[June 6 7:18PM]
I received a letter from an evacuation site in Rikuzentakata today. They say that things are moving toward restoration, albeit slowly.
They wrote about the unchanging landscape and about the support from our country; about people leaving Rikuzentakata, one after another; that there are many whose families are still missing; about the decreasing number of volunteers and press, and the swift fading of public interest.
There was also news about Luna.
Luna was recently adopted by relatives somewhere in the Kansai or Kyushu regions, in western Japan. They say that she wanted to live with her aunt, but her aunt has also lost everything, and she would not be able to provide for her. It was decided that it would be best for her to be raised in an environment where she will have want for nothing, and so she had to go far away. I can empathize with her aunt so much that it hurts—I’m sure this must be for the best.
They say that Luna left Rikuzentakata with her worn-out Hello Kitty mask, a tiny Miffy table, and that backpack filled with her favorite things that her mother had held onto with all her might.
There’s no way of knowing where I will be able to see Luna as a grown-up, but I’m sure we will meet again as long as we’re living, so I will make sure to keep this in mind.
I wish that Luna’s long, long life that lies ahead will be surrounded with nothing but smiles and kindness all around. Not just Luna—the same goes for everyone else in the areas affected by the disaster, of course.
Even now, when the evacuation sites in Rikuzentakata appear on television, I see familiar faces from the days that I spent there. On one hand, I’m relieved to see they are doing well, but on the other, I am strongly concerned about the fact that they still have not found a new place to live, temporary or not.
As it was mentioned in the letter, those in the affected areas are living in fear of being forgotten, even though we are only approaching the three-month mark.
I intend think of the loads of issues that are sure to pile up in the face of the rainy season and summer in planning my actions in the days to come.
Translated June 7.
Original entry in Japanese: 被災地からのお手紙
DISCLAIMER FROM THE TRANSLATOR
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Two months
[May 11 3:55PM]
As of today, two months have passed since the Great East Japan Earthquake. One month went by in no time at all, but it feels as though it took longer for the second month to go by.
Time that is still frozen;
time that has started to move;
things that have gotten better since that day;
things that have gotten worse.
Each one of us will feel differently about everything, and time is passing at different rates, but lately I often feel that it’s important that we all make sure to take the time to think back and remember on occasions like this.
There was an emergency earthquake alert at five in the morning today. It feels as though there are alerts every time the public begins to forget.
I heard an acquaintance of mine saying, “These earthquake alerts are usually wrong, anyway. It’s so loud—I decided to turn it off.” It made me think of how this might be another sign of the reality that the public interest is beginning to fade, that we are once again becoming lax in our crisis-preparedness, and I felt so upset about how we will no longer be taking heed of what all those precious lives that have been sacrificed have told us that I couldn’t resist scolding my acquaintance rather harshly.
As I wrote in an entry that I posted and ended up deleting on the one-month anniversary, I went to see a friend who had gotten married and moved to Onagawa in Miyagi prefecture with our former classmates from nursing school.
Her whole family had died, and we were reunited with our friend in a manner that was the most difficult to accept.
Our friend who always brightened up any room with her smile had passed away with a terror-stricken expression on her face.
All we could do was to stand there dumb-struck and watch her being buried just as she was, next to her beloved husband.
When I think of how chagrined she must have felt, the tears start to fall and won’t stop.
Ever since, I have been thinking so much about so many things, and they all make me feel confused about “the meaning of being kept alive.”
But I do have the feeling that I might be able to understand it a little better if I think of it in terms of “the duty of going on living” instead.
After returning to Tokyo, my medical team has been busy making extensive revisions to our disaster manual, and we have been in touch with other teams that have gone into the affected areas, with more and more new information coming in all the time.
But the reality is that there are many disaster sites and evacuation sites where the vast majority of medical teams have been pulled out as of the first week of May. Now that the rainy season approaches in Japan, there will be more hygiene issues and more problems that go along with that, and I believe more discussions and new measures are necessary once again.
Tomorrow is International Nurses Day.
I will be participating in an event at a nursing college, and then I have a night shift after that…
Translated May 11.
