Sunday, May 12, 2013

Now you might think that Andrew Cuomo



if Andrew Cuomo had the same ability as Dr. Mark Altschule of Harvard he would see that the NY author of The Lancet p.106  Jan. 14, 1978 who lives in NY but did that particular work in Boston was connected with whatever he wished and/or needed. Andrew Cuomo, unfit to run at Suffolk Downs let alone for President.












Boston Bomb Victims Begin Resuming Lives

Severely Injured, They Are Fitted With Prostheses and Practice Walks in High Winds; a 'Flashback' in a Crowded Eatery

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BOSTON—Heather Abbott once negotiated cobblestone streets in high heels without a second thought. This week, with her left leg amputated below the knee, she maneuvered on crutches along a windy waterfront walkway meant to prepare those with disabilities for real-world obstacles like gravel, uneven terrain and uncut grass.
Dressed in a pink sweat suit and her blond hair in a ponytail, she grinned widely after she completed the course. "I was able to do it," said Ms. Abbott, a 38-year-old human-resources manager.
Channing Johnson for The Wall Street Journal
Beth Roche doing occupational therapy Tuesday at Boston's Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital.
A survivor of the April 15 Boston Marathon bombing, Ms. Abbott is one of the many injured people who are getting out of the hospital now and embarking on a long road to reclaim as much as they can of their old lives.
The marathon explosions injured 264 people, including at least 14 who lost limbs. Many of those most gravely injured ended up here at Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital, a gleaming eight-floor waterfront recovery center, where they are spending anywhere from a few days to more than a month strengthening their bodies and learning to walk on crutches and prostheses.
Nearly a fifth of Spaulding's current 127 patients are bombing victims, reminding Ross Zafonte, the vice president of medical affairs, of hospitals he visited in Afghanistan. It is unusual in a civilian hospital to see a large group from one catastrophic event, particularly a terrorist-related one, he said.
"I think we'll be really surprised at where we'll see some of these people in a couple of months," Dr. Zafonte said. But also, "it's going to be a story of early struggle."
In Spaulding's bustling inpatient gym, which has tall windows overlooking Boston Harbor, Ms. Abbott was pushing and pulling on a machine to strengthen her upper body, part of three hours of physical therapy she undergoes each day. With the swelling going down in what remains of her left leg—what doctors call her "residual limb"—she is preparing to be fitted for a prosthetic leg in about four weeks. But she will still need the crutches, because she can't wear the prosthetic into the shower or to bed.
Ms. Abbott had been in charge of making sure her employer, Raytheon Co., was accessible to the disabled. Now, she chuckled, she is looking at her workplace as someone who will have to be concerned with that. "It is eye-opening to find myself in that situation," she said.
Over by a window, Beth Roche—her left leg wrapped, braced, and in pins after sustaining a shattered knee and compound fractures—tried to work up the courage to stand on one leg, with her therapist nearby for support.
Channing Johnson for The Wall Street Journal
Jarrod Clowery suffered severe leg injuries from the April 15 bombing.
Ms. Roche, who is 59 and from the Chicago area, was near the finish line cheering her daughter, who was running, when the first explosion struck and her "skin was peeled away like a sardine can," she said.
Away from home for about a month now, she has found friendships and support from meeting with a group of other bombing victims at Spaulding.
"There is a bond," she said, her eyes welling with tears as she looked around the room at her newfound peers. "It's like there are some things that I can share with the group that I can't share with my family, because you've got to be strong for them."
Each Spaulding patient has a team that includes physical and occupational therapists, mental-health counselors and medical doctors. The hospital is also working with the military to bring in veterans who have had amputations and are now walking on prosthetic legs. The veterans talk openly about their limitations, but also about how they deal with them. That is better than any pep talk the doctors can provide, Dr. Zafonte said.
Many people have taken Spaulding's advice to try to limit watching news about the tragedy or the investigation into the suspected terrorists. But reminders are harder to dodge in the real world outside Spaulding, among patients who are still in outpatient therapy but sleeping in their own homes.
On her first night out, after "graduating" from Spaulding last week, Adrianne Haslet-Davis, 32, a professional ballroom dancer whose lower left leg was amputated, had a "flashback" in a crowded restaurant, and took her food to go, she recalled.
"It's hard to feel safe after going through something like that," she said, over coffee at a café near Spaulding earlier this week.
A trim blonde in a purple blazer, striped shirt, black leggings and one ivory flat, Ms. Haslet-Davis was in a wheelchair, and sipping from a water bottle, explaining that a dry mouth is a side effect of the pain medication she hates to take—"I'm not a pain-pill popper at all"—but knows she must. "I had my leg blown off, so I'm in a lot of pain if I don't take my meds," she quipped.
Ms. Haslet-Davis is also having "phantom sensation," the feeling that her missing lower leg is itching, which "just feels crazy," she said. But she is healing, mentally and physically, she said, and is about two weeks from getting her temporary prosthesis, which she calls "insanely exciting."
"I feel both a sense of sadness and just anger, a little bit of anger, not a lot," Ms. Haslet-Davis said. "I also feel a sense of pride and of resilience."
Write to Jennifer Levitz at jennifer.levitz@wsj.com

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