Friday, January 16, 2015

The news, of the murders at the office of Charlie Hebdo reached me as I drove back to Paris from the village. At my first opportunity, I pulled over to check my feeds and learn as much as I could. Not a lot was known, a police officer dead and reports of other deaths, so I continued driving, now with the radio on. In a bit there was an unconfirmed report of possible victims' identities, but the names were withheld awaiting confirmation. I stopped again and checked my news feeds. There were names, among them a friend of a friend, a man I'd met on a few occasions. I sent a tweet to my friend, expressing my condolences.

Friday I received a call from a special friend, my Psycho Sister, we met in the hospital where we had been admitted for anxiety and depression. She works in a building on that block and was running an errand when the killings occurred. She heard shots, but she has a severe hearing deficit and is too vain to where her hearing aid in public, she wasn't sure what the shoots were or where they came from. Someone pulled her to the ground and when she got us she saw the body of the officer.

Anxiety has been her regular companion and what she witnessed was traumatic, setting off the irrational fears that stalk her. She went to her doctor, who gave her a sedative and she spent most of Thursday and Friday resting. She called me to talk and I spent most of Saturday with her and Sunday we attended the rally together with her wonderful husband.



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