O.K, so asides of the usual disclaimers, I'd also like to add I know there may be continuity difficulties with this chapter, but I needed a survivor who was involved, and who I had some clue as to how to write them. It was still difficult to I apologise for any bad characterisation, and stretching the bounds of probability a little.
Chapter Fourteen: "Only Human"
Robert Romano, M.D
I wasn't in County General on the 14th of February 2002. I wasn't even in Chicago. Only
God knows how grateful, yet how sorry, I am that was the case. I'd left the previous
evening, for a medical conference in LA. I was still on the schedules, but the staff knew I
wasn't there. It had all been a bit last minute. It was about 11am that day, and I was sitting
in another lecture hall in another super modern 21st century hospital so far removed from
my own it made County look prehistoric. I wasn't really paying attention. I got the
horrible feeling I'd heard all this before somewhere. However much I like to think the
bland, bueraucratic men in this room weren't like me, I knew deep down that the
similarities of our jobs made us similar inside. It all seemed so far removed from the
reasons I entered medicine long years ago.
"Dr Romano..."
There's a pause. I stare into space, unawares.
"Robert..."
The tone was sharper this time and I noticed it and looked at the source of the noise.
"There's a phonecall,"
The messenger looked very nervous, almost downcast. I rose, feeling the disapproving
glares of my fellow professionals at the interruption. I was secretly relieved, but something
in me couldn't help being worried. For the first time ever, I had had a bad feeling about
leaving the hospital. I only wish that bad feeling hadn't been proved correct. They
wouldn't interrupt me for just anything though, they knew better. I was handed the phone
almost as soon as I reached the reception desk.
"Robert Romano,"
I hear a deep almost pensive breath on the other end of the line.
"We have some news, concerning County General,"
"Who am I speaking to?"
"That doesn't matter. Switch on the TV and you'll see what I mean,"
I gestured at the confused receptionist to switch on the TV, slightly baffled by the
phonecall. As soon as I saw the images on screen, the phone and my mind went dead. My
heart sank. It took a minute for the pictures to form a complete story and longer to link
them to the horror of the words I could hear. I watched as the receptionists mouth fell
slowly open, and the messenger - who looked like a porter - shuffled against the carpet.
The silence was overpowering. It began to sink in, and I realised they were expecting
action from me, but what? I was in LA, thousands of miles away from the flaming carnage
I could see. I addressed the receptionist, attempting to swallow whatever fear and panic I
was feeling.
"Get me the number for Chicagos fire department,"
I demanded quickly, taking a deep breath and finishing instantly, never completely
removing my eyes from the TV screen. I knew I'd see those pictures for years to come,
but yet I couldn't break away.
"And book me on the next flight back there,"
I had to go back. I had to be there. I've never been surer of anything in my whole life.
****
Minutes later, and I was on the phone to the Fire Department Chief. He was on scene,
looking at what I could only see through the impersonal eyes of the TV cameras,
explaining to me the events of the morning in precise architectural detail. I knew he was
delibarately skirting the real issues, and it was increasingly frustrating. He was watching
people living and dying and I needed to know. Buildings are only brick and mortar after
all. Anyone who knew me would probably be stunned by my reactions, but it wasn't
exactly something we faced every day. My instinct, leadership, spirit and humour had all
failed me. I was only human.
"What about casualties?"
I cut across him sharply, and waited in the tense hush of the hallway. This would be right
across America, if not the world by now. The scale was quite incredible.
"We don't know. It could take days till we know for sure,"
There was a hopeless but honest tone in his voice.
"And survivors?"
"Two conscious, two injured,"
Four? Four people? Was that all?
"Who?"
It sounded emotional because it was.
"I don't have names,"
"How did this happen?"
I asked in disbelief, not wanting or expecting an answer.
"I'm just doing my job,"
He said with a note of sadness in his voice. The phone went dead and slowly I hung up. I
had to wonder who'd gotten out, no matter how tortuous it was. I wanted to know who'd
died under that rubble - an untimely and likely painful end. I'd spoken to, or more
correctly, rowed with Elizabeth this morning, before the conference began. I wasn't even
sure I knew about what, couldn't pin down the specifics, but I knew what guilt felt like.
What if she hadn't made it?
****
It was everywhere, all I wanted to do was get back to Chicago. I was useless here. I didn't
know what I'd do back there, but at least I could find out the details. But I couldn't turn a
corner without seeing it. Even here, everything was dead. People were silent, still. That
just made it worse. It's like the whole nation died under that rubble, really, it's quite eerie.
They don't know me, or my connection to County, so they acknowledge me with the
same solemn nods they do each other. Workers carry on working, albeit very subdued. It
isn't mentioned. Until it's confirmed what caused this, I don't think anyone will.
"Not the safest destination today, so I hear,"
I tried to ignore the man seated next to me, but it was difficult. He sounded awkward and
nervous. I tried to set my expression in stone and remain emotionless, but knowing that in
a few hours I would be face to face with the catastrophe was eating away at me slowly, a
cold knawing dread in the pit of my stomach.
"That explosion and all, pretty scary huh?"
