Normalcy?

By Judge David Langham

This week I am watching people traverse a proverbial long road to normalcy. On Sunday, October 7, 2018 Florida Governor Rick Scott declared a state of emergency in 26 Florida counties. This stretched from the Alabama state line (Pensacola) to Interstate 75 (Columbia County, around Lake City). The breadth was over 300 miles. #Michael had formed in the lower Gulf of Mexico and predictions showed him headed north, fast.

Predictions are a difficult thing. Many people discuss disasters, particularly immediately after one. Whether flood, earthquake, fire, tornado, hurricane, or otherwise, people have both lived through one and recovered from one. To a person, they all acknowledge the impact and the effect on their lives. But, they also seem eager to compare their own risk to others’. We hear “at least with _______” there is _____,” or “at least we did not have to face ________.” There is a tendency to find something in what threatens or affects that is “better” than what others face.  That is perhaps empathy, or perhaps we are just reassuring ourselves by believing someone else has it harder?

Storm path predictions have become impressively accurate. On Sunday, the National Hurricane Center (NHC) predicted that Michael would impact in the area of Cape San Blas (that “point” of Florida that sticks down into the Gulf). From the naming of the storm, that was the prediction, with minor adjustments and changes. And that was just about where #Michael struck. Where the NHC says a storm will strike, they are usually right. That is one of those I often hear from people: “at least with hurricanes  there is warning.” There is some merit to that. 

Monday, I was still mentally preparing for the long flight to Comp Laude. I was slated for the People’s Choice and had been honored to be asked to present the Magna Comp Laude Award. I had some great conversations at Comp Laude 2017 and the environment there is ideal for gauging important trends in this industry. The exposure to the California market and other western states is helpful, both in hearing of innovation and in reassurance of advantages perceived in Florida by comparison. I was so looking forward to the 2018 event.

But, Monday brought Governor Scott’s addition of nine more counties to the emergency declaration, stretching beyond Interstate 75 to the east and on the Florida coast as far south as Sarasota. You see, Michael was strengthening, and predictions about his size and impact were becoming more alarming. 

All day Monday, Pensacola remained “in the cone.” For those unfamiliar with life in hurricane territory, the NHC does not predict an exact “where” for a storm’s path, it predicts a probable range of area that storm is likely to travel, and prints that on the map as a “cone of probability.” And when you are in the cone, there is anxiety. It is painful to admit the relief you feel when you are no longer in the cone, but you know others are.

Monday afternoon, we knew that all state offices within that thirty-five county “emergency” area would be closed Tuesday through Thursday (six or seven OJCC Offices). By Monday evening, it was obvious to all that Michael would certainly strike Florida, and it would be devastating. I emailed Comp Laude and cancelled. By then, I was fairly confident he was not coming to my house, but he was going to be close. 

There is a moment of realization that the event is going to impact you. Mental health professionals have long told us there are five stages of grief: Denial and isolation; Anger; Bargaining; Depression; Acceptance. Some of those apply to hurricanes. But there are more. The prediction of a hurricane brings (1) doubt (will it strike here? How strong will it be?). The news coverage brings (2) anxiety (get ready, do you have food, you should get out). As Tom Petty sang, (3) “the waiting is the hardest part”; hour after hour you wait for the next forecast update, and you wonder. There is (4) worry, about yourself, about friends and family, property and places. There are stages of anticipation and preparation. 

We are encouraged to stock food sufficient to sustain ourselves for 72 hours, with the promise that aid should come within that time. As an aside, my hurricane food of choice is a particular brand of canned pasta that is perhaps not so healthy and which I only get to buy during hurricane season (bargaining?). We are encouraged to evacuate, sometimes ordered to. We are told that during the storm there will come a time when 911 will no longer respond, the safety of the rescuers will be paramount to our own at the height of the onslaught. They say “get out,” and they mean it. 

But, when the evacuees return after landfall they often find themselves frustrated or barred. There are sometimes roadblocks to prevent people’s re-entry to the devastation. This frustrates people eager to return home, to begin to assess, repair, and heal. But to local government, those returning people represent a burden. They worry who may get hurt among the downed trees and power lines; they worry how those returned will be fed and hydrated. They worry about protecting property from some who come with ill intentions (looters). 