Original entry in Japanese: 2ヶ月
As of today, two months have passed since the Great East Japan Earthquake. One month went by in no time at all, but it feels as though it took longer for the second month to go by.
Time that is still frozen;
time that has started to move;
things that have gotten better since that day;
things that have gotten worse.
Each one of us will feel differently about everything, and time is passing at different rates, but lately I often feel that it’s important that we all make sure to take the time to think back and remember on occasions like this.
There was an emergency earthquake alert at five in the morning today. It feels as though there are alerts every time the public begins to forget.
I heard an acquaintance of mine saying, “These earthquake alerts are usually wrong, anyway. It’s so loud—I decided to turn it off.” It made me think of how this might be another sign of the reality that the public interest is beginning to fade, that we are once again becoming lax in our crisis-preparedness, and I felt so upset about how we will no longer be taking heed of what all those precious lives that have been sacrificed have told us that I couldn’t resist scolding my acquaintance rather harshly.
As I wrote in an entry that I posted and ended up deleting on the one-month anniversary, I went to see a friend who had gotten married and moved to Onagawa in Miyagi prefecture with our former classmates from nursing school.
Her whole family had died, and we were reunited with our friend in a manner that was the most difficult to accept.
Our friend who always brightened up any room with her smile had passed away with a terror-stricken expression on her face.
All we could do was to stand there dumb-struck and watch her being buried just as she was, next to her beloved husband.
When I think of how chagrined she must have felt, the tears start to fall and won’t stop.
Ever since, I have been thinking so much about so many things, and they all make me feel confused about “the meaning of being kept alive.”
But I do have the feeling that I might be able to understand it a little better if I think of it in terms of “the duty of going on living” instead.
After returning to Tokyo, my medical team has been busy making extensive revisions to our disaster manual, and we have been in touch with other teams that have gone into the affected areas, with more and more new information coming in all the time.
But the reality is that there are many disaster sites and evacuation sites where the vast majority of medical teams have been pulled out as of the first week of May. Now that the rainy season approaches in Japan, there will be more hygiene issues and more problems that go along with that, and I believe more discussions and new measures are necessary once again.
Tomorrow is International Nurses Day.
I will be participating in an event at a nursing college, and then I have a night shift after that…
Translated May 11.
Original entry in Japanese: 2ヶ月
Monday, May 9, 2011
[press coverage: The Guardian: G2, May 9, 2011]
An anonymous blog written by a Japanese nurse as she cared for victims of the tsunami has given strength to survivors and fellow relief workers
Justin McCurry
guardian.co.uk, Sunday 8 May 2011 20.29 BST
The article was published on the May 9 edition of the paper.
(Left: As seen on the front page of guardian.co.uk. Below: Pages 10–13 of G2.)
The same article has also been picked up by The Age and Sydney Morning Herald in Australia, as well as Kurier in Austria.
上記のガーディアン紙の記事について@nofrillsさんが詳細なブログ記事を日本語で書いてくださいました。英語が苦手な方はこちらをお読みください。
tnfuk [today's news from uk+]: 被災地の医療スタッフさんの手記が英訳され、ガーディアンで紹介されている。
Also, a new entry was posted on April 26 on the original weblog. It is however about the author’s personal trip to Matsushima and unrelated to the contents of the previous entries, so I will not be translating it. I will however pass on her observation that Matsushima did not suffer much damage from the earthquake and is still as beautiful as ever.
Edited May 15.
Monday, April 11, 2011
[reference: photographs by Operation Blessing International]
Taken by Operation Blessing International in Rikuzentakata, Iwate, Japan on March 17, 2011. Click here to see all 65 photographs. (Not by JKTS.)
Wreckage and Relief in Rikuzentakata, a set by operation.blessing on Flickr.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Over and over again.*
[April 6 1:23AM]
I’ve finally been able to read most of the comments just recently. Thank you, to all those who have left these kind words. There are still many comments being left here, one after another, so maybe that should read “who are leaving” instead. I will find the time to read everything. Thank you.
