BY BARBIANN MAYNARD

Against all odds, I survived the historic flood that ravaged our area Feb. 16, 2025. Now it is time to share my experience.

Let us back up a little. When I was 12 and my Leigh Ann Maynard was three, our mother was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 29. She lost her right breast and had to have her lymph nodes removed. After what felt like an eternity of chemo and radiation, our mother beat this awful disease—only for it to return in her late 40s and take her life.

I am now in my forties and at the beginning of the year, my doctor found lumps of concern in both of my breasts.

I am the sole caregiver for my father, who has dementia, a diabetic foot ulcer and myriad other health concerns. On Feb. 14, I had a lumpectomy on both breasts. I am happy to say that my diagnosis was non-cancerous. Merely 48 hours after the surgery, I woke to rapidly rising floodwaters and my house already surrounded.

I began to gather my dad’s medical supplies, clothes, some cereal bars and water. In the brief time it took me to gather these items, the water was waist-deep in our front yard. I sent my jeep keys with my dad and sent him through the icy water to awaiting neighbors.

My dad was supposed to go to a neighbor who lives on the hill across the road. I knew he would be safe there, and with her having a pallet stove, a generator, and decades of being a nurse. I felt Dad would be well taken care of while I dealt with the realization that I was trapped. Because of my recent surgery, my option to get to safety by this point was impossible.

Once my dad got through the water, he got into my Jeep that was now sitting on the road in a line of vehicles that had been moved to higher ground. He got into my Jeep to change clothes and stayed there despite my instructions to go to the neighbors. I went on the porch and tried numerous times yelling for him, but over the rushing, my voice could not be heard.

I messaged a neighbor who was also trapped in their home and asked that they try getting my dad to go to the house on the hill, but he refused to go.

With my dad’s dementia and my role as his caregiver, I have become his safety and security. He refused to exit my vehicle until it got too dark to see ANYTHING. Then and only then did he indeed go to the neighbor’s home. I was relieved.

By this point, I was surrounded by water, in the dark, without power, alone, cold, with my phone on 3%. I was at the mercy of Mother Nature and fate.

My mind began to race with thoughts of all the movie scenes where people were running to air pockets trying for one more breath of air. I was scared.

The next morning I woke at 8 a.m. to the receding water and realized I could now safely get out of my home.

As soon as the power came back on neighbors began to return to their homes to survey the damage and begin the cleanup – recovery efforts.

This past week I have seen a community come together with neighbor helping neighbor in an outpouring of love and support that had been missing for a while. People have arrived in our community from near and far to support our community in every capacity. Some brought food, others brought cleaning supplies, some served, and some got down and dirty by mucking mud and removing debris. I call these individuals our angels. Without them our community would never be able to recover from such devastation.

This is my experience of the flood of 2025. Although my story is uniquely mine, it is not so far off from the experience of numerous others.

We have overcome many things in our community and we will overcome this as long as we rely on our resilience and empathy.

Barbiann Maynard lives beside the Tug River on Riverfront Road in Martin County.