September 11

September 11

12 years ago, the world was rocked by an event that would change the world and the New York skyline forever. Of course I am speaking of the destruction of the World Trade Centre. While much controversy still remains regarding the event, one thing is clear, everyone knows what they were doing on that fateful day. This is my story.

The morning began early as I hopped on my little moped/scooter and made my way to the DACH meeting. It was the Durham Advisory Committee on Homelessness. I would have preferred to get the extra half hours sleep, but I was instructed by the Nurse Practitioner to attend, so off I went. I worked at a Street Health Services Centre for Homeless and impoverished people as a counsellor, receptionist, tech support and jack of all trades. It was my job to attend. Bleary eyed I remember one of the counsellors came in to tell us that a plane had struck the World Trade Centre. I thought with all the air traffic going in and out of New York this probably was another case of an under-skilled pilot. It was probably a Cessna. She wanted to listen to the radio, but was voted down. Democracy is at it's best when everyone is hopelessly unaware of the situations. We continued the meeting and at the end relented and turned on the radio. It was at that moment that the second plane struck. I thought what a coincidence. The meeting adjourned and we left to the centre.

It was there we learned that it wasn't just a little plane but two very large passenger planes. I knew then that something was terribly wrong. I sat in awe as we listened to the radio updates. People were jumping to their death and the Nurse Practitioner and I held hands and prayed. After that I was ordered back to work. I didn't feel much like tackling the endless stacks of paper that were piled on my three desks (none of which I was ever at for very long). I decided to pay a visit to the hospital where a client of mine had just given birth. This client was a chronic drug user and supported her habit by becoming a prostitute. This tough hardened street person suffered from fetal alcohol syndrome and it amazed me that she had lasted on the street for as long as she did. She had wanted to keep the baby, but was already red flagged by C.A.S. I thought I would pay her a visit and perhaps get a glimpse of the the new baby.

I got to the hospital and parked my scooter carrying my full faced helmet with me. The halls were empty and I made my way up to emergency counter. I didn't know where the client was, but I was sure they would tell me. I walked into the the Emergency room and immediately was stopped by a crowd of people huddled shoulder to shoulder. Doctors, security, patients, visitors and nurses all stood huddled around the tiny TV set in the emergency ward. No one was speaking. The towers fell and a gasp went up from the crowd. People were sobbing. I stood in awe as I watched the towers fall. I was speechless. I learned that it was a terrorist attack and I worried about my cousin who was trapped now in the States. I prayed a lot and finally remembered that I was there to visit a client. The nurse at the desk seemed almost happy to rip her eyes from the screen and looked up my client. I was told where to do and went so immediately, I couldn't stomach the sight of people jumping for their lives or the towers falling again. I went to visit her.

She was doing well, but had been immediately separated from her child. I filled out a form 14 which allowed me to speak to the nurses and visit the baby. Up to the Maternity ward I went. The baby was in an incubator and was sleeping peacefully. The baby was full term, had ten perfect fingers and toes and she slumbered not knowing anything had ever happened. The most traumatic thing she had experienced was being born. The nurses had said amazingly enough that the child had not suffered at all from withdrawal (which is common with drug use during pregnancy) and the child was fully formed and was expected to be placed in a foster home shortly. It was still in an incubator as a precautionary measure. I was offered the opportunity to hold the child. I refused not wanting to wake such sleeping innocents for something so trivial as my want to hold a new born. It was at that moment that the world came shifting into perspective. Although it seemed like the world had stopped and would be forever changed, I knew that else where new babies were being born. The world would keep spinning and although it may be changed the world hadn't ended on that fateful day. I placed my hand on the plastic and prayed for health and love for the new baby girl and told her that I was adopted too and she would find a home and love just like I had. I told her that her mother loved her just as she had asked me to do and I left the hospital crying for another reason. I was crying for joy that against all odds, this tiny little life seemed to thrive.

When I came home that evening I avoided the living room. The news was on and the towers kept falling over and over again. To this day I have only seen the footage once and once was enough. I always think of that little baby on this day, and now at 12 I wonder how she is doing. I also think of the people in the tower and on the plane and their families, how the horror has never stopped for them.