Guest Column
Giving Relief at Ground Zero

Editor's Note: Janet Stevens, NCTMB, of Connecticut is a licensed, Nationally Certified massage therapist. For several months she provided massage to relief workers at the World Trade Center, site of the September 11th disaster. Portions of her diary of her experiences are printed below.

February 14, 2001 (Valentine's Day!) - At 2:00 a.m., the yellow lights of Manhattan alive turn into klieg lights over a war zone. Gray dust particles hover visibly in the air over Ground Zero. The wrought iron fence around 236-year-old St. Paul's Chapel has become a makeshift shrine to those lost in the September 11th disaster, the graveyard where they come when there is no body to bury. Seeing my approach, Night Supervisor Dennis Fisin, nods his approval while directing the nightly Krispy Kreme delivery. Gentle but firm security at the barricaded front gate assures the privacy of the workers resting in the chapel.
    Firefighters, police officers, truck drivers, National Guards, Coast Guards, sanitation workers, operating engineers, construction workers, plumbers, electricians, iron workers, government employees (i.e., O.S.H.A.). Men and women, young and not so young. There is no distinction in this place as to who is more deserving, who might be more courageous. Many of these people have been here 12-14 hours a day nearly every single day since September 11th.
    I chose this 2:00-8:00 a.m. shift Wednesday nights when I began my commitment last December because they needed someone at this time, and I don't have anyone at home who needs me to get them off to school in the morning. With a private practice, I'm the boss I had to ask for time off. It's a full house tonight, and most of the pews, cots and mattresses in the sanctuary and balcony are occupied. In the designated Massage Area in a far corner of the chapel, the two resident massage tables are being used as beds at the moment. Two portable privacy panels are decorated front and back with children's posters, drawings, cut-out angels and encouraging letters to the workers ("Thank you for spraying the fire!"). There are a couple of crates turned on their sides to hold oil, lotion, BioFreeze, wipes. Another crate is upright and contains disposable headrest covers and some linens. Directly beside the massage table is the raised pulpit where George Washington gave his inaugural sermon, next to where departing Mayor Rudy Giuliani gave his farewell speech. My bottle of oil rests on the pulpit steps. Beyond that, across the room from me, I can see the volunteers quietly stocking long tables with supplies and personal items that the workers might need. I can hear the murmuring of chapel volunteers preparing and serving food in the back (still dinner at 2 a.m.), and a firefighter groaning himself into his gear.
    A worker rouses out of his rest on a massage table, "I knew you'd come. I knew you'd be here. I fell from one of the platforms Tuesday...went to the ER...didn't break anything...but I hurt, and I'm real stiff. Can you help me?" I work on him doing a lot of stretching and myofascial release, showing him how to stretch on his own, how to do ice massage. While I massage his neck and shoulders, I begin quietly singing-something that happens in my practice in CT, but not something that I thought would happen with all of these people around. It is like a reflex, something that just happens. And it is very breath-y, sometimes low, sometimes very high, not a lot like my own singing voice. When I finish, Frankie gives me a hug and tells me that he felt the tension melt out of his body."You're my Valentine," he says as he finds a vacant cot that is probably still warm. It gets busy right after that, and I work on several men and women who have only about 15 minutes before they have to be back at the site.

March 17th - It's quiet inside right now, and I pass a couple of firefighters with their gear half off, boots still on, getting a chiropractic adjustment before going to sleep for a little while. "I'm doing massage if either of you are interested," I tell them. One of them sighs, "That's just what I need right now." His name is Bill, and his body aches all over. Since its not busy right now, I work on him for nearly 40 minutes. He mumbles how nice the hot water bottle feels under his cold, aching feet. He falls asleep on the table, so when I finish I let him stay there while I go wash my hands.
    As I return, a cop named Brian asks me if I can do something for the spasm in his shoulder. I wake up Bill who mumbles his gratitude and flops face down on a cot near the table. While I quickly change the sheet, Brian removes his holster and bulletproof vest, placing them with his radio directly within arm's reach under the massage table. He removes his shirt and undershirt and loosens his belt, but is hesitant to put his dirty shoes on the sheet. When I ask him how much time he has, he answers, "Fifteen minutes - maybe - if I'm lucky." I tell him not to worry about the sheet.
    Brian's partner will be next and comes back to talk to Brian while I do a combination of massage and myofascial release on his neck and shoulders. When I work on his pecs and along his clavicles, there is a release in his shoulder. His radio crackles a message, and he and the others are on their way out, dressing as they leave the table and cots. Brian says, "Thank you so much. It really makes a difference. I wish there was something I could do for you." I tell him that he already has.
    Yvonne comes back to my area rubbing her neck - she manifests the trucks leaving Ground Zero to go to the investigation site. She has been working construction here since the beginning, up from Miami, and spends most of her 12-14 hour shift with her neck and arms bent upward. She removes her shirt after she is under the top sheet and quickly falls asleep as I work on her. After working on her neck, shoulders, arms and back, I make sure to work on her cold, sore feet. She and another woman curl up on either end of the one unoccupied cot in the sanctuary and are soon fast asleep. I cover them with a couple of blankets as a police woman comes to get worked on after 14 hours of working security around the perimeter of the site. She explains that she is feeling a lot of stress...she lost her brother-in-law in the disaster, and her husband is a firefighter. She is having difficulty reassuring her small children each day.

