Boston Marathon Bombings

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Carrying Memories, Marathon Medical Team Prepares For Possible Record Crowd

Medical personnel work outside the medical tent after the Boston Marathon bombing on April 15, 2013. (Elise Amendola/AP)

Medical personnel work outside the medical tent after the Boston Marathon bombing on April 15, 2013. (Elise Amendola/AP)

April 21 could be doubly challenging for the Boston Marathon medical team. Memories of bloodied runners and spectators are still fresh for some doctors and nurses. And now they must get ready to care for 36,000 registered runners, thousands of unofficial “bandits” and an expected spike in crowds along this year’s route.

But as medical tent veterans reconvene for the first time since the bombings, the mood is resolute.

“It’s really good to see all of you,” says Chris Troyanos from behind a podium at the Keefe Technical School in Framingham last Sunday morning. “It’s been a while since we have been together.”

Chris Troyanos, medical coordinator of the Boston Athletic Association, speaks during a training session Sunday at the Joseph P. Keefe Technical School in Framingham. (Martha Bebinger/WBUR)

Chris Troyanos, medical coordinator of the Boston Athletic Association, speaks during a training session Sunday at the Joseph P. Keefe Technical School in Framingham. (Martha Bebinger/WBUR)

Troyanos, medical coordinator for the Boston Athletic Association (BAA), looks out at a sea of faces, many of whom he’s worked with for years. This is the first time Troyanos has spoken publicly about the bombings that tested years of preparation and training.

“We’re obviously facing some new challenges,” he continues. “That’s OK. This team always meets them, and you’ve become, in my opinion and in the opinion of many, the best marathon medical team in the world.”

To respond to a possible record number of runners, there will be 1,900 volunteers, up from 1,400 last year. Troyanos said he had to turn away 600-800 people and only took, for the most part, volunteers with prior Boston Marathon experience.

Many tents along the route will double in size. There will also be more cots and medical staff. Both of the two white, glistening tents at the finish line will be bigger, with one as long as a football field.

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Marathon Bombing Victim Anticipates Return To Boston

Marathon bombing victim Erika Brannock, left, and her mother, Carol Downing (Carol Downing)

Marathon bombing victim Erika Brannock, left, and her mother, Carol Downing (Courtesy Carol Downing)

LAUREL, Md. — Erika Brannock, a 30-year-old preschool teacher from Baltimore, holds a record she never sought in the history of the Boston Marathon: Brannock spent 50 days at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center and was the last patient to leave an acute care hospital after last year’s bombing.

Brannock had come to Boston with her sister and brother-in-law to watch her mother, Carol Downing, cross the marathon finish line.

The first bomb blast ripped off most of Brannock’s left leg. Shrapnel tore through bone, muscle and tissue in Brannock’s lower right leg, leaving what she calls a big divot. Doctors have been rebuilding the leg and Brannock had started walking on it and her prosthetic left leg when an infection set in.

Recovery And Retraining

In February, Brannock had her 18th surgery since leaving Boston. Speaking last month from her aunt and uncle’s home here, she said she’s confident now that she will keep her right leg.

“It’s looking good,” Brannock said, patting the leg propped on a velvet pillow in front of her. “My surgeon’s really happy with how it’s healed and I can start getting back up and walking again.”
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For Marathon Bombing Survivor, Life Revolves Around Her New Leg

Boston Marathon bombing survivor Roseann Sdoia at the Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital in June. (Charles Krupa/AP)

Boston Marathon bombing survivor Roseann Sdoia at the Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital in June. (Charles Krupa/AP)

Roseann Sdoia, who lost most of her right leg in the Boston Marathon bombings, heads back to the hospital Friday. Doctors at Massachusetts Eye and Ear Infirmary will use skin grafts to rebuild her right eardrum, which was shattered in the blast.

Most of us get nervous before surgery, but for Sdoia, there’s an extra element of anxiety.

“Last time I was in surgery I came out one leg less,” she says. “I have friends that laugh and say after all I’ve been through I shouldn’t worry so much about it, but the whole situation is a little unnerving.”

Sdoia expects to get 85 to 100 percent of her hearing back. She will be out of work for a week. It’s the latest in a series of setbacks as Sdoia tries to return to something that looks like her former life.

