November 2003:

With the combined efforts of my attorney Justin Green of Kreindler & Kreindler, Senators Hillary Rodham Clinton & Charles Schumer and Representative Carolyn Mahoney my application to the Victims Compensation Fund has been accepted after appeal.

I now urge everyone that has not applied for any reason at all, either injured or deceased to apply to the fund. Unless you apply you will never know.

My Story:  

Tuesday Morning September 11th 2001 - Tuesday, September 11th was a day that started like any other. I was very excited as it was my 'leaving' party that night in a local bar. My company was sending myself and a colleague to San Antonio, TX for three months to train employees at our main office. I figured that it would be an easy day, just begin to tie up some loose ends and transfer files etc to our San Antonio office. Either way I had no intention of working too hard.  

I had already been into the North Tower I had a check that had to be deposited. As I got off the train at Fulton Street the usual faces were around me. The lady singing, ‘twenty five cents for the New York Post’, faces rushing o the office, people talking into cell phones, the world was as normal.   I loved my city and where I worked. There was a type of fraternity of people that I would pass on the street walking to Grand Central in the morning, followed by the usual faces on the same train car in the subway, people I did not know and never would but could say 'hi' to; all because we passed each other in the street each morning. I loved my world, I loved the world, it was great to be alive!

Being me I pondered if to go to the bank now or go upstairs to the office and drop my bag, quickly scan morning email and then come back about 8.45am to the bank. I was too lazy and decided that I would place the check in the ATM depository. Once I completed that I walked across the plaza.

Running down the east face of the South Tower were the stairs leading to Liberty Street . As I put my foot on the first run I stopped looked up and for some unknown reason I put my hand onto the steel structure as if to say’ hello’. I had been inside the towers too many times to remember, from visits to the UK, to grabbing lunch inside each day. I then quickly marched to the deli inside the building I worked in, 90 West Street, adjacent to the towers. I grabbed my tea, English breakfast, and a toasted bagel with butter and made my way to my desk on the thirteenth floor. The guys in the deli new which day I would have my bagel, which day it would have cream cheese and which day I would have a typical New York egg and cheese on a roll. Who says it's a big where no once cares. Its a big city with big hearts!  

Just as I took my final mouthful, I heard a huge bang that seemed to resonate through the whole building. My mind turned to the scaffolding that surrounded the building, as it was being refurbished. I wondered if it had a problem. About a week earlier my colleague and I were chatting outside and commenting on that we hoped that the scaffolding was secure enough. If it fell it would make a mess. Little did we know it helped save 90 West from destruction?  

The sound of falling glass followed. There were four people that sat with our backs against the window and we jumped out of the way, the building alarms went off and people stared to evacuate. Everyone was calm; I even thought it could have been a fire drill. I saw debris falling past the window on fire and luggage, but as yet nothing registered in my mind.  

I could not see Bob Daniel’s, my close friend and colleague. I checked the bathrooms and saw him in there and told him to make a move. From there I ran through the office one more time to make sure we were all out. On the way down the stairs Bob came up behind me and said that he heard a small plane had hit the Tower, I replied that we should keep that quiet as we did not want to cause a panic in the stairwell. Either way I just wanted to get downstairs. It seemed for ever running down the twisting stairs to get to the bottom, where i was convinced I would be safe.  

We all now know what had just happened. What I saw downstairs looking out onto the West Side Highway will haunt me forever. Without repeating it here, I am sure that you can figure out that the contents of an aircraft are not only luggage; a picture that has been burnt into my mind forever. I am sure many others as well. Debris was strewn across the West Side Highway and even in the trees. It looked like a scene from the worst horror movie that you could imagine.  

I stood there in the lobby, shocked and glued to the spot by what I was seeing. I lit a cigarette and walked the two steps onto the West Side Highway. As I looked at the North Tower, drawing on my years as an aircraft buff, I knew that the damage in front of my eyes could have been caused by a light aircraft as the rumors were speculating.   

It was a horrific accident; I consoled myself with. I could not even think my mind was focused on the people scattered on the highway, not even thinking about those in the building. The sounds of sirens filled the air and the smell of jet fuel was prominent.  

The building management advised us that we were safe and that the elevators will be left operational for ten minutes. Enough time to grab our belonging before being evacuated. One of my colleagues Janet Romig who had been with the company about 6 months was terrified at what she had seen and the tears were pouring down her face. She was not alone in that lobby. Shock does not discriminate. I put my arms around her and gave her a reassuring hug. We piled into the elevator for the thirteenth floor. Not a word was said.  