I was especially deeply moved to find some comments from those of you who were at the evacuation sites, among all the others. This is all thanks to everyone who took the time to spread the word about this blog. Thank you, once again. Through all these connections between different people, this blog seems to even have reached the eyes of some truly surprising people, and it’s made me realize all over again that we all have a kind of bond, or that we’re all connected in some way.
To tell the truth, there are so many people reading this now that I had difficulty writing this latest entry. It seems like everyone has this image of me as a really kind, good person, but I’m really not as perfect as that, and I have my share of discontents regarding my work and daily life.
Since having gone to the disaster site, I’ve apparently been pared down in many respects without having realized it, and there are so many things that I used to love so much before that I just don’t get any more. In that respect, it’s honestly been difficult to resume my daily life.
Back in my hometown, when I earned my qualification as a flight nurse, I was also required to be qualified in disaster medical care, and that’s the only reason why I’d chosen to study it. And when I’d finished my studies and became qualified to join a DMAT [disaster medical assistance team], I was naïve enough to think, “Maybe there won’t be any major disasters during my career.”
Having actually gone to a disaster site as a DMAT member, if one were to ask me whether all that I’ve studied has truly been put to use, I don’t think that I can respond with a fully confident “Yes!” It was a reality that went beyond the manual—a terrible catastrophe beyond any manual, really. Ever since we’ve come back, our team has been working on revising all our manuals.
Currently, a third team is at the disaster site, and it seems like the medicine required there has largely shifted from the acute phase to the chronic. There have been many comments left by people who are about to head to the disaster site to administer medical care, so here are a few points that you should keep in mind, just so you know what to expect…
Water still isn’t running. Restrooms are in a fairly critical situation from a hygiene standpoint, and it is predicted that as temperatures rise, there will be more contamination. Large quantities of disinfectants are necessary. At most evacuation sites, the restrooms are being cleaned by either people from local community associations or by taking turns, and it will be necessary to educate them about how to use disinfectants to eradicate viruses. Foot care for preventing blood clots, care for ulcers caused by anxiety, and mental support are all already in need.
Medicine stocks that were often overlooked at the disaster site include spare stomas, medicine for chemotherapy, and eye-drops. Please confirm beforehand how many patients will be needing these at the evacuation sites and hospitals where you will be headed, and make sure to take five times more than the scheduled amount. I have also heard that there are more and more cases of pneumonia from being unable to brush their teeth properly, so mouthwash is also needed, at the very least.
There is a tendency for everyone to be trying too hard to persevere, and many patients will not tell you all of their symptoms. There were also many cases where patients held out for as long as they possibly can before finally coming in for consultation or being transported by an ambulance. So I think it is important to practice a broad medical examination that goes further than the main complaint.
I will be going back again around June. The needs will have changed from the last time I was there, so I will need to study a lot by then.
We are still far away from restoration, and my abilities are limited, so I will spend my days putting my effort into studying and working so that I will be able to provide better medical care than last time, even just a little bit.
Also, there were many mentions about translating my blog in the comments. If you think that my poor writing would be appropriate, please go ahead. I hope that it will reach people all over the world.
As for the offer to publish my blog in book form, it really sounds like a dream and I’m very flattered, but I would like to leave this all here as a personal blog and to just have people come and read it from time to time. Originally, I just wanted to have friends of friends read these entries and to share what is happening at the disaster sites and the struggles of the medical teams—that’s really all I had in mind when I posted these entries, so this enormous reaction beyond my wildest imagination has already been simultaneously delightful and bewildering, and honestly I feel fairly overwhelmed by it all. I’m sorry.
It seems like the third team is currently facing various difficulties as well. And it still isn’t just the medical team that has it rough. Everyone involved in various aspects of the restoration effort have been going through the same difficulties since the earthquake, and each day even more demanding than ours. But our feelings are always as one: For the restoration of the Tohoku region, and for the smiles of all those who have been affected by this disaster.
To all of you at the disaster sites, you have all persevered enough. You don’t have to persevere any more—just keep your spirits up.
It’s our job to persevere.
Next entry: Two months
* Original title: “Nando demo,” presumably in reference to the Dreams Come True song in 11) Smile.
Translated April 8.