She returned to work in October at National Development, a real estate firm in Newton, where she’s a vice president.

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Sdoia puts on a thicker sock, trying to keep her right thigh from sliding in its socket. She coats the limb with hand sanitizer to help get it back into the socket and form a tight seal. (Martha Bebinger/WBUR)

“The quote-unquote set schedule is Monday, Wednesday, Friday roughly four to five hours a day,” Sdoia says. But she’s had a hard time keeping that schedule. “A lot of it has to do with how my leg is feeling, how I’m feeling. There’s moments I can focus and moments that I don’t focus.”

On the day of our interview, for example, I’m supposed to meet Sdoia at work. But when I arrive, Sdoia has run out for a last-minute appointment with her prosthetist. As the muscles in what’s left of her thigh get stronger, the limb shrinks and slips around in its beige-colored plastic socket.

“It’s really too loose right now,” Sdoia explains when I catch up with her after the appointment. “It’s rubbing the backside and inside the groin area, then it’s sinking in so the tip of my leg is hitting the bottom of the socket.”

Sdoia stops what she’s doing about six times a day to add or remove white tube socks of different thicknesses. She’s trying for a fit that won’t slip.

“Every time you do you have to find a bathroom or someplace to pull your pants down, to take your leg off to put the socks on to suspend it appropriately,” Sdoia says, describing the routine.

The problem socket is attached to a loaner lower leg. Sdoia has sent the calf and foot back three times. A microprocessor in what substitutes for Sdoia’s knee keeps malfunctioning.

“It goes into an alarm mode,” she says with a grimace. “It beeps and vibrates, it’s just very annoying. And then it locks up so you can’t flex the knee. You end up having to walk, swinging the leg out to the side and it throws your back out.”

Now, as she drives to the gym, the artificial knee bends just fine. Sdoia tucks it up tight against the dashboard of her car and drives with her left foot.

“I’m lucky that I’m short enough that I can bend my leg in a 90-degree angle and keep it off to the side,” she says, laughing. “You catch on very, very quickly.”

Sdoia steps out of her car into a sleeting rain, head down, watching for patches of ice. She walks now without cane, but she still has a pronounced limp that she’s trying to erase with the help of her personal trainer.

“Justin, I’m here,” Sdoia announces, “better here than never, right?” She’s often late these days. Everything seems to take longer than usual.

Justin Medeiros, at the Boston Sports Club in West Newton, donates his time for Sdoia’s training. He’s part of team of supporters, friends and strangers who continue to amaze Sdoia with their generosity and determination on her behalf.

“Last two?” asks Medeiros, bracing Sdoia’s prosthetic foot as she finishes a set of pushups. “No,” she replies, “I finished. One thing you’ll notice is that he doesn’t know how to count.”

Medeiros grins and gives Sdoia one of those “stop wasting time” looks.

“I usually curse him. He likes to try to make me fall,” Sdoia says, grinning back. “Just kidding.”

In between squats, hip stretches and pulleys that build upper body balance and strength, Sdoia stops twice to pull her leg off, add a sock and tug it back on. Mederios is getting used to the routine.

“She’s a trooper,” he says, shaking his head. “She’s strong in a lot of ways that she wasn’t before all of this, mentally.”

Sdoia heads downstairs to finish her workout on a rowing machine, trying to build up her endurance. She’s determined to get back to running and already has a special running leg.

“It’s in the back of my car,” she laughs, “with me all the time. But it definitely, it needs a lot of practice.”

So far, she’s only tried running while in a harness, during physical therapy at Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital.

“I’m not confident enough yet to wear it outside of Spaulding,” Sdoia says. “The wrong move, I’ll go down and the last thing I want to do is hurt my good leg.”

Sdoia is starting to make choices about the things she can and cannot live without.

Boston Marathon bombing survivor Roseann Sdoia walks down a long corridor as she is followed by her physical therapist Dara Casparian at the Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital in June. (Charles Krupa/AP)

Boston Marathon bombing survivor Roseann Sdoia walks down a long corridor as she is followed by her physical therapist Dara Casparian at the Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital in June. (Charles Krupa/AP)

Skiing, something she used to do four or five times a year with friends, may be a thing of the past. She tried once this winter. It was pretty frustrating.

