Jarvis family’s account of Boston Marathon tragedy

By Forest Jarvis
Sun contributor

Borrowed from a Facebook message Monday night by Suttons Bay resident Forest Jarvis, whose dad Michael was injured running the 2013 Boston Marathon — before the bombings. Michael Jarvis and wife Lynne Brach both work at The Leelanau School in Glen Arbor.

UPDATE: Scroll down for Michael Jarvis’ reflections on the race and the tragedy

In the hospital now, phone recharged, and finally have a laptop. I might as well post a longer update while everything is still fresh in my head. Though I doubt I’ll ever forget much of it.

The funny thing is, the race was going really well up until everything happened. My mom and I waited to cheer my dad on at the 18-mile marker. He passed through right on schedule, ahead of most of the people with similar qualifying numbers. We handed him a protein shake, took some clothes he didn’t need, and then hurried over to the train to try and catch him at the finish line. The train was of course packed with people trying to do the same thing, and we had to let at least 3 go by until we could find one with enough space.

After a long, sweaty train ride, we got to the center and followed the string of people along the final neck of the marathon. From the numbers of the runners going by, we guessed that my dad had already finished. Pretty much all of the runners were giving the last half mile their best try, and both sides of the road were packed with hundreds of people loudly cheering them on. There’s something unique about the joy on people’s faces when they can tell they’re on the verge of finishing a marathon. As we got closer to the finish line, the crowds got thicker, and we could barely move forward. We pressed on, until finally we’d had enough and decided to cut through a mall to get to the welcome area instead. If we’d decided to stick on the street, we would have arrived at the finish line right about the same time the bombs went off.

My dad was having a really, really good run for most of the marathon. He was going at a steady pace, and was on track to finish near the top of his age group. However, close to the finish, something snapped in his leg, and he fell down. He finished the last mile of the race hobbling with a man on either side of him, one of them a runner who’d already finished the race, the other a marine in full military gear. By the time he crossed the finish line, he couldn’t stay standing, but still finished with a time of 3:40:17, an incredibly respectable number, especially considering he couldn’t walk for the last part of it. He was given the wheelchair and taken toward the medical tent. One of the spectators happened to be a sports psychologist, and he helped him do some mindfulness exercises to relieve the pain. He was in the medical tent when the explosions went off. People began rushing in, and it was obvious pretty quickly that something was wrong. Some of you who have seen the horrible pictures being circulated around of the aftermath will have seen the photo of the man whose legs were mostly blown off; my dad saw him being taken in on a wheelchair. Nurses and doctors quickly cleared everyone out of the tent who wasn’t bleeding grievously.

My mom and I were about a block away from the first explosion. There was a building in between, so all we heard was a huge noise and the ground shaking a little bit. We were in the family waiting area, wondering why on earth my dad wasn’t there yet. With the first explosion, everyone looked around a little bit in confusion. When the second bomb went off about 10 seconds later, everyone in the street went silent for a few moments. When you think about bombings or other disasters happening here, you usually imagine there being an immediate response, with screaming and sirens and helicopters and everything like that. But this time, everything pretty much seemed to go back to normal, even though we were so close. We heard the first sirens almost 10 minutes after the blasts, and even then most people just assumed it was someone speeding or some weird fight that broke out at the finish line. In retrospect, it was pretty clear that something had gone wrong; police cars and fire trucks kept going by, the volunteer staff got incredibly tense, and more and more runners came to the family welcome area looking frantic or sobbing. We got the feeling that something was going on, but we still didn’t know what. Meanwhile we still didn’t know where my dad was; we got a text from an unknown number saying that he was in the medical tent, but no-one would let us go near them. When we drew near to another one, nurses and paramedics quickly and forcibly cleared all bystanders out of the way, with police officers behind them. Ironically enough, I only heard about the bomb blasts in a text from my uncle, who had been watching the news.

