wind chill: -39.9 C (-39.6 F)
Christmas tree made from scrap metal at the South Pole.On the morning of December 26 (Christmas Day in America), I had just sent out several emails and was just about to make a few phone calls home when the fire alarms sounded. It was 9:00 am. We had been waiting for the mass casualty incident (MCI) drill to happen any day so the alarms weren’t entirely unexpected. Just as I was mustering on my ECW to respond to the call and announcement was made that emergency response was needed in the power plant. Shortly thereafter another announcement was made to shut down all non-critical power and all non-emergency personnel was to gather in the galley. It became quickly apparent that it wasn’t a drill.
I grabbed equipment from one of my fellow responders and ran down the beer can to the tunnel entrance of the power plant. Once there, we were greeted by several firefighters and air that was thick with a strange smoke and rancid smell. As soon as we put down our gear, another call came on the radios for trauma team members to gather at Destination Zulu (DZ: our main entrance) to transport 2 patients to medical. I ran up one flight of stairs in the beer can, out the first outside entrance, and around the station to DZ. There were only 3 others there when I arrived. We needed a minimum of 6 to transport each patient up the very steep and long outside stairs of DZ and then up a second set of inside stairs to get to medical. We started to flag down every passer-by we saw to help.
A snowmobile zooming out the main entrance of the power plant Quonset pulling a sled with the first patient on a gurney soon arrived. I helped transport the first patient and then stayed in medical with the other medical team members as we prepped the room and awaited the other patient. As we unwrapped the first patient from the ECW sleeping bag and gurney I will never forget as Doc Jay stood on one side and I on the other. Jay calmly said “Ok, since this is a drill we’ll just slowly have you move over here.” The patients eyes got huge and then stared back at me, then to Jay, then back to me. I said a little sheepishly (as I wasn’t certain myself), “this isn’t a drill.” Charlie, who is the communications coordinator between medical and the rest of the outside teams, quickly received confirmation that it wasn’t a drill. The atmosphere in the room changed in a split second. Normally during a drill we simulate opening sterile equipment and using oxygen in order to preserve the supplies on station. All of a sudden, everything was being ripped opened, clothes were being torn off, and a second ER bed was being set up. There were 5 of us working in medical, including the 2 doctors.
As the second patient arrived, the story of what had happened slowly filtered into the room. Apparently there was some minor maintenance being conducted on the operating generator (#3) when the exhaust gas heat exchanger has a pressure build up and the valves that normally default to open defaulted to close. The generators all recapture the exhaust for fuel efficiency and cleaner emissions. As the pressure built up, a weak soldered joint blew causing hot steam and glycol to leak from everything. The glycol vaporized as it came in contact with the hot generator resulting in smoke and fumes to quickly fill the power plant. Four people were present when the exchanger failed. They all hit the ground from the large boom of the joint blowing and ran out. The outside “oh shit” button failed and the plant operator ran back in to hit the manual, inside “oh shit” button. As glycol continued to rain down on both generators #3 and #2, the system was switched to the emergency power plant. Generator #1 was already in desperate need for an overhaul and not able to be put on-line. The emergency power plant is not equipped to handle the full load of the stations needs and with no back-up generator in place, all non-critical power was shut down.
The first two patients had been sprayed with glycol and had inhaled glycol fumes of which carbon monoxide can by a by product. As the day wore on, a total of 6 patients came to medical for treatment. At one point, glycol was raining down the walls and from the ceiling as clean-up workers stood in 2-3 inches of glycol already on the floor. The massive clean-up effort resulted in more than 23 55-gallon drums of glycol being cleaned up.
It was a completely exhausting day emotionally and physically. Since we were on emergency power for most of the day, all the Jamesways were evacuated (no heat) and most people were confined to the dinning room. All non-critical equipment that was shut down included all kitchen equipment and the walk-in coolers. The majority of the clean-up effort and management of those with glycol inhalation took until 4:00 pm. People were laying and sleeping all over in the hallways. Since Francie and I were busy with our trauma teams and didn’t report to work, the rest of the galley workers pitched in and made sandwiches for everyone. When everything was under control in medical I started to work in the galley as we now had to keep fed some very exhausted rescue and trauma workers. Francie eventually showed up and we had sandwiches and jello again for supper. Although exhausted and stressed, both of us then completed our galley shifts.
They flew in additional power plant mechanics from McMurdo and were able to get one of the generators back up and running by early evening. They were then able to open up Summer Camp so everyone was able to go back to their Jamesways and sleep. We were still on extreme power conservation since we didn't have a back-up generator working until the next morning.
To say we were extremely lucky is an understatement! Everyone who needed medical treatment recovered fairly quickly and no one needed to be medi-evac’d. Between what could have been severe steam burns, CO inhalation, and electrocution through all the glycol raining through the system and standing on the floor – one person estimated we should have had a minimum of six casualties.
Needless to say, very few people were able to call home and wish their families a Merry Christmas. I was too exhausted and in shock at the enormity of the situation to feel anything on December 26. The next day the feelings came rushing in as I began to feel the scariness and vulnerability of life on this beautiful continent once again. There is no doubt that all of us were the recipient of a Christmas miracle. None of our friends or colleagues was seriously hurt when in all reasonability they should have been.
I have never been so proud to work with any group of people than all of those on the trauma and medical teams! Everyone worked extremely hard to manage the situation and was amazing! For some of the trauma team members, this was the first time they had participated in a real trauma and were first responders to a real patient. Everyone had an amazing ability to stay calm and focused. Personally, I was very proud to receive a letter of accomplishment from Dr. Bruce for my efforts on that day. It certainly wasn’t necessary as I didn’t do anything above and beyond anyone else. Everyone’s performance on that day gave me complete confidence and excessive pride in the South Pole’s ability to respond to an MCI. Ironically, the surprise MCI drill was to have happened that afternoon at 2:00 pm. Needless to say, it was determined that we no longer needed an MCI drill.
The day after the incident in the power plant was my day off. I was exhausted from working both Christmas Eve and Day and the trauma incident. Several days earlier, I had set aside a bagel fully labeled with my name (one of the last bagels on station) for my breakfast on my day off. Blue from the holidays and stressed from the trauma the day before, I didn’t care to talk to anyone and was REALLY looking forward to my bagel. As I walked to the galley I was devastated to discover that it had just been eaten by the morning sous chef! It’s all about the little things at Pole. The little things can either make or break your day and someone stealing my bagel on this day was really bad timing! In my exhausted and frustrated state all I could do was call my sister and cry about my missing bagel. My reality side knew that it was JUST a bagel and in light of the previous day’s events, I should have been able to put it into perspective – but I used my stolen bagel to unleash all of my loneliness of the holidays, homesickness, and the anguish, stress, vulnerability, and exhaustion that had accumulated over the previous days. My AM sous chef never saw what hit her. Eventually we were able to patch things up. (After all, it had only been the 3rd time she stole my food.) My sister promised to have bagels for me when I get home.
Me in the galley preparing Christmas dinner, Christmas Eve, 2006.
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