“I hate to say I’m not going to ski again,” Sdoia says. She then begins to cry. “Even if it is just skiing, it’s hard to come to terms [with the fact that] someone took something away from you.” She pauses. “Even on your good days you’re reminded of it.”

Reminded when a new pair of expensive jeans or leggings gets caught in the back of her metal knee and rips, or she decides not to go out for fear of getting caught in a crowd, or her leg slips right out of her socket and skitters ahead of her.

“For the most part, I’m happy. I mean, I’m in a good place,” Sdoia says, regaining her composure. “There’s people out there that still don’t know if they are keeping their quote-unquote good leg, which is their completely bad leg in most of our minds. Going for the ear surgery is it for me, where there’s still a lot of recovery for a lot of people, both mentally and physically.”

Sdoia’s found a partner in her recovery. She’s dating Mike Materia, a Boston firefighter who helped her get from the scene of the bombing to Massachusetts General Hospital.

“He is my support system and he’s definitely there with me every step of the way,” she says, quietly. “We both rely on each other since he was there that day.”

The anniversary of that day looms now for Sdoia. She’s anxious about both April 15 and the actual marathon six days later. These are milestones Sdoia just wants to get past.

Marathon Bombing Victim Makes Strides Toward Her New Normal

Boston Marathon bombing survivor Roseann Sdoia at the Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital in June. (Charles Krupa/AP)

Boston Marathon bombing survivor Roseann Sdoia at the Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital in June. (Charles Krupa/AP)

Roseann Sdoia sits in the lobby of Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital, her $100,000 right leg stretched straight out from her right hip. The 45-year-old property manager from the North End holds the socket that covers her thigh in both hands, rocking it ever so slightly, back and forth. Sdoia’s leg hurts. She had a hard time earlier sliding what remains of her thigh into the pinkish, carbon-fiber cup.

“It’s a little of a nuisance this morning,” Sdoia says. “I had some chips last night and some olives and feta cheese.”

With a "Boston Strong" sticker on the thigh covering of her prosthetic leg, Boston Marathon bombing survivor Roseann Sdoia walks between parallel bars at the Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital in June. (Charles Krupa/AP)

With a “Boston Strong” sticker on the thigh covering of her prosthetic leg, Boston Marathon bombing survivor Roseann Sdoia walks between parallel bars at the Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital in June. (Charles Krupa/AP)

Salty snacks? Is that why her leg is swollen? Some days, Sdoia, who stands 5-foot-1, has the opposite problem: her leg is too small for the socket.

She recalls looking down one day to see the artificial limb slowly “turning in.”

“And I’m like, eventually my foot is going to be facing backwards if it keeps twisting like that,” she says. “Every so often I would have to put a sock on to keep me suspended.”

Sdoia carries around prosthetic socks to add or subtract layers, although she hopes she won’t need them as much with her new state-of-the-art prosthetic limb. The knee has a gyroscope for surface changes and six sensors that adjust for weight, direction and balance, as well as a microprocessor. Below the knee, rods of high-impact plastic end in an adjustable ankle and a carbon fiber foot. Once Sdoia gets her thigh into the socket, suction holds it tight so she won’t put any weight on the amputated end of her thigh.

“You want it to create suction, that’s how it stays on,” Sdoia explains. “My limb is kind of suspended in the socket. It feels like when you put your ski boot on. I feel like my leg is in a ski boot of sorts.”

Wiring malfunctioned in Sdoia’s first $100,000 leg and she had to send it back. She just got the replacement. So far her insurer, Blue Cross Blue Shield, is covering all the expenses. Eventually she hopes to have a running leg so she can get back to regular jogs, and a dress leg with a 2-inch heel foam molded to look like her natural calf and a silicon sleeve designed to match the freckles and even veins of her skin. Whatever the limb looks like, Sdoia is thrilled to have it.

Sdoia’s dress leg. (Martha Bebinger/WBUR)

Sdoia’s dress leg. (Martha Bebinger/WBUR)

“When I first put on the leg and looked down and saw two feet below me, it was an unbelievable feeling, even if it wasn’t my real foot.”

Now Sdoia has to make the foot and leg work. Just going up and down the 18 stairs to her North End apartment takes a lot out of her. She’s fallen at home and is anxious to make sure that doesn’t happen when she returns to construction sites for her job as a property manager. The prospect of an icy winter is scary.