It was everywhere. Everyone know. Not everyone knew it though, knew the people. It
was pretty scary, I admitted, in fact it was downright terrifying. I nodded slowly, unwilling
to engage him in conversation, but too polite to ignore him completely.
"So why you headed to the Windy city?"
He asked, settling back and fastening his seatbelt. My eyes focussed firmly on the headrest
of the seat in front, I formulated an unemotional answer.
"I work at County General. You?"
It came out wrong, clipped and terse. The shock took a moment to register, because I
heard a small gasp.
"Isn't that...?"
He stuttered slowly, sounding a little awed.
"Yes,"
I answered firmly. Finally silence fell. There was no answer. Nothing he could think of to
say, but I felt his pity burn into me. I didn't need it, it was all much worse under scrutiny.
The words alive or dead were spinning in my head like a lottery, around pictures of my
colleagues. Not knowing truly is the worst kind of knowledge.
****
It was a short internal flight but it felt like forever. It was tortuous. Life wasn't normal and
it felt wrong to pretend it was. Feaer lay behind the stewardesses false smiles and bright
eyes. No one can hide anything from me - a fact Lizzie knows only too well. Lizzie. Peter.
God, I even cared about my ER kooks. Strange though I thought they were, harm I
wished them not.
The taxi got stopped at every red light between Midway and County and it increasingly
frustrating, so near and yet so far. I looked at my watch. 5pm. 6 hours since the explosion.
If they weren't out by now, they wouldn't get out.
"Bad business this,"
The taxi driver said, looking at me in the rearview mirror. I was in no mood for
conversation, so I nodded impatiently.
"Never thought I'd see it on my own doorstep,"
He continued unawares. It was falling dark when we drew up outside County's ambulance
bay. It was a mass of smoke, water and flashing lights. It was confusingly noisy and busy,
even for someone who usually copes well under stress. Wordlessly, I climbed out,
clutching my bag in one hand, my knuckles completely bloodless. I turned into the bay,
staring at my feet and trying to summon up the courage. After a few seconds, I took a
deep breath and looked up, knowing I could face this head on even if it destroyed me.I
thought I was strong enough, I really did. What I saw knocked me flat. I literally couldn't
breathe. It takes a lot to make me truly lose it but I did in that moment. My vision blurred
and it took me a minute to realise it was tears. I didn't know whether to think God for the
conference or curse it. I supposed that reaction normal.
Viciously, I scrubbed away my moist eyes and regaining my composure slightly, accosted
the next passing person.
"Where'd they take the survivors?"
I asked brusquely. What a mess! Who did this? What bastard did this to us?
"Northwestern,"
The poor guy looked mildly frightened. Right, I was going there then. What could I do
here other than capitulate and that wasn't constructive at all was it?
Chapter Fourteen: "Only Human"
Robert Romano, M.D
I wasn't in County General on the 14th of February 2002. I wasn't even in Chicago. Only
God knows how grateful, yet how sorry, I am that was the case. I'd left the previous
evening, for a medical conference in LA. I was still on the schedules, but the staff knew I
wasn't there. It had all been a bit last minute. It was about 11am that day, and I was sitting
in another lecture hall in another super modern 21st century hospital so far removed from
my own it made County look prehistoric. I wasn't really paying attention. I got the
horrible feeling I'd heard all this before somewhere. However much I like to think the
bland, bueraucratic men in this room weren't like me, I knew deep down that the
similarities of our jobs made us similar inside. It all seemed so far removed from the
reasons I entered medicine long years ago.
"Dr Romano..."
There's a pause. I stare into space, unawares.
"Robert..."
The tone was sharper this time and I noticed it and looked at the source of the noise.
"There's a phonecall,"
The messenger looked very nervous, almost downcast. I rose, feeling the disapproving
glares of my fellow professionals at the interruption. I was secretly relieved, but something
in me couldn't help being worried. For the first time ever, I had had a bad feeling about
leaving the hospital. I only wish that bad feeling hadn't been proved correct. They
wouldn't interrupt me for just anything though, they knew better. I was handed the phone
almost as soon as I reached the reception desk.
"Robert Romano,"
I hear a deep almost pensive breath on the other end of the line.
"We have some news, concerning County General,"
"Who am I speaking to?"
"That doesn't matter. Switch on the TV and you'll see what I mean,"
I gestured at the confused receptionist to switch on the TV, slightly baffled by the
phonecall. As soon as I saw the images on screen, the phone and my mind went dead. My
heart sank. It took a minute for the pictures to form a complete story and longer to link
them to the horror of the words I could hear. I watched as the receptionists mouth fell
slowly open, and the messenger - who looked like a porter - shuffled against the carpet.
The silence was overpowering. It began to sink in, and I realised they were expecting
action from me, but what? I was in LA, thousands of miles away from the flaming carnage
I could see. I addressed the receptionist, attempting to swallow whatever fear and panic I
was feeling.
"Get me the number for Chicagos fire department,"
I demanded quickly, taking a deep breath and finishing instantly, never completely
removing my eyes from the TV screen. I knew I'd see those pictures for years to come,
but yet I couldn't break away.
