Bill Greene/The Boston Globe – Glimpsing at the Distant Finish
Jen Regan, fiance of Boston Marathon bombing victim Marc Fucarile, strokes his forehead as he lay asleep in his hospital bed in Massachusetts General Hospital following his 7th surgery, three weeks after the attack. His right leg was amputated and the remaining one is badly damaged with a broken knee, shattered foot, third degree burns, and shrapnel wounds.
Family members of Marc Fucarile are devastated as Dr. Jeremy Goverman tells them in a conference room at the hospital that he may have to have his second leg amputated. l-r brother Edward Fucarile, sister Stephanie Baron, and fiancée Jen Regan.
In agony, marathon bomb victim Marc Fucarile receives physical therapy. “It’s killing me,” he yelled to Jen one night, referring to his “good leg.” “I’m telling you. If the pain doesn’t stop, I’m going to tell them to take it off.”
An emotional Edward Fucarile stands in the doorway of his son’s hospital room. Marc’s family is at the hospital more than not, away from young children and their jobs.
In tears, nurse Amanda Heidbreder says goodbye to Marc in his hospital room during his discharge to the Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital. Marc, a charmer with time for everybody, instantly became a hit with the hospital staff during his stay.
Jen Regan packs their belongings to be moved to their new apartment which is wheelchair accessible. Memories of her former life, and the smell of Marc, have kept her out of their home since the bombing. “It’s not like he’s dead,” she says. “I get nervous that it won’t be him. You have to think: What will it be like.”
Marc gets a kiss from sister Stephanie Baron while receiving physical therapy in the gym at the Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital. “He’ll be home soon,” she says. It’s what everyone has been telling him. Doctors, friends, family. Focus on getting home and the rest will come.
Marc Fucarile finally heads home following a press conference at Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital. When asked by a reporter if he was mad at the bombers he responded, “I’m more mad at what they did to the families that they took their children from. I’m more mad at that than what happened to me. I’m here.”
The first thing Marc does when he gets home is to lay in his own bed. It’s been 100 days since the attack, and he is the last victim to leave a hospital.
Marc embraces his son Gavin after arriving home. Gavin desperately missed his father and was bewildered by his absence. “When will Daddy come home?” he asked over and over. One night he ripped a Boston Strong poster from a door.
Marc winces in pain during a rehab session with physical therapist Sean Quinlan at the Spaulding Outpatient Center in Peabody. Marc reads in the paper that the lifetime cost of an above the knee prosthetic will be, minimum, $1.5 million. “I gotta get back to work, I gotta get going,” he says. But he can’t. Not yet. “I’ve got too much pain, too much medication,” he says.
Marc and Jen at his fitting for his new prosthetic leg at the Hanger Clinic in Woburn. After the bombing Jen thought her plans for their life were gone. Yet, here they are six months out, hanging on and making it work.
