the day after bostons 117th

7/30/2019 The Day After Bostons 117th

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4-16-2013

For me, growing up in a small town in East Idaho, home-grown national heroes were few and far

between. One such person I was able to look to as a hero was named Raymond Curtis (Curt) Brinkman.

Curt lost both of his legs in a farming accident when he was a boy. After barely surviving horrible burns,

he became determined to continue his active lifestyle. He found personal peace and accomplishmentracing in his wheelchair. Seated in his primitive racing chair in 1980, Curtis became the first parathlete

to win the Boston Marathon. He went on to become a pioneer in Paralympics, winning eight medals,

five of them gold.

Curtis Brinkman is a hero to people in Shelley, Idaho and many others who have learned his story. A

park was named after him. Children are read excerpts of his two books, (The Will to Win and Still

Winning/Lessons for Life.)

I remember in first or second grade wanting to attend the Boston Marathon and cheer on the Athletes,

(especially the parathletes.) My chance finally came this year in 2013. I had been a member of my

medical school’s sports medicine club since I began school. After four years of study, my personal

crowning achievement as a student at Temple University School of Podiatric Medicine was finally here!

Due to a scheduling error, I was even bumped from the list of volunteers. For almost a month, I begged

the director of podiatric medicine for the marathon (Dr. Kaplan) to let me participate. I offered to drive

my fellow classmates from Philadelphia to Boston. I offered to come as an observer only. Thankfully,

Dr. Palamarchuk (the director of Temple’s sports medicine program) saw to it that I was guaranteed a

spot.

We arrived in Boston the evening of Saturday April 13th

. Our group chose to stay in Cambridge to save

money and enjoy Harvard campus and surrounding attractions. We had a great seafood dinner with

classic Boston-style chowder. The next day we toured Cambridge, walked along the River Charles, andate local fare. We got tickets to see the Red Sox at Fenway that afternoon. This was a fulfillment of

another dream of mine. Since I was a boy playing baseball in my backyard, I had wanted to see the left

field fence (Green Monster) at Fenway. Once in the stadium, I couldn’t sit still. I lapped the park,

admiring every corner of such a historic place. The game ended (it was a great one, Boston won 5-0) our

classmate, Aaron Haire drove us back to our hotel to prepare for the marathon. We went to eat at

Grendel’s, a staple and trendy Pub on Harvard’s campus for dinner. At this point, I was ecstatic that I

would finally get to be in Boston Marathon and have a seat in the med-tent at the finish line.

I woke up at 5:30 the morning of the race. I sat in bed thinking about sports med and potential foot and

ankle injuries I might see at the race. I thought about Curtis and what he did in Boston. I woke up therest of my classmates to make sure we’d be there on time. We arrived in downtown Boston a little

early. You could feel the excitement in the air. The whole city was prepared for the race. Police were

everywhere. Buses were shipping the runners to the start of the race. As I walked the city streets, I

couldn’t help but smile.

We met with all the medical volunteers for the race in a grand hall for a debriefing. We listened to

renowned medical director of the marathon, Dr. Pierre d'Hemecourt, speak to us on medical protocol



for the race. Other speakers came, and then we broke out into our individual specialties. I was the last

podiatry volunteer to receive a medical jacket. It was an XL. Even though I was drowning in my coat, I

loved it. I was ready to see the athletes. We walked as fast as we could to the med-tent.

The race started without any issues whatsoever. It was a brisk 53 degrees, an absolutely beautiful day,

perfect for the race in Boston. I was assigned to bay 19 near the entrance of the tent and just 25 yardsfrom the finish line. The parathletes finished first. I was proud of my hometown as I saw the seated

athletes roll by. The morning went on, we saw runner after runner. I was in the zone; I’d go over

differential diagnoses with the patients, treat them, and send them on their way. At 2:45pm I was

treating a soldier who had jogged the marathon with his 80lb. ruck sack. His feet were bruised and

blistered. He was suffering from exposure and a lack of fluid and electrolytes. We warmed him up with

heat sheet blankets and gave him some bouillon cube soup. I attended to treating his badly bruised and

blistered feet with proper bandaging for the next 15 minutes. Then it happened, BOOM!!! The earth

shook followed by a second charge a few seconds later. I looked at the soldier, he looked at me. He

looked at his fellow soldier who was stationed next to him. “That’s no good,” he said, shaking his head.

