Twenty-three years after the attacks on September 11, 2001, we're still at war. But this isn't the war you see in the headlines. It's not fought in far-off deserts or mountain ranges. It's happening right here, in our own backyard, in hospital rooms and doctors' offices across America.
Our first responders, the ones who ran toward danger when the towers fell, are now fighting a different kind of battle. They're up against an enemy they can't see - one born from the very dust and debris they breathed in while saving lives at Ground Zero.
This is a war against cancer, against respiratory diseases, against a host of health problems that have their roots in that terrible day. It's a war that's claimed too many of our protectors already and one that thousands more are still fighting every single day.
As we approach yet another anniversary of that terrible day, it's crucial that we not only remember the immediate tragedy but also recognize the ongoing battle many of our heroes continue to fight. Countless first responders have already been lost to 9/11-related illnesses, and thousands more are still fighting. These brave men and women didn't hesitate to put their lives on the line for their fellow Americans, and now, years later, many are paying a steep price for their courage.
I want to tell you about one of their stories - a friend and former law enforcement partner who embodies the spirit of sacrifice that defines our nation's finest. He was there on that fateful day, working tirelessly to save lives amidst the chaos and destruction. As he recalls:
"Around 9 am on September 11, 2001, my phone rang. I had just come off working on the technical rescue unit, and I was recalled because New York City needed help."
Like many others, he spent weeks at Ground Zero, breathing in the toxic dust that hung in the air like a deadly fog. The scene he encountered is forever etched in his memory:
"It was one of the images that sticks with me. I went over on the 12th, a beautiful day, absolutely cloudless. We went through the Holland Tunnel from the Jersey side, probably around 3 pm. When we came out on the New York side, all of a sudden, it was nighttime. There was no sun penetrating the cloud. There was no sunlight at the street level. That's how thick things were."
For years, he carried on with his life, continuing to serve his community as a law enforcement officer. He was the picture of strength - an athlete, a martial artist, a dedicated public servant. But the 9/11 wasn't done with him yet.
Nearly two decades after he ran toward danger, he received news that no one is ever prepared for - he had cancer. He told me, "When I got out of bed that morning, I was an athlete, a federal officer, a jiu-jitsu blue belt, a father, a friend…now I was a cancer patient."
The doctors believe his condition is linked to his exposure at Ground Zero, making him one of the thousands of first responders who continue to bear the physical burden of their heroism. The suddenness of this transformation was shocking, a stark reminder of how quickly life can change for these heroes we too often take for granted.
But the story doesn't end there. My friend's battle with cancer has been a relentless series of losses - not just of health but of parts of his body. He recounts the progression of his treatment, a timeline that reads like a war journal.
"On November 29, 2019, we went into the Mayo Clinic, and they removed my left kidney, and we think we're clean, everything's cool," he recalls, hope evident in his voice.
But the War wasn't over. The enemy had merely retreated, regrouping for another attack. Less than a year later, the cancer struck again.
"I go back for my quarterly scans, and it [cancer] had migrated to my left lung, and then I have a section of my left lung removed," he says, the weariness in his tone palpable.
Even after losing a kidney and part of his lung, the cancer wasn't done. In a cruel twist of fate, it returned to the same lung. My friend's voice tightens as he describes the latest battle:
"On December 1, 2023, I went back into the Mayo Clinic, and they removed half of the lower part of my left lung."
Each surgery, each piece of himself left behind in an operating room, is a stark reminder of the ongoing cost of his service in September 2001. It's a price he continues to pay over two decades later.
This isn't just his story. It's the story of countless others who answered the call on 9/11 and in the days that followed. These men and women are still at war - not with foreign terrorists, but with cancers and other debilitating conditions caused by their selfless service. They're fighting battles within their bodies, losing pieces of themselves along the way, all because they chose to run toward danger when others ran away.
Twenty-three years later, the attack on 9/11 continues to claim victims. Our first responders stand on the beachhead of a profoundly personal fight - a fight to live, to survive the long-term consequences of their heroism. Each day, they battle for themselves, the memory of that day, and the honor of their fallen comrades.
We need to keep telling their stories. We need to remind ourselves and future generations that the impact of 9/11 didn't end when the dust settled. For many of our bravest citizens, it was just the beginning of a long, arduous journey.
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