September, 2006 Archive

two months before he turned 34, Paul left his home to go to work.

he never knew he will never return.

it must have been one of those regular days. a tuesday, when tasks that needed attention at work were started the day before, but were not really halfway through. he must have anticipated a busy day at work, and was oblivious to the unknown. like everybody else, he was unprepared for the tragedy that will eventually take his life.

born on november 11, 1967, Paul was the first child of Paul and Shirley Innella. fondly remembered as someone who was fun loving by his sister Maria, and greatly missed by his brother Billy.

he started working at Cantor Fitzgerald as a system analyst at the age of 20. described by his mom as intelligent, funny, happy, generous and caring, he must have blended with his colleagues easily. while some people hop from one job to another, he must have been hugely satisfied with his work, to stay there for almost 14 years. if the place he was working in did not literally shatter in thin air, he must have been happy to continue to practice his expertise there.

he must have been excited. there must have been endless talks about his upcoming wedding with his fiancee Lucy. engaged for ten months, they must have spent long, sweet hours of talking about the ceremony, the reception, the honeymoon, and the endless possibilities of a joyous, love filled future. they must have talked about his daughter Victoria, and how they will include her in the wedding ceremony. he must have been thinking about her coming second birthday too, which happened to be the same day as his.

what exactly happened to him? did death snatch his life away in an instant? or did he suffer the agony of a long, painful end? at which floor of the world trade center did he breathe his last? was he able to help other struggling victims, or was he crushed by the glaring truth that he was so hurt himself, and he just had to painfully watch them writhe in pain? what were his thoughts? what were his feelings? was he frantically trying to get a hold of his mom? of his dad? of his fiancee? of his daughter? of his brother? of his sister? did he ever have a sense of peace and calm before he finally closed his eyes?

are these questions even relevant?

not necessarily. because the answers will never change the fact that Paul is gone. he is gone, killed by a pointless cause, in an awful event. answers will never change the fact that people who love him suffered tremendously because of his loss. although details that are sometimes asked out of curiosity, will carry a certain amount of closure when answered, the attached emotional trauma behind the questions will never be erased, will never change an unpleasant thing.

the deep, penetrating pain of loosing a loved one is indefinite. Paul and Shirley, his loving parents, will never forget him. Maria and William, his siblings, will never forget him. Victoria, his daughter, who unfortunately lost her father at an age when she hasn’t fully experienced his loving kindness, will always be reminded of him. Lucy, his fiancee, will never forget him. every single person who have known him, will never forget him.

PAUL INNELLA. 1967-2001.

you may have died an untimely, tragic death, but your short life was not wasted. you are not forgotten.

the memory of the event which took your life enlightened an endless list of learning human beings. its sting served as a vivid reminder to all. it made us realize the simple, and forgotten things.

we realized that there are people who have so much hatred in their hearts, they do not hesitate to create terror. people whose cause is incomprehensible, they want to create fear.

on the other hand, we also realized that there are people who can stand up and defy the paralyzing effect of terror. people who thought beyond themselves, and attended to the needs of others. people who proved there is so much more to life and living, than fear and anger. people who ignored boundaries and barriers to lift up the spirit of those who were broken.

you may have died an untimely, tragic death, but your death was not in vain. you ar enot forgotten.

the memory of your loss reminded millions of people to value their lives and the lives of those they love. your sudden passing reminded people to seize each passing day and make the absolute best out of it. people who’ve never known you, but have known about your death, realized that life is fleeting, therefore, there is no reason to trivialize it. we knew it then, but your memory, and the memory of those who died with you, highlighted that knowledge.

your life was not wasted. your death was not in vain. you are not forgotten.

you touched the lives of people who knew you. furthermore, you touched the lives of people who didn’t know you.

to Paul Innella, and the 2995 other innocent victims whose lives were cut short by that fateful event on 9/11, i want to say thank you. a tribute is not enough, but it is all i can give. i will not take life for granted. i will not let terror overcome my ability to reach out to others. i will make the memory of your death meaningful, i will make it useful. in my life, and in the lives of those i love. i will never forget.

your lives were not wasted. your death was not in vain.

