Mel and I don’t believe in karma or luck. We don’t believe when somebody tells us, “It’s nice that those people happened to be where you needed them. What a coincidence.” No. Everybody served a purpose throughout my entire evacuation.
Mel
When the plane hit the building, the Pentagon engineering and maintenance department shut down the power to the damaged part of the building, so that people who were escaping or rescuers wouldn’t have to encounter live power lines.
When Bill, Roy, and the other people who rescued Brian from that corridor picked up Brian, they had to go back through the closed access security door. They had to swipe their badge. What made that badge activate a powerless door? There was no electricity to that part of the building. There’s really no answer other than the miraculous hand of God opening that door so they were able to evacuate.
Even little things were miracles. Several weeks prior to 9/11 Brian told me he needed new shoes for work and announced he was going to buy leather shoes that cost sixty-five dollars. I’m a cheap person, so I thought, sixty-five dollars for Army shoes? Are you nuts? He had never bought leather shoes before, and I couldn’t figure out why he wanted them now. But he was adamant about needing leather shoes. Those sixty-five-dollar leather shoes saved his feet from burns. Those shoes allowed him to receive the IV in his feet and also allowed me to have a place to touch and rub when he was in pain.
Brian
Then there was my experience at Georgetown. I was the only casualty taken to that hospital, which was just four miles from the Pentagon. Because the hospital went on Code Orange for disaster alert, they had cleared out all non-life-threatening patients and had already called in all extra available help. I had that entire hospital’s undivided attention.
God placed Sergeant Jill Hyson in that Expedition with me. Jill was a reservist, but her civilian job was as an X-ray technician at Georgetown Hospital. She didn’t know where Arlington Memorial Hospital was, which was where most of the victims were taken. No one else in that vehicle knew either. The only hospital Jill was confident about finding was Georgetown University Hospital. So that’s where we went.
Dr. Williams, the trauma director, was there to work on me in the emergency room. Prior to assuming that position he spent two years at the Washington Hospital Center Burn Unit under Dr. Jordan and Dr. Jeng in a medical residency for trauma. So from the perspective of all the great hospitals in the DC area, not counting the Washington Hospital Center, I was in the emergency room that had the best-trained burn physician in the region, receiving his undivided attention.
When I was moved from the emergency room to their ICU, there were several people on shift that day who specialized in burns: a resident, Sue Jean Kim, who had just completed burn-trauma training at Washington Hospital Center, and Debi Trichel, a burn-specialist nurse with more than ten years of burn-trauma experience. Debi had transferred earlier that year from the Burn Unit at Washington Hospital Center to receive training in cardiac care. Another nurse, Charlotte Almeyer, contacted her sister, a burn unit nurse, to also come help out. According to staff nurse working there, Jeannie Brown, Georgetown ICU had never had a burn patient, since the survivors would naturally be sent to the Burn Unit at Washington Hospital Center.
Again I received undivided attention from people who specialized in giving me exactly what I needed. None of the other nurses in the ICU had burn training.
Mel
Before I discovered the Red Cross was going to pay for the hotel room during Brian’s hospital stay, I remember trying to figure out how we were going to afford everything. But again, God stepped in before 9/11, working behind the scenes, preparing me even financially for what I didn’t know was ahead.
We’ve invested through an investment and financial planning group. Brian always wanted me to learn about the financial end of things, but I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want to attend seminars or talk with financial advisors—mostly because I always felt they talked so condescendingly.
In August, while we were out walking, Brian told me, “I found an agent I think you’ll really like. Why don’t you go with me to meet her?” I told him okay, then promptly ignored the request. But God kept putting into my mind the thought, You need to go meet her. Go. Go.
So after I couldn’t ignore the nagging thoughts anymore, I told Brian, “You know, I think I’d like to meet your First Command agent. Why don’t you set that up?” Brian was stunned. I said, “I need to know about our finances and insurance if something were ever to happen to you.”
A week before the attack, I met Karen Foley. She was a wonderful agent, someone who made me feel comfortable. She gave me her card, which I stuck in my purse . . . and took out the night of September 11, when I called her regarding the medical retirement issue. She handled all our finances so I could concentrate on Brian’s condition. I’m not sure what I would have done about our finances had I not listened to God’s promptings. He was working even then to prepare us.
Looking back I can see how God was working behind the scenes for months to prepare us for what would happen. For instance, Brian went to work for General Van Antwerp, a strong Christian, who would offer immense comfort and who also became instrumental in making things happen that couldn’t have happened without a two-star general, such as the medical retirement issue.
But also there was President Bush. A friend of mine, Bobby Little, and I were talking one day about what a great man George W. Bush is, a man who truly loves God and seeks to honor him. The Bible talks about how leaders are ordained by the Lord. I’m convinced that the Lord gave us President Bush for such a time as this.
President Bush is a man of his word. He stood at Brian’s hospital bed and said, “We will get the men who did this. This will not go unanswered.” And he has been true to his word.