In the run-up to a storm, people are thus faced with: “it won’t really come here,” “it won’t be that strong” (the predictions of strength are not as trustworthy sometimes as the prediction of path), “if I leave they won’t let me back in,” “I’ve waited too late there are no hotels,” and more. And these are what people with the means say. Others simply do not have the cash or credit to buy that gas or to rent a hotel. There are people that live payday to payday, whether you want to believe it or not.  

Tuesday and Wednesday were frustratingly quiet and mild. Having been warned of the coming disaster, and having prepared, we spent Tuesday under largely clear skies. Wednesday dawned as calm and clear, but through the day overcast built. What had been first predicted as a Category One had incrementally strengthened. First we heard it might be a Cat. Two, then a Cat. Two or Three. And on Wednesday we heard it could be worse. Michael eventually landed just east of Panama City, Florida as a strong Category 4 (155 mph winds) Wednesday, October 11, 2018. And it tore a hole in Florida from south to north, then impacted Georgia, the Carolinas, and Virginia. In the path were OJCC offices in Panama City and Tallahassee. Throughout, I distracted myself by checking the OJCC electronic filing system (which is dependent on electricity in Tallahassee), it never went off line. 

The week since has been a whirlwind.  In nine days, power crews have restored power to more than 250,000 accounts knocked out by Michael, but over 100,000 await repairs. Relief and attention have poured into the disaster. Each caravan of police cars, power trucks, fuel, food trucks and more is heartwarming.  Each photo of volunteers in the midst of chaos is touching.  But, the pictures of devastation are gut wrenching and depressing, even from a distance. 

As I reflect on this event, the past ten days and the future, I draw some comparisons to this industry in which we strive. No one can predict that they will have a work injury or illness. There is no NHC equivalent to give us a few days warning, a chance to prepare mentally, financially, or physically. In this regard, perhaps work injuries may be more comparable to an earthquake or tornado? But, there may be work injury/illness that is not sudden, but comes on with twinges and feelings, and those may be viable warnings of worse to come?

As with storms, we can perhaps prepare ourselves. But, our human nature likely convinces us similarly that “it will not happen to me,” just as so many Floridians last week likely thought “it won’t come here.” We do not want to believe that tragedy will impact us. We deny it, doubt it, hope against hope that it won’t. But the fact is that hurricanes and accidents happen. Despite our best efforts to prepare or to avoid, we may be the one impacted. 

As with storms, people need help after an accident. The occurrence of injury or illness has an emotional component. It surprises us, disrupts us, and affects us. To some extent we have to deal with that personally (that 72 hours of food idea above), but then we have to be able to obtain help. We need to be able to count on those around us in the aftermath. In this industry help should include the employer, the claims adjuster, the physicians, nurses, case managers and more. They are the relief team that follows the onset and helps with what we as employees may not be prepared for emotionally or physically. 

The professionals have to remember that while they see events like this as a task or emergency, we as victims are new to it. What you see every day or every season, we may see once in a lifetime. We are less prepared, we are shocked, and we are uncertain. We need professionalism post-injury both to remedy our physical ills and to ease that emotional impact. Imagine if every injured worker received that hug that is so ubiquitous in the aftermath of a hurricane. What if everyone was as good a neighbor after a work injury as they are after a natural disaster? Can we as a system, and as individuals, encourage workers to feel more hope for their future, their recovery, and their lives? 

Perhaps it is easier to feel compassion when you see news coverage of devastations. Perhaps it is the sheer scale of destruction and impact. But, as an industry and as individuals, we have to remember that work accidents affect people, employees and employers both. Those people will have feelings, emotions, doubts, and concerns. They are surprised, scared, and uncertain. Maybe we could all try a little bit to remember they are really all simply people, and treat them accordingly? What if it were you? Seriously, I hope it is never you, but the fact is it could be any of us, any day, any time, and without warning.