Good Safety Is No Accident: The Fall That Changed My Life...

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It was back on November 4th, 1985, when I was a 29-year-old apprentice plumber earning $8.00 an hour working for a large company out of Norfolk, Massachusetts, that I was involved in a life-changing accident.

I was working at a job site in Holliston early that Monday morning when a jetted tub that had been delivered by a supply house the previous Friday was being picked up and swapped for a smaller one. Apparently, there was some miscommunication between the builder and the homeowners and the wrong one had been delivered.

The house was under construction and the front yard was only rough graded. I was there working under the supervision of a licensed journeyman plumber and when the pickup truck arrived with the new tub, a much smaller single-person unit, the delivery person got out, the journeyman lit a cigarette and told me to "help the kid carry the tubs". 

There were no temporary front stairs, only a walking plank leaning on the threshold, which was about five and a half feet off the ground. There were two huge boulders, one on either side of the plank. I suspected they were being kept for use as lawn decorations and they were big enough that only a machine could've moved them and that wasn't happening until after the front yard was finished grade and a spot was chosen for them. 

The delivery kid and I decided to carry the smaller tub into the house first and then carry the larger one out. The one coming out was a 2-person jetted fiberglass tub. It wasn't real heavy, about 200 lbs., but it was big and an awkward piece to carry. I once worked for a rigger so I knew my way around large, heavy objects. I spoke to the kid about how we'd carry the large tub down the narrow plank. He was young, about 20, and smaller than me so I told him I'd walk backward down the plank and dictate the pace. I was pretty clear, "Don't push me, follow me. We're gonna move like two dance partners, there's a "lead", me, and a "follow", you. He seemed to understand... 

If the boulders weren't in the way, there could've been two guys walking beside the ramp, feet on the ground, but the two boulders made that impossible. One of us had to walk down the ramp backward...

The plank had 3-inch wide wooden rungs nailed across it every 12 inches that overlapped the edge of the plank by a few inches on both sides. There was also a piece of lumber placed vertically halfway down to reduce bounce. The make-shift ramp had been constructed by the builder during framing. As soon as I started to move down the plank the kid ignored my instructions and pushed me back quickly. I immediately put my right foot on the next rung down from the top and as soon as I transferred my weight onto it, it snapped and I followed my foot straight down. It happened suddenly and when I landed on one of the big boulders I heard bones breaking... 

I remembered when Oakland Raider Jack Tatum laid out Patriot's wide receiver Darryl Stingley in a pre-season game in 1978, ending his career and paralyzing him for life. A similar incident occurred to Nick Buoniconti's son Marc in late October of '85, just weeks before my fall. While making a tackle for Citadel, Marc suffered a severe spinal injury that rendered him a quadriplegic. While I was freefalling I thought about those football players hoping I wouldn't suffer the same fate. Crazy how shit like that crosses your mind in the split seconds it takes to hit the ground...

As soon as I hit the ground, in this case, a large boulder, I tried to bounce right up, knowing that if I couldn't I was in big trouble... I managed to jump up and then I started walking really fast around the front yard, like a chicken with its head cut off. The journeyman plumber, cigarette still in hand, asked, "Hey Vinnie, are you alright?" I answered, "No, I'm not alright..." The kid from the supply company followed me around the yard repeating, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...". He knew he pushed me back and caused the fall.

I kept walking but within a minute or so my adrenaline fizzled out and I struggled to climb into the passenger side of the company truck. It was pre-cell phone and fortunately, the builder lived next door. I told the journeyman to go next door and call an ambulance. I couldn't move. 

When the ambulance arrived two paramedics loaded me onto a stretcher and while they were carrying me across the rough graded front yard one of them tripped and almost dropped the stretcher. They drove me to the ER at the Leonard Morse Hospital in Natick.

By the time we arrived at the hospital, I was hurting. After they took X-rays the doctor told me I fractured four ribs, punctured my lung, had pleural effusion (fluid on the lung), and a bruised my hip, neck, and lower back. He said I'd be out of work for at least seven weeks. 

I called my wife from the hospital and told her I was going on vacation. She got excited, thinking I must've won some sort of contest, but then I explained what really happened. I told her I needed her to take my script to the pharmacy as soon as I got home because I was in a lot of pain. I estimated I'd be home in under an hour. The ride back to my apartment in Easton was tough, every little bump destroyed me. We crawled home...

After an hour's ride in the truck, I stiffened up and had trouble getting out and then walking into my apartment, which fortunately had a ground entrance. I collapsed in an armchair in the living room, hoping my wife would be home any minute to go get me the drugs I desperately needed. The journeyman offered to stay until my wife arrived, but I told him to go, that she'd be home any minute...

The harvest gold, wall mount, rotary dial telephone was about 30 feet away and when it rang I had absolutely no intention of trying to answer it. Fifteen minutes later it rang again... Then 15 minutes later, again. I started to think that my wife wasn't leaving work until I picked up and she knew I was home. When it rang again 15 minutes later I knew it was her, even telemarketers aren't that persistent. I was thinking that if it rang one more time, 15 minutes later, I'd have to walk across the living and dining rooms and wait by the phone... 