We pray every day that God will be with him in every decision. That God will lead him and this country to make wise decisions—eternal decisions—even when we look at events and believe they are not good. We don’t always understand how God works, but we pray that God would work in President Bush’s decisions. It is an honor to pray for him, that he would continue to seek the Lord’s wisdom and guidance as he leads our country every day.
While we were in the hospital I did a lot of journaling in the middle of the night and read my Bible constantly. When I was going through a period of questioning God, I read Isaiah 40:28-31:
Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth does not become weary or tired. His understanding is inscrutable. He gives strength to the weary, and to him who lacks might He increases power. Though youths grow weary and tired, and vigorous young men stumble badly, yet those who wait for the Lord will gain new strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles, they will run and not get tired, they will walk and not become weary.
Reading those words, I felt was as if God was saying to me, Daughter, rest. I created the world; you didn’t. I’m here. I’m still in control.
Brian
There’s a passage in the Bible that says, “When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, nor will the flame burn you” (Isaiah 43:2). While the damage to my body was physical, the long-term damage was not eternal. In tough situations there may be short-term losses, but we can still keep our eyes on the long-term plan.
There are those who in going through turmoil and chaos demand to know Why me, God? They get caught up in the question, How did you let this happen, God? Where were you?
But that’s the humanistic view of life, the view that says, I’m the center of attention. I’m the focus. So where were you, God, when I needed you? The reality is, he is there—even in the worst of circumstances. We’re either not looking or not looking hard enough. Or perhaps it’s because we expect to see him work according to our expectations, not according to his ways and timing.
Mel
As Brian began to tell me the story of his escape from the blast, he only told it
piecemeal. The first thing he told me was that he remembered crawling through the hallway terrified that he was going to lose Matthew and me. That was devastating to hear. I would leave after those talks and cry.
As Brian continued to tell me bits and pieces of his story, God began to show me his sovereignty—that he did have total control of Brian in the situation and that nothing was going to touch Brian that had not been sifted through God’s hands.
There were many times when I would tell God, “I do not like this path, and you need to change it.” And God’s love for us is so amazing that he would reply, I understand your anger. I feel it too about what happened to Brian. But I won’t change this path. However, I will walk down it with you.
That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear! But I did find comfort knowing that no matter what I did and said or how belligerent I became with God, he always loved me.
My only recourse was to pray. And the more I prayed, the more I saw answers to my prayers—over all our needs. When Brian’s heart rate became dangerously fast, I called everyone I knew to pray. And I would see his heart rate slow. Everything we prayed for God answered almost instantly. It was miraculous to sit and watch that happen. Because God was there.
People say, “Where was God on September 11?” He was in Corridor 4 picking up Brian, knocking him under the sprinkler so the fire would go out, and then picking him up and hauling him down that hallway to get to the people God had picked to be in that spot at that moment to save him. God was there. He didn’t cause 9/11 to happen. It wasn’t God’s will. Terrorists, evil men, made a choice with their own free will to murder and destroy. But it’s as if God said, I have given you free will to do evil. I’m angry and saddened that you choose this course, but I will not stop you from your choice. However, I will still have control. I will make my presence known in the miracles that will take place that day.
And miracles did take place—not only in our story but in many others that took place on 9/11. God placed every person exactly where they needed to be for Brian to escape the Pentagon, to get immediate care, and to live. God was most definitely there—in the Pentagon, in Georgetown, in Washington Hospital Center in the ICU and step-down, and in every part of Brian’s healing process.
And he’s also most definitely here in the room with you and me. After our experience of walking through the fire and coming out the other side, refined by that very fire, there can be no doubt.
Twenty-One
Looking Ahead
* * *
Journal 11/27/01
Father God, your mercies are truly new every morning. Thank you for Brian—not just for giving him to me once, but for renewing our bond by sparing him. It’s as though I’ve received a new gift. He’s the truest blessing you’ve ever given me. What a difference he’s made in my life. . . . And for Matt, what a joyous young kid he is. I love him more than I ever knew I could love anyone.
* * *
Brian
Our country has, in many ways, begun to move on. The funerals and memorial services are over. War has been declared. Troops have gone to Afghanistan and Iraq. But mostly people have moved on. The intense post-trauma syndrome so many people experienced has waned—as well as interest in what happened that day. Many people can go days without even thinking about 9/11. They forget and think the survivors are doing okay.
But not me. Not my family. Every day I live with the reality of September 11. I’ve had more than thirty surgeries—five surgeries on my face alone. I may still have to have surgeries to stretch my skin and fix my elbows to get them to extend. I still have occasional pain. For the rest of my life, I will carry scars. There will be a lifetime of adjustments we have to make. There will be things I won’t be able to do.
I’m still unable to fully extend my arms. My skin is so tender that it scabs and bleeds and tears. When I first received my skin, the least little bump would make it bleed. My fingers, especially, were so delicate that they would bleed and then swell. While my skin is no longer that sensitive, it still bleeds. I have to be careful when I scratch because my skin is like baby skin—not like calloused forty-year-old skin. My skin blisters doing yard work. It will take time for it to toughen up and become strong.
And there are still days I look in a mirror and wonder where the old Brian has gone—and who is this ghost of a person left in his place.
