12/28/01: Wow, 7:45AM, very early for me, half awake in the Delta Airlines Boarding area at SeaTac airport and I hear my name called to the podium. Darn, I figured I was probably being called for a random security check since I am traveling on a one-way ticket and already have a seat assignment. The agent asked if I was with Red Cross, said the flight was completely full and they needed my ticket. Double darn!

She whipped out a ticket jacket, handed it to me and told me to board immediately. Since I was originally assigned to the mid section of the aircraft, I was surprised, but I am a good soldier and do as I'm told. However, when I looked down at my ticket, I was surprised and amazed to see that Delta had changed my seat to First Class.

This will be a good trip.

Better news awaits me on arrival in New York. When I call the ARC (American Red Cross) hotline for arriving volunteers, the message directs me to my hotel, with a request for presenting myself at headquarters at 8:00AM the following morning for orientation and assignment. This is wonderful, last trip here it was nearly an all night process at headquarters, then the hotel, a couple hours sleep and off to my work assignment. This way, whatever lies ahead, I will be rested and ready to go.

12/29/01: Am I in the right place? The headquarters building is humming at the level of a normal office building, calm people, no crowds, easy directions. How different can this be! Smiling friendly staff in DHS (Disaster Health Services), discussion regarding what assignment would meet my needs. Wonderful.

My new assignment at Service Center #1 begins. Chaos rules, my kinda place. Three nurses including me. We share space with 5 DMH (Disaster Mental Health) workers and one PA (Public Affairs) worker in a space large enough to accommodate maybe 4 people - total!

Welcome back to NYC! I barely had my coat off and an elderly man was run down just outside our door by a Metro Sanitation truck. One of the other nurses and I responded on the run. 911 were prompt to respond, and so it went.

Even though the destinations are unfamiliar, I am pretty comfortable on the subways this trip. Look at the Metro subway map and away I go.

Service Center #1 on first look appears to provide a significant amount of care and feeding to the volunteer staff assigned here. There seems to be a large client base of non-English speaking Asians applying for assistance. While this is just my first afternoon, the service provided here bears no resemblance to the 9/11/01 services we provided to clients in October. These applicants have needs, but gone are the shocked faces and blank stares of the early post disaster victims.

12/31/01: New Years Eve in NYC. This is a fairly routine work day. Very diverse, 100 plus people lined up outside our Center from 7AM until noon, just to get a ticket for 1/2/02, to be seen by a Family Service Case Worker.

As I walk the line to distract them and keep them moving for warmth, I begin to hear their stories of 9/11 and the effects their experiences had. In this group, I talked to East Indians, Blacks, Many Chinese and a few Russians. Several who are applying now were limo drivers whose income was dependent on WTC business. None of them whined, and for most it was very difficult for them to actually ask for help. They are a proud group of people used to taking care of "their own".

Staff that has been here greater than 2 weeks is beginning to wear down. Now, after 2 weeks of hearing long, sad stories from person after person, it shows in their eyes and is starting to evidence in aches and pains that bring them to talk to "the nurse".

For lunch, 3 of us went to a very special café about a block from the Service Center. NINOS is a small café that the owner, Nino, has turned in to rescue workers only, donation suggested, place to eat, 24/7. It was amazing!

Memorials outside on the building walls; IDs checked inside; and wonderful food bank type meals, served by volunteers. The Firemen and Cops are great. When they see ARC they open up with all kinds of stories. While there is still some pain, there is now some laughter mixed in. Thank God! During lunch, there is a volunteer choir singing Christmas Carols. I am told that this has been going on for several weeks. The groups just show up and provide entertainment. The feeling here is upbeat, created by a strong bond of caring spirits. I plan on returning to NINOS.

Because it is New Years' Eve, all the ARC worksites closed early today and I am drawn to return to Ground Zero. After looking at my map, I decided the easiest way to get there was to walk. The wind was blowing and with the wind chill, it is about 10 degrees. The sky is as blue as a tropical ocean, clear, clear, clear.

As it turned out, my walk was a few miles and very interesting. There were increasing numbers of tourists and residents as I neared the newly opened viewing ramp area. By then it was wall to wall people making walking nearly impossible. As I passed outside Saint Paul's' Chapel, there were fresh flowers, teddy bears and flowers next to the many posters and pictures of those still missing or dead from 9/11. I kept on walking towards Battery Park.

As I walked toward Battery Park the sun was beginning to set and the sky was turning pink. Wow, a beautiful park with a giant bronze bull at the apex. In all the days we walked past this museum on our way to Ground Zero, I never once noticed the little park or the bronze bull on the corner of Broadway and Wall Street. We were so focused on our task and our personal thoughts heading into Ground Zero, that the now charming details of the surrounding area never registered. Now, there are restaurants, shops and people everywhere. Very different indeed.