Everyone made for their desk to grab their things. I threw my Palm Pilot into my bag, threw it over my shoulders and headed back to the elevators, holding the doors open and shouting for Bob to hurry. As the elevator descended I was praying for it to reach the ground without incident, it was far too crowded for us to get stuck. Exiting in the lobby we were told to leave and proceed south on West Street. I told Janet that she was to only look at me and along with Bob we stepped outside. Within those ten minutes the carnage on the street covered by white sheets but the volume of blood did nothing to disguise what was underneath.  

Once outside Bob and I stood there, Janet to one side and we were joined by John Cavanaugh the Operations Director. We could not believe what we were looking at. But then I heard a sound that I still here today. I sound of two large jet engines powering up. I mentioned I was an airline fanatic and I can usually tell what kind of plane is coming by the sound the engines make. At that snap moment in time I thought another heavy jet was coming behind me

Since I can remember I have always been interested in the airline business. I can sit and look at aircraft take off and land all day, when I see a plane I call out the type and people around me have always had a laugh at my expense. But that morning I knew the sound of those engines and as I turned and looked up my horror solidified. In plain view just above our heads was a United Airlines Boeing 767 coming over. In a way it was graceful. It was so low I could see the rivets in its belly.  

But never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I could see with my own eyes an aircraft of any kind crashing, nor did I want to. But to crash into the World Trade Center during that morning is something I cannot get out of my head.

It was at 9.02am Tuesday September 11th 2001. Everybody knows the time and they know exactly that it was then that the horror of an unspeakable accident turned into a terrorist attack. Sure, it did go through my mind that there could have been some major failure at ATC, but no, there is no way that could happen. I do not think I can ever describe the shear terror that ran through my body at that point. I grabbed Bob by the shoulder and looked at him in the eye and calmly asked, ‘are we going to die?’  

Everyone screamed, turned and ran southbound on West Street. I saw Janet clipped by another person running and briefly for a split second stopped to grab her and then I felt an enormous thump in my neck hitting me so hard it made me skip a few steps and I tried to maintain my balance. It did not take a genius to know what had hit me; I had been struck by some debris from the second plane's impact. It seemed to rain like chunks of sleet on the freak winter ice showers.  

Surely I could not have been the only one to be hit by something as there were thousands of people around us. The street was full.

I made it to another office block and ran into the lobby until it was safe to walk outside. My eyes seemed to deceive me. Both towers hit! What next? Where will I be safe? What about Annie, my girlfriend? Where the hell is she? Have there been attacks anywhere else?  

My colleagues, four of them lived in New Jersey, so I walked with them to the ferries to make sure that they were safe. In the confusion I lost Bob and John and I was worried about them. My damn cell phone would not work so I asked a lady in a nearby store if I could use the phone. Of course she said yes. I called Annie’s office but got her voicemail. Confusion was setting into my mind and I was unsure how to get home. Shock took over my mind and I felt like I did not know where I was. My city was being decimated and I was lost in my own confusion.  

After standing around looking at the towers, smoking cigarettes one after the other I walked through Battery Park Garage and asked a police officer how to get home. He told me to walk east and keep walking.  

Exiting the garage I found myself walking toward the towers on Church Street, my neck was hurting badly and I was staring at the twin towers. All the time hitting redial on my cell phone trying to get Annie. The cell phone would not work. I ended up standing looking at the towers the air full of paper, like a ticker tape parade, but this was no parade. Suddenly the phone connected and Annie was at home. She told me without any further ado to ‘get the hell out of there’. Her motto was, ' if there is any kind of trouble, walk away'!   

I wanted to stick around for half an hour, telling her how I wondered how they would put the fire out and how am I going to get to work tomorrow, would I have to take a different approach from a different subway station. Annie persisted 'nagging' me to get moving, so I followed her advice. Half an hour later and I would not be writing this now. To this day I attribute my survival to her begging me to leave the area.  

I did the best thing and made my move, cutting through some of the smaller streets there, dodging people. At one point not looking at where I was going I tripped and fell into a piece of a person that left me with blood on the side of my face and collar and hands. I felt sick. I threw up. Every now and again I would hear a thousand screams as yet another brave sole jumped. I could not fathom what was going on. How could this be happening? The sight of seeing a human hitting the deck is something that I still in my dreams. Night after night. People landing less than fifty feet in front of me. It was madness. How could anyone decide to do that I will never know? It must take super human courage to make that decision. There is not a single person in this world that could tell me, 'I would have done the same'. I cannot say it and I wonder if I could have if I was trapped inside.  

