By John Boyd
The Advocate
NEW ORLEANS — Inside the Office of Emergency Preparedness, an ecosystem of familiar abbreviations listened to the final statements of the Sept. 9 Gustav briefing.
DEMCO subconsciously lipped at a folded piece of paper. EBRSO wrung his hands compulsively. FEMA nervously tapped a pen against the sole of his shoe.
An abbreviation that few would recognize, ERMI, waited just inside the door.
The woman behind the ERMI logo, Robin Myers, couldn’t turn anyone’s power on; keep the city traffic moving; or have emergency aide delivered to needy storm survivors — but she could help those who do.
For the past three years, Myers — the Louisiana Director of Emergency Response Massage International (ERMI) — has offered free therapeutic massages to emergency first responders.
The service is a guilty pleasure for responders at the OEP, many of whom didn’t want to speak on record for fear it would look bad to other responders busy clearing debris from yards or working traffic intersections.
Myers sees no reason for such scruples.
“You can’t pick someone up if you’ve got a broken back,” Myers said, referring to the burden shouldered by those whose shoulders she worked on.
Following Hurricane Katrina, she and a team of ERMI volunteers spent a month embedded with workers in New Orleans.
In the first week following Gustav, she gave out 50 massages.
The massages last about 10 minutes and are intended more to revitalize than “break down the muscle” as a deep tissue massage might: The last thing Myers wants is to leave responders sore for several days after.
Mostly, she said, she is trying to help the body’s muscles remember “what it means to relax,” even if it is just for a few minutes.
Native American flute music and a bottle of aromatherapy spray add to the relaxing atmosphere.
At the OEP, Myers was given a small room offset from the main briefing room familiar to residents who tuned to televised briefings from the mayor-president and others after Gustav.
She shared the room with a pull cart and several buckets of paint — clearly not as inviting as her personal studio.
Her first OEP client was kind enough to leave a $5 tip; Myers thanked him and accepted, but said she wasn’t offering her services to make money.
Another client asked if he could write his name down a second time on the sign-up sheet. Another wanted to know if Myers would be back the next day. Another offered to give her a good home, if she’s interested.
“Well, if my electricity hadn’t come on last night, we might could have worked something out,” Myers said, joking.
Norma Rutledge, executive director of the Baton Rouge Crisis Intervention Center, pitches an idea for how she and Myers could work together on future disasters.
“These are the kinds of things,” Rutledge said, “that help the people on the ground stay on the ground.”
J.G. Guillory, an assistant chief administrative officer with the Mayor-President’s Office, melted into Myers’ massage chair.
The storm had arrived a week ago, but his storm duties had begun several days before that when he had to leave his family behind to come to the OEP to start planning.
As Gustav unloaded its barrels upon the city, Guillory’s wife would call in to update: the electricity is out, but everyone is OK; a tree had fallen, but no one was hurt.
Like many of the responders, the stress of holding up both a city and a family was building.
“These people are concerned about the city because if they fail, the city fails,” Guillory said.
“But in those quiet moments, when you take a five-minute break or you take the time to find an air mattress to sleep on, that’s when all your personal anxieties and stresses start showing up.
"(The massage), it just rejuvenates you, helps you get back in sync. I know how valuable this service is,” Guillory said.