Candystriper life. Seeing a lot of unexpected things working in a hospital environment maybe helped me grow up fast in some ways... or grow up weird. There's that. Because so much there was literally life and death, the culture at High School wasn't all that compelling to me. So during the school year, I was more committed to spending weekends at the hospital rather than at football games and parties. I felt strangely mature because I was treated that way there by patients and staff, and I seemed to handle emergencies and dire circumstances there well. Calmly.
Until that one day. October 27, 1962. The Cuban Missile Crisis. The most dangerous day in human history. When Nuclear War was suddenly ominous and imminent. The world had spiraled out of control. President Kennedy was addressing the nation and all the patients' televisions were simultaneously pulsing with the bleak and terrifying reality. Never had we been closer to the annihilation we had been getting ready for since the air raid sirens sent us under our desks in elementary school and Jr. High. Immediately I accepted that I wouldn't be going home from the Hospital to tell my family I loved them and to face the end together with them that afternoon. Unbelievable. Overwhelming. And the only thing left to do was to keep helping people where I was. Calmly. Until we were wiped out.
It probably sounds bloody dramatic, but it actually was that close. Seriously. Life on planet earth was hanging by a thread. Blink, and what happens?
Perhaps we all are closer at times to the final curtain than we realize. What would you do if you suddenly found yourself aware that the apocalyptic end was a only breath away?
I don't know if you believe in miracles or not, but there's the story of the one man who truly saved the world at that critical moment.
https://www.gzcenter.org/the-man-who-saved-the-world-from-a-nuclear-war/
And here's the years later declassified scoop:
https://www.usni.org/magazines/naval-history-magazine/2021/june/black-saturday-declassified
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