Michael L. Snead
Below Ground Zero A day to anticipate, as I sit up all night and wait. Maybe it’s my emotions—Lord, I’m nervous. I’m trying my brain; I know the results. “How many more hours?” Sigh. “Damn...three.” It’s only 6 in the morning. I’ll put on Good Day NYC. Now it’s 8:30 and I’m almost ready. Where the hell are my keys? Just as I turned the doorknob to leave, a Special Report came across the TV stating that one of the Twin Towers was struck by a plane. “Yeah...OK.” The Twin Towers on fire—that’s insane. Thank God the hospital was up the block—five minutes by flight. I made it to the third floor—there I stood in awe as I saw the plane go through the second tower, people running and falling as if they had seen the Earth’s core. It was so intense I didn’t hear the receptionist call me four times. “I’m sorry.” “No problem. Please come this way.” The doctor came in. “How is your day?” I replied, “Well, look at the news. What is there to say?” He passed me an envelope, “These are your results. Are you OK?” I looked at the doctor and said, “I will be.” The day is Tuesday, September 11, 2001. A day never forgotten. The first tower fell. Then the second. The foundation underneath me got weak, and I also fell in disappointment, deceit, and anger. A person struggling with cancer now has been diagnosed with HIV and Hepatitis C. Oh God, What am I going to do? Just let me die, please! And as the world wept, so did I. For this reason we even let out many screams ’cause the world has come to an end and now is known as Ground Zero, but at this current moment I fell below Ground Zero. What will I do? Where will I go? Does anyone know what’s gonna happen to me next? Somebody?! Tomorrow is another day. Lord, I hope it’s better. We’ll just have to hope and pray.
