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On A Clear Day... |
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September 11 — One Year Later |
Sandra Haber, Ph.D. |
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I gaze past my patient to the large picture window that forms the far wall of my 21st floor office in New York City. The shades are pulled up and the clear sky is a magical shade of robin’s egg blue. I am momentarily diverted to a private fantasy of a jet plane crashing through the window and my escaping with my patient down the building’s staircase. Shifting back into the here and now, I ruefully note the images of the “rescue fantasy” shaped by the power of one trial conditioning from the clear blue sky on the morning of September 11. At this writing, the anniversary of September 11 approaches and, like many psychologists, I watch with interest my own internal process of healing. I am less traumatized than a year ago. But, I am still traumatized. Shortly after Sept 11, I returned to my office. I developed a personal terrorist management plan which helped me cope despite my belief that there would soon be another attack. My plan included sneakers to run in, a flashlight in case of power failure, a radio to listen to the news, bottled water and jars of nuts for my office in case I was stranded for a significant length of time, a cellular phone for my daughter so I could reach her if phone lines were down, spare batteries in case the new disaster lasted a long time, a never less than half full tank of gas in my car so I had fuel to escape, an agreed meeting place outside of New York City where my family could gather and live, and a commitment to participation in professional disaster training classes with the Red Cross. The plan, though seemingly logical at the time, was contradictory and emotional. The contradictory elements included the method of escape (the car, the meeting place outside the city) with simultaneous actions designed to stay and help (Red Cross training). Some elements of the plan I myself did not believe including my own survival if there were another attack or the usefulness of a cellular phone. Nevertheless, the plan was and continues to be comforting. For me, the various actions and the mixture of intense emotions give rise to interesting and difficult questions. “Why is my family still living in New York City? At what point does danger become real enough to leave one’s home and daily life? Will the belief in the certainty of an attack change and lessen in subsequent years? How long does it take to rebuild the experience of safety?” Certainly, I have already seen some psychological and behavioral changes. At this point in time, although some aspects of the initial coping plan remain in place, other aspects have been relaxed. The sneakers, flashlight, radio, batteries, cellular phone, meeting place and Red Cross classes remain. The stash of food and water has long been consumed and the car is often parked with a near empty tank of gas. On a daily basis, I rarely check these supplies or worry about disaster. On the other hand there are frequent though fleeting associations of disaster connected with New York City including driving over a bridge or through the tunnel into New York City, a Red Cross Van passing in the street, driving by the empty site of the former World Trade Center, low flying planes and clear blue skies viewed from my office window. Rural areas both inside New York State and outside of New York State are calming and restore the illusion of invulnerability. In these locations I feel like my old self. I note the effect on my 14 year old daughter, who, for most of the year has denied any impact of September 11 and claimed to be “tired of hearing about it and tired of talking about it”. In a recent discussion about future college plans she said that she wanted to be within a 3-5 hour drive from home. “I want to be 3-5 hours away from home. I don’t want to have to fly” “Why is that?” I ask. “Flying is very expensive, isn’t it?” she replies. “Well, it is expensive, but if you know the dates ahead of time, you can often get reasonably price airline tickets” I say, in an attempt to keep her options open. “Well—you know—it’s the September 11 thing” she further explains. “Do you mean you are afraid to fly because of what happened on September 11?” I ask. “Not exactly” she says. ”I just want us to be able to get to each other if something happens.” As psychologists, I imagine that the September 11 incident has bonded us more closely with our trauma patients. For me, it certainly has increased my connection to my patients with cancer particularly those who have survived their battle but fear recurrence. I also noticed that I felt especially close to a thirty five year old patient who was diagnosis with a rare and deadly cancer and told to do nothing about it until the symptoms worsened. In some ways his daily life remains unchanged, but for sure, his psychological life is in chaos. I help him cope by developing his personal program for living that includes maintaining optimum health, challenging any certainty of his prognosis, decreasing stress and appreciating daily life. I know our work is helpful to him, but I am also aware that it cannot restore his pre-diagnosis self. And so my patient, myself, my daughter and perhaps all Americans know what it is to be moved from the tranquil mindset of life based on a false but wonderful sense of security to the uneasy mindset of life scarred by the possibility of devastation and loss. In some ways, since we are all faced with the promise of death, the ultimate reality has not changed. Rather, it is death moving from the future tense to the present tense that clouds life. Like the cancer survivors we wonder how long the window of wellness will last and, depending on our level of contamination, we develop few or many rituals and exercises to boost our belief in the likelihood of our survival and well being. Most of us keep going and live our daily lives in a new, changed and sometimes improved manner. And we begin to accept that a clear day and a blue sky may never look quite the same again. |
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