We finally found my dad in the waiting area, in a wheelchair and on the verge of hypothermia. A nurse had brought him there and left him to take care of the other victims. He’d had no idea where we were or if we were okay for more than an hour after the explosions. We all hugged and cried a little bit, we were so happy to be together. The afternoon was suddenly cold and windy, and he was shivering and barely coherent. We took off our jackets to give to him, and a woman in the crowd gave him her fleece. Now that we were together, we had no idea how to get my dad to a hospital; the roads were closed, and the doctors on scene had bigger fish to fry. Finally, we got directions to the nearest hospital, Tufts Medical Center. It was about 20 minutes of us pushing him along in the wheelchair. When we arrived, though, so did two bomb squads, who quickly got us off the area. They thought another bomb had just gone off at the library, but it turned out to have been just an electrical fire. We finally got a hold of a friend of ours in the city, who said she would come by to get us. While we waited, an old lady saw us, and offered to help us hailing a taxi. She prayed for us while we helped my dad to stand in order to relieve the pain of sitting on a broken leg, then went to a McDonalds and bought us coffee and food.

We’re in the Newton hospital at the moment, and the doctor is talking with my dad. It looks like he broke his hip due to a stress fracture from running. My dad is in very good spirits, despite being in a tremendous amount of pain. All he wants is a beer, and maybe some more morphine. He’ll be going into surgery tonight. We’re all still a little shell shocked from the whole thing, but we were the lucky ones in this whole thing.

What I’m going to remember most about today is how helpful people were. The guys who helped my dad finish the race, the old lady who got us coffee, the woman who literally gave my dad her jacket, and of course the incredible police force and medical personnel who did such an amazing job of securing the area and taking care of everyone affected. I don’t know if it’s America or just human nature in general, but it’s just unspeakably wonderful seeing how everyone came together and offered all the support they could during the crisis.

So soon after a disaster like this, everyone seems to be expressing support and solidarity for the victims. But as soon as the memory fades a little for people who weren’t there, there are going to be so many people trying to politicize it and jump to their own inane conclusions. Some have already pinned it on Muslims, and decided to blame the president and the government while they’re at it, despite the fact we literally know nothing besides the fact that two bombs went off. Apparently one guy already decided it was actually the FBI. I’m sure there will be others who say that it’s actually the fault of the United States itself because of some foreign policy of ours- how long until “imperialism” and “neoliberalism” get thrown about? This attack was inexcusable. Simple as that. I can’t say I really care about who was responsible or not. I just know that two families just lost a parent, child, or sibling, and hundreds more will never be the same again. I’ve never really understood how disgusting using tragedies as propaganda was until now. Compared to so many others, I was barely affected. But I’ll never forget today. And yet I just heard that a US bombing killed 30 people at a wedding party in Afghanistan, and even more were killed in bombings in Iraq. It’s so easy to shrug things like that off if you’ve never experienced it yourself. It’s hard to take war lightly after days like today. Peace and love be with you all.

Pain, suffering and compassion

Michael Jarvis’ reflections the day after the Boston Marathon

The docs figure I started the run with a stress injury. I had been having pain in my hip all week that would go away once I started moving. I took the week off from running , got some PT and tape. What more should you need right.
While the Marathon didn’t feel great, it also didn’t feel bad. At mile 24 It felt good and I started to run a little faster. A lot of energy and encouragement from the crowd at that point too. I walked through a water stop at mile 25 and felt a lot of pain in my hip. At this point I was on track to finish in about 3 hours and 27 minutes at the pace I was running. My goal was 3:30 . Over the next half mile it was getting worse and I was getting slower, but you just don’t quit that close to the end of the BOston Marathon with hundreds of people cheering. Then I fell down. My hip just gave out. I was able to stand up but couldn’t really walk. Another runner who had already finished came to help me since I was so close. The pain was pretty intense and I could only go about three steps at a time. Soon a Marine showed up. There were a bunch of these guys who were walking the course in fatigues and backpacks. He took my other shoulder and started encouraging me in that special way that Marines have. There were a few more stops but we got to the finish. My time 3:40:17.

At this point someone brought me a wheelchair and took me to the medical tent. When I got to the tent, my temperature was 95.7, and I was dry-salty-skin dehydrated but those were minor. They put a couple of space blankets and a cloth blanket over me to start with. My hip was screaming, but both calf muscles and both quads front and back were cramping every time I moved. I was drinking and some PT folks were trying to massage the muscles but there was so much pain it was difficult to examine my hip. I did hear someone say, in passing, probably a stress fracture . I was pretty conscious during all of this. I asked for some Ibuprofen or pain reliever and was told they didn’t dispense any of that. A sports psychologist came along though and coached me in some mindfulness techniques to use the mind to dial down the pain. I appreciated the reminders and feel like it helped a lot, although a fresh quad cramp could make me lose concentration and breathing. I was also commenting to the nurse and the PT trainer that it is interesting to watch your own body going through Acute Stress Reactions as pretty much every muscle-group in my body would take turns spasm-ing uncontrollably.

