We are a bit wiped out right now - so forgive the brevity. Nate is doing well - doctors said everything went great and that he will be back to normal within the week.
We knew that we would be walking into a place full of difficult memories, but were shocked to find that the room they put us in is the exact one we were in with Ben four years ago - where we were told that Ben would soon die. When the nurse walked in to prep Nate for surgery, she gasped as she saw us - she was the same nurse who cared for Ben for his last surgery. What are the odds? This is a very large hospital - spanning blocks in the heart of Memphis. Jennifer and I knew that we had to remain focused on the task at hand - Nate needed our full attention. All the same, in the quiet moments while we waited our minds raced. Why?
More later - but I am grateful for the outcome today. I love Nate and am thrilled that he will soon be dancing and shaking his booty to "A Little Bit More". (Yes, I will post a video of this one!)
Monday, September 22, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
A Bit of Unrest
Early tomorrow morning, my wife and I will take our 3rd son (Nate) to a local children's hospital for a surgery. While it is not a critical issue - and we have experienced much more complex circumstances with Ben - our heart is heavy this evening. No parent feels comfortable sending a child off to a surgery - and to give up control to complete strangers. We certainly would value your prayers tomorrow and over the next few days as he recovers.
While this is a scheduled surgery - the rush of emotions is far from planned. This is the same hospital Ben endured two very difficult brain surgeries. We will be in the same surgical unit and same waiting area that we were surprized to learn that "it was over" that we should "pack up and take Ben home to die". Jennifer and I remember that day by the minute with such clarity and to walk back through those very doors tomorrow morning will seem like walking back in time. Even writing these words tonight causes my heart to race, a sick feeling to my stomach and a urgent sense of loss for my little boy.
I must remain focused for my family - so I will stop here. Please pray for us - for Nate to feel peaceful and be OK, for his brothers not to worry and for us as parents. I am sure you can imagine what is racing through our minds tonight.
I will post an update tomorrow night. Good night all.
While this is a scheduled surgery - the rush of emotions is far from planned. This is the same hospital Ben endured two very difficult brain surgeries. We will be in the same surgical unit and same waiting area that we were surprized to learn that "it was over" that we should "pack up and take Ben home to die". Jennifer and I remember that day by the minute with such clarity and to walk back through those very doors tomorrow morning will seem like walking back in time. Even writing these words tonight causes my heart to race, a sick feeling to my stomach and a urgent sense of loss for my little boy.
I must remain focused for my family - so I will stop here. Please pray for us - for Nate to feel peaceful and be OK, for his brothers not to worry and for us as parents. I am sure you can imagine what is racing through our minds tonight.
I will post an update tomorrow night. Good night all.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Taking Cover
Fear has a strange way of impacting every part of life. Mostly because it does so without notice - and catches a person unaware. In my attempt to avoid "triggers" that took my mind down ugly paths, I would change bits and pieces of my routine to mitigate risk. I would preplan a story of my time on duty at the WTC - because people would often have legitimate questions about my work there (or some were just inappropriately nosey.) This orchestrated script would allow me to protect my mind and heart from places I did not want to go. I would avoid certain parts of the grocery store, construction sites (often driving blocks out of the way to not go near the new development at Marshall University) and large malls or buildings. If I had to go in a large structure with lots of people, I would identify exactly where the exits were (and how many paces to get there), structurally safe points to position myself and my family and so on. No one ever knew that I took these measures (although my wife had a clue - she always does:)
When my "extra measures" didn't ease the terror dreams at night, I would stay up as late as possible - on the brink of passing out from exhaustion - and hope I wouldn't reach a dream state. My acts of desperation to fix myself failed every step of the way. Even so, I pressed on not knowing what else to do.
The lack of rest and my hyper-alert state eventually wore on my physical condition and exhaustion set in. As my son, Nate would say, I became a "grumbly bear" (although Jennifer probably has another name for it.) I didn't talk with Jennifer - about anything. My son, Elijah was - well, I don't really know. I was too out of it to remember anything about him or that time. Not long after I returned home from my work in NYC, I learned we were expecting again - another baby boy was on the way.