"And book me on the next flight back there,"
I had to go back. I had to be there. I've never been surer of anything in my whole life.
****
Minutes later, and I was on the phone to the Fire Department Chief. He was on scene,
looking at what I could only see through the impersonal eyes of the TV cameras,
explaining to me the events of the morning in precise architectural detail. I knew he was
delibarately skirting the real issues, and it was increasingly frustrating. He was watching
people living and dying and I needed to know. Buildings are only brick and mortar after
all. Anyone who knew me would probably be stunned by my reactions, but it wasn't
exactly something we faced every day. My instinct, leadership, spirit and humour had all
failed me. I was only human.
"What about casualties?"
I cut across him sharply, and waited in the tense hush of the hallway. This would be right
across America, if not the world by now. The scale was quite incredible.
"We don't know. It could take days till we know for sure,"
There was a hopeless but honest tone in his voice.
"And survivors?"
"Two conscious, two injured,"
Four? Four people? Was that all?
"Who?"
It sounded emotional because it was.
"I don't have names,"
"How did this happen?"
I asked in disbelief, not wanting or expecting an answer.
"I'm just doing my job,"
He said with a note of sadness in his voice. The phone went dead and slowly I hung up. I
had to wonder who'd gotten out, no matter how tortuous it was. I wanted to know who'd
died under that rubble - an untimely and likely painful end. I'd spoken to, or more
correctly, rowed with Elizabeth this morning, before the conference began. I wasn't even
sure I knew about what, couldn't pin down the specifics, but I knew what guilt felt like.
What if she hadn't made it?
****
It was everywhere, all I wanted to do was get back to Chicago. I was useless here. I didn't
know what I'd do back there, but at least I could find out the details. But I couldn't turn a
corner without seeing it. Even here, everything was dead. People were silent, still. That
just made it worse. It's like the whole nation died under that rubble, really, it's quite eerie.
They don't know me, or my connection to County, so they acknowledge me with the
same solemn nods they do each other. Workers carry on working, albeit very subdued. It
isn't mentioned. Until it's confirmed what caused this, I don't think anyone will.
"Not the safest destination today, so I hear,"
I tried to ignore the man seated next to me, but it was difficult. He sounded awkward and
nervous. I tried to set my expression in stone and remain emotionless, but knowing that in
a few hours I would be face to face with the catastrophe was eating away at me slowly, a
cold knawing dread in the pit of my stomach.
"That explosion and all, pretty scary huh?"
It was everywhere. Everyone know. Not everyone knew it though, knew the people. It
was pretty scary, I admitted, in fact it was downright terrifying. I nodded slowly, unwilling
to engage him in conversation, but too polite to ignore him completely.
"So why you headed to the Windy city?"
He asked, settling back and fastening his seatbelt. My eyes focussed firmly on the headrest
of the seat in front, I formulated an unemotional answer.
"I work at County General. You?"
It came out wrong, clipped and terse. The shock took a moment to register, because I
heard a small gasp.
"Isn't that...?"
He stuttered slowly, sounding a little awed.
"Yes,"
I answered firmly. Finally silence fell. There was no answer. Nothing he could think of to
say, but I felt his pity burn into me. I didn't need it, it was all much worse under scrutiny.
The words alive or dead were spinning in my head like a lottery, around pictures of my
colleagues. Not knowing truly is the worst kind of knowledge.
****
It was a short internal flight but it felt like forever. It was tortuous. Life wasn't normal and
it felt wrong to pretend it was. Feaer lay behind the stewardesses false smiles and bright
eyes. No one can hide anything from me - a fact Lizzie knows only too well. Lizzie. Peter.
God, I even cared about my ER kooks. Strange though I thought they were, harm I
wished them not.
The taxi got stopped at every red light between Midway and County and it increasingly
frustrating, so near and yet so far. I looked at my watch. 5pm. 6 hours since the explosion.
If they weren't out by now, they wouldn't get out.
"Bad business this,"
The taxi driver said, looking at me in the rearview mirror. I was in no mood for
conversation, so I nodded impatiently.
"Never thought I'd see it on my own doorstep,"
He continued unawares. It was falling dark when we drew up outside County's ambulance
bay. It was a mass of smoke, water and flashing lights. It was confusingly noisy and busy,
even for someone who usually copes well under stress. Wordlessly, I climbed out,
clutching my bag in one hand, my knuckles completely bloodless. I turned into the bay,
staring at my feet and trying to summon up the courage. After a few seconds, I took a
deep breath and looked up, knowing I could face this head on even if it destroyed me.I
thought I was strong enough, I really did. What I saw knocked me flat. I literally couldn't
breathe. It takes a lot to make me truly lose it but I did in that moment. My vision blurred
and it took me a minute to realise it was tears. I didn't know whether to think God for the
conference or curse it. I supposed that reaction normal.
Viciously, I scrubbed away my moist eyes and regaining my composure slightly, accosted
the next passing person.
"Where'd they take the survivors?"
I asked brusquely. What a mess! Who did this? What bastard did this to us?
"Northwestern,"
The poor guy looked mildly frightened. Right, I was going there then. What could I do
here other than capitulate and that wasn't constructive at all was it?