo Cook, while others scattered to various places, to the only place that I was familiar with in the hospital without windows, a small doctor’s office in the ED. Together, Shilo and I tremored and huddled under a desk. We heard a loud horrifying sound like a large locomotive ripping through the hospital. The whole hospital shook and vibrated as we heard glass shattering, light bulbs popping, walls collapsing, people screaming, the ceiling caving in above us, and water pipes breaking, showering water down on everything. We suffered this in complete darkness, unaware of anyone else’s status, worried, scared. We could feel a tight pressure in our heads as the tornado annihilated the hospital and the surrounding area. The whole process took about 45 seconds, but seemed like eternity. The hospital had just taken a direct hit from a category EF-4 tornado.
Then it was over. Just 45 seconds. 45 long seconds. We looked at each other, terrified, and thanked God that we were alive. We didn’t know, but hoped that it was safe enough to go back out to the ED, find the rest of the staff and patients, and assess our loses.
“Like a bomb went off. ” That’s the only way that I can describe what we saw next. Patients were coming into the ED in droves. It was absolute, utter chaos. They were limping, bleeding, crying, terrified, with debris and glass sticking out of them, just thankful to be alive. The floor was covered with about 3 inches of water, there was no power, not even backup generators, rendering it completely dark and eerie in the ED. The frightening aroma of methane gas leaking from the broken gas lines permeated the air; we knew, but did not dare mention aloud, what that meant. I redoubled my pace.
We had to use flashlights to direct ourselves to the crying and wounded. Where did all the flashlights come from ? I’ll never know, but immediately, and thankfully, my years of training in emergency procedures kicked in. There was no power, but our mental generators, were up and running, and on high test adrenaline. We had no cell phone service in the first hour, so we were not even able to call for help and backup in the ED.
I remember a patient in his early 20’s gasping for breath, telling me that he was going to die. After a quick exam, I removed the large shard of glass from his back, made the clinical diagnosis of a pneumothorax (collapsed lung) and gathered supplies from wherever I could locate them to insert a thoracostomy tube in him. He was a trooper; I’ll never forget his courage. He allowed me to do this without any local anesthetic since none could be found. With his life threatening injuries I knew he was running out of time, and it had to be done. Quickly. Imagine my relief when I heard a big rush of air, and breath sounds again; fortunately, I was able to get him transported out. I immediately moved on to the next patient, .an asthmatic in status asthmaticus. We didn’t even have the option of trying a nebulizer treatment or steroids, but I was able to get him intubated using a flashlight that I held in my mouth. A small child of approximately 3-4 years of age was crying; he had a large avulsion of skin to his neck and spine. The gaping wound revealed his cervical spine and upper thoracic spine bones. I could actually count his vertebrae with my fingers. This was a child, his whole life ahead of him, suffering life threatening wounds in front of me, his eyes pleading me to help him.. We could not find any pediatric C collars in the darkness, and water from the shattered main pipes was once again showering down upon all of us. Fortunately, we were able to get him immobilized with towels, and start an IV with fluids and pain meds before shipping him out. We felt paralyzed and helpless ourselves. I didn’t even know a lot of the RN’s I was working with. They were from departments scattered all over the hospital. It didn’t matter. We worked as a team, determined to save lives. There were no specialists available-- my orthopedist was trapped in the OR. We were it, and we knew we had to get patients out of the hospital as quickly as possible. As we were shuffling them out, the fire department showed up and helped us to evacuate. Together we worked furiously, motivated by the knowledge and fear that the methane leaks could cause the hospital could blow up at any minute.
Things were no better outside of the ED. I saw a man crushed under a large SUV, still alive, begging for help; another one was dead, impaled by a street sign through his chest. Wounded people were walking, staggering, all over, dazed and shocked. All around us was chaos, reminding me of scenes in a war movie, or newsreels from bombings in Bagdad . Except this was right in front of me and it had happened in just 45 seconds. My own car was blown away. Gone. Seemingly evaporated. We searched within a half mile radius later that night, but never found the car, only the littered, crumpled remains of former cars, and a John Deere tractor that had blown in from miles away.
Tragedy has a way of revealing human goodness. As I worked, surrounded by devastation and suffering , I realized I was not alone. The people of the community of Joplin were absolutely incredible. Within minutes of the horrific event, local residents showed up in pickups and sport utility vehicles, all offering to help transport the wounded to other facilities, including Freeman, the trauma center literally across the street. Ironically, it had sustained only minimal damage and was functioning (although I’m sure overwhelmed). I carried on, grateful for the help of the community. At one point I had placed a conscious intubated patient in the back of a pickup truck with someone, a layman, for transport. The patient was self- ventilating himself, and I gave instructions to someone with absolutely no medical knowledge on how to bag the patient until they got to Freeman.
