Part 5: Soldier’s charitable spirit survives

I am officially medically retired from the military on May 31, 2007 — 18 years and seven days after graduating West Point. This time it is permanent.
— Excerpt from an e-mail update Tom Deierlein sent from Tampa, Fla., on April 26, 2007

Laura T. Coffey Contributing editor • E-mail

TAMPA, Fla. — Tom Deierlein stepped outside onto the sunny hospital courtyard. He wore long, baggy Nike shorts, running shoes and a loose T-shirt with a black dog on the front. He carried a baseball and a baseball glove.

His physical therapist, William Haven, followed close behind with a glove of his own. They got into position, precisely 60 feet and 6 inches apart.

"We can practice this all you want, but the first one is the only one that matters,” Haven quipped, ramping up the pressure.

Deierlein smirked, leaned back and whipped the ball toward Haven.

It was a little low.

Deierlein grimaced. “I’ve got to stop relying on my ego!”

“It’s not fair,” Haven said, sympathetically this time. “Real pitchers get to warm up, at least. You only get one shot.”

Tom’s Journal Back on my feet “Two weeks ago we sent over $6,000 worth of children’s clothes (to Baghdad).”

Deierlein was practicing for the next night, April 24, 2007, when he would put on his Army uniform one more time and throw out the ceremonial first pitch at a Yankees game against the Tampa Bay Devil Rays at Tropicana Field in St. Petersburg, Fla.

He would be the guest of honor. For a lifelong Yankees fan, this was going to be a big moment.

He was concerned that he’d be experiencing intense pain when the time came. He dreaded the 45-minute drive from the James A. Haley Veterans Hospital in Tampa, where he had been rehabilitating since being transferred from Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C. Sitting for extended periods was especially difficult for Deierlein ever since the sniper’s bullet pulverized his pelvis and sacrum

“I think I’m gonna need oxy to get through this game,” he told Haven, referring to oxycodone, a powerful pain medication. “Or else a whole bottle of Tylenol. … I’m in a lot of pain today. I don’t understand it.”

“It’s going to be OK,” Haven said reassuringly.

Healing over time
When Deierlein first arrived at Walter Reed hospital in September 2006, he could do nothing but lie flat on his back and wait for the bones in his pelvis and lower spine to fuse back together. It was a shock to be so helpless, and to watch his muscles atrophy. 

“If I had an appointment, four people would have to come and lift me onto a gurney,” Deierlein recalled.

His wife, Hiwot Taddesse, took a leave from her new job as an airline pilot to care for him full time. His best friend, Pat O’Hanlon, traveled to Washington from New York for 18 of Deierlein’s first 24 weekends at Walter Reed. O’Hanlon rented stacks of movies from Blockbuster and spent hour after hour watching them with his bedridden friend.

“I wasn’t all that much fun to visit,” Deierlein said.

O’Hanlon didn’t mind.

“It wasn’t even a decision,” O’Hanlon said. “It’s just what a friend does.”

Other visitors arrived from all over the country. His parents traveled as often as they could from White Plains, N.Y., to see him, and many of his eight siblings spent time at his bedside as well. President Bush and first lady Laura Bush also stopped by to meet the wounded veteran.

MORE FROM CHARITY BEGINS AT WAR

Charity Begins at War Section Front

Part 1: From executive suite to Baghdad Journal: Called back to active duty — ‘No joke’ Day 2: Minimal training for a huge task Journal: Readying for ‘very dangerous job’ Part 3: Venturing ‘outside the wire’ Journal: ‘ThunderCat6’ arrives in Baghdad Part 4: It all comes back to garbage Journal: Goodbye Baghdad; hello bed rest Part 5: Charitable spirit survives Journal: A new foundation Charity Begins at War Section Front   Add Charity Begins at War headlines to your news reader: