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| From: [Emma] Thank you so much. Sincerely, Emma Hargrove
From: [claire]
Hi Emma. I haven't seen you since Mamaw's funeral. I hope you're all OK in Shreveport. I'm sure things have been tough for everybody down there this past week. It has surely been a sad and trying week here. I work in the operating room and from the moment we first heard of the attack all remaining non-emergency surgeries of the day were cancelled. Not only were we ourselves in shock and unable to concentrate on anything other than the tragedies that were unfolding but we wanted to save the ORs and especially valuable personnel and blood products for any victims that might arrive. We readied the hospital for the casualties we were expecting. We turned patient waiting areas into makeshift intensive care units. All staff were required to remain in the hospital, even though most of the employees had no way to get home anyway with all of the buses, trains, subways, bridges and tunnels into and out of Manhattan closed. Immediately after the attack there was a small number of casualties that came through our ER, mostly people who had been badly burned. One man described being in an elevator at the World Trade Center when he felt a massive rumble and the next thing he knew a fireball exploded down the elevator shaft igniting him and his two fellow passengers. He was burned on over 90% of his body, his companions 60% and 80%. Shortly after relaying this story to a co-worker of mine he lost consciousness. He perished overnight. Very few of the burn patients are expected to survive. After the initial small wave of victims an eerie silence descended on our hospital as we wondered where all of the patients were. Hundreds of highly skilled physicians, not just at my hospital but all over the city, waited helplessly for patients that never arrived. All of the makeshift beds went unused. All of the stranded personnel sat and watched the misery being reported on TV, knowing that that was our city that now looked like a post-apocalyptic battlefield and that those were our friends and neighbors seen fleeing the scene in terror. We all felt so helpless, people trained to care for the sick and hurt, sitting idle, as we realized that the patient's weren't coming because they were all buried in the rubble. It was, and still is, sickening. The hospitals closest to the scene treated lots of people for minor injuries such as cuts, scrapes, eye abrasions and some fractures from the falling debris as well as inhalation injuries from smoke and dust. Recently we have had some patients come to our hospital for delayed repair of fractured bones. I spent the night a few nights ago consoling a fireman who had had surgery to fix a broken shoulder, an injury he sustained when he landed on his arm after jumping twenty feet to escape a collapsing wall. He focused on the pain in his arm but the anguish on his face was clear. He told me that all he wanted was a good night's sleep because he hadn't slept in a week and every time he shut his eyes he saw the faces of his friends who had died. I had to sit in the room with him until he fell asleep. This entire city is grieving. I do not know anyone personally who died in the attack but many of my friends have good friends who died. One such friend of a friend lost her husband, who worked on the 104th floor. She has a three year-old son and is now five months pregnant. My best friend lived two blocks south of the World Trade Center. Her apartment building is still standing but she has only been allowed inside for five minutes since the attack. She was escorted to her door by a National Guardsman who waited outside for five minutes as she collected some clothes and belongings in the dark and then escorted her back out. She had to wear a mask due to the dust and smoke that still hangs in the air. She has no idea when or if she'll be allowed to move home. She had me over to dinner the night before the attack. It was a beautiful night and as I walked to the subway station to catch a train home I remember looking up at the gleaming Twin Towers thinking how lucky I was to live in such a magnificent city. When the buildings collapsed a piece of every New Yorker died. Everyone in the city realizes they are still just buildings and the real tragedy is the people who lost their lives and the families that were disrupted. Nevertheless, they were beautiful and iconic and there is a genuine sense of loss associated with their absence from the skyline. They were like a beacon. I remember countless times staring down Sixth Avenue at them rising in majestic, awesome splendor at the southern tip of Manhattan and being totally wowed. As a newcomer to New York they represented everything grand and exciting and awesome that New York had to offer. If they could crumble did that mean the greatest city on Earth could fall apart? What did that mean for the rest of the country? But mostly, as we watched in disbelief as they collapsed, we knew it was simply too soon and that there was no way everyone could have made it out. Later we learned of the hundreds of firemen who were going up the stairs, 110 flights of stairs, to save the people trapped inside when the buildings collapsed. It broke our hearts, and the nation's heart too, I am sure. Over the next few days Xeroxed flyers began appearing on every spare wall and light pole with the photographs and physical descriptions of the missing people from the attack, tattoos and work outfits described in desperate, heartbreaking detail. People are now trying to get back to normal. There aren't as many people wandering around, looking lost. People have come together. In a city known for it's boisterous and sometimes abrasive population, strangers are reaching out to each other and comforting one another. People who used to walk hurriedly by staring straight ahead or at the sidewalk now make eye contact. The outpouring of help and support is heartwarming and I for one have never been prouder to be an American. I am hopeful that New York will recover and be great again and that our country will emerge from this crisis stronger and more unified. And that the compassion that we are feeling for one another now will persist. Take care Emma. Give my love to your family. Sincerely, Claire
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