As I walked down Park Row a police office with a handheld PA horn was telling everyone to get out of the area. "This is a terrorist attack.....' It was the first time that I had those words. A terrorist attack! What here in the middle of town, on a plain day, oh my God, that’s all was running through my head. I mean what the hell; this is New York, not Baghdad!  

People stared at me. My face collar, and arm drenched in blood, I must have looked like a horrendous sight? At the end of Park Row near City Hall Park I heard what seemed like thunder. But my guess was wrong. Thunder? No. There was not a cloud in site; in fact it was a beautiful day The south tower in plain view began to collapse. I felt the ground shake and my legs turned to jelly and I fell back on my backside. It looked like a nuclear mushroom imploding on itself. Tears began to stream down my face as I looked at this monument of American success simply crumbled to the ground. Still I questioned if I was going to live?

I sat there for about 10 seconds maybe, but it felt like forever. I could feel the screams of everyone run through my soul. In a blink of an eye a rolling avalanche of debris, dust, ash, concrete came hurtling towards down. The devil was running towards me. I jumped to my feet and began to run. I was determined no matter how hard I had to run, how much it hurt my legs, and my neck that this cloud of evil and destruction would not catch me. It was clouds of hatred that I could not let poison me. I crossed the road towards the Manhattan courthouse running and glimpsing back, it was gathering speed, I was loosing the race.  

As luck would have it I managed to out run the dust. I cut across to Canal Street, surprised to see that the Chinese Street vendors were still carrying on as normal, trying to sell me fish and vegetables as my bewildered face just looked on. It gave me a brief moment of humor.  

It was a hot morning, I was unfit, overweight and out of breath. As I walked past a deli the owner, an Indian gentleman, he put his hand on my shoulder. Seeing out was sweating and out of breathe he handed me a bottle of Snapple. I said I could not find my wallet, but he just told me to drink. I took some water from a bucket at the front of his store and washed myself the best I can.  

The kindness that this storekeeper showed me is something that I never could forget. Months later, I was walking past and remembered him and went it to shake his hand and offer him a few bucks for the cold drink. He still refused to take it. Terrorists may bomb are building and destroy our lives but they can never destroy the one thing they hate; human kindness. They will never win!

Eventually I found myself on the Bowery and I knew it was a sling shot home. The streets resembled the New York Marathon, not a spare inch on the side walk. All the time I was walking north to 37th Street I kept looking back at the plume of smoke, not knowing that the North Tower had now fallen. What worried me more was what was coming more into view as I walked further along 3rd Avenue.  

There it stood in the gleaming sunlight. The Empire State Building once again it reigned as the tallest building in New York since the towers were gone. It began to cross my mind; what if that was next, what if I am walking into more danger. Is there anything I can do? No? I wanted to get home and no damn terrorist was going to stop me.  

The walk home was emotionally draining, there were people kneeling on the streets praying, a man beside himself being comforted by a female cop. He was screaming, ‘my wife, my wife, she’s gone….’ I felt a lump in my throat but what could I do, just keep walking.  

A bus pulled up and many people, including me boarded but it became so heavy it could not lift up to drive off. The driver asked half the people to get off, I was amongst them, but once off decided to keep walking.  

At 23rd Street, I was fourteen blocks from the finish line; my home. Across the street a delivery was being made to a bar and the delivery men dropped an empty barrel. In the blink of an eye every one hit the sidewalk face down, we thought it was another bomb. I looked up to see a very embarrassed man shouting his apologies to the whole block. But tensions were high. The sky now scattered with the vapor trails of F-16's. This is what it's like to live in a war zone?  

At 28th Street another man opened the side doors to his van and put the radio on. It was then that we found out the Pentagon was hit. I just could not understand what was happening. I really thought that this was the day I was going to die.  

A young lady stood next to me listening to the radio. She had just flown in from Chicago in the Towers but a breakfast meeting ran late and prevented her from making her appointment. Who knew that a bagel and coffee could save your life? She looked at me, blood and all and asked if I was hurt. Relief spanned her face when I told her it was not mine. Relief for both of us turned to sorrow. If it was not mine it was someone else's.

