Gerald Sanford - It Started with a Helmet: A Retired Firefighters Return to New York City the Day Before 9/11

IT STARTED
with a
HELMET

A Retired Firefighters Return
to New York City the Day Before 9/11

Gerald Sanford and
Chris Griffith

IT STARTED WITH A HELMET

A RETIRED FIREFIGHTERS RETURN TO NEW YORK CITY THE DAY BEFORE 9/11

Copyright 2021 Gerald Sanford and Chris Griffith.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-6632-2034-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-2036-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-2035-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021912728

iUniverse rev. date: 06/22/2021

Dedicated to those who perished on 9/11 and their
surviving family members and loved ones.

We will never forget.

CONTENTS

Chapter On e

CANCER

M r. Sanford, you have cancer.

The words echoed in my ears as the doctor pointed to the chest x-ray on the illuminator. It seemed like years, but only a few months earlier Id had a routine chest x-ray at the annual fire department physical in Naples, Florida. Though I was the proverbial picture of health on the surface, an anomaly had been detected. Theyd said it was probably a mistake, or possibly an error. But they called after the x-ray and asked me to come in for another look, just to be sure. The second visit confirmed my fears.

Three months passed from the discovery of cancer in July of 2007 until the treatment mapping in October. During that time, I told not a soul in my family or my inner circle. Our kids, all well into adulthood, were so worried about my wife, Maria, that I simply couldnt bring myself to add more stress or worry to any of their lives. We had been married for sixteen years, and Maria was in the fight of her life against her own illness: breast cancer.

For months, I flawlessly orchestrated and executed countless secret doctor appointments, biopsies, and follow-up appointments at the Naples Community Hospital. Every covert appointment went undetected by friends, family, and most of my coworkers.

One idle Sunday morning, Maria and I were about to leave for our favorite breakfast spot, the Cove Inn on Naples Bay. She was sitting in the kitchen with a straw hat on the table in front of her. She was thin, frail even, and without hair from the effects of her numerous cancer treatments. But this secret had been gnawing at my gut for long enough, and Id finally decided to tell everyone. I had reached breaking point. I had to have treatment, and there was no hiding what was about to happen even if I wanted to.

I walked over to Maria and knelt beside her chair. My face felt hot, and I know I flushed bright red. I took her hand and said, I have something really terrible to tell you. I have lung cancer. They think that its probably from New York, from 9/11.

This confession was one of the hardest things Ive ever had to do. Tears poured out of us both; but, like the marvel she was, Maria became instantly focused, despite being blasted by this horrible news. Then again, what was she supposed to do?

I said to her, I have not told anyone else, but it was discovered in July.

Always the voice of reason and always an incredibly positive person, Maria immediately said, All right, Jerry. It is going to be OK. We are going to be OK. She had a way of saying things like she meant themas if she could will them to be true.

Finishing my confession, I told her that I had already made arrangements to travel to Tampa and would be leaving soon. Maria asked, Whats up there?

And I replied, Moffitt. The cancer center.

Under different circumstances, I would have probably gone to Memorial Sloan Kettering, but New York City was simply too far to go for surgery. I knew traveling would not be possible for Maria, due to her failing health. In all honesty, I could not have gone very far myself. My physical and emotional plate was fulloverflowing, in fact.

I sort of recalled chatter, a rumor, that someone in the office had been treated locallya battalion chief by the name of John Reilly. The world is very small, especially when it comes to Southwest Florida. Ironically, Reilly had attended the same high school on Staten Island as my oldest son, Glenn.

One day, when I saw Reilly walking down the hall at Station 45 in Naples, I asked if I could speak with him and pulled him into an empty office. After closing the door, I said, I heard through the grapevine from some of the boys in the house can I ask you something confidentially? Did you have a cancer surgery?

He answered the question with a question: Why do you ask?

I replied, Well, between you, me, and this desk, I need surgery for cancer, and I cant make it to New York City.

Reilly interrupted me. Hold on, he said. He fumbled with his phone, punched in some stuff, scribbled down a number on a scratch piece of paper, and said, Call him. Hes a thoracic surgeon up at Moffitt. Hes the guy who is going to save your life, Jerry.

It turned out that Moffitt was the closest major specialized cancer treatment center. Although it was still a few hours away, it was the most logical choice for treatment.

Over the coming months, two surgeries were performed by Dr. Lary-with-one-R Robinson at Moffitt Cancer Center. My right lung was operated on in December, and nearly two months later to the day, my left lung was operated on. Now all that remains of my cancer is the set of angel wing removal scars on my back.

My post-surgery monitoring was completed in Bonita Springs under the care of Dr. Rubin at Florida Cancer Specialists. In 2012, Rubin discovered the cancer had returned, and he implemented the treatment. In total, there were fourteen chemotherapy treatments and thirty-five radiation treatments. Im still sporting the souvenirs of radiation ink on my chest and each side of my rib cage. And I was one of the luckier cancer patients at Florida Cancer Specialists.

With mercy and flexibility from the department, I was able to continue working through it all. Eventually, the cancer beast was slain, and I walked away none the worse for wear. I still follow up annually for screenings, both with the World Trade Center Medical Monitoring Program in New York City and with Dr. Rubin in Florida. Rubin calls me his Miracle Man. Im one of the few patients who has been fortunate enough to walk out of the fire, so to speak.

Sadly, Maria lost her battle with cancer in October of 2009, nearly two years to the day after I confessed my cancer secret to her. It was a long, grueling battle, and there is not a soul who put up a greater fight than she did. She was laid to rest near her first husband, Ted, the father of her children, at Naples Memorial Gardens. It is close to our home and to Vanderbilt Beach, where it is sunny and warm. It is exactly what shed wished for.