Steve and I were talking last night about the events of that dreadful day. It’s hard to believe its been five years already.
That morning, I had been scheduled to receive a blood transfusion (because the chemotherapy had lowered my blood count). I had been already on the phone to my brother (who handles computer security systems so he had the most-up-to-date information) who assured me that it was OK to send Lucas to school and go to the hospital even though he had to cut me off because he was on the line with the pentagon. Even though he had pressured me to go to the hospital, I had to be dragged there kicking and screaming. I was worried that I’d be taking away blood from the victims who I believed needed it more. Steve finally convinced me to go after he said he would donate as much blood as I was taking. So, I sat there in the hospital bed watching the horror of the events. Nurses would come by and just stand there with me and stare at the TV. Some were on the phone trying to reach loved ones and we held hands while the reports of rescue attempts came through. We cried when we saw people in the street with signs and photos of lost loved ones that would never be found.
Finally, I fell asleep there while CNN droned on and woke up to it the next day, and the next day, unable to turn off the TV for weeks. Even to this day, I cannot look at the news reports of the towers crashing. I haven’t been able to see any of the movies on it. God bless those families of the victims who had the strength to stand up and tell their stories. They are much stronger than I.
I’m sure you all have incredible stories about that day and hope you don’t mind my sharing my memories of that day in the hope that we honor the victims of 911.