“I think if I fall in public it will be more dramatic because I think it will be more of an ego getting bruised than anything else.” Sdoia says, laughing at this admission. But she’s serious. “I don’t want anyone to look at me and say, ‘Oh, that poor girl with one leg just fell.’ ”

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Did You Hear The One About The Comedian With No Arms And Legs?

Two years ago, film professor Will Lautzenheiser noticed a persistent cramp in his leg. Within days he was comatose, his organs failing one after the other as vicious strep bacteria swept through his body. He ended up spending five months in a hospital Intensive Care Unit, and the attack of necrotizing fasciitis — flesh-eating bacteria — cost him all his limbs.

Here’s the punchline: Will now performs stand-up comedy. Except that, lacking legs, he calls it “sit-down” comedy.

“The amputations have been, in a way, the grim apotheosis of my sense of humor and sensibility before this,” he said. “My kind of gallows humor is maybe uniquely suited to such an absurd and horrible situation. And humor is a great way to be resilient — if you can’t laugh, you weep.”

Humor is also a way of lightening up a very serious topic — say, disability. The Americans with Disabilities Act, the landmark federal law on the civil rights of disabled people, turned 23 this week, and to mark the anniversary, the New England ADA Center invited Will and three other comedians with disabilities for a public “Laugh and Learn” panel to discuss being disabled and being funny.

An advantage of being an amputee: ‘I’ve stopped biting my nails — cold turkey.’

Humor has historically been a way of dealing with difficult issues, said Oce Harrison, the center’s project director, “and we’re also feeling like we could all really use a laugh right now in Boston, because of the marathon bombings, and every day in the paper there are evildoings.”

I can’t imagine cracking a joke about a marathon victim’s injury — or joshing as an outsider about the other panelists’ disabilities: paraplegia, ADHD, Asperger’s. But this is something different: people with disabilities laughing at the situations they find themselves in, and at the world’s reaction to them, and thus making it OK for others to laugh as well. It’s another way of “being seen,” and educating the public, Harrison said.

(Beginning 2nd from left) Veronica Blackwell, Jack Hanke, Will Lautzenheiser and Joe Genera made up the "Laugh And Learn: Comedians With Disabilities" panel at the Institute for Human Centered Design. (Jesse Costa/WBUR)

(Beginning 2nd from left) Veronica Blackwell, Jack Hanke, Will Lautzenheiser and Joe Genera made up the “Laugh And Learn: Comedians With Disabilities” panel at the Institute for Human Centered Design. (Jesse Costa/WBUR)

In an interview before the panel, Lautzenheiser ran easily through the amputee jokes that he heard long ago in the schoolyard: What do you call a man with no arms and legs who’s by your door? Matt. Who’s in the ocean? Bob. Who’s on the wall? Art.

He can tell those jokes to relax his audience, but he avoids certain variants that don’t describe his own injury. “I can’t make fun of anyone else who’s lost limbs,” he said. “But I’m entitled to make fun of my own disability. And the situation — it’s a lot more absurd or ridiculous than one might think, and the jokes are, day to day, practically endless.” Continue reading

100 Days Later, Marathon Bombing Survivor Leaves Rehab

BOSTON — After 16 surgeries that included 49 procedures, Boston Marathon bombing survivor Marc Fucarile, of Stoneham, is going home.

Police rushed the 34-year-old to Massachusetts General Hospital 100 days ago. His skin still smoldered. Blood gushed out of both legs.

“His injuries include amputation of his right leg above his knee, multiple fractures of his left leg and foot, burn injuries to his legs, trunk, back and pelvis,” said Dr. Jeffrey Schneider, one of Fucarile’s physicians after he moved to Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital. The list also includes a fractured spine, ruptured eardrums and multiple shrapnel wounds to Fucarile’s extremities and torso.

Marathon bombing victim Marc Fucarile speaks before departing Spaulding Rehab Hospital Wednesday. (Martha Bebinger/WBUR)

Marathon bombing victim Marc Fucarile speaks before departing Spaulding Rehab Hospital Wednesday. (Martha Bebinger/WBUR)

“Wow, I forgot how much it really was,” Fucarile said Wednesday, shaking his head.

