Let Me Tell You a Story

September 2003

A Tale of Two Cities                                     by Pauline Power   

I sat and waited. Nervous and obviously apprehensive about what would occur within the next few minutes.  Once again I glanced at the clock. Typically only 5 minutes had passed since my previous encounter with the time-piece upon the wall. I picked up a magazine, which lay on the chair beside me. My attempt to read it however, failed dismally. No sooner had I read the first line of the opening article, when I found my eyes once more drawn to the round face staring so menacingly back at me. How long more? As usual I’d arrived early, regretting the decision every few moments. If only I’d left home later, if only the traffic had been heavier, if only the car park had been busy, if only, if only, if only.... And still I waited.

It’s amazing how slowly time passes. I ‘casually’ looked around the reception. Two other women sat on the opposite sides of the room. One seemed quite comfortable, never once did I notice her cast an anxious eye towards the clock. The other woman however, seemed a tad more edgy, alternating her glances between her wrist watch and the clock on the wall. Ah, a kindred spirit.

Amazingly no-one spoke. Unusual I thought. On other visits, one almost always exchanged a few words, at least with the other patients. After all, we were all ‘in the same boat’ so to speak. And so I continued to wait, my fear that by now my blood pressure would have risen was surely well founded.

Without warning a door opened. A pleasant lady called my name, and I entered the inner sanctum.  Blood pressure taken, weight monitored and sample given, I was told the doctor would see me soon. As I left the room, I overheard the nurse say quietly to the receptionist that here had been a terrible a plane crash in America. Her response was muted.

Again I waited. Not so concerned now as my blood pressure levels had been acceptable, I relaxed somewhat, and settled down comfortably to wait for the doctor.

The rest of the visit passed without any problems. My unborn baby was growing according to prescribed standards and I left the office happy that another appointment had passed without incident.

As I travelled homeward, however, the world was in a state of total disbelief. I recalled the ‘plane crash in America’ and only then realised the true account of the horror that had occurred. And so, two years on, I vividly remember that day. My world, so subjective, so perfect, so normal, so full of hope, dreams of tomorrow. And for others a world so shattered, lives discarded, nightmares abounding.

It doesn’t seem possible that anyone will ever forget, yet how many truly want to remember?

Pauline Power

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