3 Long Island responders wrestling with 9/11 health effects 25 years later

Twenty-five years after Sept. 11, 2001, the number of people battling 9/11-related illnesses — and dying from them — continues to increase. About 26,000 Long Islanders are registered in the World Trade Center Health Program — although many more were among the estimated 400,000 exposed to contaminants after the terror attacks.

Here are stories of three Long Islanders managing chronic health conditions, and how they remain determined to thrive.

Survivor's guilt, then given 2 years to live

In the aftermath of the 9/11 terror attack at the World Trade Center, U.S. Customs Service special agent Frank Caramanica spent months at the Fresh Kills landfill, sifting through debris from Ground Zero, hoping to find anything that could identify one of the missing.

"You would find a bone. You would find a gun. You would find a wallet," said Caramanica, who is 73 and lives in West Islip. "I hope I gave closure to a few people because I recovered a lot of items."

Inhaling the toxic dust kicked up from the conveyor belts led to asthma and gastroesophageal reflux disease, or GERD, a digestive ailment that occurs when those particles get into your lungs and stomach. He was also diagnosed with basal cell carcinoma, a common form of skin cancer.

But Caramanica, who lost friends and went to a lot of funerals after 9/11, thought he had avoided life-threatening health issues — until he was diagnosed with prostate cancer five years ago.

"I felt a little guilty," he said. "Then 20 years later, I get this cancer."

Caramanica's prostate cancer has spread. Earlier this year, doctors gave him two years to live. But he isn't giving in.

He is part of the Stony Brook World Trade Center Health and Wellness Program, which provides him with regular evaluations and treatments.

"I’m strong," Caramanica said last month. "I walked a mile this morning. I feel a little weak in the afternoon but I don’t feel like I have cancer. I have a good mental attitude."

His three grown sons are all in law enforcement, including Frank Jr., the Amityville police chief. His close relationship with them, his six grandchildren and his wife of 51 years, Elizabeth, provides important support — especially around the 9/11 anniversaries, which still hit hard.

"Every once in a while, I still have that smell, the Ground Zero smell," he said of the acrid, burning odor.

"But I pray every day," he said. "I'm going to beat this."

'A wake-up call'

Growing up in Brooklyn, John Ryan watched construction of the World Trade Center from his rooftop. He worked on the observation deck on the 107th floor of the south tower while in college. And in 1979, he joined the Port Authority Police Department, which handled law enforcement and security for the complex, moving up the ranks over 45 years.

After the 9/11 terror attacks, Ryan oversaw rescue and recovery operations at Ground Zero for nine months within a plume of pulverized concrete, computers, lighting fixtures and countless other items.

He wore a mask and reminded all first responders they needed to do the same. Some listened. Some didn’t. Some removed them to communicate with others.

"It was basically a witch's brew of toxins," Ryan, 68, said during a phone interview from his Seaford home.

He joined the Mount Sinai World Trade Center Health Program in 2002 and was initially diagnosed with sinusitis, bronchitis and asthma. Just before 9/11, he was training to run the New York City Marathon and had none of those ailments.

Several years later, he noticed irregular marks on his skin. A doctor told him it was basal cell carcinoma, a type of skin cancer that can reach through the layers of tissue.

Doctors removed the lesions, including one on his back that required 40 stitches to close and another that required them to dig deep into his face to remove all traces of the cancer. Doctors are still finding troubling spots on his skin but they are mostly able to freeze them off.

 After retiring at 65, Ryan took an intensive six-week program developed by a former Navy SEAL to improve his nutrition, strength and endurance. He completed it with the physical and mental reset he needed to tackle any more health challenges should they arise.

"You think of yourself as indestructible, but all these things all serve as a wake-up call," Ryan said.

Dug his way out

Rob Weisberg can't forget the image — a group of firefighters walking into the Twin Towers for a search and rescue mission on 9/11. They never returned.

Weisberg, an accountant who worked in lower Manhattan and a volunteer firefighter in Commack, had begged the FDNY captain to join the team. But he was told to set up a triage center at Engine Company 10/Ladder Company 10 on Liberty Street, across from the World Trade Center.

"I told him it was my specialty but he told me to keep doing what I was doing," Weisberg, 58, said. "I remember watching those eight guys go across the street and they all got killed about five minutes later when the first tower collapsed."

He and dozens of other workers and survivors were trapped in the firehouse when the towers fell. They dug their way out, still tending to the injured.

The experience left him with a host of respiratory issues, including sinusitis and asthma, as well as gastroesophageal reflux. But it was the post-traumatic stress disorder and overwhelming guilt that plunged him so far into the depths of depression that he planned his suicide.

"The attitude was, and it still kind of is, ‘keep your mouth shut, don't talk about it, suck it up.’ And that doesn’t work," said Weisberg, who lives in Nesconset. "For about 20 years, I didn’t sleep through the night."

He compared himself to a pot of water, ready to boil over. And something as small as one of his sons spilling a glass of milk could set him off.

Weisberg realized sharing his story gave him a purpose and relief. He also found help from a therapist who was also a former first responder.

In recent years, he has written a book about his experiences called "From the Gray Tunnel to the Green Tunnel," which he subtitled "A 9/11 Firefighter's Journey from Despair to Hope." He hiked more than 1,800 miles on the Appalachian Trail to raise money so veterans and first responders can receive emotional support dogs. And he has spoken with groups around the region.

"I’m trying to break the negative stigma around mental health," he said. "That’s the mission."