Have You Really Healed From September 11?
When I was in New York a couple of weeks ago, I was in the backseat of a car as it drove by Ground Zero a place I have never visited, in spite of the fact that Ive been to New York ten times in the past year. I didnt go there on purpose. It took me by surprise. With no warning, I burst into tears.
The ground was like a giant cavity, like a mouth with two big molars yanked out and bloody, red gums oozing underneath. I could smell the burning embers, taste the ash raining down on me, feel the terror.
Memories From Ten Years Ago
Ten years have past since I was driving in my surgical scrubs on Interstate 5 in San Diego on my way to the hospital to perform a vaginal hysterectomy. The DJ on the radio cried, The second tower of the World Trade Center just went down, and I almost hit the car in front of me. When I arrived in the doctors lounge, CNN was front and center. Everyone was glued to the television. Footage of the towers falling played and replayed. The doctors all had tear-streaked faces and bloodshot eyes. The only sound in the usually noisy room was the muffled sound of sobs. Every person who walked in was seeing it for the first time, and whenever another doctor entered the room, we all looked up and watched the doctors face. Every one of them cried when they saw it, even the crusty old men.
Newscasters were telling us to go home, to take our children out of schools, to find safety, wherever that might be. Planes were still in the air. We didnt know who might be next. I wanted to leave. I didnt want to operate. But it wasnt my surgery I was there to assist my partner. I couldnt just disappear.
I Didnt Want To Operate
I hoped my partner would cancel the surgery. I didnt want to have a retractor in my hand ! if it mi ght be my last moment on earth. I wanted to be with my husband. I wanted to cry for the people who had died. I wanted to face my fear and pray. Like everyone else around the world, I had just witnessed a mass murder. I was traumatized.
And yet my partner wanted to operate. I begged her to cancel. She said no. So just like I did after my father died, just like I did when I had to leave my newborn, just like I did when my teacher told me to suck him good, suck him hard, I wiped my tears, swallowed hard, stuffed my emotions, and operated, like the good doctor I was trained to be.
Unleashing Tears
Not until a few days later, duringA Tribute To Heroes televised concert, did I hear Bruce Springsteen singMy City Of Ruins and I started to unwind the feelings I had bottled up in that operating room. I cried through that song and all the ones that followed. I sobbed until I could hardly breathe. I couldnt sleep all night. My eyes were so puffy the next morning I could hardly open them. But that morning, I had to go back to work and operate again. So I stuffed how I felt. I tried not to think about it. I plugged through my day, my month, my year, my life.