________________________

informations about Paul and his life were taken here.

more tributes to Paul Innella can be found here and here.

tributes to the other 2995 victims can be found here.

my thanks to D.C. Roe for organizing this project.
i am humbled and privileged to be a part of it.

i can’t remember the last time i did it. it must have been that long.

i pulled the sheet down, and saw that her family have already made her presentable. i thought too presentable, that she actually looked like she was just getting ready to go out to party, then she decided to take a nap. her hair was combed evenly, her lipstick fresh and pink. she looked so peaceful, i felt i was being disrespectful when i untied her gown and stripped her naked.

her stomach felt warm, and it made me remember some things.

i remember when my brother first saw my mom, after they pulled the sheet over her head. he kept telling me between slow, deep sobs that she felt so warm, maybe they made a mistake. he was touching her face, and he kept telling me she couldn’t be dead if she was that warm. the sight of a grown man crying like that in denial was heartbreaking, but its implication so heartwarming, it made me speechless.

i remember talking to one of the nurses a couple of nights ago. she told me this patient’s family told her they have had two cases like her in their family history. one person, declared dead and was about to be buried after a few days of everybody grieving and mourning, decided to wake up just before they bury him. another family member, dead in the hospital for a few hours, all of a sudden woke up. same thing happened to this patient. she just fell asleep, and have been sleeping for over two days, when she was transferred from the medical ICU.

we did not really know what to make out of that story, except that we thought they were obviously hoping that she will all of a sudden wake up from that sleeping binge.

she never did. so here i was, helping in her post mortem care.

i pulled out her cathether, and the last IV line on her forearm. i touched her stomach again, and it was still warm. i thought she better start waking up now, if she wanted to do so, because once i zip that bag up, it would be more challenging for her to get out alive. i waited. i looked at her face, and i actually thought she smiled a little.

it gave me a little hope, so i stalled. i thought maybe she needed more time. the patient care assistant was getting a little impatient because i obviously looked like i was taking my time. i know it was nonsense, because i know for a fact that she has been dead for hours, but i wanted to wait. wait till she open her eyes and ask for water.

she never did. she was really dead. 

the PCA looked relieved when i finally placed the name tag on the bag. i’m sure she was getting preoccupied with other tasks she needed to do. i didn’t really care about time, i was just giving in to that flicker of hope.

at the last minute, when dispatch picked the body up, i helped. i know it was stupid and crazy, but i was still hoping she will just all of a sudden wake up. like i wished four years ago, that my mom just all of a sudden wake up, hours after being pronounced.

she never did. she was really dead.

i don’t even know her, she was never my patient. i was just asked to help get her ready for the morgue. i must admit she did look like she was peacefully ready to meet death. but it felt wrong, and what was supposed to be a common act of caring for the dead, made me really sad.

it was unexplainable, but it did seem harder to see her go when i had that fleeting silly moment of hope that she will stay. it was disappointing, and it was sad.

in my line of work, as far as death is concerned, it is sometimes difficult to draw the line between fantasy and reality. fantasy being the hope that someone is still alive, reality being the fact that someone is really dead.

death is not something to be scared of, but it is not something everybody welcomes. it is not something we can escape from, but we all try anyway. it brings out a lot of thoughts, and it provokes lot of thinking.

in retrospect, it was just another night at work. i am supposed to get used to it, and should not make a big deal out of it.

but i still do, i still make a big deal out of death. and it still makes me sad.

if i don’t blog about it, it’s going to be one of those blogging baggages that i will drag all over the floor, making me cranky, over the years. i may get over it if i talk to a shrink, but since i can’t afford one, i will blog to vent.

i have been one of the few who were tricked, conned, or faked by one person. there is nothing really spetacular about that, except  i realized that i am capable of having different intense reactions to a single event or situation, all at the same time.

this is the story behind my reflective mood:

a couple of weeks ago, i was introduced to a witty, pediatric resident who blogged about her exciting, challenging life as a new kid on the block, doing her rotation at the NICU. funny has always been one of my reasons for reading others’ blog, so i did not think twice in adding her to my blog links.

i encouraged her when she curled up in a fetal position after ordering a wrong, higher dose of tylenol for one of her patients. i told her it was one of the reasons why nurses are working with doctors. i told her she should be grateful the error was caught before the med was given. i told her to hang in there when she was desperate enough to try speed dating, wondering loudly if the right guy who will eventually be her husband is actually still out there. i agreed with her when she lamented about some doctors who have no time to talk to the family about what is really going on with their patients, or when they use incomprehensible medical jargons when explaining their child’s condition. i told her that this reality is really sad, but it takes real heart for people to be compassionate, and she should not get discouraged.