Original entry in Japanese: 何度でも。
I’ve finally been able to read most of the comments just recently. Thank you, to all those who have left these kind words. There are still many comments being left here, one after another, so maybe that should read “who are leaving” instead. I will find the time to read everything. Thank you.
I was especially deeply moved to find some comments from those of you who were at the evacuation sites, among all the others. This is all thanks to everyone who took the time to spread the word about this blog. Thank you, once again. Through all these connections between different people, this blog seems to even have reached the eyes of some truly surprising people, and it’s made me realize all over again that we all have a kind of bond, or that we’re all connected in some way.
To tell the truth, there are so many people reading this now that I had difficulty writing this latest entry. It seems like everyone has this image of me as a really kind, good person, but I’m really not as perfect as that, and I have my share of discontents regarding my work and daily life.
Since having gone to the disaster site, I’ve apparently been pared down in many respects without having realized it, and there are so many things that I used to love so much before that I just don’t get any more. In that respect, it’s honestly been difficult to resume my daily life.
Back in my hometown, when I earned my qualification as a flight nurse, I was also required to be qualified in disaster medical care, and that’s the only reason why I’d chosen to study it. And when I’d finished my studies and became qualified to join a DMAT [disaster medical assistance team], I was naïve enough to think, “Maybe there won’t be any major disasters during my career.”
Having actually gone to a disaster site as a DMAT member, if one were to ask me whether all that I’ve studied has truly been put to use, I don’t think that I can respond with a fully confident “Yes!” It was a reality that went beyond the manual—a terrible catastrophe beyond any manual, really. Ever since we’ve come back, our team has been working on revising all our manuals.
Currently, a third team is at the disaster site, and it seems like the medicine required there has largely shifted from the acute phase to the chronic. There have been many comments left by people who are about to head to the disaster site to administer medical care, so here are a few points that you should keep in mind, just so you know what to expect…
Water still isn’t running. Restrooms are in a fairly critical situation from a hygiene standpoint, and it is predicted that as temperatures rise, there will be more contamination. Large quantities of disinfectants are necessary. At most evacuation sites, the restrooms are being cleaned by either people from local community associations or by taking turns, and it will be necessary to educate them about how to use disinfectants to eradicate viruses. Foot care for preventing blood clots, care for ulcers caused by anxiety, and mental support are all already in need.
Medicine stocks that were often overlooked at the disaster site include spare stomas, medicine for chemotherapy, and eye-drops. Please confirm beforehand how many patients will be needing these at the evacuation sites and hospitals where you will be headed, and make sure to take five times more than the scheduled amount. I have also heard that there are more and more cases of pneumonia from being unable to brush their teeth properly, so mouthwash is also needed, at the very least.
There is a tendency for everyone to be trying too hard to persevere, and many patients will not tell you all of their symptoms. There were also many cases where patients held out for as long as they possibly can before finally coming in for consultation or being transported by an ambulance. So I think it is important to practice a broad medical examination that goes further than the main complaint.
I will be going back again around June. The needs will have changed from the last time I was there, so I will need to study a lot by then.
We are still far away from restoration, and my abilities are limited, so I will spend my days putting my effort into studying and working so that I will be able to provide better medical care than last time, even just a little bit.
Also, there were many mentions about translating my blog in the comments. If you think that my poor writing would be appropriate, please go ahead. I hope that it will reach people all over the world.
As for the offer to publish my blog in book form, it really sounds like a dream and I’m very flattered, but I would like to leave this all here as a personal blog and to just have people come and read it from time to time. Originally, I just wanted to have friends of friends read these entries and to share what is happening at the disaster sites and the struggles of the medical teams—that’s really all I had in mind when I posted these entries, so this enormous reaction beyond my wildest imagination has already been simultaneously delightful and bewildering, and honestly I feel fairly overwhelmed by it all. I’m sorry.
It seems like the third team is currently facing various difficulties as well. And it still isn’t just the medical team that has it rough. Everyone involved in various aspects of the restoration effort have been going through the same difficulties since the earthquake, and each day even more demanding than ours. But our feelings are always as one: For the restoration of the Tohoku region, and for the smiles of all those who have been affected by this disaster.
