For the generations who remembered where they were, what was happening on the day JFK was shot; this same experience is shared with the 9/11 tragedy. We were all somewhere living our lives, and although our experiences are different, and how can I possibly compare my experience to someone who lost a loved one that day?…..We were all affected.
On September 10, 2011 a mothers 17 year old sons’ lung collapsed. She was called at work and hurried to the high school, and after being checked at the small local hospital, they said taking him to a medical facility 30 miles away would be a better idea and since using an ambulance might take longer than driving him herself; she raced there. In emergency the doctor poked a hole in his chest with an instrument as big as quarter, no anesthesia, hoping to inflate his lung……….this is my story.
I spent the night in the hospital room with my son, waiting for his lung to right itself, to inflate, and hopefully avoid surgery. I’ve learned since that the pain in growing boys’ chests with this kind of trauma is one of the most extreme kinds of pain. After a sleepless night his face was white, he was crying out……and the planes were hitting the World Trade Center. In retrospect of course I see the confusion, the grief, the fear in the nurses faces. But in that moment I saw people distracted, my son suffering in agony, and me powerless running around looking for doctor to give my son morphine or some kind of painkiller to ease him. The only thing on the small television in the hospital room was the Manhattan skyline…….
So much has been written of this event, of our feelings, of anger, fear, and grief. All of it expressed through the years in the most poignant ways. I cannot come close to conveying all the event, and peoples experiences of 9/11 entails. Today on the 10 year anniversary, I do know what I have learned through this. More about our human capacity for compassion and empathy for one another. More about hate and fear and how that destroys our hearts and the hearts of others. More about how one event can rip a country apart, and bring it back together. I have learned so much about New York City and its people and love them as if I was one of them. That is unity in the midst of pain.
My son had the emergency surgery that day, and was in intensive care for a week. I basically lived at the hospital for two weeks and missed much of the initial fallout of the tragedy because of caring for him. Being a postal employee I missed that we were called into Civil Service emergency, with no planes meant no mail moved. The country was in crisis and so were we, in a different way. The TV in the hospital kept us informed and there was nothing else on, just as when I was ten years old, and John Kennedy was assassinated.
I remember a night in the ICU. Two of my son’s friends had snuck in to visit him. One, a young girl, was curled up on the bed with Casey. I recall that feeling of caring and sharing pain, and loving each other and how I hoped his friends would carry on in their lives with that. Life’s moments are made up of these small instances that bring to our hearts what really matters.
In honor of those who died on this day ten years ago, for those who suffered in any way because of this violent action; I send hope and a heart full of thanks for the resilience and love of the human spirit.
