An existing tropical storm watch was officially upgraded at 5:02 a.m. on Labor Day to a Tropical Storm Warning as Hurricane Lowell continues to creep up from the south, approaching Oahu, Kauai, and Niihau. The view of the front yard and beyond this morning didn’t look bad, but the weather warning got our attention.
Our house is well within the Waialae to Hawaii Kai corridor included in the advisory.
Issued: 2026-09-07 05:02:00 HST|Expiring: 2026-09-07 13:15:00 HST
Tropical Storm Watch issued September 7 at 5:02AM HST by NWS Honolulu HI
A Tropical Storm Watch means tropical storm-force winds are possible
somewhere within this area within the next 48 hours
* LOCATIONS AFFECTED
– Waialae
– Aina Haina
– Hawaii Kai
* WIND
– LATEST LOCAL FORECAST: Below tropical storm force wind
– Peak Wind Forecast: 20-30 mph with gusts to 40 mph
– THREAT TO LIFE AND PROPERTY THAT INCLUDES TYPICAL FORECAST
UNCERTAINTY IN TRACK, SIZE AND INTENSITY: Potential for wind 39
to 57 mph
To be fair, similar warnings were issued simultaneously across pretty much the entire island of Oahu and the City & County of Honolulu. Still, we are accustomed to being mere observers while heavy weather batters our old neighborhood on the Windward side, rather than sitting tight to see whether the threat materializes on our doorstep.
We’ve spent the last 10 days obsessively tracking what is now Hurricane Lowell as it developed from a ragged patch of weather off Mexico into a major hurricane heading our way. At first, models projected it passing well south of the chain without major incident, save for heavy rain and localized flooding on Hawaii Island. Then late last week, the outlook shifted ominously when atmospheric conditions suggested a sharp right turn north—dangerously close to Kauai.
Over the past few days, the projected track has inched slightly east. In practical terms: a heightened threat of hurricane-force conditions over parts of Kauai, and tropical-storm-force winds brushing Oahu.
The silver lining: after musing recently about lacking the stamina for routine pre-storm prep, I’ve had a generous outpouring of help. Well, “deluged” might be pushing it, but I’ve been surprised and deeply touched by how many people stepped forward offering to pitch in if things get rough. A sincere thank you to everyone—even if current projections suggest our corner of the island may see relatively muted effects.
With any luck, Lowell will make its closest pass to East Oahu before the day is out without jogging any further in our direction.
The storm prep anxiety hasn’t helped my recovery, coming right on the heels of a week spent flat on my back at Queen’s Medical Center. It was a setback—temporary, certainly, but still a frustrating step in the wrong direction.
The infection that launched this mini-adventure was brought under control fairly quickly with high-octane IV antibiotics. But a week of heavy intravenous drugs combined with enforced bed rest left me unsteady at best, and at worst fighting to stay upright.
Then came the small pharmacy sent home with me: an oral antibiotic; a blood thinner added after a scan revealed a fresh clot in each lung; magnesium and potassium supplements to address deficits flagged during early-morning blood draws; an acid reducer; and finally a liquid antifungal mouthwash used four times a day. Each came with a thorough clinical explanation—save for the mouthwash, whose precise necessity remains something of an open question.
I’ve never relished taking handfuls of pills, especially multiple times a day. The tiny tablets go down fine, but the horse-choker capsules go down only under strenuous protest and require half a glass of water just to ensure they don’t lodge midway. It doesn’t help that sorting and swallowing them right alongside breakfast and dinner has blunted my already marginal appetite—a bad habit I can’t afford right now.
That said, since being discharged home last Wednesday afternoon, each day has been measurably better than the last. Within 48 hours, my snazzy new walker went from constant necessity to standing on standby in the corner. The waves of dizziness have subsided into faint ripples, and the sudden “I’m going down” lightheadedness seems to have passed.
I’m not yet back to the footing I had before this Queen’s detour, but things are pointing in the right direction—a classic case of two steps forward, one step back, with eyes on the horizon.








