Dr. Gonzo phoned me while I was driving to work that Tuesday 11 years ago. He told me a plane had just hit the World Trade Center towers in New York, and he suggested that I turn the car around and head home. But I was almost to the hospital, where Dr. Koo Koo, my partner for the day, was waiting. I kept going.
It seemed like each minute that went by that day, things got worse. The second plane, the second tower. The Pentagon. Another plane down in Pennsylvania. Hell on earth and nothing to laugh at. We didn’t know what to do. So we sat and waited.
After lunch, we decided to suit-up and give the hospital a “wash.” This is our term for starting at the top floor and working our way down, playing soft music and blowing bubbles as we stroll the corridors.
As we made our rounds, we were greeted by many of the staff, who said, “Thank God ! You’re here.”
Were we just enough distraction for them to turn off the TVs and get back to a somewhat normal hospital routine?
9-1-1. These are numbers we will never forget. God Bless America.