4/12/13 (to edit)
I am writing this the afternoon after participating in an anthrax exercise at Bradley High School (Cleveland, Tennessee), in which ~1400 students bravely participated along with roughly 200 employees and volunteers from various TN-state agencies, but mostly medical allied fields (RNs, nurse practitioners, nurse assistants, a couple of physicians, a couple of lay people like myself). I am saying the students are brave because of what imploded in me after the experience.
Of course, the atmosphere of role play lightened the atmosphere for me upon arrival at the 7:30 a.m. morning sign-in. But as the experience intensified--the preparation of teams, the set-up of the cafeteria, dispensing the supplies to exercise participants, the arrival of the students--so did the feeling of "this is for when it's real." Soon after, they dialed up the speed at which things were happening (closer to how it could be real time), that made the next one hour and twenty minutes go by with adrenaline.
It wasn't until well afterward, that I noticed and understood why they call the post-exercise a "hotwash." We were decompressing back in the auditorium, everyone seemed pleasant enough, hearing the team lead observations and praise. But it wasn't until my own drive home that my emotions began to "wash out." I realized, I too, needed to release heat. The memory of those young faces, some who were genuinely panicked at the point (probably because they are closer to that age that hasn't yet developed a psyche to handle "situations"), especially when we had to stick our hand up in the air and say "please wait a minute," while we called in a medical expert to sort out what medications we could give someone who is allergic to the medications (provide names later), was vivid.
Suddenly, the young 14-year-old girl who was representing 42-year-old Adam with a family of 4 and wants to be sure he's getting the right medications for all of them, but can't remember who's allergic and who isn't, became that person. And I began to panic for them, in my car, as it occurred to me what they were dealing with on the other side of the table. I tried to remember if I looked assuredly back at them, or remained that heady individual on the other side of the table, trying to figure out what to stock the bag with and write on the paper.
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