During heavy rains in Baton Rouge, a basement apartment began to flood before dawn. Water rising rapidly in that terrifying way floods happen—slowly at first, then suddenly critical. By the time paramedics arrived, the situation was already dangerous.
Paramedic Jordan Ellis, thirty-four, arrived to find knee-deep water rising around a woman in her seventies with a broken ankle. She couldn’t walk. The power was out. The stairwell—the only way out of the basement—was slick with mud and partially submerged. Debris floated past in the dark water.
This wasn’t a controlled rescue. This was chaos. Rising water. No power. A patient who couldn’t bear weight. Stairs that were treacherous even in good conditions, now slick and dangerous and partially underwater.
Jordan assessed the situation quickly. Lifted the woman onto his shoulders. Wedged his flashlight into his vest so he could see where he was stepping. And then carefully, step by step, he carried her through the flooded basement and up those muddy, submerged stairs.
Each step was precarious. Water rushing past. Debris floating by. The woman on his shoulders depending entirely on his balance, his strength, his ability to navigate stairs he could barely see. One slip would mean both of them falling into floodwater with debris. One mistake could turn a rescue into a catastrophe.
But Jordan moved steadily. Carefully. Focused entirely on getting this woman to safety. One step. Then another. Then another. Until they reached the top and outside, where another medic covered her with a blanket in the back of the truck.
Jordan just nodded once. Water dripping from his sleeves. Uniform soaked. And then he went back inside for the next call. Because that’s what paramedics do. They don’t stop after one rescue. They keep going until everyone who needs help has been helped.
The photo shows multiple paramedics working together to evacuate someone on a stretcher through flooded apartment stairs. The water is visible, the conditions obviously dangerous, the work obviously exhausting. This is emergency response in disaster conditions—not the controlled environment of a hospital, but the chaotic reality of flooding buildings and rising water and people who can’t evacuate themselves.
Jordan’s rescue was part of a larger response. Multiple apartments flooding. Multiple people needing evacuation. Multiple paramedics working through dangerous conditions to get vulnerable people to safety.
But Jordan’s carry stands out because of the specific challenges: a patient with a broken ankle who couldn’t walk, stairs that were slick and partially submerged, darkness from power outage, debris floating past, and the constant urgency of rising water.
He could have waited for additional resources. Could have called for specialized water rescue equipment. Could have delayed until conditions were slightly better or backup arrived.
But the water was rising. The woman couldn’t wait. So Jordan lifted her onto his shoulders and carried her out. Through conditions that were dangerous for a person walking alone, let alone carrying someone else.
That’s not just competence. That’s courage. That’s the decision to act immediately when immediate action is required, accepting the risk because someone’s life depends on it.
The woman in her seventies with a broken ankle couldn’t have evacuated herself. Couldn’t have navigated those stairs even in good conditions. In floodwater, in darkness, with debris floating past—it would have been impossible. She needed someone to carry her out.
Jordan became that someone. Lifted her onto his shoulders. Used his flashlight to see. Used his strength and balance to navigate stairs that were treacherous. Used his training and experience to move carefully despite urgency.
And he succeeded. Got her out safely. Turned her over to another medic who covered her with a blanket. Made sure she was stable and warm before he moved on to the next emergency.
Because there was a next emergency. And a next one after that. Flooding doesn’t pause between rescues. Doesn’t give paramedics time to rest or dry off or process what they just did. It just keeps requiring response until everyone is safe.
Jordan nodded once. Water dripping from his sleeves. And went back inside. Because other people needed help. Because his job wasn’t done. Because being a paramedic means continuing until everyone who needs evacuation has been evacuated.
The photo will probably remain with Jordan for the rest of his career. Evidence of what he did during the Baton Rouge floods. Proof that he carried a woman with a broken ankle through dangerous conditions and got her to safety.
But for Jordan, this was probably just another call. Just another person who needed help. Just another situation where someone’s survival depended on his willingness to enter dangerous conditions and do whatever was necessary.
That’s what paramedics do. They show up to chaos. They assess rapidly. They act immediately. They take risks that most people would avoid. And then they move on to the next call without expecting recognition or praise.
Jordan Ellis is thirty-four years old. He’ll probably respond to hundreds more emergencies. Will probably carry dozens more people to safety. Will probably face countless more situations where someone’s life depends on his competence and courage.
And he’ll probably handle them the same way he handled this one: assess the situation, do what needs doing, make sure the patient is safe, and move on to the next call.
Water dripping from his sleeves. Uniform soaked. Job not done yet.
That’s not heroism seeking recognition. That’s just Tuesday for a paramedic during a flood.
But it saved a life. A woman in her seventies with a broken ankle, trapped in a flooding basement, got carried to safety through conditions that could have killed them both.
Because Jordan Ellis lifted her onto his shoulders and carried her out. One careful step at a time. Through knee-deep water and debris and darkness.
And then nodded once and went back inside for the next call