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Fortunately, my wife walked in and gave me an enthusiastic "Hello". By that time I could barely speak and when she got close all I could manage to say was, "Get me drugs!" She had no idea how badly hurt I was until then…

When she returned from the pharmacy I swallowed some pain pills and I continued sitting in that armchair, where I remained through the night. Going to the bathroom, which was only ten feet away, was difficult, and because of the fractured ribs, sitting on the toilet was impossible. I refused solid food and stuck with liquids and Jell-O for the first week. I ended up sleeping in that chair for the entire time I was home.

A few days after the accident my Uncle Mike came to visit and while he was there I suddenly began spitting up blood. He started telling me about a friend of his who had a fractured rib and began spitting up blood, but then he stopped short of finishing the story. I insisted he finish. He went on to say the fractured rib had punctured his friend's lung and he died… My wife immediately called the hospital and the doctor on-call said it was common to spit up blood when you fracture ribs and puncture a lung, and if it got excessive, to call an ambulance immediately.

My boss called later in the week and told me not to worry, if Workman's Comp didn't send me a check he'd front me some money so I could pay my bills. He was either a swell guy or trying to soften me up, hoping to avoid being part of a potential lawsuit. I eventually got money from Comp but not until three months later and my boss never sent me a check as he promised…

Meanwhile, the Patriots were having a great season, eventually winning the AFC Championship, so there was plenty of football to watch while I sat in the chair. By Super Bowl, I was back at work and feeling better, but the Bears ruined that by crushing the Pats 46-10…

When I went back to work on December 12th for light-duty, a mere six weeks after the accident, I was sent back to the same house, with the same journeyman, to do the gas piping. The plank was in a pile of rubble in the garage and I wanted to throw it in the truck as evidence, but the journeyman was afraid he'd get in trouble with the boss. I looked at it closely and all the rungs were made of  3/4" pine except the top two, which were made of 1/2" plywood. No wonder it snapped. There were no cell phones so taking a picture required an actual camera. I planned on bringing a camera with me the next day, but mysteriously, the plank disappeared overnight…

I hired a friend of mine's father to represent me. His law firm had a great reputation and they were local. There were depositions and written testimony and I was confident in my lawyer. But, the insurance company's lawyer was tough and my lawyer was unable to reach a settlement. I thought we'd be headed for a trial, but my lawyer told me he and his partners were "settlement lawyers" and not "trial lawyers", but not to worry, they had a trial lawyer they worked with. 

Their trial lawyer had an office in Boston and that meant I'd have to drive into the city to meet with him, over an hour's ride. There was no ZOOM back then. My first impression of him was that he was a highly incompetent goofball. Both his pants and tie were too short, there were food stains on his shirt, his desk was messy, and he appeared unorganized. I was not impressed. I called another lawyer I knew and asked him if he knew the guy. He said the guy's father had been a judge for many years and he was well-connected, and as a result, "his kid won a lot of cases". He advised me not to change lawyers…

Meanwhile, I started having some serious back pain that my general practitioner dismissed. He went as far as to tell me I'd be ready for the next Olympic games. He believed I was making up the back pain to build my lawsuit. 

My lawyer told me to see a real orthopedic surgeon for a second opinion. I set up an appointment with Dr. Arthur Carrier (Brockton) who had a reputation for being tough, not fond of lawyers and a real straight shooter. When he came into the examination room the first thing he asked me was, "Is there a lawyer involved?" When I said there was he told me that in order for him to provide me with a written opinion he would need to see more X-rays. He went on to say the hospital didn't take any dorsal spine X-rays and he needed to see one. I had no problem taking more X-rays… 

I was sitting in the examination room waiting for the old school X-rays to develop when suddenly Dr. Carrier barged in, X-rays in hand. He snapped them onto the lighted screen and pointing to several spots he asked, "Do you see that? Those are fractures in your T3, T4, and T-5 thoracic vertebrae. The good news is that while you were home healing your fractured ribs, the vertebrae were also healing. And since all bones heal at the same rate, they're healed. The bad news? Those vertebrae will continue to calcify and eventually you're going to lose mobility in your spine and be in a lot of pain for the rest of your life. And, there's nothing we can do about it…"

This is a spinal X-ray taken by a chiropractor in 1999. I was 43 at the time but he said I had the "spine of a 93-year-old man"…

I assumed we could add the hospital's "negligence" to the lawsuit, but my lawyer said I wouldn't have done anything differently even if I knew about the three fractured vertebrae, so it was a non-issue. But, when he read Carrier's letter he looked optimistic and I was beginning to believe we'd win the lawsuit. 

