This is a story posted over on Channel 3. Some of you may have seen it. It's probably more suited for Thanksgiving, but a great read nonetheless, and will help put things into perspective if you're needing that...or just enjoy a great read.
We are having some dark days around the world and it is hard to see a bright spot. I occurs to me we take our day-to-day good fortune for granted and a crisis like this feels overwhelming. I know the feeling. It's almost impossible to see anything good coming out of this so maybe we should remind ourselves of the amazing life events in our past.
A few people have asked about my missing limb and rather than repeat the story in multiple threads I am going to post it here. Don't be misled by the title. The day after I didn't in any way feel lucky. It was a horrible event in my life and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Over time, enjoying life with my wife and children, the birth of 9 grandchildren and the birth of 2, soon to be 3 great-grandchildren it dawned on me how lucky I have been and how lucky I was on that day. I'd like to hear about other members' luckiest day. If it was the birth of your first child, first date with your wife or girlfriend, or your biggest payout at the casino, share it because I'd be happy to hear about it.
My Story
I lost my elbow in an accident. I consider it the luckiest day of my life.
Went to work for IBM in October 1964 and was told not to be late for work and never cash my paycheck in a bar. I lived in West Babylon, NY and worked in Midtown Manhattan. I took the Long Island Rail Road to work, which meant catching the 6:12am local or the 7:32am express to get to work by 9:00am so I always took the express. To get a seat on the express, you had to get on the train as quickly as possible. That meant jumping on when the train was still moving. The express was diesel-powered so the doors were manual and the conductors opened them well before the train entered the station but were supposed to close them before leaving.
On September 9, 1965 I was a little hung over because we celebrated my in-laws 25th anniversary the night before. My wife dropped me off at the station at exactly 7:32, which wouldn't normally be a problem -- the train was always a couple of minutes late. This day it was right on time so I ran up the stairs to the platform as fast as I could and saw two doors on the train were still open as it moved out. I ran toward the doors, turned and ran alongside the train and apparently jumped for the first door. The first door was at the back of the car and the second was at the front of the next car. I have no recollection but apparently I missed the door and went into the space between the two cars and down onto the tracks. The last three cars beat me up and spit me out with a wheel or two going over my left arm, something going through my chin and taking out my front teeth, something hit me in the right side of my face, fracturing my skull in several places and peeling the scalp off the top of my head and just for grins something put a deep puncture in my right calf. OK, that part of the day wasn't so lucky....
Lucky for me, no one saw me fall so no one pulled the emergency cord. If they had, the train might have stopped with me underneath and I would have bled out waiting for a crew to jack up the train. Lucky for me two men arrived on the platform moments after the train pulled out -- one jumped down on the tracks and turned my necktie into a tourniquet around what was left of the arm -- while the second ran down the stairs to get help. Lucky for me a cop was driving by just as the second man got to the bottom of the stairs. In 1965 there were no cell phones and the first 911 call was still three years away. Lucky for me the cop could radio the volunteer fire station two blocks away. Lucky for me there were two trauma-card-holding volunteer firemen having morning coffee and the driver was extremely competent.
The accident happened at about 7:33am and the hospital called my wife at 7:45 to tell her I was there. The hospital was 6 miles from the station so they drove the ambulance to the station, got the gurney up the stairs, lifted me from the tracks on a back board and onto the gurney, went down the stairs to put me in the ambulance and then drive the six miles, all in 12 minutes.
Lucky for me Good Samaritan Hospital in West Islip had an emergency room that was staffed by a trauma nurse 24 hours a day. Lucky for me the nurse on duty lived across the street from my parents and knew who I was. I was in shock and apparently my heart was in fibrillation (beating too fast) so she injected me with Digitalis to slow the heart down. Lucky for me the 70-year-old freight elevator operator had B-Negative blood and was willing to donate a pint because the hospital had no B-Negative on hand. Lucky for me the nurse was able to cut through a vein in my ankle because I had lost so much blood the veins in my right arm were collapsed.
