False alarm. Not going to die. Never mind.
Wait. What just happened? You mean now I get to plan what I would really do, instead of what I really did do? Great.
What I know now, is that I didn’t know much. The first thing I did when I got the text saying a missile was heading our way in Hawaii was to hug Chip and tell him I loved him.
I had the idea implanted in my head from my childhood that getting under the table was what I was supposed to do. But that didn’t look safe to me because it’s a glass table. The next best idea was to get behind the couch. Fearing that I might get trapped there, I got back up and got my water bottle. Then I saw how much glass was everywhere in my house. Pictures on the walls, lamps, vases, tabletops. So I grabbed my shoes so I could walk over all of the imagined broken bits of my life without cutting my feet to shreds. And I got my phone so I could text. And the remote to the TV. And the pillows from my bed because the floor is hard. That’s all I need.
I texted my kids at 8:19 a.m., 12 minutes after the initial warning. Realistically that would have been it. They would have gotten that last text, and the phone calls I was able to make wouldn’t have happened. They are saying 15 minutes is all we would have had. Quite frankly, as I look back at it and realize what the last 15 minutes of my life may have looked like, the only things that really would have had meaning was the hug I gave my partner and the text I sent my kids telling them I loved them.
I feel blessed in certain ways because I wasn’t terrified and freaking out. I wasn’t crying and begging God to save me. I wasn’t careening down the highway frantically trying to reach somewhere, someone or something. I wasn’t being kicked out of Walmart. (Yes, that really happened to folks. Oh sorry, there is a missile inbound, but please exit the store in a calm and orderly fashion.)
I was thinking about my kids and how this was going to upset them, but I didn’t have to worry about their safety because they weren’t on island.
Some things are so ironic. The day before this happened I traveled to another island to have a scan done. This is normal here. Islands other than Oahu don’t have the equipment that is available in the big city of Honolulu. So you fly there to have some procedures done. As I was reflecting on my day after I had gotten back to Maui, the one thing that stood out to me was how uncomfortable it was to be on a different island than my partner. I remember thinking, “What if something happened and I got stuck on this island by myself?” It could have been a completely different experience. That I was with him when it happened was a blessing, for sure. Even though he wasn’t hiding with me behind the couch, but out on the lanai watching for it to happen, at least I would have known what happened to him, and I got to tell him I loved him one more time.
It’s amazing to me that the thought of dying didn’t scare me. I have had to face my death before, when I was told there was a lump in my breast, and a biopsy needed to be done. There was this space of a couple weeks where the questions that permeated my world were: Am I going to die from this? If I do, have I lived my life in a way I don’t regret? What do I need to change for the answer to be yes?
I’m grateful for the preparation of that because contemplating your life and death takes longer than 15 minutes to do properly. Fifteen minutes is just long enough to get a good cry or panic going and some thought like, “Damn. I thought I was going to be able to figure this life out at some point”.
But the questions had already been answered for me. So in that way, I am grateful for my cancer.
So dying wasn’t the fear, but rather, what would happen if I didn’t die? Preparing for an emergency takes … well … preparation. I was not prepared. There are several things to consider here. First, can you even survive it? And what kind of “it” are we talking about? Tsunami, superstorms, earthquake, volcanoes, nuclear missile?
At one point I believed there wasn’t any surviving a nuclear bomb, and even trying was a waste of time. But I actually learned that 80 percent of the people here would have survived. However, being under the cushions behind the couch was not enough. It turns out if you are going to survive the radiation part after the bomb you should:
1) Close all windows and doors. Someone said tarps and duct tape because there are louvered windows in our place. This would not happen before, but afterward. Otherwise I would be trying to tape Chip outside the house.
2) Go inside to the innermost part of the house away from windows. Listen for any broadcast from local emergency stations (and hope they aren’t pulling your leg).
3) Have enough food, water and medications for two weeks because that’s how long you are supposed to stay inside. Luckily food is not a problem for me because our cupboards are full of random stuff we bought and never used. We would end up eating quinoa/grain & wild rice blend mixed with garbanzo beans and spiced with turmeric creamer. Turning on the water and filling the bathtub would have been a smart move because…
4) It turns out radioactive dust is an issue, and you are supposed to remove your clothes, seal them in a plastic bag and shower off using only soap because conditioner would bind radioactive dust to your hair. I am not even sure that water and electricity would be available.
What else?
5) A battery-operated radio, flashlight, batteries, water filtration, outdoor shower rig, hazmat suit, gas mask and chocolate. I don’t think there is room to put all this stuff in my condo. I don’t feel compelled to run out and get prepared. I can, however, imagine kicking myself for not doing it. So I probably will put something together. Let’s see, we already have a Brita water filter bottle; a bucket instead of an outdoor shower; a Mylar blanket instead of hazmat; flu face masks instead of gas mask. I hope it’s helpful if I ever need it. I also hope I have a little time to pull it together, because so far, I’m procrastinating.
What it comes down to for me is that love was the last thing on my mind. If it happens again, for sure I will turn the water on and fill the bathtub (at least), but then I might decide to be in gratitude for my life for a few minutes. During, not after. My kids know I love them, my family knows I love them, all my loved ones and friends know I love them. I thought I wasn’t going to be able to say it again so I made sure I did (mostly on Facebook though, I am not sure that counts. I might have more to do here).
In the end I might just decide to join Chip on the lanai and hold his hand.
Click here to read Laurie’s first column about the day she received a text message/missile warning .
