ABSTRACT
The scene at the psychiatric outpatient program of St. Luke's/Roosevelt Hospital on September 11 was pretty much like any of the other places in New York where people were lucky enough to be out of the direct line of fire. Information trickled in from radios, telephones, and horrified patients and staff members who had seen the towers fall, or had been stuck downtown. Staff and patients desperately tried to locate loved ones and find out more information. Agitated therapists tried to calm patients. As the day wore on, there were tears of relief as friends and relatives were contacted and panic, as the vast number of missing became clear. It was a day when some of the boundaries between patient and therapist bluffed and we were all citizens of a stricken New York.
