Story from a New York Nurse-EMT

By: Eileen H. RN, EMT

I was there. I am a Registered Nurse, and an EMT. On Tuesday afternoon, I headed for the city from Orange County, NY. At each Police blockade, I displayed my credentials hoping not to be turned away. Each and every time, I was sent down roads closed to other traffic and urged to hurry. It was eerie being one of the only vehicles on what should have been totally congested highways. When I rounded a curve on the West Side Highway that should have given me a great view of the skyline, I and the only other car I could see, slowed dramatically. It was then that the magnitude of what had happened hit us. The huge column of brown and gray smoke was a sight I will never get rid of. I was sent to gathering stations for medical personnel and at one point, was standing at the foot of what was once the World Trade Center. Being a native New Yorker, born and raised in Brooklyn, the hollow feeling I got was totally consuming.

I spent most of Tuesday night being driven around by two Police Officers going to wherever we were needed. I was working with 5 other rescuers on a trauma team. What was so unbelievable to me was that I was the only American. The Cardiologist, Paul, is from England. Hans, the Cardio-Thoracic Surgeon is from the Netherlands, Herrman, the Anesthesiologist, is from Germany. Carlos the Doctor, is from Columbia, Mavi, the other nurse is from Chile, Nuna, the other doctor is from Hong-Kong. Each was in New York on other business. They were here for Job interviews, at conferences, and visiting friends and families. They came for the same reason I did: We all just came there to help. I will not describe the devastation we saw, or the kinds of horrendous injuries we were trying to remedy. I will however, tell you that we and everyone else we saw reacted like typical New Yorkers: with a kind compassionate and giving attitude. Doors were open, people were grilling food on sidewalks to give to us, men and women walked up to us to try to give us water, prayers, food and encouragement. Medical supply trucks backed into our areas and dropped off millions of dollars worth of equipment, CVS emptied it's shelves of eye wash, Tylenol, Motrin, gauze and tape. Water trucks, Poland Springs, Dasani, dropped off loads of bottled water. And the FOOD!!! At midnight, I had a Prime Rib Dinner, around 4AM I had some fresh baked ham on a newly baked roll. There was an endless supply of water and drinks, fruit, cold cuts and breads. Restaurants were dropping off fabulous trays of their specialties. Ordinary people were bringing Dunkin Donuts, rolls, butter, clothes, towels, sheets, shovels, water, drinks, cups, plates and anything else you can think of. It was the only way they could find to help. People were handing us their home phone numbers and addresses so that we could call or stop by for a place to wash up or sleep. At one point, someone had written "God Bless You" in the dust on the windows of our vehicle. Though we chatted professionally when we were traveling, for the most part we were silent. Not because we were newly acquainted, but because, well, what could we find to say? We were overcome with what we were involved in. By the time I looked at my watch seriously, it was 3AM Wednesday morning. Like many others there, I had been up for more than 24 hours. We were tired, exhausted and stressed to the max both physically, and emotionally as well as professionally. By 6AM when we didn't have our hands on a patient we were giddy with fatigue. So were the hundreds and hundreds of other rescue workers. Some had friends and families in those buildings. In all that time and all that tension not a single cross word was spoken. Even the press behaved in an unusual fashion.

Though the cameramen were standing next to us, not a one of them were shooting scenes of injured being wheeled into our treatment area. No microphones were pushed on our faces and no reporters stood in our way. The air of total respect was overwhelming. At 8AM I was ordered to either sleep or leave. Not being able to close my eyes, I drove home. The magnitude of what was happening hit me when I stopped to get a cup of coffee and some gas. I was still wearing the disposable surgical gown with my title, and team assignment written in tape across my back. I know I must have looked like something out of a war movie. As I sat alone, a Police Officer tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Thank you." I lost my composure and sat there crying for a minute. When I finished pumping my gas, the foreign born cashier told me there was no charge for me, asked God to protect me and that I get home safely.

That rest stop on the NY Thruway was filled with military equipment and men and women dressed in fatigues. One Soldier came up and hugged me and walked away without saying a word. I got home and hugged my husband. He too, is an RN and EMT who worked locally that night. I took a shower and we went back. We stayed treating people and setting up make shift Operating Rooms for the next 8 hours. Thankfully, the area we were manning was no longer needed. Again we were sent to get sleep or go home. Not finding any where else we could help, we headed out of the City. On our way we saw cars, trucks, fire apparatus, police vehicles and ambulances from all over. Charleston SC, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, Canada. We cried at the site of all these strangers who gave up their own daily lives to drive all this way to help people they didn't know, never met and had no ties to.

As I write this, I realize that the men and women at whose side I worked all night, I will never see again. The odd part of it is that I never even said good-bye. So to them, I say, you have changed my life and I will never forget you or your spirit or what you did for my city. To the rest of the world, I say, "Pray." Pray that we find justice for the hundreds of firefighters, police and rescue workers who will not be home tonight. Pray that our children will never wake up to this again. Pray that this is the last time our grandchildren will ask, "Do you remember where you were when you heard about...."and pray that Paul, Hans, Herrman, Mavi, Nuna Carols, and I never meet again on a day of such hatred, love, devastation and hope. It was, as my husband Jon said, New York's worst moment and finest hour.

Thanks for listening,

Eileen H. RN, EMT

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