The 20th Anniversary of the attack on the World Trade Center is one month away. I imagine everyone has a tale for that day and remembers where they were as it goes. The attacks shocked the world. Everyone knows how and what happened, so I will not delve into a history lesson. Instead, I will tell you where I was when it happened, and that is a worthy tale.
I had a doctor’s appointment at 9:00 AM in the downtown Howard Building at Baptist Hospital. I was there to get the results of my echocardiogram from two weeks earlier. I wasn’t particularly concerned about the results and arrived at Dr. Paul Dillahunt’s office early with knitting in hand. I had stopped by the coffee shop for a quick breakfast and was ready to arrive early and wait.
And wait, I did. I had been escorted to a small exam room with dated wooden paneling and was waiting for the doctor on an exam table. I would have preferred a chair. 9:00 AM came and went, and I sat left to wonder where the doctor was and how he could be delayed at that hour. 9:30 AM also came and went. Had someone suddenly taken ill? Was the doctor called away from the office for emergency surgery? Should I open the door and ask someone, “Did you forget me?: After all, that had been the case one Christmas Eve when I was left in my GP’s waiting room as the office Christmas Luncheon began behind that glass receptionist’s window. I heard the revelry begin and tapped on the window to ask, “Did you forget about me?”
But the cardiologist’s office was dead silent with no party hats. At 9:45 AM, I was beginning to sweat and getting angry at having been left in the exam room for forty-five minutes with no sign of the staff updating me that the doctor would be with me shortly.
Finally, the obligatory tap on the door came, and in walked the doctor. He didn’t say, “Sorry I kept you waiting.” or even, “Hello, Mrs. King.” What he said when he opened the door was. “Are you a praying person?” I looked at him with surprise and wonder and responded, “Well, I don’t know...Should I be?” I felt like I had turned pale, and he seemed troubled. What I wasn’t aware of was that he had been watching the 9/11 attack on TV and was shaken by what he saw. I did not know what had happened and suspected I might have a severe heart problem.
Dr. Dillahunt came to his senses and realized what he had asked me, and began to apologize profusely for his question about whether I prayed or not. I listened closely as he told me a plane had flown into the World Trade Center. I was unaware that it had been a calculated attack at that point or that the 2nd tower was involved. Finally, he choked out the words explaining that this had nothing to do with me. I was glad to hear that.
With positive results from my echocardiogram, I left the doctor’s office and headed back to my office, driving on empty streets with no one around. Everyone was glued to a TV except for me.
Years later, I saw Dr. Dillahunt again. This time, he arrived at my exam room on time and politely introduced himself as if we had never met. I said to him laughingly, “Oh, we’ve met...you don’t remember me? I was the patient waiting on you for 45 minutes while you watched the 9/11 attack, and you asked me if I was a “praying person.” He, of course, remembered me and apologized once again. He said, “I’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of that story.” My response to him was, “Me too! “
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