When he arrived at Spaulding, Fucarile couldn’t even sit up in bed for any length of time. On Wednesday, he hobbled on crutches into the hospital lobby. Spaulding staff and Fucarile’s family members applauded. Fucarile smiled, but sobered as he recounted his ordeal.

“It’s just been tough, real tough, especially when my son’s home sick, Jen’s not sleeping,” he said. “At times I just want to check out.”

Fucarile glanced at his 5-year-old son Gavin and his fiancée Jen Regan. Their support, he said — along with all the cards taped to his wall, donations and hand-knit blankets he’s been sleeping under — have helped him through many nights of pain and motivated him to stretch new skin and shriveled muscles.

“I know that I have the rest of my life, thanks to the people who were there that day who helped me and saved me,” he said. “I’d go through 100 more procedures as long as I can be there to go home with him.”

Gavin smiled and giggled through most of Fucarile’s press conference. Regan, Fucarile’s longtime companion, joked that she’s been getting the house ready for his return. “We got a frontload dryer and washer so he can do the laundry in his wheelchair.” Continue reading

How To Divide One Fund? Should Double Amputees Get Double Money?

Should someone who lost two legs in the Boston Marathon bombings get twice as much compensation as someone who lost only one?

This is an admittedly heart-rending quandary. But it’s one that administrators of Boston’s One Fund for marathon bombing victims will have to resolve soon.

Tomorrow (Saturday) is the deadline for applications. Money will go out to victims on July 1, based on the fund total as of July 27. So between July 27 and July 31, One Fund administrator Ken Feinberg and his team will decide who gets how much. Feinberg has set the categories. The question is…how to divide the money?Picture 2

This is a tragic calculation. As Feinberg has said, there is no way to meet all the victims’ needs. But how would you do it? How much more does the family of someone who died deserve as compared to a young woman who lost most of one leg or a man who kept both legs but suffered permanent damage?

We did some back-of-the-envelope math to get the conversation started, using the best numbers we’ve been able to gather thus far.

As of today, the One Fund has just about $48 million, and 155 people have applied.

The largest awards will go to victims who died, are double amputees or those with permanent brain damage. There were four deaths (three at the bombing site and Sergeant Sean Collier) and two double amputees. We don’t know how many survivors have a permanent brain injury. To be cautious, let’s say one. So the total in Category A would be 7. Let’s say we start with $2 million a piece, for a total of $14 million.

The second-highest award will go to survivors who lost one limb. We know of 14. If they get $1 million each, for a total of $14 million, the fund has $20 million left to distribute. Continue reading

Fateful Boston Marathon Photo: Mass. General’s ER At 4:15 On 4/15

CLICK TO ENLARGE: Mass. General’s emergency department at 4:15 p.m. on 4/15. (Dr. John Herman/MGH)

A Boston Marathon jacket from the race three years earlier hangs over one chair, a white coat over another. One staffer looks on, head in hand. Another stands with hands on hips. Some are checking their phones, trying to triangulate the triage they’ve been treating, or are readying to treat. They’ve already shimmied into surgical gowns over their scrubs.

It’s 4:15 pm on 4/15, Patriots’ Day, Marathon Monday.* It’s the eye of the storm in the emergency department at Massachusetts General Hospital.

Snapped by associate chief of psychiatry at MGH John Herman, the photo captures the nerve center of the hospital’s emergency department after the initial rush of marathon bombing patients.

Not long before, the department’s day-shift staff was going through a routine protocol: the daily hand-off to the evening shift that takes over at 3:00 p.m.

The bombs were not routine. They both detonated a little more than a mile away, a zigzag away through a marvelous city in spring bloom, on Boylston Street, at 2:50 p.m.

At 2:55, Boston EMS notified Mass. General and other Boston-area hospitals to be prepared for mass casualties. MGH activated its “Code” disaster plan. That was at 3:03 p.m.

One minute later, at 3:04, the first patient arrived in a police van.

Amputation.

Over the next hour, the emergency staff treated 14 more patients. More amputations. Shrapnel wounds. Burns. A stream of critically injured civilians, some in cardiac arrest, that MGH’s president, Peter Slavin, called “unprecedented in our history.”

