My hometown is currently being evacuated due to potentially catastrophic flooding.

What’s better for someone with panic disorder?  Should I be thankful that I’m a good two hours away from the flood zone?  Perhaps.  I know that my life and my immediate property are safe.

But my heart rate sure isn’t.

As I type, my dad and his fiance are doing laps between the basement and the second floor of my childhood home. They’re moving boxes of books, photos, and whatever furniture they could up to the 2nd floor of the house.  My dad is in his 60′s.

Although I’m thankful to be in a safe place, I feel guilty that I can’t be there to help.

Back in 1972, Hurricane Agnes dumped a whopping 18 inches of rain on the Wyoming Valley in Luzerne County, PA.  The Susquehanna River spilled over its banks and gushed well over a full mile to the house that is now owned by my father. It filled the entire basement with ruddy water and leveled off at about the 5-foot mark on the first floor.

The entire valley was devastated. Put simply, everyone lost everything.

After the flood, in order to prevent the same kind of destruction, they built a giant levee system to protect the river up to 41 feet (which is close to where the river crested at the peak of the flood).

A levee that protects to 41 feet. And right now, the National Weather Service is predicting a crest of 40.7 feet.  That’s .3 feet away from some very real destruction.

Rightfully, I am freaking out from a distance.  I have a lump in my throat borne of my inability to do anything to physically help. I can’t help my father take valuables out of the basement. I can’t knock on doors and help the elderly pack up their medication and drive them up the hill to the high school where the Red Cross has set up a shelter. I can’t head over to Kirby Park, which borders the river, to help with the sandbagging efforts.

All I can do is re-tweet stuff on Twitter and spread news on Facebook.  My mind understands that spreading information about where to meet for sandbagging efforts is productive and helpful to Wilkes-Barre residents.  But my body, with its shakes and jitters, is trying to tell me to physically do something to help.Sandbag, don’t tweet!

Even if I were able to drive 2 hours without panicking on a good day, I wouldn’t be able to drive myself to the Wyoming Valley to help right now.  And it’s not just because I’m afraid of panicking behind the wheel — it’s because many, many roads (and even a large chunk of I-80, a major interstate) are already closed and I probably wouldn’t be able to get to my dad’s house anyway.

I’m hooked on WNEP’s live news stream and the photographs are making me shaky.  And every time they say “mandatory evacuation,” my heart palpitates.

Anxiety disorders become more poignant during natural disasters — whether you’re in the direct path or not.

Good luck, Wilkes-Barre. Wish I could do more. See you on Twitter.

Photo credit: Katy Meade

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    Last reviewed: 8 Sep 2011