Winter Storm Wake-Up Call

By Dana Hentschel, Outreach Coordinator

This winter, Nashville experienced a historic ice storm. For a full week leading up to it, meteorologists warned us to prepare, stock up on essentials, expect to be stuck at home, and be ready for possible power outages lasting days. Some people heeded the warning. Others dismissed it as hype, just another excuse to empty grocery store shelves.

A winter storm has caused significant damage, with ice-laden trees collapsing onto power lines alongside a rural road, showcasing the harsh impact of freezing weather on infrastructure.

I fell somewhere in between. I thought about buying a generator, but by the time I looked, they were sold out. I shrugged it off. I bought groceries for the week. I filled the bathtub with water. I set aside extra drinking water. I told myself I was prepared. But as the ice rolled in, I quickly discovered my blind spots.

I live surrounded by trees, one giant elm that I absolutely love but that sits a little too close to our home. When my husband and I heard a loud boom and felt the house shake, my heart sank. I feared my reluctance to remove that tree had cost us everything. Thankfully, it was only minor roof damage, but in that moment, the risk felt very real.

And then the power went out. Five days without electricity doesn’t sound unbearable, until you’re sitting in your living room at 6:00 p.m. in total darkness, and it’s 48 degrees inside your home. The novelty fades quickly. The vulnerability sets in.

So, what does this have to do with caregiving? Everything.

I believed I was prepared, or at least prepared enough. But it wasn’t until I was in the middle of the crisis that I recognized where I had minimized risk, delayed decisions, or avoided spending money that might have prevented discomfort and stress later.

As caregivers, we often do the same thing. We tell ourselves we’ll handle it when the time comes. We hope the “what ifs” won’t happen. We plan just enough to feel responsible, but not always enough to feel secure.

During the storm, I was deeply grateful that my aunt was in a care community rather than alone in her house. If her cell phone battery had died with no way to charge it, we would have had no communication. I couldn’t drive on ice, and I live on a back road. There would have been no way for me to reach her. The storm would have turned into something far more frightening.

We cannot plan for every possibility. Sometimes we do have to cross our fingers and hope for the best. But we should never wait for an emergency to begin planning, whether it’s for a winter storm or for long-term care. Because when we wait, options shrink. Resources disappear. Decisions become reactive instead of thoughtful. And no one wants to find themselves cold, alone, and in the dark—literally or figuratively. Planning ahead doesn’t eliminate every crisis. But it does give you light when the storm hits.