The Bologna Blog

Never Forget

I was in nursing school and 6 months pregnant, on September 11th, in 2001. I was a mom already with an almost 3 year old and a 6 year old. That morning I was at my clinical's for the psyche rotation of school. We, student nurses were in the lounge talking with the patients for our needed school reports. We were tasked with gleaming an understanding of mental health issues in our society by spending time just listening to the people we were caring for. An over-sized television was playing in the background but muted to allow the conversations, when a view of the news popped on the screen. The room became hushed as the vision of the first plane crashing into the tower played on the television. Quickly, we unmuted the set and the chaos of what we were seeing took shape. I will never forget the pain that gripped at my heart, but then the panic of what happened in the moments and days that followed are ingrained in my memory. The scene kept playing over and over on the television as newscasters kept trying to report the event, until the second plan hit the second tower and the small room I had been locked down in erupted in a chaos of it's own. I was sent to this hospital to learn about mental health issues that afflict many of our most vulnerable people, and here I was watching one of the most stressful events of society unfold before our eyes.The reactions were varied and wild among our patients. There were both cheers and anger. Some became violent directing their anger at the television and the staff. We, student nurses were whisked from the room for safety, left to watch through the windows as the uprising was controlled. Our instructor greeted us in the hall and filled in the details of what was happening in the rest of the world. She told us to call our families, but told us that we would have to remain for the rest of our clinical's. I live in the midst of a military community and the response of the local base was swift. My oldest child was at a private school and my youngest was at daycare. We were told that we had one hour to pick up our kids, as the base was going on lock down and all military families had to return to the base immediately. I was petrified not being able to leave. I remember calling my husband in tears to see if he would be able get to the kids. It brought to the forefront the enormous amount of fear the families at the center of it all must have endured. Thankfully, he was able to get to them but my then little kindergartner now a grown man still remembers being so afraid. The kids were not allowed to take their backpacks home and a bus with armed guards from the base was sent to retrieve the military kids. They herded them on as quickly as possible. When I finally got to talk to my son he just kept crying because he was so worried about his little friends and his new backpack that he had gotten for school. This momma's heart was broken for a little boy who couldn't understand the pain and misery surfacing in our country. We did our best to answer all of his concerns and questions at the time, but the one returning thought through it all was that I was so very thankful that I wasn't having to explain how his father or mother were killed at ground zero or in the plane filled with heroes.I didn't have to tell him that his family member wouldn't be returning home. From the incredible sadness grew pride for my fellow Americans, both the fallen and the men and women called to serve, the ones that willingly took their posts to keep us safe. There were the firefighter,EMT's, and policemen that ran toward the danger while my only worry at the time was my little family at home. I will be forever indebted to these men and women for the price they paid.