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I spent Monday at the hospital, stayed Monday night, and since it was relatively quiet in the hospital, watched the Broncos soundly beat the Giants. There was a pretty good thunder and lightning storm that night as well. I worked with a few patients until 12:00, then went to bed because there was nothing else to do, and slept restlessly 7:45 the next morning. I remember getting up, looking out the hospital window from the 8th floor, and being amazed at the beautiful skyline at sunrise. The clouds from the night before were gone, and it was Colorado-clear.
Morning sign-out went more quickly than normal. We started about 8:05, and were surprisingly done by 8:40. I grabbed my things, changed clothes, glanced at the skyline again on my way out and again thought about how beautiful a day it was. I apparently just missed seeing the first plane crash into Tower 1.
I entered the subway, and waited impatiently for it to come, because I was trying to catch the 9:19 train to Port Washington from Pennsylvania Station. It normally takes at least 30-35 minutes to get there, and by the time the subway came it was 8:52. The subway seemed to be traveling slower than usual, not rocketing through the tunnels. I remember the subway train conductor being extra courteous, naming the time at 9:00, 9:10 at Bedford Avenue, having to wait at some of the stations a few times with the doors bouncing open and closed. I am normally very uptight when I'm trying to catch a train at Penn and cutting it close, but for some reason I had a peace that I was going to make it and be okay. I have to change from the L train to the A train heading uptown to get to Penn, and noticed 3 women sitting together on the A train (which comes from the WTC) when I got on who were holding hands and trying not to cry. I remember thinking, "What's their problem?", and then getting off at Penn station just in time to hear the all-aboard call for track 18. I assumed it was my train and saw the red Port Washington line signs switch to black on the board as I started running. I have never run so fast in my life. I felt like I had wings on; I was hardly expending any effort and had boundless energy that kept coming and making me faster. As I ran down the stairs to the track I saw all the train doors closed except for one where a passenger was holding it open for a friend and saw me and kept it open for me too. The doors closed, and we sat for a few minutes waiting for track clearance to leave. I called Casey on the cellphone letting him know when I was going to be getting in to Port Washington.
After we got through the tunnel and were traveling through Queens, I heard a woman behind me saying, "Mom."
"Mom."
"Mom, what are you talking about."
"Mom, what? Planes crashing into the World Trade Center?"
I thought it was a crazy sick rumor. I thought that some people would believe anything and dismissed it. I heard that a plane had crashed into the Pentagon and laughed to myself that the rumors were getting crazier.
I heard the top of the tower had collapsed and started to wonder if it was all true.
One of the conductors in the car said that he had a friend in Coney Island who watched the whole thing and was calling him on his cellphone, and realized all the worst was true.
Casey picked me up at the train station. We were both shocked. We came home and couldn't get any TV stations except the BBC on public TV channel 21. It was strange to have to watch the BBC for news of something happening in our own backyard. They were calling for any available medical personnel to come in and help, and heard of doctors walking across the Brooklyn Bridge to get to the scene, so I took a shower and we headed out.
My med student ID badge from the hospital got us through police roadblocks, but it still took us 3 hours to get to to the emergency personnel staging area at Shea Stadium - a drive that would normally take about 20 minutes. We were at Shea for another hour and a half waiting for our turn to get in. We finally were put in an ambulance with a surgeon and taken to NY Hospital on 71st Street, where we waited another hour with the rest of the medical personnel already there - and we started to realize that there would be nothing for us to do. I saw one patient near the door sit up, and saw the burns on his shoulder and face; I think it was my first burn patient. I will never forget the look of those wounds. The ER was full of people, but the curtains were closed and everyone was stable. Finally, our ambulance driver got permission to take us to Pace University triage center, which is about 2 blocks away from ground zero. As we arrived, we saw the ash everywhere. Pulverized concrete, the kind I had seen clinging to one of the ambulances at the hospital, was inches deep everywhere. It was dark, and you could see the even darker plume of smoke overhead. The air stank and was hard to breathe, even with the filter masks we were given. Eerie silence, only the occasional fire truck rumbling by.
Again, there was nothing for us to do. They were not pulling people from the wreckage, and the realization came they weren't going to. It was the most hopeless and despairing feeling of the day. We had spent all this time trying to get somewhere to help, and it all ended up being an exercise in frustration.
Casey went to his workplace from there, as they had all been there all day and were stuck in Manhattan. I went home and made phone calls for a few hours to family and friends to let them know we were okay. I don't know why God was so good to us and kept us safe, but we certainly felt lucky.
The next morning I got dressed to go to the hospital, and noticed that I still had dust from the World Trade Center on my shoes. I tried to wipe it off, but it wouldn't go away. The whole day, I watched the plume of smoke from the 8th floor of the hospital, and the grief wouldn't go away either. The skyline was not that familiar to me even before the tragedy, and I could almost pretend that the towers were just hidden by the smoke. Almost.
The next days were similar. Grief, smoke, and dust. Blazingly sunny days made the view clear for the whole world to see, and grieve with us.
Friday. It rained. My fellow med students and I watched the memorial service in the National Cathedral, and we all cried together like we hadn't before. I was comforted, too. The assurance that God only allows tragedy in our lives for our good, that he can bring so much good out of the worst evil gave me a hope that even though it will hurt for a long time, it will get better, and there is no true despair for the Christian.
And the rain finally washed the dust from my shoes.