When my "extra measures" didn't ease the terror dreams at night, I would stay up as late as possible - on the brink of passing out from exhaustion - and hope I wouldn't reach a dream state. My acts of desperation to fix myself failed every step of the way. Even so, I pressed on not knowing what else to do.
The lack of rest and my hyper-alert state eventually wore on my physical condition and exhaustion set in. As my son, Nate would say, I became a "grumbly bear" (although Jennifer probably has another name for it.) I didn't talk with Jennifer - about anything. My son, Elijah was - well, I don't really know. I was too out of it to remember anything about him or that time. Not long after I returned home from my work in NYC, I learned we were expecting again - another baby boy was on the way.
Friday, September 12, 2008
9.11b
Business as usual.
I have witnessed many tragic situations - including death when I served with my county fire department back home. Some very graphic. Somehow, the ability to spring back from these calls came easy to me - I would go, do my job and come home to my family and resume a normal routine. I think that was true for most I worked with. I assumed that my time spent at the WTC following the attacks would be the same.
I find myself retyping this paragraph over and over because I don't know where to start. The scope of the disaster (on every front) is impossible to articulate. Fear like I have never experienced before, pain like I have never seen and the knowledge that these people were just like you and I - going to through the motions of an average day. The weight of this experience, without notice somehow faded to black in my mind and heart. I wasn't sure what to do with it - so BSing my way through it seemed like the right thing to do - after all, I had a family at home where life was "as usual" that I needed to blend back in to.
Checked out Added 9/15
The dreams were like no other. I am not even sure they were dreams - I could smell, taste and hear as if it was absolutely real time. It seemed like a rerun of the same scene over and over and over. I was assisting with the recovery of some firefighters that were killed in the stairwell of Tower 1. The terrain was extremely rough, hot from fires below and the smell was horrific. The environment was especially hazardous - but the resolve to bring home these heroes was steadfast. As the heavy equipment would pull the stairway up, it unfolded like an accordian, revealing the ultimate sacrifice of these 13 men. We navigated into the hole created by the machinery and carefully worked to free each man. I remember one of the engineers commenting that if one of us fell into one of the crevices that we would be vaporized by the heat of the fire still buring deep in the rubble. It was an emotional scene, especially for FDNY as it had been some time since they recovered some of their own and to do so in this manner was particularly devastating. Rudy Giuliani (without cameras and press) arrived and briskly navigated his way across the pile to where we were - it took his security team some time to catch up. He dug in and helped - nice suit and all. After every man was recoverd, I ran back to the the on-site morgue on Vessey Street to gather another U.S. flag (we were one short) to place over one of the firemen. A few words were shared by Mr. Giuliani, I shared a prayer and one at a time, the deceased were loaded on to Gators and carefully brought out to a waiting ambulance. Word always traveled fast that a rescue worker was being brought out. Every thing stood still - and every person stood at attention until his/her remains were led offsite via police escort. It was always a breathtaking experience - a moment to soak in what this man or woman did to help save others. A moment to pray for the spouse and children left behind. (My mind would always race to the dozens of wives and children I spent time with that would stop by the firehouses looking for information about their husband or daddy. Have they been found?)
Somehow though, my dream would take terrible twists, seeing my oldest son, Elijah buried in the rubble, or my wife, Jennifer mangled in the steel. The dreams were so real. At times, I would race through the house trying to "rush to their aid" in a terror dream state. When I would wake up, my heart would be pounding so hard that I was sure I was about to have a heart attack. These dreams seemed to be exacerbated by earlier visits to the grocery store (the odors from the meat department) or driving by a construction vehicle in reverse when the "beep-beep-beep" alert was sounding. I had entered a whole new world - and fear dictated.
I have witnessed many tragic situations - including death when I served with my county fire department back home. Some very graphic. Somehow, the ability to spring back from these calls came easy to me - I would go, do my job and come home to my family and resume a normal routine. I think that was true for most I worked with. I assumed that my time spent at the WTC following the attacks would be the same.