To all of you at the disaster sites, you have all persevered enough. You don’t have to persevere any more—just keep your spirits up.
It’s our job to persevere.
Next entry: Two months
* Original title: “Nando demo,” presumably in reference to the Dreams Come True song in 11) Smile.
Translated April 8.
Original entry in Japanese: 何度でも。
And I thank you in return.
[March 28 2:20PM]
Time seems to be passing faster than ever before since the earthquake, and since I’ve come back from Iwate prefecture. Thank you for all your comments. I wanted to respond to each and every one of you, but it doesn’t quite seem feasible, so I am thanking you here instead.
At first, when a friend told me, “There are a lot of comments on your blog,” I thought, oh no! Maybe I’d written something that I shouldn’t have.
Originally, this used to be a journal about the concerts and other performances I attended as a huge fan of a particular celebrity. It was just another personal blog, and I’m surprised to have so many people visiting here now. I hear that some famous people have spread word about this blog on Twitter. Honestly, I really want to apologize more than I want to thank them.
I’ve always been a terrible writer, so much so that my records, reports, and essays are always being corrected all the time, so I’m sure these entries are hard to read, with tons of grammatical mistakes.
Initially, I kept these records so that I can send an e-mail out to my friends. I decided to put them here because I thought maybe it would be easier for my friends’ friends to read them too, if they were available in blog form. I’m sure there are many points that are difficult to understand or didn’t come through, with just text alone and no pictures or anything.
Really, I’m plain surprised to receive such a large response, with so many comments from people from more locations, more professions, and more perspectives than I could even have imagined. And I’m very happy that this blog has apparently led many people to know what is happening in the areas affected by the disaster, and to think even just a little bit about what each of us should and can do.
There are so many kind-hearted people out there, and reading the comments gave me so much courage. It was like everyone put some nurturing medicine on my broken heart, and I thought all over again about how people are always saved in the end by other people. Thank you very much.
I am not the kind of person who should be receiving all this praise. But from now on, when I’m confronted by countless hardships or sadness, I think looking through these comments that you’ve left here will help me persevere.
Even now that I’ve come back from the disaster site, I still have the habit of checking the weather and temperature in Iwate when I see weather reports. There is some time before I will be heading there again, and until then, I will work hard at my hospital in Tokyo.
Sometimes, I think of Rikuzentakata out of nowhere and look up at the sky. I am reassured that we are all connected, and my heart is always close to everyone at the evacuation site. I can see light at the far end of this long tunnel, and I feel we are certainly moving forward, step by step.
I will be on the night shift starting this evening. Tomorrow will be a day off, so I will sit up straight and read every comment all over again.
Next entry: Over and over again.
Translated April 8.
Original entry in Japanese: こちらこそありがとうございます。
Time seems to be passing faster than ever before since the earthquake, and since I’ve come back from Iwate prefecture. Thank you for all your comments. I wanted to respond to each and every one of you, but it doesn’t quite seem feasible, so I am thanking you here instead.
At first, when a friend told me, “There are a lot of comments on your blog,” I thought, oh no! Maybe I’d written something that I shouldn’t have.
Originally, this used to be a journal about the concerts and other performances I attended as a huge fan of a particular celebrity. It was just another personal blog, and I’m surprised to have so many people visiting here now. I hear that some famous people have spread word about this blog on Twitter. Honestly, I really want to apologize more than I want to thank them.
I’ve always been a terrible writer, so much so that my records, reports, and essays are always being corrected all the time, so I’m sure these entries are hard to read, with tons of grammatical mistakes.
Initially, I kept these records so that I can send an e-mail out to my friends. I decided to put them here because I thought maybe it would be easier for my friends’ friends to read them too, if they were available in blog form. I’m sure there are many points that are difficult to understand or didn’t come through, with just text alone and no pictures or anything.
Really, I’m plain surprised to receive such a large response, with so many comments from people from more locations, more professions, and more perspectives than I could even have imagined. And I’m very happy that this blog has apparently led many people to know what is happening in the areas affected by the disaster, and to think even just a little bit about what each of us should and can do.
