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In an Instant: A Family's Journey of Love and Healing Hardcover – March 1, 2007
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In January 2006, the Woodruffs seemed to have it all–a happy marriage and four beautiful children. Lee was a public relations executive and Bob had just been named co-anchor of ABC’s World News Tonight. Then, while Bob was embedded with the military in Iraq, an improvised explosive device went off near the tank he was riding in. He and his cameraman, Doug Vogt, were hit, and Bob suffered a traumatic brain injury that nearly killed him.
In an Instant is the frank and compelling account of how Bob and Lee’s lives came together, were blown apart, and then were miraculously put together again–and how they persevered, with grit but also with humor, through intense trauma and fear. Here are Lee’s heartfelt memories of their courtship, their travels as Bob left a law practice behind and pursued his news career and Lee her freelance business, the glorious births of her children and the challenges of motherhood.
Bob in turn recalls the moment he caught the journalism “bug” while covering Tiananmen Square for CBS News, his love of overseas assignments and his guilt about long separations from his family, and his pride at attaining the brass ring of television news–being chosen to fill the seat of the late Peter Jennings.
And, for the first time, the Woodruffs reveal the agonizing details of Bob’s terrible injuries and his remarkable recovery. We learn that Bob’s return home was not an end to the journey but the first step into a future they have learned not to fear but to be grateful for.
In an Instant is much more than the dual memoir of love and courage. It is an important, wise, and inspiring guide to coping with tragedy–and an extraordinary drama of marriage, family, war, and nation.
A percentage of the proceeds from this book will be donated to the Bob Woodruff Family Fund for Traumatic Brain Injury.
- Print length304 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherRandom House
- Publication dateMarch 1, 2007
- Dimensions6.4 x 1 x 9.43 inches
- ISBN-101400066670
- ISBN-13978-1400066674
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Lee
Orlando, Florida, January 28, 2006
There is a ride at Disney World called the Tower of Terror, and on the weekend of January 28, 2006, my four children, even the twin five- year-olds, begged me to go on that ride over and over again.
Housed in a re-created aging Hollywood hotel, the ride begins where you climb into a creaky elevator that snakes its way through the creepy premises. An electrical storm kicks up, and right on cue something goes wrong with the power. The elevator in the eerie hotel suddenly drops. The descent is so rapid, so sudden, that it almost sucks your diaphragm up into your throat, and right before the drop there is a moment where you are literally suspended in air, too stunned to scream. It feels as if speed, motion, light, and time literally freeze.
We must have taken that ride a half dozen times. And then the feeling returned the following morning as I rolled over in my king-sized hotel bed. The day before, the kids and I had been to the Animal Kingdom in Disney World. We’d marveled at the African safari ride, ridden rapids in Asia, and gotten soaked as we howled our way down the man-made white water. After an early dinner we’d rented a pedal bike with another family and laughed until we cried as we raced other bikers around the lake, while fireworks from Epcot exploded overhead.
Tucking four kids into bed that night, I silently congratulated myself on a good weekend. I’d come to Disney to shoot a pilot TV show for Family Fun. We’d spent two days on set and then the rest of the time had been the kids’ reward: combing the parks for Disney character autographs for the twins and thrill-seeking rides for the older two. We’d planned to fly back home on Sunday and get ready for school.
Toting around four children by myself was not new. That weekend my husband, Bob Woodruff, the newly anointed co-anchor of ABC’s World News Tonight, was thousands of miles away in Iraq. We spoke to him briefly that day, in between the safari and the rapids ride. He and his crew had had a tiring day covering the Palestinian elections before flying on to Baghdad in advance of President Bush’s State of the Union address. The plan was to bolster ABC’s Iraq coverage at an important moment in the war. The pace was blistering, common to any foreign correspondent who must keep moving and file stories from faraway places in time zones eight to twelve hours ahead of our own.
Bob and his crew were operating on an aggressive schedule with only a few hours’ sleep each night. As usual, the itinerary was punishing. Get in, get the stories about the Iraqi military, anchor from Baghdad during Bush’s address, do some pieces for Good Morning America, and, on the way back, try to finalize an interview with the King of Jordan in Amman, the Jordanian capital.
