By Kathryn Carse
Staten Island Advance
 AP File Photo |
STATEN ISLAND, NY — Seven years later, the signs are still visible.
Some are more obvious, like tight security at the aiports and bag searches at concerts and ballgames. Others are more subtle, a blue-sky September morning.
What remains invisble seven years after the Word Trade Center fell is the private suffering of those who were there that day, those who worked amid the rubble, those who lost someone, those who were a few miles away, even those who simply watched the drama unfold on TV.
“With trauma, suddenly we have to absorb the possibility of something happening that we never thought would happen,” said Dr. Lucia Bove, a clinical psychologist with a practice in Grymes Hill. “It takes a long time to reestablish a sense of control, connection and confidence.”
For many, it cannot be done alone.
Among the thousands who have sought relief through mental health services are three Staten Islanders: a retired division chief with the city Fire Department, a retired cop and a new mother. At their request, their real names are not being used.
At the time of the attacks, Gerry, 66, the division chief, was off duty — although that changed abruptly. Tim, 42, the police officer, was a father on leave after his fourth child was born prematurely the day before. Linda, 30, was working in an office several blocks away.
Gerry’s Story
Forty years as a firefighter made Gerry a “master of disaster,” adept at implementing plan A while formulating plan B and C. But now, the " skill and cunning” that enabled him to complete five successful Maydays (distress call of firefighter in mortal danger), and never lose a man, seem useless. “More dumb luck than skill,” he said.
Soon after the attacks, he took his post at the recovery site. For the next four months, he worked 12 hours on, 12 off. A division chief for 12 years, and battalion chief for five, Gerry was known as the “Ice Man” for his ability to rein in his emotions during stressful, life threatening incidents.
As nightmarish as Ground Zero was, it was one of the last places he felt in control.
“It was so much better at the site than away, still keeping firefighters alive, making sure we’re not going to lose any more,” he said.
After that, his faith in himself, his men and his equipment slipped away. Unable to act without the “supreme confidence” the job demanded, scared that the next fire would be the one he lost a man, he retired five years earlier than he intended.
Compounding his sense of loss is the feeling that the department let him go without acknowledging the toll that his service took on his life. He was not given the support that he and his fellow officers gave their men.
The psychiatric services provided through the department provided him with medication, but recently he has sought the help of a private psychotherapist in hope of making more solid progress in regaining his resiliency.
“You died on Sept. 11,” said Gerry’s wife, trying to put in perspective the drastic change that had come over her once decisive and vibrant husband.
“No I didn’t,” said Gerry. “I came back.”
A New Father
When he returned to work six weeks after Sept. 11, Tim was assigned to the recovery site at the World Trade Center and at the Fresh Kills landfill where he looked for body parts and sorted through personal belongings — stuff he could imagine being on someone’s desk.
“But I was only there a handful of times,” said Tim, who was working as a beat cop in Brooklyn before the birth of his son on Sept. 10.
After a 20-year career with city Police Department, he retired last year. With his newfound free-time, Tim took his family to a summer-long vacation at their trailer in Pennsylvania.
“How much better does life get than this; this is too good to be true,” he thought. Tim’s oldest child was in college, his wife had recovered from a serious health problem, and he was finishing up his degree with the intention of teaching.
The minute Tim returned to Staten Island, “things got progressively worse,” he said. A panic attack sent him to the hospital for the first of a series of physical exams that gave him a clean bill of health.
Tim didn’t smoke or drink; he worked out and ran daily, but he couldn’t shake the feeling sometimes that his heart was going to pop out of his chest. He was constantly scared, sure any minute he was going to drop dead. So debilitated, he would sometimes go back to bed after getting his sons on the school bus. Sober for 10 years, he was getting worried he would slip back.
Tim sought help from Police Officers Providing Peer Assistance and was referred to a psychotherapist. He was assured that not only was he not crazy, but there were perfectly normal reasons for how he felt.
In the shadow of what seemed to be his perfect life, his partner, a first responder on Sept. 11, was now very ill with a lung disease.
As a police officer, Tim had been accustomed to dealing with threats. But terrorists threats and HazMat suits pushed the limits of his capabilities. Images of his time spent at the recovery site — while brief — haunted him.
The cumulative effect of Tim’s experiences added up to post traumatic stress disorder, he was told. To help him process what was happening, Tim’s therapist likened his brain to a pressure cooker that builds and builds until it has to let the steam out.
“You think, ‘What’s wrong with me?’ And you find out nothing is,” said Tim. “It’s like having a cold or being an alcoholic, like millions of others, and just learning how to deal with it.”
Stephen Wakschal, a psychologist and director of Victory Behavioral Health in Willowbrook, was at Ground Zero on Sept. 11 with a critical response team. In his practice, he employs strategies, such as a stress calendar to track when an anxiety-triggering episode happens.
“What patients notice is that stressful times tend to cluster and from the calendar you can actually predict when you will be entering a stressful time,” said Wakschal. “That way you can be proactive and engage in some stress reducing techniques in the weeks prior to the identified stress period.”
The calendar then becomes a way for a person to regain control of their life, he explained.
Carla’s Life
Carla, who was at the start of her career, sees her life as being in a bubble before Sept. 11 - safe on Staten Island with her family, having her routines for getting to and from her job in Manhattan.
On Sept. 11, Carla saw the smoke as she emerged from her subway stop. Her thoughts immediately went to two family members: one working in a World Trade Center building, the other for the Police Department.
She managed to meet up with them in midtown. Together, they worked all day, answering phones, dispensing food and water to people so covered in soot and dust, they looked like aliens.
In the aftermath, Carla quit a job she loved to take one closer to home where she felt safer but made less pay. She thought she was doing fine masking her anxiety, but when she married two years ago and her husband became the focus of all her insecure feelings, she knew she had to do something to relieve the strain on her marriage.
“I never thought I had a right to seek therapy. That people would say, ‘You weren’t there. That’s silly. That’s selfish,’” said the North Shore resident who did not want to include any specifics that would make her identifiable.
Speaking to a therapist has helped her “realize that I did have a close connection to that day. I am not crazy for feeling that way.”