March 24th - Volunteer coordinator Diane Reiners tells me that St. Paul's is going to have to end its relief effort on Easter Sunday, weeks before the recovery effort is finished, and I'm beside myself. It struck me, as many of us (including me) are trying to cope this week, that it's a very judgmental statement - what IS a Ground Zero "junkie?" I had in my mind the idea of someone who tries to be connected to everything he/she possible can that involves the site, the workers, the events in and around that community and who is doing this for his or her own benefit and, sometimes, self-aggrandizement. We all cope in our own ways, and I certainly haven't learned very much if I don't consider that. It may ever be a true statement, but I think that it is inappropriate and inconsiderate. My commitment is to finish when they officially finish. I weep at the thought of these cold, exhausted men and women. One of the construction workers has said to me, "We come up to this holy place to get some relief so that we can go down to hell one more time." There is such an outcry from the workers that St. Paul's Chapel is allowed to remain open to the workers for another two months! In a way, this has been a positive experience, because it causes me to take notice of the end of my St. Paul's commitment and focus on the future - something that I see I've been avoiding.

May 30th - This is my last night! The past few weeks have been hard-saying good-bye to workers who aren't sure they'll be back the next week. The "Last Truck" Ceremony is this morning, and there are a lot of firefighters and police officers in their dress blues. As I work, I see a cop kneeling at the altar rail, praying, his hat clutched in his hand. At 7:30 a.m., Joseph is the last person that I'll work on, and I notice his "Last Truck" ID tag - giving him the privilege of escorting the last truck up the ramp. His socks are soaked, his pant legs are wet up to the knees, and his T-shirt is soaked with sweat from working 14 hours through the night. As I look in vain for a pair of socks (the cupboards are bare at the end of the effort), LMT Mark Kelly, my 8:00 a.m. replacement, is talking with the Rev. Maynard Atik. "Which one of you men is going to take off his clean socks and give them to the man on my table?" Mark is removing his socks before my hand reaches out. "Well, Joseph," I say, "here are some pretty-clean, at-least-dry, even-warm socks!" A sweatshirt has replaced Joseph's T-shirt. It's not just about massage and bodywork. It's about taking care.
    One of the chaplains takes me over to the Ground Zero Morgue area so that I can watch the Last Truck Ceremony next to the huge girder-cross that was found standing upright in the rubble of Building Six. I know that the firefighters will not stop doing recovery until someone pours concrete over the area, but I need to see the flag-draped stretcher go into this last ambulance and the flag-draped girder depart on this last truck.
    The next few days are full of closing ceremonies and gatherings for the workers and volunteers. Though the recovery effort is officially over, workers are still coming in from working at the site. The three massage tables have been left standing, so several of us (LMT's) take turns working on them (mostly firefighters now) in the midst of the ceremonies in the Chapel. Over the past several months, I've become a member of this incredible family who come back to where I'm working, sometimes simply to say hello and get hugs and a good word before going down to the site or to sleep for a while. I've fallen in love...not with one person, but with all of them. I met a few of the other massage therapists before as I was coming on or going off my Wednesday night shift - David, Mark, Lorraine from this area, Katie from Flagstaff, AZ, and Deborah from Rye, NY. Now I meet Terri from Raleigh, NC, Kit from Cleveland, OH, Lisa from Somerville, MD, Leslie from the Bronx, Michelle from Brooklyn, Nehemiah from NY. Now I feel connected!
    Since about a month before the relief effort ended, I've had bouts of crying and a little difficulty looking at construction sites (doesn't it seem like there are about 10 times as many sites as might have been in the area before!). The construction workers are the wrong ones, and the vehicles aren't followed by firefighters raking for remains. It's a huge conflict in the brain. It's been so helpful to remain in touch with some of the other MT's, and I've spoken with a psychotherapist/friend. Now I'm also taking care of myself!
    Janet Stevens is a graduate of The Muscular Therapy Institute in Cambridge, MA. She has studied Myofascial Release, Universal Energy Work and Results Therapy and has a private practice at the Davis Chiropractic Center in Ridgefield, CT. Janet provides experiential programs regarding volunteer work to schools and organizations, and occasionally works voluntarily in Manhattan and borough firehouses with friend and former instructor Michelle Boutin, NCTMB, LMT.