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15-year-old Jack Crowley’s survival story is helping save others

(Credit: Chris Lisinski)
Jack Crowley makes a play on the baseball diamond three months after a line drive nearly cost him his life. (Credit: Chris Lisinski)

Jack suffered commotio cordis in the incident, a condition in which blunt force impact to the chest stops the heart without actually damaging it.

For that to occur, according to a 2012 study, a perfect storm is needed: a small, dense object — in this case, a baseball, though it could be a hockey puck or even an elbow — needs to strike the left side of the chest right near the cardiac silhouette at speeds between 30 and 40 mph during an extremely narrow window of time.

The heart is most at risk during its T-wave, when it is refilling its ventricles with blood. If the impact occurs within a 40-millisecond period between the start of the T-wave and the peak of the T-wave, the force can offset the heart’s rhythm enough for it to stop working.

So Jack was, by all means, in the wrong place at the wrong time. If he’d been standing two inches farther to his right, the ball could have skimmed his ribs. If he’d been two feet farther back, the ball could have hit his chest plate at a moment in his heart’s cycle that did not induce cardiac arrest.

And yet such a condition is not nearly as rare as its virtually infinitesimal prerequisites would indicate: A 2007 study found that more than 180 cases of commotio cordis have been reported since 1996. Karen Acompora of Northport, whose foundation works to prevent sudden cardiac arrests in young athletes, estimates that number is now closer to 280.

Commotio cordis killed Ms. Acompora’s 14-year-old son, Louis, back in 2000 after a lacrosse ball struck him in the chest during his first high school game. There was no AED present, and Ms. Acompora believes one would have saved Louis.

Adolescent boys like Jack and Louis are particularly at risk, partially because of the sports they play and partially because their chest walls have not fully hardened at that age, according to a 2009 study by Tufts University researchers.

As a result of her loss, Ms. Acompora started the Louis Acompora Memorial Foundation and has spent years advocating for greater awareness and AED ownership, so she was particularly relieved to see Jack’s success story. The foundation’s website says it has saved 87 lives from sudden cardiac arrest since being founded.

“We get joy out of the fact that these kids aren’t dying — they’re being saved,” she said. “Obviously, I wish someone had done it for us and our family, but you move forward.”

Jack knows how lucky he is.

“It’s made me love life a little more,” he said.

His near-death experience sparked action in the Shoreham-Wading River community. Less than one week after Jack’s heart stopped and started again, local surgeon Marc Dinowitz implored the district’s Board of Education to improve its AED policies.

Since then, he has submitted a formal proposal to Section XI along with Ms. Acompora, and the district is now formally considering purchasing 30 to 40 additional AEDs at a cost of $40,000 to $60,000.

The Crowleys attended a July 28 board meeting to support the push, and Jack received a standing ovation.

“He was so lucky that everybody did the right thing,” Ms. Crowley said. “I understand [AEDs] are costly, but they’re worth a little bit more than soccer nets and new uniforms.”

Timing in a case of commotio cordis is critical, which is why proponents of AEDs want the school to have them present at all events. The Tufts study found that when a defibrillator was used within the first three minutes, patients had a 25 percent survival rate. After that three-minute window, however, the chances of survival drop to 3 percent.

“People think that just because they have an AED at the school, it’s going to be enough,” Ms. Crowley said. “It’s not enough when you’re way out in those fields.”

It’s impossible to keep a teenager that energetic subdued for very long. The first day Jack was cleared to resume physical activity, he went for a run and, within a week, he was playing in a baseball game at the same complex where he died.

So far, he does not feel nervous pitching, though he will not throw to a batter in that same cage where his heart stopped because he feels it is too small for safety.

“You don’t have time to react,” he said.

All three Crowley boys and all of their friends have started wearing Evoshield heart guards — small, hard plastic pieces that are placed into a special shirt and conform to the wearer’s chest.

Jack admits there’s no evidence that the guards work, but he decided he might as well wear it anyway.

He tries not to think about his almost-tragedy, but his mother remembers it “constantly.”

“I’m still not completely comfortable, but this is their love,” she said. “I would bubble-wrap him if I could, but I don’t think I’m going to get away with that.”

The very first day he resumed playing, Jack was pitching. He threw one over the plate, and the ball rocketed off the bat right back at him. This time, there was a different ending.

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