My daugther is unable to walk as a result of cerebral palsy. I thought I'd
send you our story of getting caught in Hurricane Floyd on a train.
“Elizabeth’s and Floyd’s Excellent Adventure”
(Appeared in the “Rockland Review”)
by
Lisa Saunders
“Hey! Can somebody please help me get on the train?!” Hurricane Floyd was
roaring up the Eastern seaboard while I was traveling south. Alone with my
severely handicapped daughter, I wondered how I’d get her aboard with her
stroller, car seat and our luggage.
I recently returned to Rockland County, NY, from Maryland, after an absence
of twenty years. I remembered well as a teenager that nothing exciting ever
happened here. We rarely even got snow days. Maryland at least had violent
thunderstorms that were thrilling to watch and there was always a possibility
of at least a little tornado.
When I realized that Hurricane Floyd was due to hit the day I was scheduled
to take Amtrak to Maryland, I was filled with anticipation. I was taking my
youngest and we were going to help my husband Jim complete our move up
North. Now, traveling with my daughter Elizabeth means no ordinary trip -
hurricane or no. At nine, her cerebral palsy is so severe, she cannot speak, hold
up her head, is still in diapers, and can only eat soft foods. Although
small, she is getting heavy! What Elizabeth does have, however, is a ready smile
and the love of adventure. She likes nothing better than going places by
car or stroller. Sitting on my lap in the train would be a special treat.
The cab ride itself to the Newark train station was a thrill. We had to
plunge through foot-deep waters, risking stalling the car, so that the driver
could get me there on time. We’d lost some time getting lost and were behind
schedule, so the cab driver dumped me off in the pouring rain. There I was,
struggling with my suitcase, Elizabeth, her stroller, and her car seat. Not a
single harried soul there felt inclined to help this poor, distraught, running
late-to-catch-the-train mother of a handicapped child. I finally figured out
how to carry Elizabeth and everything, and found an elevator that went up to
the track level. Just in time. The platform appeared deserted except for an
old, confused woman clinging to her son.
“Mom, I’m sorry, I have to go now – I’m illegally parked. When the train
comes, just pick up your suitcase and get on it.” With that he kissed her and
ran off.
Oh sure, I’m thinking. My grandmother, even in the earliest stages of her
Alzheimer’s, would never have been able to figure out how to get on the right
train with her luggage and get a seat. “Don’t worry,” I assured her. “I’ll
make sure you get on.” When she surveyed my situation, she didn’t look
confident.
Now what was I going to do? I always thought it was adventurous to figure
out how to get Elizabeth from point A to point B, but a confused grandmother
with her luggage too? How on earth were we going to leap on the train in time?
As the train pulled in, I panicked. As people disembarked at the far end of
the platform, I yelled, “Can somebody please help me get on the train!” A
baggage-type person helped the grandmother, and I managed Elizabeth, stroller,
suitcase, and car seat. Once on board, I knew it would be impossible to find a
seat. People sprawled themselves apathetically across both seats and watched
me struggle. Finally a tough looking young man with a colorful cap grabbed
my car seat and said he’d find me a seat. He ordered a woman to move her
stuff, and I was situated comfortably at the end of a car. By that time,
Elizabeth and I realized we were completely soaked, but we also felt exhilarated by
the excitement. Little did we know: the excitement was just beginning!
When we pulled inside the Philadelphia station, we were told over the
speaker system that as a result of Hurricane Floyd, we’d be stopping there
indefinitely. The other passengers groaned at the delay. All I could think of was how
much more exciting this would be if we were parked outside, watching the wa
ter swirling around us, than stuck down here in the dark, dingy bowels of a
train station.
Eventually our train moved out and continued heading south. Lo, the wind did
blow and the rain did descend. I watched the flooding with awe.
I took Elizabeth to the dining car, so I could stock up on cookies and other
necessary supplies, just in case we got stuck again. The man behind the food
counter noticed Elizabeth and let me cut in front of everyone. Traveling
with her does have its advantages! I asked him not to sell the last yogurt. That
was the only soft food that Elizabeth could eat if we were forced to stop
again for long periods. He promised he would keep it for her.
