All I shared with them was my first name. They didn't know that I was a head of a department at the Design Council. And here is my beloved briefcase, also rescued from that morning. They didn't know that I published architecture and design journals, that I was a Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts, that I wore black — still do — that I smoked cigarillos. I don't smoke cigarillos anymore.
I drank gin and I watched TED Talks, of course, never dreaming that one day I would be standing, balancing on prosthetic legs, giving a talk. I was a young Australian woman doing extraordinary things in London.
And I wasn't ready for that all to end. I was so determined to survive that I used my scarf to tie tourniquets around the tops of my legs, and I just shut everything and everyone out, to focus, to listen to myself, to be guided by instinct alone. I lowered my breathing rate. I elevated my thighs. I held myself upright and I fought the urge to close my eyes.
I held on for almost an hour, an hour to contemplate the whole of my life up until this point. Perhaps I should have done more.
Perhaps I could have lived more, seen more. Maybe I should have gone running, dancing, taken up yoga. But my priority and my focus was always my work. I lived to work. Who I was on my business card mattered to me. But it didn't matter down in that tunnel. By the time I felt that first touch from one of my rescuers, I was unable to speak, unable to say even a small word, like "Gill.
I had done all I possibly could, and now I was in their hands. I understood just who and what humanity really is, when I first saw the ID tag that was given to me when I was admitted to hospital. And it read: "One unknown estimated female.
Those four words were my gift. What they told me very clearly was that my life was saved, purely because I was a human being. Difference of any kind made no difference to the extraordinary lengths that the rescuers were prepared to go to save my life, to save as many unknowns as they could, and putting their own lives at risk. To them, it didn't matter if I was rich or poor, the color of my skin, whether I was male or female, my sexual orientation, who I voted for, whether I was educated, if I had a faith or no faith at all.
Nothing mattered other than I was a precious human life. I see myself as a living fact. I am proof that unconditional love and respect can not only save, but it can transform lives. Here is a wonderful image of one of my rescuers, Andy, and I taken just last year.
Ten years after the event, and here we are, arm in arm. Throughout all the chaos, my hand was held tightly. My face was stroked gently. What did I feel? I felt loved. What's shielded me from hatred and wanting retribution, what's given me the courage to say: this ends with me is love.
I was loved. I believe the potential for widespread positive change is absolutely enormous because I know what we're capable of. A typical story of boy meets girl. Boy likes girl.
Boy hides dangerous past that girl ends up twisted in. Helen had no idea what she was getting into when she let Carmen into her life. The strange Frenchman who charms his way into Helen's arms leaves her world turned upside down.
Helen had never known a love like this, it was almost too perfect. Hours: Mon-Fri Sat Sun What is Libro. Sign Up Now.
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Advanced Search. My Beloved Tourniquet Paperback. By Solange Nicole. Published: Moonbeam Publishing - September 5th, Search eBooks. Digital Audiobooks What is Libro. Stay Connected.