Doctors were looking at each asking if a generator blew up.

All I could think about was my wife and my family. I knew it was an explosion. I said a prayer, grabbed

two Gatorade bottles, and was ready to run. I exited the med-tent and called my wife. I left a message

saying “I love you, if this is it, know I love you…I am ok just scared.” The sirens began to sound. Screams

filled the air. I gathered myself and thought, “ if this is it, if I am going to die right now, I might as well

die doing what I came here for. “ I walked back in the tent to see the first casualty of the explosion. A

man was limp in a wheelchair, half of his face and the entire side of his body were imploded, and he was

bleeding all over, leaving a trail from his wounds. I ran back to bay 19 and then the horror continued.

After setting up beds for the expected wounded I put on gloves and waited. I stood next to my

classmate, Marti, and we watched as the EMTs sprinted out to bring in people in really bad shape. Wewere both stone colored and speechless.

Everything started to smell like gun powder, blood, and burnt flesh. The first patient I personally saw

came in about 5 minutes later. She was a woman in her 60’s I’ll call Mary. She was bleeding through her

pants on her right upper thigh. She was crying, not knowing where her granddaughter was. I had a

course in traumatology and I spent a month working at Temple hospital, I had seen some trauma in my

short medical career but nothing could prepare me for this. The words of my traumatology professor,

Dr. Jason Piraino rang in my ears….. Airway/cervical spine, Breathing, Circulation, Disability, Exposure,

secondary survey….. I looked at Mary and said: “hello my name is Jared; I am from Idaho, what is your

name?” She responded “Mary.” After assuring she didn’t have a spinal injury, full of adrenaline, I picked

her up and put her on the examination table by myself. We quickly checked her vitals. Blood was all

over the place. She was bleeding out through her thigh. I tried to take off her pants to get to her wound.

My classmate Marti Randall yelled at me “cut them off!” With her and another classmate’s help (Matt

Rementer) we quickly cut them off and found her wound. She had a piece of shrapnel in her leg. We

applied pressure to the site for the next 20 minutes and attended to other wounds on her body. She

was eventually taken away by ambulance.



Throughout the event the med-tent PA did an excellent job directing the triage process. We organized

the injured by severity of their conditions. In bay 19 we saw countless injuries to the legs. For the next

hour patient after patient was attended to. TUSPM podiatry students helped in any way they could.

Primary trauma surveys were carried out on all we attended to.

Within an hour it was almost over. The worst of the injured were taken away by ambulance. The PA

asked all medical personnel not attending to a patient to evacuate. We didn’t know if the subway

system was safe or working so we decided to walk out of the city. Thankfully, we were with two

students who were familiar with Boston (Jenny Lipman and Lara Stone) and they led us on foot out of

the city. We walked 5 miles to Cambridge. During the walk, Larissa Hatala kept us calm as we exited the

city. Aaron Haire made sure we were ok followed from the back. Alicia Canzanese was there for me as I

couldn’t get cell phone service; she let me use her phone.

The entire walk to Harvard we were hearing reports of other bombs they had found. We received news

a library had been bombed. We all were trying to send text messages to family and friends. “I love you,

I am ok,” was the message I kept sending. We weren’t sure if we could leave the city if we stayed any

longer. We ran to my car and raced back to Philly. The entire trip Alyssa Jones and Haywan Chui kept

saying they could smell “gun powder.” We saw FBI vehicles with their lights on racing into the city for

miles as we drove home. We made it back late last night.

After kissing my wife on the forehead, I collapsed in by bed. I woke up this morning shaking, still

thinking about the little kid who was carted off by the EMTs. I cried in the shower as I still could smell

the scene we left in Boston.

I pray for the victims and the families of the dead and injured. I thank God I am alive. Personally, Idon’t believe sense can or should be made of situations like this. Bad people make choices that hurt and

kill good people at times. In my opinion, the only good that can come from this is perspective. Love

what matters most. Tell your family you love them and care. Be thankful for the air you breathe and the

food you eat. Thank God for the bed you sleep on. Pray for peace and live to bring about that end.

-Jared Malan DPM candidate 2013

the day after bostons 117th

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