I haven’t worn a watch since I lost it at Ground Zero on September 11, 2001.
That day has given me other ways to mark time — remembrances, family milestones and the continued loss of too many friends.
Time has been a precious gift and, for survivors, responders and others who lived and worked in downtown Manhattan following the attacks, sometimes a cruelty.
Time certainly was cruel to me and my fellow NYPD officers as we searched for survivors on 9/11. The attacks came in the morning, but it wasn’t until evening that a firefighter told us about two trapped officers in the debris from the collapse of both towers.
We didn’t know yet that the rescue would become a 14-hour ordeal for rookie Port Authority Police Officer Will Jimeno, and 22 hours for Port Authority Police Sgt. John McLoughlin.
They were injured and trapped under 30 feet of rubble. Each minute, they focused on surviving. As we crawled and scraped underground with bare hands to free them, I thought of both my own family and those two men, who became two of only 20 saved from the fallen towers.
I lost 14 friends that day. I mark those losses every time I glance at another person’s watch, or a computer or television screen because I haven’t replaced my lost watch. It’s a habit I don’t want to break.
Sometimes I marvel at not having lost even more friends on Sept. 11 — and struggle with the eventual deaths that day set in motion.
They’re ongoing, because people who worked at Ground Zero have been developing cancers and chronic illnesses from the toxic dust and debris at the site. A single, terrifying day left a 25-year trail of medical and emotional challenges.
Physicians at the World Trade Center Health Program, where I am a patient, have diagnosed, treated and monitored more than 5,0000 patients and a range of diseases that are still unfolding.
Everything from respiratory conditions, sleep disorders, and mental health challenges, to more than 16 categories of cancer have led us to a new, painful statistic: the cumulative death toll from certified 9/11-related illnesses now surpasses the immediate number of fatalities of Sept. 11.
Physicians see it in their exam rooms. I see it too. Each year, someone else is unable to attend a 9/11 remembrance because they’ve fallen ill, or another acquaintance has a new symptom or diagnosis.
For my part, I’ve undergone major surgical repairs to my trachea, both bronchial tubes and my sinuses. I had a bout of skin cancer. My family worries about a chronic cough I developed years ago.
I may no longer have my Timex, but I carry my inhalers. And still, I’ve been given time.
That makes me one of the lucky ones. I recognize how fortunate I am even when my gratitude for the time I’ve had becomes murky.
It has come with the responsibility and honor of carrying the memory of those who died that day, offset by anger I still feel toward the terrorists who carried out the attacks. This mix of emotions is part of the unfinished tragedy they left behind, and a tough reality to accept.
Despite it, I’ve been able to watch my two sons grow up, marry and become police officers in the same police unit where I worked.
I was overcome with joy when the daughter of a friend I lost on 9/11 brought her infant son to a remembrance event.
There was sadness, too. It devastates me that this baby has never met his grandfather. That child is the same age as one of my two grandchildren.
I’ve also spent much of the last 25 years building an unbreakable camaraderie with other responders, Ground Zero volunteers and people who were inspired to join the military after the attacks.
Will Jimeno and I have developed an especially close friendship. He’s still working through his own emotional and physical challenges and has written a book about them. Once, when we spoke about the rescue, we each recalled details the other didn’t know, or perhaps had forgotten.
Only recently, he learned that I’d lost my Timex the day I fought time to dig him out of the rubble.
Not long after that conversation with him and his wife, Allison — who was seven months pregnant during his rescue — I received a box in the mail from the Jimeno family.
It contained a new Timex with a note: “You should have said it was a Rolex.”
Maybe one day I’ll wear it. For now, I’m grateful for the time.
Scott Strauss is vice president of Security & Support Systems for Northwell Health and a former detective with the New York City Police Department’s Emergency Service Unit.