I find myself retyping this paragraph over and over because I don't know where to start. The scope of the disaster (on every front) is impossible to articulate. Fear like I have never experienced before, pain like I have never seen and the knowledge that these people were just like you and I - going to through the motions of an average day. The weight of this experience, without notice somehow faded to black in my mind and heart. I wasn't sure what to do with it - so BSing my way through it seemed like the right thing to do - after all, I had a family at home where life was "as usual" that I needed to blend back in to.
Checked out Added 9/15
The dreams were like no other. I am not even sure they were dreams - I could smell, taste and hear as if it was absolutely real time. It seemed like a rerun of the same scene over and over and over. I was assisting with the recovery of some firefighters that were killed in the stairwell of Tower 1. The terrain was extremely rough, hot from fires below and the smell was horrific. The environment was especially hazardous - but the resolve to bring home these heroes was steadfast. As the heavy equipment would pull the stairway up, it unfolded like an accordian, revealing the ultimate sacrifice of these 13 men. We navigated into the hole created by the machinery and carefully worked to free each man. I remember one of the engineers commenting that if one of us fell into one of the crevices that we would be vaporized by the heat of the fire still buring deep in the rubble. It was an emotional scene, especially for FDNY as it had been some time since they recovered some of their own and to do so in this manner was particularly devastating. Rudy Giuliani (without cameras and press) arrived and briskly navigated his way across the pile to where we were - it took his security team some time to catch up. He dug in and helped - nice suit and all. After every man was recoverd, I ran back to the the on-site morgue on Vessey Street to gather another U.S. flag (we were one short) to place over one of the firemen. A few words were shared by Mr. Giuliani, I shared a prayer and one at a time, the deceased were loaded on to Gators and carefully brought out to a waiting ambulance. Word always traveled fast that a rescue worker was being brought out. Every thing stood still - and every person stood at attention until his/her remains were led offsite via police escort. It was always a breathtaking experience - a moment to soak in what this man or woman did to help save others. A moment to pray for the spouse and children left behind. (My mind would always race to the dozens of wives and children I spent time with that would stop by the firehouses looking for information about their husband or daddy. Have they been found?)
Somehow though, my dream would take terrible twists, seeing my oldest son, Elijah buried in the rubble, or my wife, Jennifer mangled in the steel. The dreams were so real. At times, I would race through the house trying to "rush to their aid" in a terror dream state. When I would wake up, my heart would be pounding so hard that I was sure I was about to have a heart attack. These dreams seemed to be exacerbated by earlier visits to the grocery store (the odors from the meat department) or driving by a construction vehicle in reverse when the "beep-beep-beep" alert was sounding. I had entered a whole new world - and fear dictated.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
9.11
Eyes wide open.
While serving on the search and recovery teams at the World Trade Center following the 9/11 terrorist attacks the phrase "keep your eyes wide open" took on new meaning. Of course, the obvious was true - there were many hazards to be mindful of as we navigated the 12 acre or so plot of land where the WTC complex once stood. But beyond the obvious were physical and personal hazards that were yet to be "seen".
Eyes wide shut.
It was early in the week - a day that changed my life and perspective about faith and real life. On the way into the pile that morning, I passed dozens of small businesses deeply impacted by the attack - all on the outside of the "ground zero" fence and security. They were working feverishly to clean up and pull their business together. My heart broke for them - many of them looked broken in every way. As I neared the site, I noticed a band of ministries gathering around the entrance point at Chambers Street and the West Side Highway. Being a Christian myself, I was intrigued by what they were doing. For a moment, I was proud to see faith in action but within moments, realized the action was nothing to be proud of. Since access to the disaster site was limited, very few non-emergency responders/officials were granted access and many of these groups were visibly frustrated that they could not enter. One small group of ministers/leaders were talking about a march to city hall to complain about being left out. As they left the check point, they "marched" past many opportunities to minister to people in need. My heart sunk as many of the recovery workers joked about these ministries (many I am sure had the best intentions) because they missed the real ground zero all around them - opportunities to help people in desperate need.
How a circle of hope begins.