She began to cry and asked me to hold her. I did not want to get blood on her, she did not care, she wanted to be held. We probably stood there for a few minutes. As we parted we both said,’ good luck, stay alive’. Why the hell should we have to tell a complete stranger that?  

Finally I got into the elevator to go the 11th floor of my apartment building, pausing as I opened the door. My girlfriend was shocked to see me. She later told me she began to prepare for the worst in her mind. In her mind from the last phone call we had and my location I was never walking through that door again. She was joined by two colleagues. I told her while I got out of the blood stained clothes to pour me a very large scotch!  

The phones would not work but the email was going mad. She sent a general message to everyone we know that I was alive, hurt but will be OK. Not to call until later so that we could leave the lines free for our parents.

I told her how weird it would look one tower standing. It was then that she told me the north tower fell. I felt empty. Tears ran down my face.  

Some hours later my Mom and Dad called. She told me that her brother also passed away that morning in Toronto. This just was the icing on the cake from a really crap day. My shock went into freefall. My father was crying because he was glad he still had his eldest son. My brother and sister-in-law called in Dublin, Ireland called. You could hear the relief in their voices to hear me on the other end of their phone. And then the emotion they had stored all day overflowed into tears.  

That Night - Even though we have some of the best TV in the world I thought that CNN was irresponsible. The network repeatedly aired clips of the plane flying into the south tower on every commercial break, about 20 times per hour. As someone who witnessed the event with my own eyes, I found it simply disgusting. In my opinion, CNN lost journalistic integrity. What they go for in the name of ratings? But our local news channel NY1 was amazing. The depth of their coverage was informative and dealt strictly with the facts rather than sensationalizing the event.  

As I lay on my couch not really understanding what had happened, the pain in my neck was bad, really bad. It never crossed my mind that we should go to see a doctor in the hospital. The networks were reporting that the medical system was about to break under the strain. How could I go to hospital and complain about a bruise? How could I go when there were so many people worse off than myself? My injuries were not life threatening, little did I know that would be cause for major concern down the line, but I am no doctor, how could I have know this? There was no way I was going to take a tired, beat down doctor on his or her feet all day away from a patient that needed more care than I did.   

Indeed, I just thought I had a bruise that would go away in a few days. To be honest I was also scared about going outside. The city was like a tomb, there was not a living soul on the street apart from emergency vehicles heading downtown. If you have ever visited New York, you know this city never sleeps. We were afraid. We cried from fear, about what had transpired, and for the victims and families. I sacrificed my own care for the needs of others that night.  

Ten days after 9/11 my colleague and I (and future roommate) hit the road with our belongings for the 2000-mile road trip to San Antonio, where we would work and live for 3 months. In those first ten days the bruise near my neck and shoulders slowly disappeared but the pain was still there. Now even painkillers would not take it away. But being me, I figured that it would take a few weeks to go completely. I was so wrong!  

The Truth of the Injury - Six weeks after the event I woke one morning without feelings in my hands. It gradually came back, but with tingling up and down the arm. It was very uncomfortable and I was very concerned. I went to a doctor who arranged for me to have an immediate MRI. It revealed four herniated discs in my cervical spine. These discs, which form the cushion between the vertebrae, were not slipped right out, but had moved enough to press on the nerve endings and spinal cord, causing tremendous pain and reduced motion.  

I started on steroid therapy, eight tablets per day for five days and decreasing by one tablet a day over eight weeks. This immediately cut down my healthy appetite. I started losing weight dramatically, at the rate of 20 pounds per month. With this, my energy levels plummeted. I also started physical therapy, which the therapist cancelled after a month as it was causing me too much pain. He could also see no advantage in continuing at that point. He told me my condition was too serious for physical therapy, and other treatments needed to be investigated. It seems that the impact of the debris had caused this damage. There was no other explanation. I had never fallen or been hit before, nor had I been involved in any motor vehicle accident. Given my medical history this injury was consistent with my condition.  

I was then referred to a spinal and pain management consultant at the South Texas Spinal Center in San Antonio. He injected steroids twice, directly into the discs as well as injecting me over 15 times in each session with lidocaine straight into my muscles, in the hope of providing me with some relief. This treatment was supposed to last up to five sessions, but again it was prematurely terminated as it was not producing any relief. It was suggested that I see a surgeon.  I had heated blankets to lie on, and an Electro Muscle Stimulation Unit to wear each night for two hours (this cost $2,000 and was not covered by medical insurance). Nothing was helping. The pain was not abating, not even temporarily. It was getting worse with each day.  

