BLiR Spring Bash in T-Minus 56 Hours

BLiR Spring Bash is this Friday, the 15th starting at 6 and ending at 10. It will be a very fun, free night. Only cost is if you want to buy an event T-Shirt for $10 to help  us offset the cost of the event. Here is the link for the event page on Facebook. Letting us know you are coming registers you to win a free T-Shirt http://www.facebook.com/pages/Better-Life-In-Recovery/171246616294150?ref=hl#!/events/477488612314182/

So, I am getting ready to put together the final message I will be sharing at the end of the event. I am pretty excited about everything that we have gotten for the event. My hope is that we have the  people there to take advantage of all we have to offer. Here is a list of what we have to offer. We are still awaiting two acts that I will be calling soon to see if they are going to come. In fact, I think I will call them now! Be right back..............

So, I texted one and called the other. We shall see what happens. Personally, I don't think that we need  much more. Here is what we have going on so far. We have multiple games planned that we are going to play. Some of them will be for fun and some for free stuff. Really, most winners will get stuff. We have lots of stuff to give away: tacos, t-shirts, student Bibles, devotionals, study Bibles, CD's, bumpercar tickets at Incredible Pizza and a Nintendo Wii-U! I have not even gotten to play with the new Nintendo and I am giving 2 of them away on Friday.

Now on to the really fun stuff. We have Jeff Cvitak, who is a 6th Degree Black Belt doing a demonstration. I imagine he will make breaking things look really easy and I will try it and break my hand. We will have the DWI googles, so that people can get an idea of why they should never drink and drive! Then there is music by Kelsey Snapp, Kayleigh Amstutz and the Legacy. Amazing teenagers with tons of talent and you get to hear them free!!! Then we have the speakers: Ellie Hagen, Darin Mendez and David Stoecker. Should be an amazing night!

So, what can you do besides hear FREE music, eat FREE food, play FREE games, win FREE prizes and hear a positive message? Help us spread the word. Tell your parents, your kids, your friends, your youth group,  your pastor, your youth pastor, your best friend, your worst enemy.......you get the point. Invite everybody you know. We don't want to have fun by ourselves, we want to share the fun and get a message of hope and confidence to all who attend.

What better way to have fun and spread the power of recovery and Christ than through this event. Hearing these stories will make your faith stronger or maybe move you towards finding Christ. If not, than you will hear the 5 Pillars that everyone, from Christian to Atheist, can use to improve their lives and step away from depression, anxiety, anger and other emotions that lead us to picking up negative habits.

Here is our gratitude list:
Incredible Pizza Company: pizza and some free ride tickets 
Coca-Cola of the Ozarks: soda and energy drinks 
Rural Compassion: bottled water and Little Debbies The Nintendo Wii-U's have been provided by
Alternative Opportunities, Inc.: Nintendo Wii-U
New Life Church: location, clean-up and a Nintendo Wii-U
Henry's Towing in Nixa: Car for the Car Bash
Josh and Sabrina Hernandez: Donation for T-Shirt give away
Mardels: Bible's, Student Books and CDs to Give Away
Ryan Garrett: Study Bibles and Devotionals for give aways
Taco Bell: Free Taco coupons
OTC Print Shop: Best prices in town
Kelsey Snapp: Musical Talent
Kayleigh Amstutz:  Musical Talent
The Legacy: Musical Talent
Ellie Hagen: Speaker
Darin Mendez: Speaker
Jeff Cvitak: Ninja
Jessie Schlemper: MC for the Event
Michael Dube: Video Camera Wizard
Susan Highley: Guidance

Joplin - My FIrst Day Experience

I can tell you that I have helped a lot of people through traumatic things in their lives. I mean a lot of them. I have sometimes also experienced them personally but I have always experienced them vicariously through other people. I will also tell you that I had seen the television reports, and had seen the interviews with Joplin residents that had experienced loss. I also had been forewarned by other counselors who had been to Joplin the two previous days, and was debriefed on what to expect from the people who had survived the tornado during the drive to Joplin from Springfield.

I can tell you that all of those things mentioned above had occurred. I felt that I was ready to go and do what I could to support the psychological and emotional needs that the people of Joplin had. I know how to compartmentalize, and deal with the grief and loss that they are experiencing. I have done that before. I am used to dealing with traumatic events. Some of them were horrific, mothers losing sons and wives losing husbands. I had dealt with those types of situations before. I knew I was ready.