There are so many kind-hearted people out there, and reading the comments gave me so much courage. It was like everyone put some nurturing medicine on my broken heart, and I thought all over again about how people are always saved in the end by other people. Thank you very much.
I am not the kind of person who should be receiving all this praise. But from now on, when I’m confronted by countless hardships or sadness, I think looking through these comments that you’ve left here will help me persevere.
Even now that I’ve come back from the disaster site, I still have the habit of checking the weather and temperature in Iwate when I see weather reports. There is some time before I will be heading there again, and until then, I will work hard at my hospital in Tokyo.
Sometimes, I think of Rikuzentakata out of nowhere and look up at the sky. I am reassured that we are all connected, and my heart is always close to everyone at the evacuation site. I can see light at the far end of this long tunnel, and I feel we are certainly moving forward, step by step.
I will be on the night shift starting this evening. Tomorrow will be a day off, so I will sit up straight and read every comment all over again.
Next entry: Over and over again.
Translated April 8.
Original entry in Japanese: こちらこそありがとうございます。
Thursday, April 7, 2011
14) From Tokyo
March 23
Our medical team will be returning to Tokyo today.
In spite of having headed here making confident remarks and with a strong attitude, the reality here that was far, far beyond my imagination seriously overwhelmed me when I arrived. There was no time to think about what I could do, and there was no choice but to get a handle on what's happening before my eyes and work with all my might.
I even started to dislike the announcers reading the news, reporting the number of deaths that increase every day as though they are counting things.
More than two thousand people requesting to be examined each day.
Patients lying on the floor to receive IV drips.
Patients lying on muddy hospital beds; single-handedly manning first-aid stations, full of anxiety.
Nighttime emergency patients at evacuation sites.
Births given in a delivery room with no water or electricity.
An emergency medical care system where hospitals that can receive patients can't be found.
Medicine without stockpiles; the lack of medical equipment.
AEDs that had been exposed to water and could no longer be used.
Every day has been so inconceivably dramatic that I can't even remember everything.
We start running around doing our work in the morning, and before we know it, it's already three or four at night, and it's the same thing every day. But I think we were able to get through it because it's not just us; the conditions are the same for the self defense forces, firemen, police officers, drivers, the heads of local community associations, so on. In fact, we were able to take turns getting a bit of rest, but all these other people have been working with no rest at all.
And even all this was easy to deal with when I thought of how this is nothing compared to how much all the people affected by the disaster are suffering.
Also, I've written about this repeatedly, but I was encouraged by the smiles and kindness and strength of the people at the evacuation sites countless times.
The people who particularly seemed to be toughing it out are often deeply hurt; everyone I talked to still hadn't been able to get in touch with their families.
At the evacuation site, a lot of people were saying that they can hold strong because they're all in it together, but to be spending every night full of anxiety, in temperatures below zero degrees Celsius and on such a hard floor, is really terrible beyond words.
The truly hard times are still ahead of us. As news about the disaster begins to disappear from the TV and other media outlets, everyone else will start to forget, and the problems faced in the affected areas will only increase. More people falling ill, more sadness. It is of course a good thing that the rest of us make an effort to be cheerful and strong and return to our usual lives as best we can, but we must never forget about March 11.
If you still don't know what you can do to help, donating some of the money you have would be good, and keeping it aside would also be good. If you keep your money, I think it would also help to go on a trip to the Tohoku region and to use it there, once transportation facilities have recovered and the region is more vibrant again.
For those of us who are not in the areas that have directly been affected, we can help support our economy by eating and drinking and working as we always have, and to donate a little when we can, as much as our means allow us. I think this is important, too.
People who mobilize money, people who energize others, people who do put full effort into their work—there are many ways in which we can all help out. And we must always keep in mind that this isn't just a problem we are facing right now, but that getting through this tunnel will be a long-term fight. To make an effort conserve electricity to an extent that doesn't intrude with your life or work, and to donate amounts that also don't impact your lifestyle to trusted organizations will also be a big step.
