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Robson (left) talks with pharmacist Randy Gros about the gun Gros carries to protect his drugstore in Marrero, La., as he provides free refills of prescriptions for victims
EMT William Byrd (rear) and Dr. Joe Robson talk as they watch
Outside the police station in Algiers, LifeCare's Byrd pets
A LifeCare Medical Transports ambulance makes its way across the Mississippi River to set up a clinic at the Precinct 4 police station.
LifeCare EMT William Byrd looks around Mardi Gras World, where floats for New Orleans' parade
Dr. Joe Robson (left) and LifeCare EMT William Byrd check the lungs and blood pressure of Joseph Wilson, 69, who came |
By RUSTY DENNEN
NEW ORLEANS--Randy Gros, pharmacist at Dekle Drugs, goes to work prepared. He carries a 9 mm pistol in a black holster at his side.
"Well, it's just better to exhibit force and to be prepared," he said. Gros, 48, a druggist since 1989 in this usually laid-back city, doesn't want any trouble, but knows that some people are desperate.
The day after Hurricane Katrina struck the small hamlet of Marrero on the western end of the city where he's lived all his life, his was one of the few pharmacies--much less businesses--that was open, even if it was for only a couple hours.
Gros and his wife, Nancy, who also occasionally packs a smaller pistol in her shorts to guard the back door, have been so effective in getting out what's needed that the Federal Emergency Management Agency set up a drug-distribution center under tents in their parking lot off U.S. 90.
"It was pretty hard the first week. We opened at 8 a.m. the day after the storm," Gros said, a hint of weary pride in his voice. His normal hours of 8:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. were suspended as the crowds outside grew. For the time being, his employees are working 10- to 12-hour days.
Deborah Gilkey, 58, who lives in nearby Algiers Point, waited quietly in line under a tent for a prescription for an antidepressant.
Next to her, MaryEllen Chauvin, 52, was waiting for her order to be filled.
"Oh, God yes, I need quite a bit for my husband," she said. Her home was damaged in the storm, but she feels fortunate. "We've been getting food and water," and now medicine.
FEMA is allowing anyone affected by the storm to get up to a month's prescription, free.
At the Precinct 4 police station about a 10-minute drive away, a Stafford County-based LifeCare Medical Transports ambulance was helping Dr. Joe Robson screen walk-ins from a storm-battered neighborhood nearby.
Robson, 29, an emergency-room physician from Philadelphia, writes prescriptions for patients who have run out or lost their medications in the hurricane and ensuing flood.
Robson, who has been helping treat people for over a week, said not everyone is having an easy time getting what they need. They must have a prescription or an empty pill bottle as proof that the medicine has been ordered by a doctor.
Joseph Wilson, 64, walked up to the counter at Precinct 4 in a blue T-shirt and well-worn blue jeans, telling the duty officer, "I need some medicine, man."
Wilson, who lives about three miles away, has asthma.
Robson took him to a makeshift examining room in a back office. William Berry, an emergency medical technician with LifeCare, administered inhaled steroids.
About 10 minutes later, Robson said Wilson will probably be OK.
Though Wilson has had serious complications with asthma for years, "Good things are: He's not a smoker, he doesn't have hypertension, coronary problems," Robson said.
The doctor has been doing a brisk business here, helping to patch up policemen, federal agents and regular people.
"There's a little guy around the corner who brings people in for medication and treatment," said Berry, who has been to the precinct several times during his tour of duty here.
At one point in the afternoon, a TV blaring in the tiny room announced that police were looking for a gunman who had fired on them from a bridge a couple of miles from the police station.
Hardly anyone paid any attention.
Another surreal scene was playing out at Mardi Gras World, an exhibition center on the Mississippi River a few miles to the east, where floats for the city's most famous parade are stored.
In its parking lot, which is being used as a relief center and a staging area for the Army, ragged-looking local residents queued up for boxes of Ritz Crackers, cases of water and Huggies diapers.
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