‘Our daughter came back from 9/11’

‘In my gut, I knew something was wrong.” At her home in Donegal, sitting across from her husband Jimmy, Eilish Kennedy describes the moment 13 years ago, in New York, when her daughter fell backwards on to a tiled floor.

“Anna slipped off the counter, just beyond my reach. I was six months pregnant at the time.”

Now 16, Anna joins the conversation. Her demeanour betrays a gentle awe at hearing the details of that day recounted. Being so young at the time, she remembers nothing.

“There were no bumps, no bruises. But I noticed an odd stare in her eyes. And she began to throw up,” her mother continues.

Following frantic early morning phone calls to seek advice and arrange care for their younger daughter, the couple took Anna to emergency at the Montefiore Medical Center in the Bronx, New York, arriving at 8.20am on September 11th, 2001 – 9/11 was about to happen.

The Kennedys encountered a professional, systematic and busy hospital when they arrived that morning.

“Your daughter’s vitals are fine. We will need an MRI of her brain before we can release her,” a junior doctor said.

“We’re backed-up already. Expect to be here all day. She may not get a scan until 5pm.”

The family settled in for a long wait. A few miles downtown, disaster was unfolding. For all of its violence, the first plane hitting the Twin Towers was grossly misunderstood at the beginning. On hospital TVs, the outpatients followed a bizarre, but not especially alarming incident, involving a supposed “light aircraft”.

“We presumed the pilot had made an awful mistake,” recalls Jimmy.

But then, at 9.03am, the second plane hit. Rumours of terrorism instantly filled the hospital corridors, generating heated speculation, confusion and fear. A sort of orderly panic came on the faces of staff – a mixture of professional concern and personal worry.

Shortly after, a “Code Red” emergency was declared over the hospital tannoy. Telephones went dead and the hospital’s calm organisation seemed to move towards meltdown.

Three-year-old Anna began vomiting again. Her mother’s concern escalated. In the growing melee, an Irish nurse approached Eilish, recognising her from a recent social gathering. It was the most random of coincidences.

“My husband knows your husband!” the nurse exclaimed.

On explaining their situation, the nurse escorted the Kennedys through the ever-increasing chaos to the MRI department and made sure the child was seen.

By this unlikely intervention, Anna had a brain scan around 9.45am – a vital seven hours sooner than expected.

Outside, a third plane slammed into the Pentagon and American airspace was summarily shut down.

Dr James T Goodrich, Director of Paediatric Neurosurgery at Montefiore, and a global authority in his field, planned to fly to Sydney, Australia, that morning, for a conference.

S

kull opened up As the calamitous events unfolded, Dr Goodrich instead returned to the hospital. He was requested by medics in the MRI department to urgently review the case of Anna Kennedy.

Dr Goodrich examined the three- year-old’s scan. His diagnosis – authoritative, clear, immediate – was devastating. “This is an epidural haematoma. It needs to come out. Right now.”

“He described it as a blood clot in the brain that could bleed at any moment. And if it bled, it would likely be fatal,” says Jimmy.

Surgery would involve opening a “cookie-sized hole” in Anna’s skull, locating the clot, removing it, and “replacing the cookie”. There was no time to spare; she needed to go to theatre immediately.

The enormous shock of hearing her daughter’s diagnosis felt “like a bolt through my body”, says Eilish.

Pregnant, lacking food and overwhelmed by events, she fainted.

Jimmy, clothed in scrubs, accompanied his daughter to the operating theatre, a sealed and inaccessible unit within the hospital. The couple lost all contact with each other.

The normal systems, supports and bureaucracy at the Montefiore Medical Center had broken down. Its priorities lay elsewhere: preparing for an intake of casualties from Lower Manhattan (in the event, tragically, none arrived).

It is hard to conjure the sense of disbelief and dread that attended those first hours of 9/11. Rumour fed rumour; fear fed fear.

“Everything was unravelling,” says Eilish. “We thought we would die. We thought the hospital would be hit next.”

For two hours, she sat on the floor of a hospital corridor, waiting in desperation. The staff rushing by seemed to know nothing of her daughter. They told her that all surgery had been cancelled; that there was no-one in the operating theatres.

As the horrors of the morning mounted, Eilish began to imagine the worst.

During much of Anna’s surgery, lasting over three hours, Jimmy was alone. Although he had received calm, positive assurances from Dr Goodrich, a state of eerie confusion inhabited him. Multiple attempts to page his wife were fruitless.

Thirty minutes before surgery ended, they were reunited. Together, they worried for Anna, for their other daughter, and for their tight-knit Irish community in New York.

In shocked silence, they watched as the networks replayed the Twin Towers’ collapse. Again. And again.

When Anna opened her eyes, she saw her father, and cried “Daddy! Daddy!”

Dr Goodrich’s post-surgery briefing was short. The procedure had been complicated but successful. The clot was removed.

“Mr Kennedy, you can have a pint of Guinness tonight,” he said. “Your daughter will be fine.” He made no comment on the events occurring downtown that day. He had saved a life and simply left when the job was done.

Changed lives

In 2006, Eilish and Jimmy moved their family – three girls – home to Letterkenny. The stress of what happened that September day was a factor in their decision.

New York was no longer the same. Many in their community had lost loved ones and most peoples’ lives had been deeply affected.

Thirteen years later, sitting at their kitchen table, they reflect on the meaning of what happened that day. “There were so many coincidences,” says Eilish.

Anna had got her MRI scan faster that day, because of 9/11. She received urgent, life-saving surgery from a leading paediatric neurosurgeon, because 9/11 had made him available.

“In a sense, she is alive because of 9/11.” The irony is not lost on her. It has taken her years to come to terms with this.

Jimmy pauses for thought. “That day offered us a silver lining that few families shared,” he says. “Our child came back from 9/11.

“We want to share our story to express our gratitude to all the staff at the hospital. Especially Dr Goodrich. He came in and out of our lives, and changed us forever.”

Anna begins to speak, haltingly at first. “I feel very sorry for the people who were killed. Sometimes I get upset. I was only three.”

Her dark eyes dart back and forth to her mother, seeking reassurance. “What happened to me that day was a part of history.”

With that, she leaves the table. Her parents remain, seated, in absolute silence.

The gurgle of a lazy stream enters through the kitchen windows. Donegal’s late-summer light is beginning to fade.

Eilish Kennedy looks directly into the eyes of her husband. He returns her look. Within their shared gaze, remembrance and thanksgiving weave a solemn dance.