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Classes had just begun, and the professor of social work at Winona State University knew how work could pile up during an absence.
But the Red Cross was calling for trained volunteers to deliver disaster relief to victims of Hurricane Katrina, and with her training in mental health counseling she knew she was needed.
Across town, Melanie Hardt pulled her partner aside at work and told her she had driven past the Red Cross Winona chapter, stopped and signed up on the spot. Because of her law enforcement background, the Wabasha woman said, she also knew she could help.
Madland boarded a plane Sept. 5, concerned about her colleagues who had agreed to teach her classes, wondering if they could handle the extra work, if she had given them enough material.
Hardt began training the same day, preparing to leave two days later, wondering if she would have a job when she returned.
For local Red Cross volunteers working in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, the story isn't just about their experiences in the South. It's about the sacrifices — work, family and personal — they made to get there, the emotional toll of the work and what they confront when they return.
Unlike those in the military reserves and National Guard, Red Cross volunteers are uncompensated for their service, and usually give up wages and health insurance during their service. And unlike soldiers, they have no guarantees that their jobs will be there when they return.
Left Behind
Lynn Farrell told herself she wasn't going to volunteer this year.
The Rochester woman had participated in Red Cross relief efforts last year for the several hurricanes that pulverized the southeastern United States. It was especially hard to leave her teenage son.
"He was upset with me that I had been gone, that I'd missed that part of his life," she said.
Katrina hit the day her son started high school. After he left, she sat down to watch the news.
This is going to be so bad, she remembered thinking, maybe even worse than last year.
She thought about staying home, but knew she was needed. Later in the day she called the Red Cross, and the next morning was on a plane to Alabama.
"I have the training, and I needed to do my part," she said.
Her departure was easier on her son and husband this time, she said, partly because neighbors and friends helped, bringing over food, even giving them tickets to a Notre Dame football game on the day she returned, so she could have time to be alone and readjust.
Madland also struggled with the idea of leaving. But she had lived in New Orleans for three years, and wondered where some of her friends were. And she also needed to do her part.
Hardt spent every moment she could with her partner, Michelle Schweisberger, before she left. They went shopping for hand sanitizer and high-energy protein bars. Schweisberger cut Hardt's hair with an electric razor and joked that she looked just like Demi Moore in GI Jane.
Schweisberger said it's difficult staying home, wondering about Hardt's safety, taking care of their two boys, ages eight and nine, by herself.
"It's been between worrying about her and realizing all those little things the other person does that you take for granted," she said. "I'll never take them for granted again."
The sacrifice
Schweisberger wasn't surprised when Hardt told her she had signed up to volunteer. After they learned of the Katrina disaster, they would stay up late at night, talking about how they could help. The only decision, she said, was who would go; someone had to stay home with the boys. Hardt, a former police officer in Mankato, had the training.
"This was something she needed to do," Schweisberger said. "If she hadn't gone and done it, she would have regretted it for the rest of her life."
Still, Hardt worried about the consequences.
She wasn't eligible for paid leave and would have to forego her insurance and benefits during the three-week trip. And her employer, WinCraft, said they couldn't guarantee her job. Hardt said she didn't expect to receive insurance or benefits, but she was surprised that her job wasn't guaranteed.
Her situation isn't unusual; most companies suspend benefits of traveling volunteers. Several insurance companies offer short-term policies for such situations.
WinCraft CEO Dick Pope said the company has no program in place to respond to Hardt's request. It was the first he had received in more than 25 years.
He said he expects that Hardt's job will be waiting for her when she returns.
Madland said both her students and boss, Dean Troy Paino, were supportive of her leave. Her fellow departmental professors teamed up to teach her classes.
Farrell is a self-described soccer mom; she had the time to volunteer, but also had no insurance.
Schweisberger said that no matter what happens when Hardt returns, the couple will persevere.
"I think they'll take her back, but if they don't, we'll just move on," she said. "We'll find another couple of jobs and make do until she finds a decent job again. We're fully ready for it."
Emotional Stress
Madland, who spent her time counseling evacuees, as well as other volunteers and professionals, said nothing can prepare someone for a disaster of Katrina's magnitude.
"All the people helping are being traumatized, whether they admit it or not," she said.
Almost a week after returning, she's still sick with what she calls the "Katrina crud" — flu-like symptoms, like a sinus infection and sore throat combined with complete emotional exhaustion.
The challenges facing disaster relief workers don't end with their service. Readjustment is not always easy after dealing with tragedies.
The Red Cross requires each returning volunteer to attend an individual session with a mental health counselor, said Collette Gallagher, the communications specialist for the Southeastern Minnesota chapter in Rochester.
Her office is willing to assist anyone who struggles to readjust, helping them work through problems and find therapy, she said. "It's a hard thing sometimes, because your family doesn't want to hear about it every day."
There aren't detailed Red Cross statistics that measure the number of volunteers who incur emotional problems as a result of their experience, or the numbers who are so distraught that they cannot complete their tasks.
The three women interviewed said they were with volunteers who were so overwhelmed they left almost immediately.
"It's so bad, so awful down there, that you can't comprehend it," Madland said.
Hardt and Farrell agreed.
The 100-degree humid heat. Driving past lawns with so many trees down she couldn't tell whether there was a house or not. The poverty. The people intent on giving up. The images of tarps tied over roofs and Xs spray-painted on walls. Helplessly watching looters. The smell of death, everywhere.
Yet none of the women said they have any regrets. They were needed, and they went.
Melanie Hardt hasn't returned yet; she became an evacuee herself as Hurricane Rita neared the Texas shoreline. For the others, the coping and healing began the moment their tasks had ended.
Lynn Farrell sat alone in her empty, quiet house, looked out a window, and sighed.
Carole Madland walked into the Baton Rouge airport, drank two cold beers and boarded the plane on its way to home.
Reporter Brian Voerding can be reached at (507)-453-3514 or at brian.voerding@winonadailynews.com.
