A Detour Through Disaster

The past few weeks have been unusual ones for me. I went to Mayo the last week in May for a fairly new procedure that we have been doing. This was my third time to have it done, and each time is slightly different. That part is planned.

This time, something went wrong. That part wasn’t planned, and meant we had to go right back up to Mayo. Fast; or, as fast as you can make a 12 hour trip. We left within two hours of finding out we had to go back. We had been hearing about flooding in Wisconsin and in Des Moines. But Wisconsin was east of where we were going, and Des Moines was west of where we were going. We weren’t particularly concerned, and the fact was we had to get up there, regardless of what was going on with the weather.

My mom kept calling, updating us on the breaking news she was watching. Storms were adding to the problems in Iowa, and flooding was occurring in several cities we would be going through. The further north we went, the more often Mom called, and the more concerned she got. Things were getting bad in a hurry, and we were getting closer of the worst of it.

Still, there wasn’t much we could do. There aren’t that many ways to get to Rochester, and we had to be there by morning. We couldn’t stop, and stopping would only give the weather time to get worse. My first indication of the flooding was in Iowa City. The Iowa River started about three miles before it should have.

When we got to Cedar Rapids about a half hour later, I was shocked. I knew they had flooded, but I had no idea it was that bad. The Cedar River runs through downtown, with pretty little bridges that cross over it every so often. The interstate runs above most of downtown, so you can look down into the city. Businesses had water up to their windows, and stop lights were flashing. It surprised me that electricity was still on, because the water was running so swiftly that there was literally a current to it.

We tried to detour around Waterloo on the advice of truckers at a gas station. We managed to miss the first turn and ended up in downtown anyway, at the edge of the water. Sigh. We found a friendly fireman, who got us back on track.

The last 108 miles of the trip was some of the most stressful of my life. It was raining harder than I have ever seen it rain. We couldn’t use our high beams because they glared back, like in fog. We literally watched the center yellow line and the right white line to keep ourselves on the road. And, it appeared to be raining frogs. The critters were coming from everywhere, hopping across the pavement. I have no idea why, other than perhaps they were drowning in the downpour and trying to get to higher ground.

When we finally made it to the hotel around 2 a.m. Thursday, we were all so keyed up none of us could sleep. I think I finally managed to drift off around 5, but then had to get up at 7 so I could get ready for my appointment.

Mayo got me fixed, my regular doctor did a little fine tuning and a little fuming over the other procedure, and we got back on the road headed home Friday morning after I spent Thursday night recovering from Mayo and their ever present needles.

We had not been that concerned coming up. We were truly worried coming home, having watched local news for a day. Roads were closed, entire cities were evacuated; and we had no idea what the best way to get home would be. We couldn’t go east or west because major interstates were shut down in both directions. We decided to try our regular route and take whatever detours were necessary.

I was simply awestruck at what a difference 48 hours made. Waterloo was completely shut off, several miles before we made it to the city. This time we successfully detoured around it.
Cedar Rapids had one lane open on the Interstate, the rest was reserved for emergency vehicles only. Every exit, every roadway had detour or road closed signs up. Businesses that had water up to the windows on Wednesday night now were under water. The water had completely covered the bridges that ran under the interstate, and was lapping at the supports of the road we were on. Railroad bridges were covered, like they didn’t even exist. I’ve been through there enough to know they are down there, but the water made it look like a large lake.

Wednesday, only downtown was affected. Friday, neighborhoods miles away from the city center was affected. The water just kept going as we drove, for mile after mile after mile. I was shocked that so much water could have come in so little time, but there it was. Seeing it on the news is different from driving through it, from seeing the devastation in person.

As we drove and the water just kept on going, I realized the extent of the devastation for these people. Their beautiful city, their homes, their businesses and jobs all destroyed. Thousands of people in crisis, one that will continue for months if not years.

We left on a trip up to Minnesota because I was having a crisis. I had only myself on my mind. Today marks the sixth anniversary of my illness. It is a date I hoped not to mark, or at least that I hoped to be doing significantly better by.

Driving home through the devastated cities, through the destruction something as simple as water can bring, made me realize that my problems are so very insignificant. I have a home, safe and dry. I am in no danger of losing it; of wondering where I will go and how long I will have to stay there. I’m not dealing with sludge and toxic substances in my home, with everything I own destroyed even though the water is gone.

Everyone suffers. Everyone has problems. Everyone has pain of some type; either physical or mental or emotional. It’s funny how things work. I had to take a detour to get back on track.