Originally published on Medium 9/23/2019 / Revised September 16, 2023
In the control room that fateful day, the world changed.
It was May 22, 2011.
Over 13 years in radiology, most in emergency rooms nationwide.
I’d seen it all—trauma, violence, catastrophe.
But nothing prepared me for this.
Joplin, obliterated by an EF-5 tornado.
A mile-wide monster, unthinkable destruction.
Twenty surgeons, silent, uncertain.
Pagers blaring, chaos unfolding.
A record number of cat scans, each revealing terror.
A family chased by the tornado in Walmart’s aisles.
A couple barely escaping a home devoured by the beast.
Reunions amid the rubble, agonizing deaths.
And a friend, missing until days later.
Exhaustion weighed me down, physically and mentally.
Tears threatened as I crossed the parking lot.
A traumatized bird, alive but broken.
I dialed my husband, unable to speak.
His advice: bring the bird home.
For days, I cared for her, comforting her.
Telling her she wasn’t alone.
…
Parental alienation, a tornado in our lives.
Some with minor damage, some tortured slowly.
Reunifications and waiting for answers.
But we all remember when the EF-5 Parental Alienation Tornado struck.
The toll it took, the wreckage it left.
No matter the damage, we’ve all suffered, and someday hope for restoration.