A selection from Mass. General's emergency department log. Entries that say "Admitted" indicate patients who were hospitalized at least overnight. (MGH)

A selection from Mass. General’s emergency department log. Entries that say “Admitted” indicate patients who were hospitalized at least overnight. (MGH)

Each critical patient was moved to an operating room within minutes, while others were treated in bays adjacent to the central room of the emergency department pictured here.

When the fateful photo above was snapped about 4:15 pm, the first rush had passed. The medical professionals shown in the photo don’t know that another 24 patients are on their way. Continue reading

A BB In His Heart, Last MGH Bombing Patient Heads To Rehab

Near the finish line of the Boston Marathon, a firefighter worked feverishly to stop blood pumping out of Marc Fucarile’s right leg. By the time he finished a tourniquet and called for help, all available ambulances had left Boylston Street, full of marathon bombing patients. A police officer volunteered the spare seats of his wagon, typically used to transport prisoners. The two men raced Fucarile, his skin still smoldering, to Massachusetts General Hospital.

“Yeah,” Fucarile said with a laugh, “with a police officer screaming out the window, ‘Get out of the way!’ I think I might have been on a bench part of the seat and the firefighter was trying to hold me on there. I was slamming my head a lot.”

Marc Fucarile, the most seriously injured bombing patient treated at MGH, is ready to leave for Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital. (Martha Bebinger/WBUR)

Marc Fucarile, the most seriously injured bombing patient treated at MGH, is ready to leave for Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital. (Martha Bebinger/WBUR)

Surgeons told Fucarile if he’d arrived two or three minutes later than he did he would have lost too much blood and died.

Now, 45 days later, Fucarile is checking out of Mass General, a hospital he says rivals 10 star hotels. He has a BB lodged in his heart that doctors say is better to leave for now. His right leg was amputated twice — above the knee after an infection invaded the first wound. And he may still lose the lower part of his left leg. But Fucarile is ready for Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital. (Just one marathon bombing patient has not moved on to rehab: Ericka Brannock is expected to leave Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center Friday.)

While Fucarile, who’s from Stoneham, celebrates the next step in his recovery, his future, as with many marathon bombing patients, is uncertain.

“It’s still wide open, it hasn’t been healed or shut yet,” Fucarile said describing the wound. “It has sharp pains and the meds can’t do nothing about it.” Continue reading

Mass. General’s Last Marathon Bombing Patient Checks Out

Here’s a nice landmark: Just over six weeks after the Boston Marathon bombings, Massachusetts General Hospital has just released its last remaining marathon patient out of the 31 initially hospitalized there. It reports that Marc Fucarile headed out to rehab care today.

In the touching May 10 video by the Boston Globe above, Marc discusses the anxiety that lingered for him and his “worrywart” son after the bombings: “You can’t trust anybody. You can’t believe this guy just did this to everybody and killed innocent people.

‘There’s more good in the world than there is bad.’

“But then, at the same time, the next day you have random people, strangers, just offering things, sending you things, giving you things, helping you, praying for you, lighting candles…what other people are doing just makes you feel like there’s more good in the world than there is bad.”

WBUR has been tracking the marathon-related patients, and finds that now just one remains hospitalized: Nicole Brannock Gross at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, whose first media interview appears here on CBS today. She is expected to be released this week. At last count, Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital still had nine marathon-related patients.

I’m just taking a moment to savor the contrast between today’s positive news and the daunting lists that the newsroom was gathering just after the attacks. Here’s an example from April 18:

Marathon Patients
TOTAL: 191 (at 14 hospitals)
Beth Israel – 24
Boston Medical Center – 23 (10 critical)
Brigham – 35 (5 critical)
Cambridge Health Alliance affiliated centers -5 (All walk-ins, treated and released)
Carney – 7 (all treated and released)
Children’s – 10 (3 still hospitalized)
Emerson – 2 (treated and released)
Faulkner – 13 (1 critical)
MGH – 29 (8 in critical, but stable)
Mount Auburn Hospital – 5 (all treated and released)
Newton Wellesley – 1
Norwood – 2 (hearing loss, treated and released)
St. E’s – 18 (all treated and released. Injuries ranged from schrapnel to hearing loss)
Tufts Medical Center – 17 (Some serious injuries but none considered life-threatening)

Note: This post was updated to include the CBS interview.