More damn bombs.
Got a cab into work with John, 9.10am. As we went past University College Hospital at 9.30am I burst into tears and felt terrified. The reaction I didn't have , but should have had, except I was in shock, when I went there at exactly the same time two weeks ago today. Covered in soot with blasted hair and a bleeding wrist.
I had actually forgotten that it was 2 weeks ago that the bombs went off.
Got out of cab in Gower St by Shaftesbury Avenue and cried. I was crying with fear. I never cry with fear, I cry with anger and frustration.
Even though there was no danger, I was merely passing the place in a cab. I felt physically sick with fear, as if I had eaten ice cubes and they were cold and cramping my stomach. I was shaking. I needed the loo. My breath came in short gasps. My lips felt numb and I could hear my heart banging in my chest. The street started shimmering and moving as if I was under water.
Ten minutes later, after I had finished saying good bye to John ( 'Please, please please honey keep your mobile on you...') and hugging him, I walked into the office. I absolutely did not want to be there. I felt like throwing up and bursting into tears. Still, there is nothing like vanity and pride to get a girl's back up so I powdered my pink shiny nose and wiped the mascara smudges and went in, jaw clenched.
Talked to my boss, who was sympathetic and gentle, which nearly set me off again. It is very hard to explain why getting a taxi past a hospital A&E department should reduce me to tears. But hey. Strange times.
Got head down, dealt with stuff. There was a lot of it to deal with.
Caught up with Patrick the young man from work who was in Kings Cross train carriage 3, encouraged him again to get trauma/shock couselling and see his GP and get an official note for PTSD and ear damage symptoms; it would help if/when he filled in a CICA ( Criminal Injuries Compensation Authority) form to have it recorded properly. He has been reluctant to seek help/ask for time off out of a sense of not wanting to look weak, or let the side down. He's been very brave. But he is clearly shocked and his hearing is damaged so I wish he would see someone about it.
Lunchtime: was exhausted, thinking of going home, ( boss had said: you look terrible, go home if you need to). Going home involves walking up to Victoria line, Warren St tube. Decided instead to go and get a back rub at the Neals Yard walk in back rub place near work. I could feel my back rigid with stress and a headache starting to pound over my right eye.
As the massage therapist started to rub my back I started crying again.
Got back into office at 2pm, and News 24 was on. Everyone was gathered around the TV instead of sitting at desks. More bombings. Warren St and 2 other stations, plus a bus in Bethnal Green. (Reports breaking that the Warren St tube bomber fled into UCH a 6 foot 2 black/Asian male carrying a backpack with wires sticking out, pursued by armed police. Un-bloody-believable.)
Burst into tears, I am not having a good day. Started to shake again and Jenna and my colleagues clustered about and patted me. Called parents and John. Called Patrick; he'd been trying to get hold of me. All the Kings Cross survivors were frantically trying to get in touch. Leo from the train called ( man I met who got in contact through BBC blog), emailed Jane ( woman who was on train), Mark thankfully on holiday with Sarah. Team Kings Cross United all ok, then. Phew. We made tentative arrangements to meet for a drink in a weeks time.
Command decision made by me and Patrick to go home. It's been a hell of a day. Did a quick work handover. Hailed cab after 15 minute anxious wait. Raced to Finsbury park, avoiding the log-jam. Got home.
Adrenalin pumping, eyes starting, heart pounding, and this time anger rising, rising like a wave.
Bastardscumbagshitheadidiotsickoterroristwannabe little bastards
I don't want to be a hater, but for crying out loud
Hit net, pour stiff whisky. Bloody hell. Not again
Sheesh.
5.49PM: Update: called John, with internet -gleaned news that Ludgate Hill was sealed off and a helicopter hovering. He said he couldn't see anything from his office ( which is by the Old Bailey). Then called back and said it was indeed sealed off, but that he was staying in work, as he had a deal to finish. Said to each other that we loved each other. Can't say it enough at the moment.
I wish he could come home.