Things got chaotic when the bombs went off. First announcement was keep calm and do your work. Next one was please move runners to the back of the tent, keep the center clear and prepare to receive patients. Then ” We have a situation, anyone with emergency medical training, or trauma experience come to the front of the tent. ” Meanwhile they are trying to get runners out of there, mostly dehydration, cramps and strains.

I caused a problem however because I could not walk and had intense pain. Three of them picked me up and carried me to the back of the tent and put me on a cot. As the blast victims were being rolled in I was wanting to get out of the way, and got a couple of folks to help me into a wheelchair. I saw several severely wounded people including a man whose legs had been blown off at about the shins. Someone going buy got blood on the space blanket I had. Now that I was mobile the Massage student who was staying with me felt useful and took me out the back door of the medical tent. At that point there were several people standing around who didn’t know what to do. They didn’t have trauma training or instructions but wanted to be helpful. The white-coated medical volunteer turned me over to a yellow coated race volunteer.

Actually three nice women in their 60s. They wheeled me across the street but didn’t know what to do next. Eventually one of them took me a couple of blocks away to the family meeting area. I was very cold as all I had to wear was my wet running clothes and a space blanket. Lynne and Forest were not at the waiting area. Now I felt pretty bad. I was cold, in pain, and didn’t know if my family were ok. I also didn’t have my cellphone because I hadn’t carried it on the run. In a little while the one woman who had stayed with me got someone else to say she would watch over me while the first looked for the baggage bus to get the clothes I had sent in from the starting line.

In about 20 minutes Lynne and Forest found me. We were so relieved that we hugged and cried in the middle of the street. IN another 20 minutes the woman who had gone for my bag got back with the bag. For us, life was much better.

Around us there was chaos. Police, Swat, ambulance, fire trucks and military. The bus and train system was shut down and the cellular system was overwhelmed for awhile. Most people wanted to be helpful and not be in the way, at the same time they were curious and wanted to know what was going on. A well meaning race volunteer directed us down a street to a medical center. After three or four blocks we asked again and were sent the opposite direction to Tufts Medical Center. It took us about an hour to get there and when we rolled up to the entrance a big policeman in riot gear told us to leave. We just had to go. Where we went was not his problem.

We were able to contact our friend Martha. She started calling hospitals to find one that would take me. I asked her to call us a cab too. The busses were running now but I didn’t think I could get on one. Martha decided to drive into town from Newton. As we were waiting SWAT teams were going in and out of the medical center and then a bomb squad came down the street checking flower pots and garbage cans. We really wanted to get out of there.As you might imagine it was slower than normal and probably took her 45 minutes to an hour. She drove LYnne, Forest and I to the Newton Wellesly hospital where I was quickly admitted around 7:30 I think.

Here I have received very good care. Got Morphine right away and then some x-rays. After seeing the pix the orthopod decided to do surgery right away. We went into the OR around 1:30 am Lynne tells me and came out an hour later new and improved (see photo). There was a small incision made near my hip and using the camera three screws were put in to stabilize the bone after it was set straight. Doc said there were no complications and he expects it to heal well and I should have full use including running in the future.

I still have pain and some narcotics but am doing PT and can walk with a walker. They said I can leave the hospital in 3 days I’m trying for two, but we will see.

One of my Take-aways:

I have experienced a lot of pain in the last couple of days. But I get it that mine, including the broken leg, is self inflicted. Hundreds of people here experienced worse both physically and psychologically. I saw many acts of compassion and kindness including the two men who helped me achieve my goal of finishing the Boston Marathon. Before the blast I had some bitterness that after two years of training I wasn’t able to finish under my own power, and really that meant I hadn’t finished. I knew I didn’t want the picture of myself being carried across the finish line crippled and in pain. Now I want that picture. Maybe I can find the men maybe not, but I want to honor them and their compassion as well as everyone else who helped people with their pain and suffering on April 15, 2013.