There are moments when I anxiously turn my eyes upward when a plane passes overhead at the Pentagon. I continue to scan a room for exits. I have restricted outdoor activities to avoid the sun. Since my skin is so sensitive, the last thing I want to do is get sunburned! I no longer have the ability to sense temperature extremes of hot or cold, which is a concern when I run outside during the winter; I could easily get frostbite and not know it.
I rarely cook on the grill; Matt does that now. I start the fireplace, but I just flip a switch because it’s gas. While I don’t have a huge fear of fire, I’m more guarded about it.
I still struggle physically. A few weeks ago I tried to do a pull-up; I could barely hang from the bar. I couldn’t grab it completely, and I didn’t have the strength to hold my body weight. I don’t know when I’ll get that back. I have muscle-tissue loss, both from the fire and from the atrophy of not using my muscles, which means strength loss. I try to lift weights once a week to build bulk back in my arms, stretching them naturally. I can lift about 40 pounds. I can do a modified push-up, but I list to the right a bit.
When I take a two-mile run or do sit-ups, my arms will throb because my blood flow is constricted. My arms have a thinner diameter since I lost so much skin, tissue, and muscle. So there’s less room for blood flow, which affects my blood pressure.
Yet there are no daily activities that I can’t do right now. I can use the restroom on my own and feed myself. I’m mobile. I can move throughout the house and go up and down stairs. I can drive, which took many painful hours of physical therapy. I can shave myself with a blade—it took almost nine months before I could shave with a blade rather than an electric razor. I can do my own laundry. I’m even able to button the top button of my uniform by myself. And I went from using heavy narcotics to Motrin. That’s definitely an improvement!
In January 2003 Dr. Jordan put an incremental cast on my right arm to see if he could get it to straighten out. There was some minor success but not much. We may have to do another surgery some time in the future.
I’m still scarring and getting keloids, thick scars from an excessive growth of fibrous tissue. They look like giant slash scars.
Mel
At the six-month anniversary at the White House on March 11, 2002, the survivors and family members of the deceased were sitting together on the South Lawn. Every time a plane would fly overhead, everybody looked up. It was a painful reminder.
I still have moments when fear grips me. In April 2002 we drove through Georgetown to a DC-area Kansas State University alumni association dinner. It was the first time we’d been back to Georgetown. Just driving through those residential streets again brought on a major anxiety attack. I was hyperventilating, trying to drive, and trying to appear calm when I felt as if I was suffocating. It was so intensely uncomfortable to return to Georgetown and relive all those painful memories.
Brian
Some days it’s difficult to look at myself in a mirror. I look different. Fortunately I don’t think it makes any difference to Mel. I know she isn’t worried about how I look, which is a good thing! I think I look pretty good for a guy who’s been through what we’ve been through. I had great surgeons who put me back together, and Mel pushed me pretty hard, too. I like to say it was God’s strength and Mel’s courage driving me through it. She was like a drill instructor about my physical therapy. She’d say, “You’re going to get this done. It’s just a matter of when you decide you’re going to get it done. I’m only telling you you’re going to get it done.” I’m glad Mel cared enough about me to push me to be the best I could be.
As much as I’d prefer to lo
ok the way I did before 9/11, in the big picture of things it’s not important. I won’t have this body for eternity—only for probably another thirty or so years. And this body gives an authenticity to our story when Mel and I walk into a room. When we show up and I look the way I do—with portions of my ears gone, with scars on my face, neck, hands, and arms—people see immediate visible signs of the challenge we’ve been through. These scars are proof of God’s grace in our life—that he did carry us through the fire. But someday I’ll have a new body.
Mel
My birthday is December 9. On December 10, 2002, Brian was able to take off his pressure garments permanently. I helped him remove those garments, then I gave him my birthday present—his wedding ring to wear again. I wore his ring to help me feel close to him. It was a part of Brian that I could carry with me all the time. It was a wonderful present to be able to say, “This ring is yours again. You get to wear it.”
Brian
I’m no longer comfortable flying. Even the tiniest bit of turbulence has me grabbing the seat in front of me. We flew for the first time after September 11 in April 2002. Mel and I were traveling to Reno, Nevada, to be part of the National Rifle Association’s annual convention. We’d been invited to the “honoring heroes” opening ceremony, and then Mel and I were going to speak at the sportsmen’s prayer breakfast. While I looked forward to being at the convention, I was nervous about flying to it. Mel had to give me some of my leftover sleep medication to help me sleep the entire flight.
I’m not afraid of flying; I’m just uncomfortable with it. I think the reason is because if the plane should crash, I’ve already lived through that death. I’ve lived through the concussion. There are three ways to die in a plane crash. If you’re fortunate, the traumatic impact will kill you first. If you live through that, then you have to live through the fire. If you live through that, you have to live through the smoke. I’ve experienced all three. As bad as that experience was, flying with Mel and Matt is worse because if something did happen to our plane, I already know the horror of that type of death. And I don’t want them to experience that—nor do I particularly want to experience it again.
Refined by Fire Page 22
