In April of this year, my husband, Dave and I flew to Costa Rica to begin a cruise through the Panama Canal to Aruba. Everyone traveling on the cruise worked for his insurance company, as this was a trip the employees had qualified for during the year 2000.

Our first stop the morning after we set sail was Managua, Nicaragua. We signed up for the eight hour tour, which took us through the town of Granada, a craft market, and finally, a visit to the Masaya Volcano. The city and craft market were fascinating, though it was quite hot. We enjoyed a good lunch with a refreshing beer. Our last stop was the volcano, which had not erupted in over 300 years.

When we arrived the three buses parked very close to the edge of the crater. We explored the crater, which was steaming slightly. We hiked up 181 steps to a look-out point, which was not easy given the heat. We took our tourist type pictures at the top, surveyed an overview of this area in Nicaragua, and then headed back down to the parking lot.

When we hit the parking lot, I suddenly noticed huge rocks coming out of the center of the volcano. What happened in the next five minutes remains a very surreal experience. The force of the rocks being catapulted out of the crater was very scary. My husband yelled to me to run across the parking lot and head down the hill. The rocks were coming at faster speed, and increased in volume within a minute. How we were not hit by one of these boulders is a true miracle. As we ran, they were landing all around us. I knew that if one of these rocks hit us, we would be dead. Their size and force was incredible.

When we had run out of range of the rocks, we turned around for the first time to look at the volcano. A huge dark cloud had risen to the sky. I could not see my friends who had been at the top of the lookout. We both stood there stunned. In my mind I am thinking, "OK, next comes the red lava. I will get molded to the ground like the people in Pompeii". Dave, thinking of the fumes and gas from the cloud, yelled, "Keep running!" We ran farther down the hill and turned around once more. Somehow, the black cloud had moved back and we were out of danger. We could see our tour buses limping across the lot. An older woman we were running with had fallen and blood was dripping down her face and clothes.

We got on our bus, only to be shocked to see a hole in the roof. A boulder had hit the roof, broken through the ceiling, and collapsed a seat. A mother and her 6 year old twins were sitting on the bus at that time. They looked terrified. Did I have that look of terror on my face as well? Friends outside were pointing to our bus as if something was wrong with it. Suddenly a hot rock melted through and flames erupted inside the bus. We quickly evacuated the bus while the driver tried his best to put out the fire.

Our friends on the hillside had a tough time coming down, as the rocks from the volcano prevented them from going down the stairs. They had to descend from the top, quickly, but carefully, to the parking lot. Several friends slipped on the shale, scraping their legs. The most serious injury was a woman who broke her wrist and sprained an ankle. A little girl was separated from her parents and was heard yelling, "I don't want to die. I love my mommy. I love my daddy." Somehow I think her words echoed what all of us were feeling inside. Miraculously, all of us made it back to the buses without major injuries or death.

Slowly, we descended down the mountain to a rest stop. There, many loved ones found each other and were reunited. The injured were cared for. I had one cut on my left calf. A day or two later it turned black and blue and was discolored for a month. We climbed onto the buses and began the hour-long ride back to the ship. We were scared. We were relieved. We were laughing. We were crying. The injured were hurting. We watched the video of those who somehow had taped the eruption as they ran down the hill.

When we arrived back at the ship, somehow I expected loud applause, or a bottle of champagne;something to recognize the survivors, as we came to call ourselves. The ship was quiet, taking care of the injured, letting the rest of us go to our cabins for a rest. Later that evening I was relieved to see the mother and her twins swimming in the pool. Yes, let us return to normal and simple pleasures of life, I thought. The ship began its sail towards the Panama Canal.

The next morning during the business meeting, it was requested that those who had been traumatized by the eruption should gather for a meeting. Then it dawned on me..." Marty, you are a therapist. You could help these people. You could do EMDR." I found the ship personnel and the State Farm Insurance people in charge and introduced myself. They were relieved to meet me. We held a meeting and let each person voice their concerns and their fears.

The meeting was very interesting to observe. I was a victim, yet I was also someone who spoke with the group about trauma and how to care for themselves. I offered to do EMDR. Some were quite traumatized and feared that news broadcasts of the volcano eruption would evoke concerns in family members. (Of course, we learned later that no news hit the Bay Area at all.) Others reflected on the grace of God who had spared our lives. One woman thought there was going to be an earthquake in the ocean and wanted to get off the ship. The ship personnel and State Farm dealt with each and every person's fear and concern in a very respectful manner. I made myself available for any who wanted to talk. Several came forward and we shared stories.

A friend and spouse of another State Farm employee had been trained as a therapist, so together we organized a children's session for the next morning in which children and their parents could draw and talk about their experiences. The kids drew their memories and it was fascinating to see the details that they remembered. Seeing their drawings made me wish that all of us had been together to record our experiences. All of us had survived something quite remarkable.

The ship put together a video of the eruption and we all watched it one night. Many of the other passengers wanted to see it as well. It troubled me to view it as I saw once again just how close to death we all came. After the viewing, we had a service of Thanksgiving for God's protection of us all. I never imagined that I would be singing "Amazing Grace" with these friends.

The next few days, we talked and shared our stories with one another. Bodies began to heal as well as our souls. As we went through the Panama Canal, the ship brought on board a therapist from Miami who had been trained in Critical Incident Debriefing. I had various reactions upon her arrival. Part of me was greatly relieved. I could go back to being a guest and a victim, and not worry about others. On the other hand, I felt perturbed that they brought her on...sort of like, "I handled it great. Wasn't I good enough?" But I realized that about 20 crew members had been up there at the same time, and they were having a tough time processing the experience given their various nationalities.

I met with this therapist that night and filled her in on the status of our group. She mentioned she wanted to put the victims in groups of 10 or 12 to talk about the experience. I pondered her suggestion for a moment and thought about the past few days on the ship. I smiled and said, "We've been doing that together since this happened." Whether we were sharing a meal together, dancing at midnight with friends, or having a drink by the pool, each person involved was telling their story to the next person. Yes, we had been having group therapy together and it had been very healing. A day or two later I realized how relieved I felt by her presence and knowing there was someone people could talk to besides me. I could sigh and relax even more. She shared that a few of our people had spoken with her.

Today we are left with memories of a powerful experience that has changed us both forever. We experienced just how fragile life is and have much gratitude to God for his protection of our lives as well as the other 100 people up there with us. You never know!!!

But I wanted to share this story with you, my colleagues, for two reasons. I anticipated that I would have a wonderful relaxing cruise, which it was, but it did have this added trauma. I never anticipated that I would be called upon to be a therapist on this huge cruise ship. I was pleased to be able to step up and serve my friends in this manner. I believe any one of you would do the same. It also confirmed in my mind the importance of having some critical incident debriefing training. While I had been thinking of taking this type of training, my experience solidified my conviction. Although I know a lot about processing trauma, I would have felt a bit more confident, given my own fragility, speaking to those 100 friends about how we were going to get through this. Being prepared, whether we are in our own community, or traveling around the world, is crucial, as one never knows when our services might be needed to help others.

Note: This article reflects the opinions of the author and not necessarily those of
East Bay CAMFT.