Houston surgeon struggles to regain life, career
JEANNIE KEVER Houston Chronicle
Issue date: 7/3/08 Section: STATE
Among his best-known cases was the 2005 facial reconstruction of Carolyn Thomas, a young woman from Waco whose boyfriend shot her in the face in 2003.
After a month in the hospital, Alford was sent home for his broken bones to heal before beginning the next phase of his therapy. There, the maelstrom of family life proved a bittersweet distraction as he experienced some of what he had missed over the years.
Before the accident, the family used a lawn service in Houston, unwilling to risk an injury to Alford's hands. Working at their 86-acre farm in Bellville, however, seemed different. The farm was just for fun.
So, Alford climbed atop his tractor, a 20th anniversary present from his wife, Mary, shortly after noon Dec. 30.
He began to nudge a dead oak tree. The top split and fell backward, trapping him against the tractor. His cell phone holster was knocked out of reach.
But for some reason - "It was a real God thing," he said later - he had slipped the phone into his shirt pocket. He called Mary at home in Houston.
She called a neighbor in Bellville. "Gene's hurt," she said. "Call 911, and go find him."
Another neighbor heard the call on a police scanner and began canvassing the farm on foot as he called Life Flight.
Half an hour later, neighbors called to say Alford had been found.
Alford doesn't remember any of that. The helicopter landed at Memorial Hermann Hospital, and he was soon transferred to Methodist, where he had worked for 16 years. He had surgery the following day.
He was sedated and on a ventilator for a week. In addition to a compression fracture of two vertebrae, he had six broken ribs, a broken collarbone and a broken scapula. He spent 12 days in the intensive care unit.
The tractor was fine.
Life in the Alford household, however, was not.
He described himself in those early days as a 190-pound baby, able to do almost nothing for himself.
"I've been seen naked by more women than I ever dreamed," he said. "It's all very humbling. You can laugh or you can cry."
After a month in the hospital, Alford was sent home for his broken bones to heal before beginning the next phase of his therapy. There, the maelstrom of family life proved a bittersweet distraction as he experienced some of what he had missed over the years.
Before the accident, the family used a lawn service in Houston, unwilling to risk an injury to Alford's hands. Working at their 86-acre farm in Bellville, however, seemed different. The farm was just for fun.
So, Alford climbed atop his tractor, a 20th anniversary present from his wife, Mary, shortly after noon Dec. 30.
He began to nudge a dead oak tree. The top split and fell backward, trapping him against the tractor. His cell phone holster was knocked out of reach.
But for some reason - "It was a real God thing," he said later - he had slipped the phone into his shirt pocket. He called Mary at home in Houston.
She called a neighbor in Bellville. "Gene's hurt," she said. "Call 911, and go find him."
Another neighbor heard the call on a police scanner and began canvassing the farm on foot as he called Life Flight.
Half an hour later, neighbors called to say Alford had been found.
Alford doesn't remember any of that. The helicopter landed at Memorial Hermann Hospital, and he was soon transferred to Methodist, where he had worked for 16 years. He had surgery the following day.
He was sedated and on a ventilator for a week. In addition to a compression fracture of two vertebrae, he had six broken ribs, a broken collarbone and a broken scapula. He spent 12 days in the intensive care unit.
The tractor was fine.
Life in the Alford household, however, was not.
He described himself in those early days as a 190-pound baby, able to do almost nothing for himself.
"I've been seen naked by more women than I ever dreamed," he said. "It's all very humbling. You can laugh or you can cry."
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