The Honolulu Star-Bulletin on the Web.
RICHARD WALKER / RWALKER@STARBULLETIN.COM
Dale Reimer, director of emergency services at Kapiolani Medical Center, came to Kapiolani three years ago as Director of Women & Newborn Services. She worked for Tucson Medical Center in Arizona for 25 years as a nurse in pediatric ICU and Labor & Delivery, followed by 22 years as nursing director.
At 4:30 a.m. I received a call from my son in San Diego. "Mom, have you heard? Turn on the TV." Even as he described what I was soon to see, I was horrified. But he had also called to deliver the gift of caring. The Nurse
"What's really important? Many of us in the hospital had to think through that question twice: once for our personal lives and the other for our hospital lives."
By Dale Reimer
Director of emergency services
Kapiolani Medical Center For Women And Children
"Mom, I really called to tell you that I love you."
[ WE REMEMBER ]
I hung up and called the hospital. Would we have fallout from the attack here in Hawaii, and were we prepared? As head of Kapiolani's emergency room, I checked first on the hospital's alert status and our staffing situation. We called in more staff to cover.
Early on, we knew commercial planes were still in the air heading toward Honolulu, but not whether they were a threat. We worked quickly to complete our resource and materials checks. Yes, we had three days of water, three days of medical supplies and were relieved to learn the police department had already dispatched officers to water storage areas to guard this precious resource.
We checked on the blood supply and prepared a notice to employees, asking them to donate, just in case. We went through the full drill of preparing for a disaster, setting up contingency plans for how we would handle both normal patient traffic and mass casualty victims.
ERs are always busy and we saw lots of patients. Many had vague complaints and feelings of anxiety, so we made a lot of referrals to community agencies. Over the next few days, we continued to see patients with the same, vague symptoms: "I don't know what's wrong with me. I just don't feel right -- I'm out of balance." Distress was a common word people used to describe their feelings.
We noticed repeaters, the same patients returning with the same vague feelings of distress. When you work in ER, you come to recognize that there is a fragile group of people just able to maintain themselves. When something like this happens, they can no longer maintain that delicate balance and need to seek safety, stability and care. Many find their way to our doorstep.
Our staff was outstanding on Sept. 11 and the days that followed. They reported to work, prepared for the worst and tended to the needs of others, even though they were feeling off-balance themselves. Like everyone else, their emotions were hit hard, and they had a difficult time focusing.
But they did and were able to place the needs of the hospital and community above their own. I could see they were torn at having to be at work instead of at home with their families. They listened to patients share their relief at learning family members were safe on the mainland, but wondered about their own.
One hospital employee had a brother who worked in one of the twin towers. She worried for seven hours not knowing if he was OK. He was. He had been sent on an errand and was out of the building. None of his co-workers made it, though.
That day made all of us put things into perspective. What's really important? Many of us in the hospital had to think through that question twice: once for our personal lives and the other for our hospital lives.
My son's call allowed me to focus on the hospital question. If Hawaii had been the site of the attack, would we have been able to handle it? My answer is yes. And if I didn't know whether my son was safe? My answer is still yes, because I know if he were lucky enough to be in the care of another medical emergency facility, they would do their best to make sure he could call me to say, "I love you, Mom."