Now I am on familiar territory. The walk is the same, but instead of quiet, emergency workers only streets, there are cars, buses and normal activities on these once still streets.

As I neared the arch from which Lady Liberty can be so eloquently viewed, my heart was feeling heavy. My thought was to sit on the bench and wait for the perfect opportunity for a sunset picture. After only 5 or 10 minutes I was too cold to wait any longer. I had been walking for a couple hours and was chilled through and through.

I walked on. Deeper in to the memories of 9/11 and closer to the devastation visited on this once elegant neighborhood. Finally the streets are quiet and I turned down the short ˝ block that was so familiar to me. How many days and nights did I walk this same street and hear the stories of those so dearly and forever affected by this disaster.

When I came to the street divider and looked to the highly lit area that once was the WTC, I felt like I had been hit in the chest. I had to put my hand out and support myself against the concrete barrier just to look again at the sites that were once the tall proud buildings. Even as I see it again in my head, I'm surprised at the thundering effect just standing there has on my heart. The emotions pulse through my body, and completely unbidden, the tears pour from my eyes.

How could such a horrendous thing happen? Soon I walk blindly towards Gateway Plaza and the small memorial for the rescue workers lost 9/11/01. Oh my God, it's gone! That beautiful heartrending memorial is gone! As I walked further, not believing this touching symbol would be taken down; I noticed a white canopy near the pier where the Spirit Ship had been berthed. There it was, the newly expanded, protected memorial to those brave men and women who died trying to save others. Not surprisingly, I find myself silently weeping once more, just as the first time I viewed these touching pictures and mementos.

Now it is very dark and I realize just how chilled I am. Time to head to the subway and back Uptown.

New Years Eve in New York City! While it is very cold, my friend Meredith and I decide to venture out and look for the excitement in Times Square. Security is very high as well as multi-leveled. My friend and I make it in to Times Square at 49th Street, with the main center stage and viewing area at 43th Street. We shivered and talked to a NYC Detective for about 30 minutes, then, this wonderful nameless detective looked at us and asked us just how close we would like to be to Times Square. Close?! We can do close. Because he had a soft spot for ARC nurses, he escorted us through each and every barricade, right up to center stage. WOW! At that point he left us with another wonderful group of NYPD cops. At that time it was maybe 10 to 15 degrees and we knew we would not last until midnight. We lasted just a couple hours and decided to head back to our hotel and watch the ball drop on TV. Not to happen. When my friend and I spoke the next day, we had both fallen asleep just before midnight. Oh well.

As before, the work days are very long. Many more non English speaking clients come to Health Services for assistance. Their needs are varied; their stories for the most part are far less intense than those I heard early on from residents living at or near ground zero.

Some hug me and sob as they recall the terror of that awful day. Some eyes cloud over and brows knit tightly as they think and tell of their personal brush with death. Even now, there is a strong denial that this really happened.

There is a fireman whose lungs are so badly damaged by the smoke that he will probably never work again. While I listen to his story, I find it hard not to cry with him. After I finished an intense fact finding session with this now former fireman, I was pulled into an internal meeting that I was to lead. I started to speak, found that I could not separate from my thoughts of the fireman, and simply got up and walked out. I had a desperate need to process his grief and loss before I could change direction as if nothing had happened.

One pretty young lady sat before me first thing in the morning and shared her story of 9/11. She was approaching the WTC for a meeting when the first plane hit. As she turned and ran after witnessing the second plane crash, her face and mouth were hit and packed with debris. All of her upper and lower front teeth were knocked out, and several of her facial bones were shattered. She was able to phone her husband before all the lines were down and told him she was alive. After that call, she doesn't recall much else until she awoke in the hospital the next day. Her face was so broken it will be at least a year before the total reconstruction work can begin. She is still a beautiful young woman, maybe 23 or 24 years old, who can only drink liquids through a straw for several months to come. She is alive.

St. Paul's Church is very old, small, stone and covered with memorials inside and out. This chapel is a miraculous survivor of 9/11. It is only steps from the WTC site, and everything around it was destroyed. Now, only workers from the site or ARC volunteers are allowed inside. The inside of this chapel, where once George Washington addressed the congregation, is now covered with letters and quilts honoring both those that were lost, and those that continue to search. NYPD and NYFD workers sit in the pews with their heads bowed. Slowly they sit up and begin to talk over the days findings; a ring, a foot, an ID card, some piece of someone that is loved and lost. Outside of this building, tourists line the street to get a glimpse of what is left of the World Trade Center. They have no idea what goes on just inside these walls.

Mid January, 2002. New York is healing. I am profoundly honored to have been allowed into the lives of so many who sought assistance from the American Red Cross. Now that I can see for myself that the healing has begun, it is time for me to go home. My heart and soul will be forever affected by the events of 9/11/01.