Letters of Life, Death and Love

Dear Editor,

At 4:31 a.m. on Jan. 17, 1994, I was in my seventh hour of labor on a gurney in a Tarzana Hospital operating room waiting for my doctor to begin an emergency caesarean section.

The doctor had just left the room to call for an assistant surgeon. I had just sent my husband out of the room to get the camera we had left in the delivery room. The nurses were preparing the surgical tools.

When the earthquake hit, the nurses ran under the doorway. I saw the lights moving over me (in reality it was me moving back and forth across the room) and I tried to join the nurses.

They all shouted in unison, “Don’t move!” so I stayed prone--this was probably a good idea since I was connected to an IV, epidural and infant monitor.

Once the shaking had stopped, my doctor ran to me with assurances that everything was going to be fine. Being bounced from wall to wall while running in the hallway, my husband ran to reassure me that everything was fine. The nurses began to recount and sterilize the tools.

The anesthesiologist came in to check for smoke or gas leaks and then assured everyone that everything was going to be OK.

The assistant surgeon was unable to get to the hospital since her electric gate would not let her leave her driveway.

Once the surgery began (with a nurse acting as assistant) and the aftershocks came, my doctor shielded me from falling ceiling tiles. I was frightened, but could see from the infant monitor that the baby was staying cool throughout the trauma.

Gregory was born at 5:17 a.m., or close to it; we had to keep time on my husband’s watch since the hospital clocks were shaken off the walls.

SANDI WISE

Thousand Oaks

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Dear Editor,

There was a time when an earthquake for me was just a lot of shaking. . . . The Northridge version added the dimension of death. Even a small shaker drops me into a deep sense of loss.

The trauma of the earthquake contributed to my daughter’s death. Tracianne had been in an automobile accident prior to the quake and was struggling to be an independent woman with brain damage. . . .

[After the quake] Tracianne became more and more emotionally and physically ill. Modern medicine couldn’t stop the downward spiral to her death. The trauma brought on a seizure that took her life.

When the earth shakes, I no longer put my focus on the building of mountains. Quakes are expensive. They not only break our home foundations, but crack open and weaken our emotional foundations. The cost is high. The cost can be death.

BARBARA A. VAHLE

Northridge

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Dear Editor,

It was winter break at Cal State Northridge when the earth shook. I have never been more scared in my life, but little did I know, something good would come from this disaster. I was living in the dorms at CSUN. After the earthquake happened, I was in a state of shock. The resident advisor pounded on my door and screamed, “We have to get out of the building now!” Her voice made me come to my senses, as I was in the dorm by myself. Immediately, I ran outside and the first person I saw was Michele, my roommate’s friend. She was in the parking lot with three guys.

During the first few hours, people came around with blankets and sheets because it was freezing outside. Michele and her three friends, Robby, Dan and Mike, shared a blanket, while I had the sheet. We sat in the dorm parking lot as we comforted each other. As the sun was rising, school officials told us we had to move to a grass field on campus because there was the possibility of a gas leak.

While we were walking to the field, I asked Robby if he wanted to share my sheet. He said yes with a big smile on his face. We wrapped each other in the sheet as we headed over to the field. Robby and I asked each other a lot of questions that morning. Nobody lived nearby, so I invited everybody to stay at my mother’s house, for she was on her honeymoon.

Later that day, Robby and I kissed for the first time. We knew there was something special between us. On April 26, 1998, Robby and I got married.

MELISSA and ROBBY LOWELL

Northridge