Within hours I estimated that over 100 EMS units showed up from various towns, counties and four different states. Considering the circumstances, their response time was miraculous. . Roads were blocked with downed utility lines, smashed up cars in piles, and they still made it through.
We continued to carry patients out of the hospital on anything that we could find: sheets, stretchers, broken doors, mattresses, wheelchairs—anything that could be used as a transport mechanism.
As I finished up what I could do at St John’s , I walked with two RN’s, Shilo Cook and Julie Vandorn, to a makeshift MASH center that was being set up miles away at Memorial Hall. We walked where flourishing neighborhoods once stood, astonished to see only the disastrous remains of flattened homes, body parts, and dead people everywhere. I saw a small dog just wimpering in circles over his master who was dead, unaware that his master would not ever play with him again. At one point we tended to a young woman who just stood crying over her dead mother who was crushed by her own home. The young woman covered her mother up with a blanket and then asked all of us, “What should I do?” We had no answer for her, but silence and tears.
By this time news crews and photographers were starting to swarm around, and we were able to get a ride to Memorial Hall from another RN. The chaos was slightly more controlled at Memorial Hall. I was relieved to see many of my colleagues, doctors from every specialty, helping out. It was amazing to be able to see life again. It was also amazing to see how fast workers mobilized to set up this MASH unit under the circumstances. Supplies, food, drink, generators, exam tables, all were there—except pharmaceutical pain meds. I sutured multiple lacerations, and splinted many fractures, including some open with bone exposed, and then intubated another patient with severe COPD, slightly better controlled conditions this time, but still less than optimal.
But we really needed pain meds. I managed to go back to the St John’s with another physician, pharmacist, and a sheriff’s officer. Luckily, security let us in to a highly guarded pharmacy to bring back a garbage bucket sized supply of pain meds.
At about midnight I walked around the parking lot of St. John’s with local law enforcement officers looking for anyone who might be alive or trapped in crushed cars. They spray painted “X”s on the fortunate vehicles that had been searched without finding anyone inside. The unfortunate vehicles wore “X’s” and sprayed-on numerals, indicating the number of dead inside, crushed in their cars, cars which now resembled flattened recycled aluminum cans the tornado had crumpled in her iron hands, an EF4 tornado, one of the worst in history, whipping through this quiet town with demonic strength. I continued back to Memorial hall into the early morning hours until my ER colleagues told me it was time for me to go home. I was completely exhausted. I had seen enough of my first tornado.
How can one describe these indescribable scenes of destruction? The next day I saw news coverage of this horrible, deadly tornado. It was excellent coverage, and Mike Bettes from the Weather Channel did a great job, but there is nothing that pictures and video can depict compared to seeing it in person. That video will play forever in my mind.
I would like to express my sincerest gratitude to everyone involved in helping during this nightmarish disaster. My fellow doctors, RN’s, techs, and all of the staff from St. John’s . I have worked at St John’s for approximately 2 years, and I have always been proud to say that I was a physician at St John’s in Joplin , MO. The smart, selfless and immediate response of the professionals and the community during this catastrophe proves to me that St John’s and the surrounding community are special,. I am beyond proud
To the members of this community, the health care workers from states away, and especially Freeman Medical Center , I commend everyone on unselfishly coming together and giving 110% the way that you all did, even in your own time of need. St John ‘s Medical Center is gone, but her spirit and goodness lives on in each of you.
EMS , you should be proud of yourselves. You were all excellent, and did a great job despite incredible difficulties and against all odds
For all of the injured who I treated, although I do not remember your names (nor would I expect you to remember mine) I will never forget your faces. I’m glad that I was able to make a difference and help in the best way that I knew how, and hopefully give some of you a chance at rebuilding your lives again.
For those whom I was not able to get to or treat, I apologize whole heartedly.
Last, but not least, thank you, and God Bless you, Mercy/St John for providing incredible care in good times and even more so, in times of the unthinkable, and for all the training that enabled us to be a team and treat the people and save lives.
Sincerely,
Kevin J. Kikta, DO
Department of Emergency Medicine
Mercy/St Johns Regional Medical Center, Joplin , MO
justintime
Well-known member
An amazing story of true bravery and courage. This makes me realize that the problems we are experiencing with water and flooding are not really problems at all. Compared to what happened in Joplin, as well as in many other places, what we think of as being problems are really just inconveniences. I heard on the radio a few days ago, that where I live in S Saskatchewan is actually in the very northern edge of what is referred to as Tornado alley. Some storm chasers are setting up camp in this area, as they are expecting there will be some tornado activity here. I hope they are wrong, and I hope that we will not hear of any more sad stories like what happened in the Joplin area.
cowgirl864
Well-known member
Thank You, CAB for passing that amazing story on
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