My 6-year-old disabled son is up to four times more likely to die or be critically injured during a natural disaster than his nondisabled peers, according to the National Council on Disability. Our family could have easily lived this nightmare amid Hurricane Helene.

As Hurricane Helene descended on my family’s home in Arden, North Carolina (a small community located just south of Asheville) late on Sept. 26, I nervously watched my son sleep on our video monitor. Ever since he received a tracheostomy, a surgical procedure that placed a tube in his trachea to enable him to breathe, he has needed round-the-clock care.

When the lights began to flicker in our home, I had just finished charging his two suction machines that help clear secretions from his airway. As usual, my partner woke up at 2 a.m. to take over supervising our son’s care. The power was still on when I went to bed. When I got up that morning, the lights were out, and there was no phone service or internet.

My partner and I took a deep breath and implemented our emergency plan.

All roads to the hospital were impassable

We had experienced power outages before, but the impacts of this storm felt more dire.

Our most critical task is maintaining battery power in our son’s suction machines. When the suction machines ran low on battery, we charged them in our car. But as the battery power drained from the suction machines and the gas in our car tanks dwindled and the hours went by, we knew we had to find another power source, quickly.

Knowing that hospitals are some of the few public places that have generators, my partner decided to drive his car that Saturday morning to see if he could safely get to the nearest hospital to charge one of the suction machines. When he returned, he told me he was alarmed by what he saw – destruction everywhere and all roads to the hospital were completely blocked off and impassable. Our hearts sank and panic began to set in.

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Our next best option was our local firehouse, so we loaded up our van and drove over fallen power lines and past uprooted oak trees to get to Avery’s Creek station.

When we pulled up, we were greeted by a firefighter who said the best words I could hear in that moment: “Yes, we have generators and yes you can charge your equipment here.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I could feel the tension and anxiety leave my body. We finally exhaled. Our son would be OK.

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Tragically, for many people with disabilities, they are unable to access the help they need during a natural disaster and the results are unacceptably fatal.

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We saw this in 2005 with Hurricane Katrina, in which older adults and disabled people made up a disproportionate number of those who died and were injured during the storm. It wouldn’t be this way if we centered disabled people’s voices and their needs in climate disaster response planning.

As climate change worsens and climate disasters like Hurricane Helene inflict unprecedented destruction on our communities, disabled people continue to sound the alarm and fight for their right to survive.

We have a choice: Will we listen and respond by prioritizing their safety and survival before the next climate disaster strikes?

Beth Connor lives in Arden, North Carolina, with her partner and their 6-year-old son, who is disabled and medically complex. She is a professional fundraiser for an affordable housing nonprofit and a full-time mother and caregiver.