The Noble Breed

It's a story about 9/11.
Perhaps you are unaware of our history-him and I.
Have I mentioned it here before, how 9/11 affected us? I don't think so.
If I have, I do apologize for repeating myself.
But today, as we remember this day in our nations history,
Let me take a few minutes and tell you our connection to this day.
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August 12th, 2001, my husband, a firefighter/paramedic, was injured at work while on a call. His injury was back related. A spinal cord injury they call it.
The initial MRI showed all the discs at L4/L5, L5/S1 were ruptured.
(Also at L5/S1 not only was the disc ruptured, it had actually exploded with enough force to sheer off the L5 nerve root as it exploded out through his spinal column. We wouldn't about know this for 3 days.
Nor did they tell us that there were bits of debris floating throughout his spinal column.)

At the moment of the initial injury, he and other medics had been carrying a 200 pound  patient on a stretcher, around a tight corner when he encountered something behind him.
As he turned to avoid the obstacle he twisted his back while still turning with 200 pounds  of inertia in his hands. He felt "something" give in his back and he fell taking the patient  down with him. When he tried to stand back up he fell again. He tried once more to stand  and again he fell.  This time his fellow medics told him to stay down.
He had lost the ability to stand or walk but wasn't in a lot of pain...yet.
The crew now had two patients. The initial patient and one of their own crew.

They got him stabilized at the hospital and he called me, very nonchalantly and told me  he had been injured at work and that I needed to come and pick him up at the hospital.

We were referred to a surgeon and sent home.
Can I tell you he walked out of that hospital as if his spine and legs were made of spun glass. Gingerly, carefully, slowly. Like it was difficult for him to walk.
We didn't yet know about the nerve root being sheered off nor did we know about the floating debris or that he was developing drop foot.
By the time we got him to the surgeon he was almost dragging his foot behind him.
All the feeling in his left calf was gone, left foot and toes were numb, sciatic pain was horrific and debilitating. His left thigh muscles cramped almost constantly, his hip burned.
Cat Scans, more MRI's, Myelograms, Spinal Taps, Epidurals, pain meds, lab work seemed endless.

On August 22nd, the surgeon performed a disectomy, taking out the discs at L4/L5. And he was sent home to recover.
We worried that his career was over. We worried about paying the bills.
He's a horrible patient. I am a horrible nurse.
We had three kids that needed to be taken to school, sporting events, etc.
I still needed to go to work. The yard work still needed to be done.
Groceries still needed to be bought, dinner needed to be cooked.
Jesus, that was a very hard time for us.
Him just laying there feeling helpless and yet in pain and misery and emotional turmoil.
Me wanting to do it all, trying in my own way to help, and yet also being glad that I got  to escape that house and go to work.
And that's where I was when the first World Trade Tower fell on September 11, 2001.
Staring at the TV in the waiting room of the Dr.'s office where I worked, and seeing something that didn't look quite right about the top of that tower.
What is that smoky weird sandy stuff falling? I thought to myself only to realize with increasing horror that the building was pancaking down upon itself.
I said to my coworker "Oh my God! There are Firemen still running up the stairs."
No they aren't she said. I'm sure they got them all out, she said.
I knew they weren't all out.  In my gut, I knew.
I was married to a firefighter. I knew the business.
I knew they didn't take elevators during fires and I knew they were still running up those hundreds of steps and flights of stairs.
I knew their trucks were parked directly next to the buildings.
I knew where that debris was going to fall.
And I knew at that moment that firemen were falling too.

Is it horrible of me to say that I was never so glad to know where my husband was at that moment in time? Albeit, he was injured and laid up in our bed and had a walker and a portable potty with a riser next to our bed, but good God above, he was alive!

What I didn't say above about him being injured was how so many firemen, brothers if you will, came to my own husbands rescue during his convalescence.
He was out of work for 3 months after that first surgery.
His fellow firefighters called and asked could they come clean our gutters? Could they come shampoo our carpeting? Did we need any help doing yard work? Did my husband need company? Could they run any errands for us?
We were overwhelmed with gratitude.
That is how it is with Firefighters and their families. Everybody helps everybody else out.

That Disectomy eventually failed, 3 months later and he had a Multi-level fusion done at L4/L5, L5/S1.
Rods and screws were placed in his back effectively stabilizing his spine but permanently ending his career as a Firefighter/Paramedic.
We both grieved his loss of employment, his loss of stature, his loss of being in the Brotherhood. It takes a special type of person to do that type of work. Truly these men and women are a noble breed.
My heart still goes out to all of the surviving wives and families and firefighter/paramedics that lived and worked at the New York Fire Departments that were involved in the 9/11 attacks.
To this day I miss being a firefighters wife. I miss the feeling of belonging, of camaraderie, of being part of a group of people who put their lives on the line every single day and they do it because they love the work, they love the job, because they are part of a noble calling, a noble breed.
Because they are some of the finest people on the face of this earth.



Thanks for reading,
Love, Lolly