Pain brought on depression and I was treated for that as well, with more tablets. Nothing was helping. It was becoming so unbearable it was affecting my day-to-day routine. My job and my very existence. I was changing into someone that I did not know.  

The doctor prescribed a drug that I would wear in the form of a patch, just like a nicotine patch. It contained Fentanyl; a narcotic drug for chronic pain. What he did not tell me was that it was habit forming and it costs about $300 a month. At that time I was grateful for insurance and understanding employers. 

Fentanyl is in a class of drugs called narcotic analgesics. It relieves pain. Fentanyl topical patches are used to treat chronic pain that cannot be controlled by less potent pain relievers. (Source www.webmd.com March 2003)  

But each day the pain was getting worse. I had intermittent loss of feeling in my left hand, loss of strength, I was in a mess. I cannot remember how many items I dropped things out of my hands, every day.

I spoke to my doctor (name omitted) and asked him if I had gone to hospital immediately would I have been able to avoid this? He replied that even if I had gone, the injury may not have manifested itself up front. Injuries like mine were not common in how they happened, but resemble other conditions and can often take months to become problematic. They just sit deep inside you making themselves out as a bruise and then bang! They hit!  

My Employers - (Name Omitted), where I worked when 9/11 occurred was the best thing that happened to me. My direct boss was a great man who understood my dilemma and allowed me to work from home whenever I needed. But I tried to avoid this. I loved my job and I am a person that loves to work, no matter what. I am very loyal to those I work for.  

I was provided with everything I needed to work from home; laptop, phone etc. It was hard told to concentrate at times when you are taking medications and in constant agony. My bathroom cabinet looked like a pharmacy! But your mind and body will guide you through; if you have the will then you shall find a path. I did.  

Upper management at the office changed suddenly. My new boss was not as sympathetic to my injuries; he had his own way of doing things. My job requirements also began to change. My new boss ‘ordered’ me back to New York at a moment's notice and I refused. He expected me to give up my home in San Antonio and find a new home in New York within a week. Any New Yorker can tell you apartments are not that easy to find! I had little respect for him. I worked my way up the career ladder; he kissed the rear ends of his superiors to climb. The thing is what goes around comes around.  

So I carried on with my job, but the financial hardships of post 9/11 that all companies felt were rippling through. All sales were down and the department was not making money. I relied on that job for my income and my medical insurance. Without it I would be unable to even continue medication.  

As soon as I made it know that possible surgery would be needed I was fired, without any reason. This is from a company that I lived for, that I rebuilt there non existence emergency data management system in the days after 9/11. If it was not for my forethought and knowledge of our systems they would have lost hundred of thousands of dollars in the weeks after 9/11 as they had no clue how to get people working from home. Even their 'IT Specialists' did not know what to do until I took charge. I hate them for what they did to me.  

My insurance ended. I could not take up COBRA as it was too expensive and I was essentially stranded in San Antonio with no job, no income and no medical coverage. To think I was injured on the job, I worked through pain when doctors told me not to and this is how I was thanked. C'est la vie!

Today - After returning to New York, I applied to the Workers Compensation Board. My ex-employers told me that I could not apply as I was hurt outside the office. However that is incorrect; how can a company tell an employee this? Workers compensation insurance provides coverage while you are on the job. You may be injured outside the office on your lunch break and you still qualify for coverage.  

I have since been under the care of a new doctor at Beth Israel who sent me for new MRI scans and been seen by a surgeon. Once again, these doctors have stated that given my medical history, the results of my injuries are consistent with my current condition and diagnosis, more than likely caused by what I have described happened to me on Tuesday September 11th 2001. 

Had I gone to hospital on the night of 9/11 there is a high possibility that my injuries would not have not shown through ordinary testing methods. This is important to note and further explained in the Victims Compensation section of this website. Who knows if I would have seen a doctor that night? That's a question that can never be answered?  

All I know is that I am becoming financially ruined for something that had nothing to do with me and that a government system that tells me that I don't 'qualify'. It sickens me! I just want to get better and find a new job, but who is going to want to hire someone that has been out of the game for so long? Only unless I am willing to start all over again; at the bottom. 17 years of talented experience all down the drain!  

At my age starting again is something that I am never going to be able to get over. Is this the American Dream? It feels like a nightmare. I just want to wake up.