Our conversations with him from Disney World had been short and tough. The cell service in Iraq was spotty and the time difference was frustrating. We had one conversation midday Saturday, as he and his crew were going to bed in a military compound somewhere in Baghdad. He exhaustedly mumbled something about getting much-needed sleep the next day. Exactly what he said didn’t register with me at the time. My daughter Cathryn was determined to buy a puka shell necklace. With my shoulder cradling the cell phone, I negotiated some cash from my wallet while keeping an eye on the twins, who were dangerously close to a fence in front of a bamboo grove.
Later, Bob would swear that he told me has was going to embed with the military for some exercises, while I would swear he said only that his team was going to relax for the day. At the end of our conversation I passed the cell phone around so the kids could say hi. This was common practice in our house—good nights, kisses, homework help, all via satellite. When your father covers news around the world, the phone becomes a primary communication tool, for better or worse.
“Do you feel safe there?” I asked absentmindedly, collecting the change from Cathryn. “Are you okay?” It was a stupid rhetorical question, made more absurd by the fact that we were currently standing in Disney World, “the happiest place on earth,” while he was somewhere in the most violent place on the planet.
“I do. We’re surrounded by the military. It’s fine,” he reassured me. He and his cameraman, Doug Vogt, couldn’t know that the elevator was about to drop. In the ocher-colored sands on a godforsaken highway outside Baghdad, they were about to enter their own Tower of Terror.
That night I called the front desk to request a 7 a.m. wake-up call. With the bigger kids sleeping next to the twins, perhaps I could slip downstairs the next morning and take a quick swim in the pool before breakfast. Even though it was January in Florida, the water was invigorating and it would be a great way to start our last day in Orlando.
In a few days Bob would be home and we’d be a family again. His new appointment as co-anchor had set a grueling pace for the past month, even the weekends. His days had been crammed with photo shoots, press conferences, and ad campaigns. The new program with Bob and Elizabeth Vargas was committed to go to the story, to have one anchor on the road and one in the studio as often as possible. Bob relished the challenge. It was a new era at ABC News. There was an excitement at the broadcast that was a welcome tonic after the months of sorrow following Peter Jennings’s illness and then death from lung cancer. Bob and Elizabeth would give the news department something to rally around, after feeling like a ship without its beloved captain.
“Just get through January,” I had told Bob, as he left for the Middle East on that fateful trip. It had become a kind of mantra for us after the announcement, as he shot out of the gate as a newly minted co-anchor.
“I really don’t want to leave you guys,” he said, as he leaned into the door frame of my home office, rolling suitcase in hand. He looked exhausted, distracted, and not eager to get back on a plane to return to Iraq for the sixth or seventh time in three years. The town car was already idling in the driveway.
“Just get through January,” I repeated, “and life will take on a more normal pattern. We’ll have weekends again, and we can be a family.”
He reeled off everything he’d packed, hoping I’d figure out what he might have missed. This was familiar territory, this nonchalant leaving. It should have had more weight, but to give it any more importance would have jinxed it in my mind. Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq, the Gaza Strip: give him a kiss as always, treat it like a normal morning, and he will come home safe and sound. I had a work deadline that day, and the sooner I got him on the road the faster I could finish my task.
Frankly, I didn’t think a lot about Bob over the Disney weekend either. The days had been full and the kids eager to pack in as much as possible. Bob drew sustenance from being on the road; the stories, the energy, the adrenaline rejuvenated him. He loved being a journalist, and that meant leaving us for stretches of time. We may not have always liked it, but we had made peace with it as a family. Periods of being intensely together were interlaced with periods of being apart.
As I rolled over and turned off the bedside light that Saturday night in Disney World, I thought we would all rise to this new challenge of Bob’s career as well. “Co-anchor.” It was good and bad. Good because he had reached the pinnacle of his profession, a plum job in television news, a successor to one of broadcast journalism’s icons. Bad because we would see him even less. Our definition of family time would need some revising.
The Sunday morning phone call pierced the quiet and I jolted awake to a bedspread of floral and chintz in a totally unfamiliar room. It took me a second to register where I was. Ah, right, I thought. Disney World. The wake-up call.
I rolled over and picked up the receiver. “Thank you,” I said, and lazily began to set it back on the cradle. I had decided to lie there for a few more minutes before I snuck out the door.