As we chugged along southward, the water on the tracks grew deep. We plowed
slowly through it. Then stopped. We stopped and started several times, while
they kept clearing the tracks of fallen trees. Stranded automobiles along the
way sat parked with water up to their windows. During one of our stops, it
was announced that we would be stopped for an indefinite period of time. The
signals were down, and we could not cross over a bridge which lay just ahead.
We were told to remain calm – that's always a confidence booster – and to go
to the dining car for free food. One woman ran to the dining car and started
screaming hysterically. “You have no biscottis! That’s what I wanted – I
wanted biscottis!” A true New Yorker!
Elizabeth, of course, was having a ball. All this stalling meant more time
cuddling in my lap. She turned her head up to look at me and smiled
contentedly, fully unaware that no one else around her felt such joy. When I was forced
to leave her in her car seat to forage for food, the bored woman across the
aisle seemed pleased to watch her, glad to have some purpose in life.
When my turn arrived in the dining car, I was alarmed to learn that all the
yogurt was gone. There was a different man behind the counter who knew
nothing of the promised yogurt. He was still recovering from the biscotti lady. I
panicked for a moment. What if we are here overnight? What if Elizabeth
starved? Could I keep her warm enough? What if, Heaven forbid, I ran out of
diapers?
I felt like a distraught mother in one of those disaster movies, enduring
all kinds of perils to keep her child alive. Suddenly I noticed someone with an
uneaten yogurt on her lap. I paused before asking – but this had to be done.
“Excuse me,” I said, “I have a handicapped child, and yogurt is the only
thing she can eat. Can I trade my sandwich for that?”
“Of course,” she said unhesitatingly.
Another woman overheard us. “Here, take mine, too.”
My disaster movie, getting better all the time, rolled along as more of
these previously apathetic people came forward with their yogurts. One old man,
who shared my sense of adventure, went around taking pictures of our plight. He
took a picture of me standing in the aisle, arms stacked with yogurts.
After standing still in one spot for several hours, we again were on the
move. But we got stuck again on a low bridge over a wide body of rising water.
The wind blew fiercely, and I couldn't help pondering the problem of getting
Elizabeth off a flooded train. And the worst fear of all: How would I hold her
head above the rushing water? Maybe this wasn't fun after all.
Eventually we chugged on and pulled into Baltimore. We were told that it was
the end of the line. They just could not go any further and we would have to
take a bus. Again I was faced with the chore of getting Elizabeth and our
stuff through a crowd, this time packed with tired, angry people. When the bus
came for us, I just was not able to plow through the pushing throng in time to
catch it. This was too much adventure, even for me. Elizabeth was getting
wet in the rain and colder all the time. Knowing how poor her circulation was,
and how purple her hands and feet can become, I started to cry.
Seeing my distress, one bus driver, who wasn't even headed to where I was
going, got out of his seat and carried Elizabeth aboard. “I’ll take you where
you need to go,” he said. Fearing he'd just plop Elizabeth down, assuming she
could sit up by herself, I frantically shoved my way through the packed
aisle yelling, “Please be careful! She can't sit up by herself!”
I heard a woman yell forward, “Don’t worry, I’m holding her up.” Saved
again!
My husband, Jim, was pacing with anxiety when we finally pulled in to New
Carrolton, MD. What should have been a three-hour train trip, ended up taking
ten hours as a result of Hurricane Floyd. I guess things can be exciting in
New York after all. Well…we were on our way to Maryland!
You just read an excerpt from my book RIDING THE TRAIN WITH ELIZABETH. If
you would like to know more about Elizabeth, visit my website at
_www.authorlisasaunders.com_ (http://www.authorlisasaunders.com) . If you would like to
order a copy of RIDING THE TRAIN WITH ELIZABETH, you may do so by visiting the
_www.nathhan.com_ (http://www.nathhan.com/) (they are an organization
dedicated to serving families with disabilities.
_www.authorlisasaunders.com_ (http://www.authorlisasaunders.com/)
Riding the Train with Elizabeth, EVER TRUE: A Union Private and His Wife,
and RIDE A HORSE, NOT AN ELEVATOR
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