There will always be tons of hardships in our daily lives, whether it's heartbreak or getting in trouble at work or buying things on impulse or catching a cold. Just living a normal life will bring us bad things 90% of the time, and good things 10% of the time.
But all this is really nothing at all compared to the hardships and sorrow that those affected by the disaster are experiencing!
I think it's important that we treat objects and resources with care and always think of the areas affected, so that the people there who are hanging tough and bearing with their plight can gradually get their smiles back again.
I'm sure that this will also be a long-term battle on the medical front. I plan to return when the next opportunity arises, and to study about disaster medical care again so that I can grow as a nurse and help as many people as possible.
A secondary disaster having to do with radiation has also arisen. The problems we must tackle are only piling up. Regarding radiation, please be sure to make accurate decisions based on accurate information.
When we said our farewells at the evacuation site, everyone was crying, but they said things like "We'll work hard so that things will be better the next time we meet!," "Come visit again when the region's been restored," and "You should come and marry someone here" with a smile. I left the evacuation site in tears. Those who have survived have told me about their feelings of guilt, about how they were the only ones who survived or how they weren't able to help someone, but this is nobody's fault.
The fact that they survived definitely means something. I want the survivors to stick their chests out, to cry when things are rough, and to never forget that they are not alone.
There was also a surprise. Little Luna came to say goodbye with her aunt, with a letter she wrote for me. It said that when she grows up, she's going to do the same kind of work that I do. I was so glad that I had chosen this line of work and I couldn't stop crying.
Rikuzentakata has become my second home, and I wish for the restoration of my homeland with all my heart.
I will tell my colleagues and friends and family about all that I have seen, experienced, and felt here. How fortunate we are to be able to spend mundane daily lives. How precious the presence of family and friends who are near us is. How blessed we are to be provided with resources like water and electricity.
Different people will interpret all this in different ways, and I'm sure there are those who can only think of it as it having nothing to do with them, but any one of us can become a victim of a disaster any time.
On the return trip, we traveled by land. As Tokyo came closer and closer, I fell into a kind of illusion where I couldn't tell which world was real. Traffic lights operating like nothing happened, skyscrapers with lights in their windows, well-dressed people walking on the streets. Time passes by in the metropolitan area as though the disaster-stricken areas are somebody else's business. But I think that the true reality lies in the affected areas, and that Tokyo is unreal.
Reality and unreality are always side by side.
I wish for the restoration of the affected areas from the bottom of my heart. I promise I will come again.
Until then, please stay well. And I wish that everyone will be reunited with the people they want to see.
I wish that some day, all your efforts and tears will finally be rewarded.
Next entry: And I thank you in return.
Translated April 1.
Original entry in Japanese: 14、From TOKYO
Our medical team will be returning to Tokyo today.
In spite of having headed here making confident remarks and with a strong attitude, the reality here that was far, far beyond my imagination seriously overwhelmed me when I arrived. There was no time to think about what I could do, and there was no choice but to get a handle on what's happening before my eyes and work with all my might.
I even started to dislike the announcers reading the news, reporting the number of deaths that increase every day as though they are counting things.
More than two thousand people requesting to be examined each day.
Patients lying on the floor to receive IV drips.
Patients lying on muddy hospital beds; single-handedly manning first-aid stations, full of anxiety.
Nighttime emergency patients at evacuation sites.
Births given in a delivery room with no water or electricity.
An emergency medical care system where hospitals that can receive patients can't be found.
Medicine without stockpiles; the lack of medical equipment.
AEDs that had been exposed to water and could no longer be used.
Every day has been so inconceivably dramatic that I can't even remember everything.
We start running around doing our work in the morning, and before we know it, it's already three or four at night, and it's the same thing every day. But I think we were able to get through it because it's not just us; the conditions are the same for the self defense forces, firemen, police officers, drivers, the heads of local community associations, so on. In fact, we were able to take turns getting a bit of rest, but all these other people have been working with no rest at all.
And even all this was easy to deal with when I thought of how this is nothing compared to how much all the people affected by the disaster are suffering.
Also, I've written about this repeatedly, but I was encouraged by the smiles and kindness and strength of the people at the evacuation sites countless times.
