It was a strange morning. I have always been a news “junky” and I was annoyed that I did not have time that morning to turn on morning news programs as my husband was scheduled for his first chemotherapy session and we were running late.
Then, horrors, my car radio wasn’t working!
We got to the hospital (UNC at Chapel Hill) and they hooked Al up to his chemo drip. As I was sitting with him, another patient’s family member sitting near us came up to me and asked if we were New Yorkers. I said, “Yes”, and he said, “Did you know that the Twin Towers have been hit by terrorist planes?” Shocked, i said, “No. there must have been a mistake.” I could remember the plane which flew into the Empire State Building when I was a little girl.This man, however, used the plural, “planes”.
He told me to come with him as he knew where there was a television set. As we ran into the TV room, I saw the North Tower falling. I ran back to my husband to tell him what had happened.
As I did that, I looked around at the room filled with cancer patients fighting for their lives enduring therapy. I could only imagine the people in those buildings who went to work that morning, presumably healthy, who would never have a chance to fight for their lives.
I will never forget the feeling of being punched in the stomach as the realization of the waste of lives hit me. At the same time, I knew that I was grateful for the fact that my husband had been given a chance for life and I prayed for those victims who were enduring the horrors and terrors of this heinous act.
I will never underestimate the gift of life which my family and I were given.