It was a sunny day, about a week into the recovery when our team found a man loosely buried in the debris. We brought him over to an area that was somewhat clear, under a concrete pillar (see photo to right) that once supported the aerial walkway to the American Express building across the West Side Highway. It was rare to find identification with a victim, so to do so with him was quite a surprise. There was a photo of Matthew with his wife and three kids. An ID from Cantor Fitzgerald told us he was probably on the 94th floor - above the impact zone. I was deeply impacted by Matthew - and in the moment decided to lead a prayer for his family before he was removed from the site.
It was eight months to the day from September 11 that I received a phone call from one of Matthew's family members. She asked several factual questions about Matthew and the recovery then, as if we had known each other for years, we talked for a long while. In the years that followed our families grew to know each other - and were drawn quite close. I shared 9/11 anniversaries with them, great dinners and fantastic wine (Matthew enjoyed making wine.) I was inspired by Matthew's wife, who was strong and determined to support her children - to do whatever it took to survive and lead her children to become successful in whatever they do. She was (and is) a great example to me. I had no idea that in a few short years, my wife and I would face our own personal tragedy and that our journey with Matthew's family would play such an important role.
I will share more tomorrow - my mind and heart is heavy tonight. To Matthew's family, the Cangiolosi family and the thousands that lost loved ones seven years ago - my prayers are with you tonight. God bless.
tom
While serving on the search and recovery teams at the World Trade Center following the 9/11 terrorist attacks the phrase "keep your eyes wide open" took on new meaning. Of course, the obvious was true - there were many hazards to be mindful of as we navigated the 12 acre or so plot of land where the WTC complex once stood. But beyond the obvious were physical and personal hazards that were yet to be "seen".
Eyes wide shut.
It was early in the week - a day that changed my life and perspective about faith and real life. On the way into the pile that morning, I passed dozens of small businesses deeply impacted by the attack - all on the outside of the "ground zero" fence and security. They were working feverishly to clean up and pull their business together. My heart broke for them - many of them looked broken in every way. As I neared the site, I noticed a band of ministries gathering around the entrance point at Chambers Street and the West Side Highway. Being a Christian myself, I was intrigued by what they were doing. For a moment, I was proud to see faith in action but within moments, realized the action was nothing to be proud of. Since access to the disaster site was limited, very few non-emergency responders/officials were granted access and many of these groups were visibly frustrated that they could not enter. One small group of ministers/leaders were talking about a march to city hall to complain about being left out. As they left the check point, they "marched" past many opportunities to minister to people in need. My heart sunk as many of the recovery workers joked about these ministries (many I am sure had the best intentions) because they missed the real ground zero all around them - opportunities to help people in desperate need.
How a circle of hope begins.
It was a sunny day, about a week into the recovery when our team found a man loosely buried in the debris. We brought him over to an area that was somewhat clear, under a concrete pillar (see photo to right) that once supported the aerial walkway to the American Express building across the West Side Highway. It was rare to find identification with a victim, so to do so with him was quite a surprise. There was a photo of Matthew with his wife and three kids. An ID from Cantor Fitzgerald told us he was probably on the 94th floor - above the impact zone. I was deeply impacted by Matthew - and in the moment decided to lead a prayer for his family before he was removed from the site.It was eight months to the day from September 11 that I received a phone call from one of Matthew's family members. She asked several factual questions about Matthew and the recovery then, as if we had known each other for years, we talked for a long while. In the years that followed our families grew to know each other - and were drawn quite close. I shared 9/11 anniversaries with them, great dinners and fantastic wine (Matthew enjoyed making wine.) I was inspired by Matthew's wife, who was strong and determined to support her children - to do whatever it took to survive and lead her children to become successful in whatever they do. She was (and is) a great example to me. I had no idea that in a few short years, my wife and I would face our own personal tragedy and that our journey with Matthew's family would play such an important role.
I will share more tomorrow - my mind and heart is heavy tonight. To Matthew's family, the Cangiolosi family and the thousands that lost loved ones seven years ago - my prayers are with you tonight. God bless.
tom
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