when she collaborated with two other bloggers to come out and talk about the pain of rape and assault, she occupied my thoughts, and i even whispered a prayer for her.

i was enraged at the fact that the one who changed her life was just sentenced 7 years in prison, and was supposed to be released next summer. it aggravated me that some people she knew even blamed her for the rape, and for ruining the rapist’s life. i admired her for her courage to help those who had the same experiences. i assured her that as she did not want pity, i did not pity her, but was inspired by how she turned her pain into power. i was literally in awe at how she turned things around for the better, considering the unimaginable humiliation and violation she went through from that rapist who even went a step further by getting another guy to pay for that sexual experience. i cringed at the idea of her vagina being lacerated and repaired, her bones broken, and her torturous court appearances as she tried to nail the guilty down. i almost felt the gnawing pain of living the whole thing all over again through her mind, as she related the events very vividly and graphically. the least that i could give her was my respect. respect for someone who selflessly ignored her pain, to bring healing to others.

after that numbing post on her rape experience, warm thoughts were poured out. people who read her blog were all supportive and encouraging. it was a moment to be silent. it made me proud to be part of the blogging community. i followed comments after comments after comments of bloggers who assured her she was inspiring instead of pitiable. then, there was one anonymous commenter who kept twisting the whole thing up and implied in his/her comments that he/she found the whole thing sexually arousing. it disgusted me, but i kept quiet.

all of a sudden, it was gone. the blog went down. apparently, there was a short, vague notice about her figuring this whole blogging thing out before it finally came down, but i was not able to read it. i don’t really know what it was, but it scared me. i thought there must have been somebody who found out about her blog, and didn’t like the idea that she was so honest about the whole rape thing and they threatened her or something, so she took it down. i kept going back, but there was no explanation. then, this post by dr. flea shed a little light.

from fear and concern, i went the opposite end. i felt betrayed and i was angry. i also felt stupid. betrayed because i trusted her. angry because she was so cunningly devious to pull off a stint like that. stupid because i allowed myself to be engrossed with her stories and how she related it. in the first place, i didn’t really know her, i didn’t really know what she was thinking. although i still gave her the benefit of the doubt, i sensed an unexplainable sort of hatred towards her that i cannot contain. on the other hand, that extreme anger made me feel guilty, and i would feel sorry for her. i thought she needed a lot of help, and she needed it now. i was saddened by the idea that somebody could be that sick to actually make up a story from such a sensitive issue. it was confusing.

somehow, i needed closure. this post made things final. she was a fraud who had too much time and writing talent in her hands. nobody in the blogosphere knows who/what he/she really is, but it looks like he/she is definitely not an irish pediatric resident in america who was mercilessly raped twice. i do not know what to feel towards him/her, and i don’t know why i allowed myself to be so disturbed by the whole thing. by blogging, i hope to put an end to the fact that i wasted my energy in believing anything that he/she said.

for a while, i didn’t feel like blogging. i was thinking about people’s blogs that i read on a regular basis, whose stories have touched and inspired me to be a better person, a better nurse…what if all of them are like her? what if all of those stories are unreal, made up, fictional? what if i laughed, or i cried, for nothing?

one of the things that made me feel better, for reason i am still trying to figure out, is that i was not the only one she fooled. there is that relieving thought of me being one of the many. there is that comforting thought that if other bloggers who are obviously smarter than i am were fooled, there is no reason to beat myself up for being so stupid.

everyday, there are lessons to learn. some lessons are harder to learn than others. this is one of those hard ones, but i will figure it out. many aspects of who i am were affected by this experience. i will turn it around, and i will use it positively. how, i don’t know yet. but i will.

as a reminder, i will not delete her link.

and on a lighter, (un)serious note, i would like to confess that i am not really a nurse. i am  a billionaire who was an astronaut. i have a very successful business. i have so much money, but i am mentally unwell. pretending to be a nurse is the only way i can assuage my guilt of having too much when the whole world has nothing. it is hard to pretend, but it is easy to make things up.

there. i feel better already. seriously.

now tell me, who are YOU? really.
_________________________

as of 0130, 09/04/06:

i realized it is not right to keep her link on the list of the “doctors i read”, for obvious reasons. i just deleted the link.