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Flames swept through the San Bernardino mountain range, a half-mile from the home of San Bernardino nurse Kim Groshong, RN, but she was not forced to evacuate.

A decade's worth of photographs, three days of clothing and a trio of distressed but healthy pets. That's all Gerilyn Herold, MSN, RN, and her family have left from the October fires that destroyed their home in a foothill village along Interstate 8 east of San Diego.

But for now, it's all they need. While friends' and strangers' generosity attend to their temporary wants, Herold and her husband are brimming with hope and optimism. Within the next 12 to 18 months, they plan to rebuild and return the family-two kids, a dog, a cat and a bunny-to Alpine, Calif., to renew a quiet, picturesque life they had among church friends and (what was once) beautiful scenery.

"Our first thought was we didn't want to go back," because of the charred landscape surrounding the Cuyamaca Mountains, said Herold, a nurse instructor at San Diego State University and NURSEWEEK contributing writer. "But when we actually got back to Alpine five days later and we got to see our dearest friends, kids, teachers and everyone from our religious community, you start realizing your home is not your building. Your home is in your heart."

Nearly all nurses across Southern California were affected by the devastating fires that disrupted hospital staffs and filled patient rooms with burn and respiratory patients for at least a week. But some nurses also stared down the calamity in the midst of personal crises, in which their own homes or family's safety were endangered by the flames that destroyed more than 2,800 homes.

Unfortunate few

Herold was among an unfortunate few who were coping with the loss of their home. Others, like nurse manager Tracy Bock, RN, of Loma Linda University Medical Center outside Los Angeles, are thankful for the good fortune that spared their houses-in some cases by minutes.

Bock, a resident of the Lake Arrowhead mountain town of Running Springs, anxiously worried over a two- to three-day period when the inferno across the road inched to within a block of her neighborhood. Her husband is the battalion chief of the Riverside County Fire Department and stayed behind at the scene battling the fire, while Bock and her children were evacuated Oct. 26 and stayed with her mother-in-law in Highland.

"Nobody knew the magnitude of what it would end up being," Bock said of the first signs of the fire Oct. 25.

San Bernardino nurse Kim Groshong, RN, watched flames a half-mile from her home, but was never forced to evacuate. But she was nonetheless consumed with worry and fear for her neighbors and family, including a sister who was forced to leave her nearby home. Groshong housed her during the forced evacuation, and also knocked on doors to check on fellow residents. "I drove around the whole neighborhood to see if my friends were OK," Groshong said.

"Monday night [Oct. 27], we were really threatened. I was hosing off my roof, and I was concerned about embers, but the wind changed, and that helped us a lot. I at least slept a little bit that night," she said.

Groshong's job provided no relief from the fire's impact. Inside the hallways and rooms of St. Bernardine Medical Center where Groshong works in labor and delivery, smoke brought coughing fits and burning eye irritation for several days to staff and patients. "The smoke was horrendous in the hallways," but dissipated through the week as nurses kept blowers on and doors closed, she said.

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