I tried to get the journeyman to testify, after all, he was smoking a cigarette and watching us carry the tub when the accident happened. He said he didn't like courtrooms and he "wasn't gonna testify no matter how hard I tried to get him to do it". He was the only eyewitness. He saw the kid push me back and then apologize repeatedly for causing the fall… 

During the trial in Attleboro, the insurance company's lawyer, who was 5 foot 6 with short brown hair, a devilish goatee, and an evil-looking face, hence my nickname for him, "Son of Satan", was getting very aggressive during cross-examination. It got heated and I stood up on the stand, leaned over and the two of us had to be separated by the bailiff…

He called the driver from the supply house to the stand and I couldn't believe it when he lied under oath. He walked over to me after the trial ended and got real close so no one else could hear, looked me in eyes, and said, "Sorry man…" It was obvious he lied and there was probably a lot of pressure put on him by his employer, or, he was paid off…

The case was pretty clear cut, in my opinion, I was the victim. We won the case but the insurance company appealed the judge's decision and moved to have a jury trial…

I met with my lawyer a few more times and each time I left wishing I hired "Son of Satan" because as much as I hated him, he was a damn good lawyer. Lawyers don't have to be nice guys, in fact, it's better if they're not…

The morning of the jury trial I arrived at the New Bedford District Court and met with my lawyer, my wife was leaving work to be at the trial. My lawyer told me the wrong exit, no Mapquest or GPS in those days, and although I was able to get there I was concerned my wife might've gotten lost…

As I stood on the sidewalk in front of the court waiting for my wife, my lawyer was on the courtroom stairs negotiating with the "Son of Satan". My lawyer kept running between me and the "Son of Satan" with offers, trying to get me to settle for much less than the original amount. I wanted no part of a settlement at that point and I told him, "We're here, let's go to trial!"

He continued running back and forth with offers, urging me to settle, telling me we could lose and get nothing. My first impression of him was right, he was a highly incompetent goofball and afraid to go head-to-head with the "Son of Satan". My wife still hadn't arrived and under extreme pressure, I agreed to settle. When the dust settled and the lawyers were paid, I walked home with about $16,000…

The first few years I did okay, my ribs and spine hurt at times and although I could no longer carry the heavy stuff I once did, I was able to work and play baseball, softball, and cycle competitively. Once I was in my late 40s though, I started to lose mobility in my spine and the pain worsened just as Dr. Carrier had warned. It wasn't only in my mid-back, it caused neck and lower back pain as well. That's when I started making regular visits to a chiropractor.

There are a lot of chiropractors out there, some good, some not so good. I found a guy who in addition to being a chiropractor, was also a Kinesiologist. He worked wonders, but after he got divorced, he sold his house and moved his office to Braintree, a 50-minute drive. I drove there for a while, but I was losing a half-day of work every time I saw him. I had to find someone closer… 

I tried a number of different Chiropractors, but the Kinesiologist set the bar high. I settled on a local guy who had a "one-size fits all" approach to chiropractic care and for a while, it helped, but when I didn't think it was addressing my unique set of problems, I stopped going.

My intention was to find another chiropractor, one that would create a treatment plan for me, but I dragged my feet. When my wife was diagnosed with Stage 3 Ovarian Cancer in 2012, I immediately put her needs first…

Unfortunately, Dr. Carrier was right when he said, "Those vertebrae will continue to calcify, and eventually you're going to lose mobility in your spine and be in a lot of pain for the rest of your life…" In recent months the pain has increased and I've been experiencing shoulder, hip, and knee issues related to my spine. I decided to find a new chiropractor and see if I could get some relief… 

I found a local chiropractor who spent a lot of time determining exactly what my issues are and then he devised a treatment plan for me. The X-rays he took revealed all the spinal issues Dr. Carrier warned of. I just started treatment last week…

Looking back, a lot of mistakes were made. For one thing, job safety was not part of any training plumbers received back then. There were no OSHA requirements. The idea that a narrow plank was an acceptable way to enter/exit a new house was ridiculous. Builders are now much more proactive in creating safe job sites and many install temporary front stairs in lieu of narrow planks. Secondly, when I met the trial lawyer and thought he was a "highly incompetent goofball" I should've trusted my gut and looked for a new lawyer. Thirdly, I should've never settled on the courtroom stairs. I should've demanded we went to trial. Finally, the journeyman plumber who was the only eyewitness should've been subpoenaed. I believe he was paid off too…

Recently, someone asked me how bad my pain was on a scale of 1-10. My answer, "If anybody else had to spend a day in my body after 10 minutes they'd want out…" That fall changed my life and the $16,000 settlement wasn't even close to what I should've received for the lifetime of pain and suffering I've endured. I've been dealing with the pain for so long I started making light of it, "I don't throw my back out anymore, I throw it in…"

When I was a high school plumbing instructor, I spent two weeks one summer taking classes to become a Certified OSHA 10 Safety Instructor. When I taught safety I always led off with my personal stats, 30 broken bones (12 were ribs). I described my work accidents in detail and the ways they could've been avoided. I always wrote "Good Safety Is No Accident!" on my whiteboard. I was passionate about keeping kids safe on job sites, I didn't want anyone to end up like me…

In the comments let me know if you were ever involved in a life-changing accident and if so, how things worked out for you…                                                                                                                                                                          

 One of my favorites…                           

Well, I'm a demolition derby, woo-hoo

A hefty hunk of steamin' junk…