I had actually forgotten that it was 2 weeks ago that the bombs went off.
Got out of cab in Gower St by Shaftesbury Avenue and cried. I was crying with fear. I never cry with fear, I cry with anger and frustration.
Even though there was no danger, I was merely passing the place in a cab. I felt physically sick with fear, as if I had eaten ice cubes and they were cold and cramping my stomach. I was shaking. I needed the loo. My breath came in short gasps. My lips felt numb and I could hear my heart banging in my chest. The street started shimmering and moving as if I was under water.
Ten minutes later, after I had finished saying good bye to John ( 'Please, please please honey keep your mobile on you...') and hugging him, I walked into the office. I absolutely did not want to be there. I felt like throwing up and bursting into tears. Still, there is nothing like vanity and pride to get a girl's back up so I powdered my pink shiny nose and wiped the mascara smudges and went in, jaw clenched.
Talked to my boss, who was sympathetic and gentle, which nearly set me off again. It is very hard to explain why getting a taxi past a hospital A&E department should reduce me to tears. But hey. Strange times.
Got head down, dealt with stuff. There was a lot of it to deal with.
Caught up with Patrick the young man from work who was in Kings Cross train carriage 3, encouraged him again to get trauma/shock couselling and see his GP and get an official note for PTSD and ear damage symptoms; it would help if/when he filled in a CICA ( Criminal Injuries Compensation Authority) form to have it recorded properly. He has been reluctant to seek help/ask for time off out of a sense of not wanting to look weak, or let the side down. He's been very brave. But he is clearly shocked and his hearing is damaged so I wish he would see someone about it.
Lunchtime: was exhausted, thinking of going home, ( boss had said: you look terrible, go home if you need to). Going home involves walking up to Victoria line, Warren St tube. Decided instead to go and get a back rub at the Neals Yard walk in back rub place near work. I could feel my back rigid with stress and a headache starting to pound over my right eye.
As the massage therapist started to rub my back I started crying again.
Got back into office at 2pm, and News 24 was on. Everyone was gathered around the TV instead of sitting at desks. More bombings. Warren St and 2 other stations, plus a bus in Bethnal Green. (Reports breaking that the Warren St tube bomber fled into UCH a 6 foot 2 black/Asian male carrying a backpack with wires sticking out, pursued by armed police. Un-bloody-believable.)
Burst into tears, I am not having a good day. Started to shake again and Jenna and my colleagues clustered about and patted me. Called parents and John. Called Patrick; he'd been trying to get hold of me. All the Kings Cross survivors were frantically trying to get in touch. Leo from the train called ( man I met who got in contact through BBC blog), emailed Jane ( woman who was on train), Mark thankfully on holiday with Sarah. Team Kings Cross United all ok, then. Phew. We made tentative arrangements to meet for a drink in a weeks time.
Command decision made by me and Patrick to go home. It's been a hell of a day. Did a quick work handover. Hailed cab after 15 minute anxious wait. Raced to Finsbury park, avoiding the log-jam. Got home.
Adrenalin pumping, eyes starting, heart pounding, and this time anger rising, rising like a wave.
Bastardscumbagshitheadidiotsickoterroristwannabe little bastards
I don't want to be a hater, but for crying out loud
Hit net, pour stiff whisky. Bloody hell. Not again
Sheesh.
5.49PM: Update: called John, with internet -gleaned news that Ludgate Hill was sealed off and a helicopter hovering. He said he couldn't see anything from his office ( which is by the Old Bailey). Then called back and said it was indeed sealed off, but that he was staying in work, as he had a deal to finish. Said to each other that we loved each other. Can't say it enough at the moment.
I wish he could come home.
posted by Rachel at 12:38 am
Hi - stumbled across your blog by accident - you mention government compensation (CICA) there is a helpline - 0800 358 3601 www.cica.gov.uk - please submit a claim and encourage any other victims to do so too. You don't need any legal help as the forms are fairly easy to fill in and there is special advice available for the victimsd of 7/7.