Mock crisis played out at Moody
It was raining on the morning the plague hit.
If I had to describe how a city would react to a bio-terrorism attack, the first word that would come to my mind is “pandemonium.” After all the madness following the revelation of Anthrax – all the office buildings, post offices and computer labs evacuated because of a little dust mistaken for white powder – it’s hard to believe that order could be maintained during an epidemic.
But for the emergency exercise clinic set up Thursday morning in Moody Coliseum, order was the name of the game.
Suspension of reality
Bulk e-mails sent to SMU students this week announced the need for volunteers to play roles in an imaginary bio-terrorism attack, as part of the training of emergency personnel. When I arrived at Moody Coliseum around 11:45 a.m., I found that the clinic, which was scheduled to be outside, had moved inside the building and was not marked at all. Had I not intended to attend the event, I wouldn’t have known it was going on.
I was fitted with an orange armband and walked to the Coliseum floor, where I joined 15 other people who had braved the weather to come to the clinic. The staff of the emergency clinic, close to 20 people, must have outnumbered us. I was the youngest of a group composed of what seemed to be many middle-aged professionals – no students.
We were quickly briefed on the emergency that had taken place in Dallas:
“This clinic has been set up to respond to an attack that occurred on Sunday,” an official said. “We have reports that a culture of the bubonic plague was released, possibly at a concert or a football game. On Tuesday, people started checking into the hospital exhibiting flu systems. On Wednesday, people started dying.
“So far there have been 1,700 confirmed cases of the plague, and 389 fatalities. This clinic has been set up so that people who have been infected can receive immediate treatment.”
We were all asked to fill out consent forms for emergency antibiotics – typical doctor forms where you listed allergies, medical conditions and current medications. We then lined up in front of screening tables, where medical personnel examined our forms and sent us to the back to receive our “pills.”
Clinic official handed out information – written in several languages – detailing the effects of the drugs we had been given: “Doxycycline. You have been given this drug for protection against possible exposure to an infection-causing bacteria. Emergency health workers will inform you if you need more medicine after you finish this supply.”
A little bit of “pandemonium” broke through this strained atmosphere of order. A man became agitated and had to be attended to by emergency personnel; I later learned that he was a Gulf War veteran, who had been exposed to toxins years ago and was experiencing flashbacks. Others tried to push to the front of line, or were so affected by the shock of the event that they became unresponsive to clinic personnel.
Ten minutes later, we returned to reality. It seemed so easy. The efficiency of the clinic meant that patients could come in, go to the stations, receive their medication and go back to work in a very small amount of time.
We remained behind for a few minutes, to fill out comment cards and discuss problems and questions about the exercise we had just gone through. Participants were talkative and helpful, bringing up issues of paperwork and medicine labels.
What if someone managed to get past the screener to the pills? Medical personnel would prevent that from happening. What if somebody came to the clinic already exhibiting symptoms of the plague? There would be a station outside to isolate them from the other patients, where they could receive 10 days of therapy.
All participants I heard from seemed pleased with the way the exercise had turned out.
Imagining pandemonium
Thursday’s emergency exercise was put together by SMU, the City of Dallas, Dallas County Health Services, the Dallas County Red Cross and the City of University Park. It was the first implementation of the emergency crisis center, set up to help paramedics quickly distribute antibiotics in the case of a real bio-terrorism attack. The exercise tested how well the clinic could process a large number of people.
Officials, who had expected 600 people to volunteer to be patients or actors during the event, estimated that close to 100 attendees actually showed up. They blamed the weather, which had forced the clinic to move inside Moody Coliseum, for the low turnout.
Dave Hogan, an employee of Dallas County Health Services, gave his evaluation of the clinic after it closed.
“Two hours ago, I wasn’t so sure how things would turn out, but I think today’s exercise was pretty successful,” he said. “We learned to deal with bottlenecks, and the actors worked out well. I think everybody involved got a good handle on what to do if a real emergency were to occur.”
If a real emergency were to occur, however, I can’t help but think that there would be more than 100 people going to that clinic to receive treatment. People would be pushing each other, running to the front of the line, demanding pills and medical attention.
As I emerged from Moody Coliseum and saw crowds of students tiredly making their way to their next class, the image of pandemonium returned to my mind. Though some students may have attended the emergency clinic before I did, there were certainly none in the group that I was with.
How prepared would this campus be if that plague had been real?
