Yes, there is a hierarchy of on-duty injuries. Oh, it’s not an official scale but it is a scale nonetheless. One need not memorize it, for it is instinctual for cops. But shhh… don’t speak of it. At the top of the hierarchy of injuries is being killed in the line of duty. All cops know the local lore of the cop who gave his life on the job. His funeral was massive, filling the local stadium. Cops came from all around the country. His brother officers wiped tears from their eyes, losing the battle to remain strong. The rookies know the name of the long gone officer, his plaque hangs in a prominent place in headquarters.
Next in the hierarchy is the officer who was shot but thankfully survives. He has a constant stream of visitors to his hospital room. Officers line the exit from the hospital on the day he is released. His colleagues stop by his house and visit; maybe do a few chores for him. He is admired and supported. If he can no longer perform all of the duties of his police job, a permanent job in headquarters will be found or created for him to suit his abilities.
Both injuries exemplify the selfless acts of injured officers and these situations bring out the best in their fellow officers and the administration. This is how it should be and it is a positive testament to the Thin Blue Line. But the hierarchy of injuries does not stop there. Every department has a history of officers getting injured in common and not so common ways.
These injuries can be divided into levels of acceptability to fellow officers. An injury obtained in a manner consistent with the machismo self-image of the job, if not outright admired, evokes sympathy, concern, and support. Such injuries are clearly visible and are deemed verifiable by fellow officers. These injuries might include a broken leg received during a high speed car chase and crash or a tendon cut by a knife wielding suspect. Fellow officers will rally around their injured brother with friendship and support. The chief will find a temporary light duty position for the injured officer until he is able to return to work. If he can no longer perform his duties, he will be given a grand send off with a party, lots of accolades, proclamations from politicians, and a nice plaque from his union.
But then we get to what may considered the less respectable injuries. The injuries that seem a little less macho and not worthy of a cop. Perhaps an officer fell on the stairs and twisted his knee. Perhaps he slipped on the ice. While it happened at work, it is hardly the stuff of legend. It’s the kind of injury that could happen to a civilian. Gasp! His friends will rally around him and support him for a brief time. If he returns to work, all is soon forgotten. If he does not fully recover and cannot return to work as an officer, he will likely be given minimal support by his bosses. He may be given a light duty job in headquarters for a short time, but he will potentially be told to put his retirement papers in if he cannot return to full duty quickly. He may soon quietly retire. He will not be given the opportunity to make a final radio call sign off. He will clean out his locker by himself, putting his personal belongings in an old cardboard box. He will carry his box of memories out to his car by himself with no fellow officers walking out with him for support during this difficult moment. At some point, his friends from his squad might meet him for a beer, but probably not. He will be remembered and thought well of, but perhaps he is diminished slightly in the eyes of his fellow officers.
Then there are the two injuries of shame. Unforgivable injuries that show weakness in the eyes of his fellow officers. They can be career ending injuries that the officer had never envisioned for himself. Perhaps the officer had dreamed of being a police officer since he was young and a return to civilian life under such circumstances changes an officer’s view of himself and his place in the world. This can leave him feeling very much alone and somewhat lost. Perhaps there is also a sense of bitterness for a time; the officer questioning what he thought were his friendships and his place on the job.
The dreaded back injury is not for those who view themselves as manly men. An officer who injures his back will find he receives few phone calls of support after the initial week. He will spend his days in pain, unable to comfortably sit or stand or lie down. His family will rapidly grow frustrated with him and his fellow officers will soon stop calling. In a short time the Chief will demand he come back to work or retire. No matter how dedicated an officer he had been prior to his injury, he will often be accused of faking an injury and being a malingerer. After all, there is no blood and no broken bones. If he returns to work relatively quickly and never speaks of his back pain again, all will be forgiven; sort of. There will always be a slight doubt about the veracity of his injury and his masculinity. If he can no longer perform the physical demands of the job, the administration will require him to retire. He will not be given a party nor will his fellow officers take him out for drinks. He will quietly go away. In the annals of the job, if he is spoken of, it will be with a passing mention. Perhaps his presence on a particularly memorable call will bring his name into a conversation, but his name will quickly return to forgotten status.
At the very bottom of the hierarchy is an absolutely unforgivable injury; an “emotional / mental” injury such as depression or PTSD. The word “crazy” will be attached to the officer’s name. After all, “real cops suck it up and don’t let the job get to them. Real men do not display emotion or experience women feelings.” If he seeks help, he will be “rubber gunned” and will ride a desk. There will be whispers behind his back. He is considered weak. A mental health issue is considered the most unpardonable sin in police work. It is an injury the officer is loath to admit he has, even to himself. The officer suffering needs the support of his fellow officers and bosses now more than ever and yet he will feel utterly alone. No Thin Blue Line family for him! If his wife is unable to understand the changes in him and she believes he is no longer the man that she married, she may leave him; taking their children with her. He may turn to alcohol to numb his pain. He may see suicide as the only solution to end the agony he is living with. If he does not kill himself and he is able to return to work relatively quickly, he will always be thought of as “that guy with the mental problem.” His co-workers will talk about his “episode” with a tinge of cruelty and laughter. Whether he retires of his own volition or the administration requires him to do so, he will retire with shame in the eyes of his fellow officers. No party, no well wishes, and no phone calls. He will be left to face his injury utterly alone.
Female officers have an added burden. Any injury serves as proof to her male counterparts that women are not capable of doing the job. She strives to prove her “machismo” daily and an injury on the lower end of the hierarchy will instantly wipe out all of her efforts. Her fellow female officers will also be viewed with additional scrutiny and silent questions about their ability to live up to the rigors of the job.
Every officer thinks an injury can never happen to him, until it does. It is a rude awakening to the frailty of the human body. An injury can happen in an instant or over time and every officer needs the support of his friends and the administration, no matter the type of injury. All injuries are received while working in the selfless service of others and no injury is ever a choice. Changing the police culture of the hierarchy of injuries starts with each officer, one act of support at a time. Be that officer of support for your injury may come like a thief in the night, stealing your good health and sense of self; forever altering your world. You will want and need the support of your fellow officers and the administration.
Carolyn Whiting was a police officer and EMT from 1986 to 1991, retiring with a back injury. She is the co-author of the 2014 non-fiction book The Crazy Lives of Police Wives. All authors’ profits from this book are donated to National Police related charities. She is currently working on a non-fiction book about a Jewish family’s experience in Nazi Germany and their lives to present date. Her husband Robert is a police sergeant with over thirty seven years as a police officer and they have been married for twenty eight years.
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