from dudes posting on the linkd thread:
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Tampa has not experienced a direct hit since 1921. Regardless of where the eye meets land, the Tampa Bay region is in for a difficult recovery. But the consequences will be profoundly worse if the eye hits North of the mouth of Tampa Bay as opposed to South, leaving it on the “dirty” (right) side of the storm. That would deliver a Hurricane Andrew, Hurricane Katrina-level event.
Did I mention that the debris from Hurricane Helene is still on curbs awaiting pickup across the region…
“According to a 10-year-old estimate by Karen Clark and Co., a Boston-based catastrophe modeling firm, a direct hit on Tampa Bay by a Category 5 hurricane could produce upward of $175 billion in damage and potentially kill thousands—a Hurricane Katrina–scale disaster, or even worse. And that’s just on its own.
But this hurricane isn’t even happening in isolation. The one-two punch from Helene and Milton is what climatologists call a ‘compound event.’”
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As Category 5 hurricane hashtag#Milton barrels toward Florida's west coast (the second in as many weeks), I can't help but think about the health care providers gearing up for what’s coming. This one's personal for me—I spent years living, studying and working in Florida, and my mom still calls Clearwater home. After nearly two decades in health care public affairs, I've also seen what these storms mean for the medical community.
While we’re all glued to weather updates, there’s a whole world of preparation happening behind the scenes. Communities are still recovering from Hurricane Helene, but in places like Tampa, St. Pete and my mom’s town of Clearwater, health care workers are already in full crisis mode.
Long-term care facilities and nursing homes under mandatory evacuation orders are playing matchmaker, making sure receiving facilities can meet each patient's needs. And there’s the added complexity of making sure medications—especially those that require refrigeration—are properly transported and stored.
Hospitals like Morton Plant are buzzing with activity behind closed doors. Tough decisions are being made about which patients can be safely evacuated and which need to shelter in place due to critical care needs. They’re stockpiling medications and checking backup generators to keep everything powered. And they’re bracing for a potential flood of new emergency cases, all while likely facing staff shortages.
Home health agencies are racing to prepare their most vulnerable patients. They’re ensuring patients have at least a week’s worth of meds and spare batteries for medical devices. For those who rely on oxygen, they’re securing enough portable tanks to get through power outages. They’re also coordinating with local emergency services to flag priority cases for evacuation.
And then there’s the larger, more daunting picture:
Hospitals will be triaging power to keep life-support systems and critical equipment running when the grid inevitably goes down.
They’ll be fighting to maintain sterile conditions and safe access routes as flooding becomes a real threat.
Backup communication systems are being set up, because when regular channels fail, coordinating care becomes an entirely new challenge.
For those relying on powered medical devices—ventilators, oxygen concentrators, home dialysis machines—the stakes are life or death.
As we all watch this storm approach, I’m thinking about all the health care workers putting in long hours and sleepless nights to protect our most vulnerable community members — people like my mom's friends and neighbors. Their work may go unseen, but they deserve our utmost gratitude.