I would have been telling you the truth.

I will tell you that I have seen a lot of traumatic things in my life. I mean a lot of them. I have either experienced them personally or vicariously through other people. I will also tell you that I had seen the television reports, and seen videos and pictures of the tornado affected areas of Joplin. I also had been forewarned by other counselors who had been to Joplin the two previous days, and was debriefed on what I could expect to see during the drive to Joplin from Springfield.

I can tell you that all of those things mentioned above had occurred. I felt that I was ready to go and see the wake of the EF 5 tornado that hit the city of Joplin, cutting a 6 mile swath through her heart. I know how to compartmentalize, and deal with seeing traumatic events. I have done that before. I am used to dealing with seeing traumatic events. Some of them were horrific, multiple vehicle accidents, shootings, even a tornado that had destroyed homes and taken lives. I had dealt with those types of situations before. I knew I was ready.

I would have been lying to you.

I had definitely lied to myself. Looking back, I do not feel that anyone can be prepared to see some of the things that I saw. The sheer magnitude of the damage is unreal. It is on a scale that seems impossible to me. I saw things that I do not care if I ever see again. I saw things that looked physically and scientifically impossible, and probably were due to the laws of physics and gravity.

I saw a Burger King that was reduced to rubble, yet I could tell it was a Burger King based on the kids play area that was still intact. Brick building decimated but plastic slides and tubes not the least disheveled. I saw a two story house in which the bottom floor was semi-intact. On the second floor 3 of the 4 walls were gone. They simply were no longer, but on the one wall that was left standing a flat screen television was still mounted on it.

Now I know what they mean when they ask, "Why does it take this one and not the one next to it?" I saw buildings with everything including windows intact, and the building next to it not be recognizable. The winds in an EF 5 tornado are unreal. I had heard that x-rays and medical records had been discovered as far as 70 miles away. On our way into town we passed people on 4 wheelers and horseback that were about 10 miles outside of Joplin. They were looking for the bodies of those missing......10 miles from the affected area.

The magnitude of this tornado did not dawn on me until I drove down the areas that were directly hit by the massive tornado. The drama that has enfolded for the lives of those who live in Joplin became real when I saw people with tents pitched picking through the remains of what was once their houses, just hoping to find one Christmas ornament that their children had made them, or a photo of their husband who blew away in the tornado and is still missing. I saw truly broken people that had lost everything: family members, their job, their home, their friends, their vehicles and their wallets. They literally had nothing and no way to get anything.There were people with plastic boxes and garbage bags sifting through the remains of their house, at times somewhat standing and at other times a three foot high pile of wood and bricks..

Do not get me wrong, I also saw people turn out in droves to help. I saw the United Way, Convoy of Hope, more church vans than I could count, the Red Cross, etc. Restaurants were giving out free food and people were handing out free water. The drivers license bureau was waving the fee for replacement licenses. People came out to volunteer in such numbers that they had to turn them away. I saw hope and compassion. I saw people who knew that they mattered because people were there to help them, and they were going to make it through it. I saw people that were resilient, who could still smile and laugh and see the positives to come out of the ashes and mayhem.

But I also saw us, and that brought reality home to me. I looked in the rearview mirror as we drove through the carnage, and I saw 2 sets of eyes struggling to hold back the tears. That is when I let my tears, the ones that I had not realized I was holding back, fall. I knew that my heart was broken and that my life was forever changed by what I had experienced over the course of my first day of many, counseling and supporting people in Joplin.

There was one emotion that was nagging me as I drove through Joplin. I could not quite put my finger on what I was feeling. As I was driving back to Springfield I realized what that emotion was. It was Empathy. What I realized was that I felt hopeless and desolate even though I knew I got to go home. How must they feel? They don't get to leave, they are home.

45 Seconds: Memoirs of an ER Doctor from May 22, 2011

Emergency Department
after May 22 tornado
View more photos from our Flickr

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 4:00 pm 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 5:42 pm 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 EF5 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 losses.

“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.   

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 EF5 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 Regional 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’s 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 John’s Regional Medical Center, Joplin, MO

Serena Woods

Visit Serena's website: http://www.graceisforsinners.com/

Mike Dutze

Steve Donaldson

Visit Steve's Ministry @ www.ruralcompassion.org

Julie Stoecker