Lucky for me two of the best Orthopedic Surgeons in the county were scrubbing for an elective procedure -- when the nurse called the operating room they prepared the table for me instead. They, along with a Neurosurgeon, a Plastic Surgeon and half-dozen other doctors worked on me for most of the day. The Neurosurgeon was called because I was bleeding from my right ear and they thought it was a cerebral hemorrhage. Lucky for me it was just a torn up ear canal and punctured ear drum. Lucky for me the plastic surgeon was able to put my face back together with 180 stitches in my chin and right temple (the Orthopedic surgeons stitched my scalp back on and left me with a dozen new cowlicks).
Lucky for me Good Samaritan Hospital had an Intensive Care Unit (there was no such thing before 1958) because I was pretty close to death at the end of the first day. My chances had gone up from 2000 to one to 50/50 by the second day when the test results came in. Four days in the ICU cost $7,000 back then, which doesn't sound like much but it was more than a year's salary and didn't include the operating room or the doctors.
Lucky for me IBM was almost a family-run business in 1965 so my manager, Bill Schultz and the branch manager, Jack Malone were at my bedside the day I was moved out of intensive care. They had notified Tom Watson, Jr. (Chairman and CEO) of my situation and relayed his promise that there would be a job waiting for me when I recovered. He also promised I would receive my full salary for the next two years and if I were unable to work after that, I would receive a lifetime disability pension. Lucky for me I recovered fairly quickly and was discharged 7 days later, two days after celebrating my 21st birthday in a ward with seven other patients. The last three of the eleven days seemed like a long time because I was up walking around (an IV in the ankle kept me off my feet before then).
Lucky for me I had health insurance at IBM although it only covered 50% of the hospital and surgical charges. My annual salary increased that first year from $4,200 to $5,400 but it wasn't enough for me to pay $12 a month for the extra Blue Cross coverage. Lucky for me my father wrote a book that paid more in royalties each year than my parents two teaching salaries and they paid the part of my medical bills that IBM didn't. It had nothing to do with luck but I had become their only child 20 months before my accident when my brother committed suicide.
My accident caused a major change at IBM in January 1966. The company self-insured all it's employees for 100% Hospital and Surgical expenses and 80% of all major medical expenses after a relatively small deductible.
Lucky for me I had a couple of months to recover before my doctors and an IBM doctor would sign a release. I had to have an artificial arm fitted at the Institute for the Crippled and Disabled in Manhattan and then spend a week in physical therapy, learning to carry an ice cream cone in the hook without crushing the cone. I also had to learn to touch-type with one hand because my new job at IBM was a technical writer at the East Fishkill, NY computer component manufacturing plant. Lucky for me IBM paid all moving and living expenses and helped with closing costs on our first house (with garage).
Lucky for me my new next-door neighbor had a blind teenage son. I was feeling really sorry for myself after the accident and didn't notice or care about Shamus (didn't know he was blind). I was working in the front yard and saw him race down the street on his bike. He crashed right into the new mailbox another neighbor put up. He tried to straighten the mailbox and then limped his bike back home. The mailbox owner (also new to the neighborhood) ran behind him and accosted his mother when she came out to see if Shamus was all right. I overheard her explaining to the mailbox lady that her son couldn't hear the mailbox like he could a telephone pole or parked car (gravel road made noise and he could hear the echoes). I made friends with Shamus and when he found out I had only one arm he was astounded -- said he'd spill milk all over the place if he couldn't put a finger into the glass to feel it when it was full. He was able to do so much more than I ever expected that I forgot to feel sorry for myself and never again even thought I couldn't do something without at least trying. I don't have a list of stuff I can't do but I guess playing the Clarinet would be one...
Lucky for me I have a wife who never once treated me like I was less capable or handicapped. The first night in the hospital she was at my side when I regained consciousness. She leaned over and quietly told me I wasn't getting out of painting [the house we were renting] this easy.
