Hamilton firefighter back in uniform 16 months after surviving fall

The last time the firefighter was in uniform, he was lying in a shallow stream at Albion Falls, after plunging down a rock face, splitting his head and chin and nearly tearing his nose off, before he briefly staggered to his feet from an adrenalin surge.

That was 16 months ago.

Charles Madder survived. His head and face were repaired with titanium plates and bone fragments, and he began the long road toward rehabilitating his body and mind.

At home on Friday Dec. 11, he felt it: the nerves, once again holding his navy shirt bearing the Hamilton Fire Department crest.

He pinned epaulettes with two silver stripes on each shoulder, and the badge with two bugles signifying his rank, and name tag on the chest pocket that reads Captain C. Madder."

Madder did not put the uniform on. Not yet. He put it in his bag, and loaded it with his protective bunker suit and helmet on his pickup truck, and drove to work.

The fall happened on a summer night in 2019, when Hamilton firefighters with the high-angle rope rescue team searched for three lost hikers in the Red Hill Valley. An outcropping of rock at the falls gave out under Madder's feet.

His injuries included a fractured skull and orbital bone, and two brain bleeds.

On that first morning back recently, he knew when he arrived at Station 8 in Stoney Creek just after 9 a.m. he could enter the locker-room undetected, while the crew was doing morning cleanup.

That's where Madder suited up. And then he took the next steps in his comeback.

At 40 years old, the butterflies surprised him. It felt like his days as a rookie with the fire department 13 years ago, or moments before hitting the ice playing junior hockey in Manitoba when he was a teenager.

Everyone was happy to see me," says Madder, who is known as Charlie on the job.

There's lighthearted ribbing we usually give each other, I was expecting some of that, but I think it was more a relief for them I was back at work."

They all had to resist handshakes and hugs in the COVID era. Instead they sat and talked over a coffee.

Madder has embarked on an early safe return to work program, where he starts with three-hour shifts. That will increase over the next several months until he is back to 24-hour shifts perhaps by next spring.

He started off taking it slow, mostly filling out forms and learning new protocols such as using personal protection equipment during the pandemic.

His regular rehabilitation program increased in intensity for his return. It includes consultations with a psychologist twice a week, in part to monitor for signs of post-traumatic stress disorder.

He has never been diagnosed with PTSD, and says his tests since the accident show he has progressed well mentally. His wife was also given a test to help evaluate his mood.

PTSD can arise from a traumatic incident, but also an accumulation of experiences.

It's just making sure we don't see any blips, to maintain the level I'm at," he says. Everyone has been extremely helpful, my return to work specialist at the City of Hamilton is phenomenal."

Three days after his horrific fall he had surgery at Hamilton General Hospital that lasted nearly seven hours to repair his wounds.

The scars have healed well.

I have a few indents on my head but other than that you can barely tell I've had any trauma to my face."

He still feels pain in his ankles, from the impact of initially landing on his feet after falling 20 to 30 feet, or nine metres.

He built his stamina gradually; strolls around the block, 5 km walks with his dog, and then running on a treadmill, along with other exercises.

During his nine days in hospital, his two sons were kept away so they wouldn't see how he looked. When he arrived home, the youngest, Dylan, who is now 4, seemed mostly unaffected. Austin, 6, took it harder.

He was pretty upset at the sight of me and was attached at my hip for a few weeks, but it got to the point where he was joking with me again: Dad, remember when you used to be a firefighter?'"

Madder has a Twitter account under the first name everyone outside of work has called him since he was a child: Tucker. (When he was born, the fourth Charles in the family, his parents wanted to shorten his name to Chuck" but his toddler sister could only manage Tuck," and it evolved from there.)

He was silent on social media after the fall. He thought the photos of his condition were too graphic to share.

The first picture he posted was of the back of his truck, on the morning he loaded the uniform and gear for his first day back.

And then Tucker Madder changed the bio line, where people write a description of themselves.

He shortened his to a single word.

Resilient.

Jon Wells is a Hamilton-based reporter and feature writer for The Spectator. Reach him via email: jwells@thespec.com