The people who particularly seemed to be toughing it out are often deeply hurt; everyone I talked to still hadn't been able to get in touch with their families.
At the evacuation site, a lot of people were saying that they can hold strong because they're all in it together, but to be spending every night full of anxiety, in temperatures below zero degrees Celsius and on such a hard floor, is really terrible beyond words.
The truly hard times are still ahead of us. As news about the disaster begins to disappear from the TV and other media outlets, everyone else will start to forget, and the problems faced in the affected areas will only increase. More people falling ill, more sadness. It is of course a good thing that the rest of us make an effort to be cheerful and strong and return to our usual lives as best we can, but we must never forget about March 11.
If you still don't know what you can do to help, donating some of the money you have would be good, and keeping it aside would also be good. If you keep your money, I think it would also help to go on a trip to the Tohoku region and to use it there, once transportation facilities have recovered and the region is more vibrant again.
For those of us who are not in the areas that have directly been affected, we can help support our economy by eating and drinking and working as we always have, and to donate a little when we can, as much as our means allow us. I think this is important, too.
People who mobilize money, people who energize others, people who do put full effort into their work—there are many ways in which we can all help out. And we must always keep in mind that this isn't just a problem we are facing right now, but that getting through this tunnel will be a long-term fight. To make an effort conserve electricity to an extent that doesn't intrude with your life or work, and to donate amounts that also don't impact your lifestyle to trusted organizations will also be a big step.
There will always be tons of hardships in our daily lives, whether it's heartbreak or getting in trouble at work or buying things on impulse or catching a cold. Just living a normal life will bring us bad things 90% of the time, and good things 10% of the time.
But all this is really nothing at all compared to the hardships and sorrow that those affected by the disaster are experiencing!
I think it's important that we treat objects and resources with care and always think of the areas affected, so that the people there who are hanging tough and bearing with their plight can gradually get their smiles back again.
I'm sure that this will also be a long-term battle on the medical front. I plan to return when the next opportunity arises, and to study about disaster medical care again so that I can grow as a nurse and help as many people as possible.
A secondary disaster having to do with radiation has also arisen. The problems we must tackle are only piling up. Regarding radiation, please be sure to make accurate decisions based on accurate information.
When we said our farewells at the evacuation site, everyone was crying, but they said things like "We'll work hard so that things will be better the next time we meet!," "Come visit again when the region's been restored," and "You should come and marry someone here" with a smile. I left the evacuation site in tears. Those who have survived have told me about their feelings of guilt, about how they were the only ones who survived or how they weren't able to help someone, but this is nobody's fault.
The fact that they survived definitely means something. I want the survivors to stick their chests out, to cry when things are rough, and to never forget that they are not alone.
There was also a surprise. Little Luna came to say goodbye with her aunt, with a letter she wrote for me. It said that when she grows up, she's going to do the same kind of work that I do. I was so glad that I had chosen this line of work and I couldn't stop crying.
Rikuzentakata has become my second home, and I wish for the restoration of my homeland with all my heart.
I will tell my colleagues and friends and family about all that I have seen, experienced, and felt here. How fortunate we are to be able to spend mundane daily lives. How precious the presence of family and friends who are near us is. How blessed we are to be provided with resources like water and electricity.
Different people will interpret all this in different ways, and I'm sure there are those who can only think of it as it having nothing to do with them, but any one of us can become a victim of a disaster any time.
On the return trip, we traveled by land. As Tokyo came closer and closer, I fell into a kind of illusion where I couldn't tell which world was real. Traffic lights operating like nothing happened, skyscrapers with lights in their windows, well-dressed people walking on the streets. Time passes by in the metropolitan area as though the disaster-stricken areas are somebody else's business. But I think that the true reality lies in the affected areas, and that Tokyo is unreal.
Reality and unreality are always side by side.
I wish for the restoration of the affected areas from the bottom of my heart. I promise I will come again.
Until then, please stay well. And I wish that everyone will be reunited with the people they want to see.
I wish that some day, all your efforts and tears will finally be rewarded.
Next entry: And I thank you in return.
Translated April 1.
Original entry in Japanese: 14、From TOKYO
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