Erin Palm
3 min readOct 15, 2017

What can I do while my hometown burns?

My hometown of Santa Rosa, California is on fire. In the past week, 5% of the homes in our city have burned down. I’ve been glued to my phone in Redwood City looking for updates. We’re 90 miles away but close enough that smoke darkens the sky when the wind shifts. Last night, I finally drove up to Sonoma County to work a volunteer medical shift in an evacuation shelter.

On Monday at 3am, police banged on my mom’s door. A wildfire that started 16 miles away had traveled on high winds across a 6-lane highway and into her neighborhood. She loaded a cage full of rabbits into the bed of her truck and evacuated to her vacant rental property in nearby Windsor. Luckily for her, the wind changed direction and her home was spared by the length of a football field. Others in our extended family escaped with their lives and little else.

My mom now lives across town from the neighborhoods of my childhood. The fire attacked some of those neighborhoods savagely. Houses where we had sleepovers as girls, or swam in the pool on hot summer days, have been reduced to ashes. The places we used to party when parents went away are under mandatory evacuation. Evacuees look to social media for clues about whether their homes still stand.

I’ve been trying to fathom the destruction and personal loss. And, as we all are, I’ve been searching for ways to help.

I started making phone calls on Tuesday, looking for places in need of a medical volunteer. I checked in with the labor pool at Santa Rosa Memorial Hospital (the city’s two other hospitals have been evacuated). I called evacuation centers, where thousands of people have found food, shelter, and community. Eventually one of these centers called me back and I signed up to staff the Friday night shift.

Unsure what medical resources they would have onsite, I gathered supplies from friends and colleagues. My co-workers at Robin made a Costco run and filled up my car.

On Friday night, I arrived at the evacuation center in Petaluma. First impression: this was a well-staffed operation literally overflowing with donated supplies. Seems like everyone in the Bay Area heeded the social media request for clean underwear — they had a mountain of donated undies. Some of our donations were redundant (adult diapers, ibuprofen), but others turned out to be on point (batteries, Pepcid).

I spent the night addressing minor complaints. I gave out Tylenol and ibuprofen for headaches, Robitussin for cough, saline drops for an adorable 4-month-old with nasal congestion. As the nurse from the prior shift put it when she signed out to me, “We’re basically the grandma next door with a fully stocked medicine cabinet.”

Trauma surgery training did not serve me here. Expecting I might see patients with respiratory problems due to smoke, I literally watched a YouTube video to learn how to administer a medication by nebulizer (I did not end up using this new knowledge). The closest I got to a surgical issue was a man who had banged his fingernail chopping firewood 5 days prior. I provided supplies and he did his own local wound care.

Let’s be clear. This is not about me being a hero. There is not a single thing I did last night that required a medical license. This is about being part of a community as it struggles with the worst disaster it has suffered in my lifetime. It’s about sharing a few words of support (in English, Spanish, and often some combination). It’s about resilience.

The Bay Area is rallying around those affected by the fires. The volunteer nurses I met in Petaluma came from Oakland, Walnut Creek, San Francisco, and as far away as Stockton.

The fires are still burning. But even once they’re out, the needs will continue. Thousands of people have been displaced from their homes. Let’s remember them and continue our support over the coming months.

Medical professionals, here is a signup page for shifts at evacuation centers: Http://www.signupgenious.com/go/10c0f44aaa829aaf85-alllevels

A good place to donate funds that will go directly to people who have lost their homes: https://www.redwoodcu.org/northbayfirerelief

#santarosastrong

Erin Palm
Erin Palm

Written by Erin Palm

Erin Palm, MD FACS is a general surgeon, critical care specialist, and former Head of Product at Suki AI.

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