“Lee?” A faint voice came from the receiver, now almost back in place. Geesh, I thought. Personalized wake-up calls, how very Disney. I brought the phone back to my ear to thank the man.
“Lee, it’s David Westin,” the voice said.
He had my immediate attention. My brain fired signals to my body as I bolted up on the pillows. The president of ABC News does not make social calls to employees’ wives at 7 a.m. on a Sunday morning, even a co-anchor’s wife. I licked my lips and swallowed. My mouth was dry.
“We’ve been trying to reach you,” he said, in a slow measured voice. He stopped for a beat as if to gauge how he would say his next line. “Bob has been wounded in Iraq.”
I sat straight up, trying to process the information I was hearing. Every synapse in my brain was firing. “Wounded?” I said to David Westin, as calmly as I could. “What do you mean wounded?”
“He was on an embed outside of Baghdad riding with the Iraqi army. We don’t have a lot of information right now, Lee, but we are getting it as fast as we can. We are getting him the best care possible.”
“David.” I interrupted him. “Is my husband alive?”
“Yes, Lee. Bob is alive, but we believe he may have taken shrapnel to the brain.”
I tried to digest what that meant and couldn’t comprehend it. He was alive; I’d start with that. The rest was gravy.
“What was an anchor doing on a military exercise?” I asked, voice rising. “The last thing I knew he was doing a story about an ice cream shop in Baghdad....
Product details
- Publisher : Random House; 1st edition (March 1, 2007)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 304 pages
- ISBN-10 : 1400066670
- ISBN-13 : 978-1400066674
- Item Weight : 1.3 pounds
- Dimensions : 6.4 x 1 x 9.43 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #351,222 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #55 in Iraq History (Books)
- #448 in Journalist Biographies
- #4,848 in Sociology (Books)
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About the author

Lee Woodruff is the coauthor with her husband, Bob Woodruff, of the number one New York Times bestseller In an Instant, the author of the essay collection Perfectly Imperfect and the novel Those We Love Most. She is a contributing editor to CBS This Morning and has written numerous articles on family and parenting for Parade, Ladies' Home Journal, Redbook, Country Living, and Family Fun. She and Bob founded the Bob Woodruff Foundation to assist wounded service members and their families. Woodruff has four children and lives in Westchester County, New York.
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I review a lot of books in The White Rhino Report. I recognize that the readership of this Blog is an astonishingly diverse collection of individuals from a wide variety of backgrounds, professions, educational concentrations, geographic locations, political perspectives and worldviews. As a result, I seldom make blanket recommendations. On this occasion, I choose to make an exception. This book, "In An Instant," is a must read! Order it on Amazon.com or run out to the nearest library or bookstore.
The friend who first made me aware of this moving memoir is a hardened military veteran -a West Point graduate with a law degree. He would hardly be labeled a sentimentalist, and yet here was his description of reading what Lee and Bob Woodruff have chosen to share of their "Family's Journey of Love and Healing":
"I finished the Woodruff's book. I wept through most of it, having been one of the masses kept in the dark except for Lee's occasional generic `Bob is doing OK' emails. It certainly filled in the details on the timelines."
I had a similar response in reading the Woodruff's saga. At several points along the way, I had to stop reading and wipe my eyes so that I could once again focus on the words on the page.
Tom Brokaw calls "In an Instant": "a loving, terrifying, and ultimately inspirational tale of the perils of war, the demands of network journalism, and the strengths of a great marriage. We're all the richer for their courage, their commitment to each other, and their willingness to share the many lessons of their ordeal." Diane Sawyer describes the book as "a passionate love story filled with hope for everyone who has ever wondered how you make it through another day."
Many of you are aware of the basic facts. Just days after being named co-anchor for ABC World News Tonight, replacing the late Peter Jennings, Bob Woodruff was imbedded as a journalist with U.S. and Iraqi security forces near Taji, Iraq. The tank he was riding in was attacked when a roadside bomb was detonated, and he suffered TBI -traumatic brain injury, one of the most common injuries suffered by our troops when IED's (Improvised Explosive Devices) are detonated in their vicinity. He lay in a coma for several weeks, and has undergone many months of extensive rehabilitation.
Much of Bob Woodruff's treatment and rehabilitation took place in a shroud of privacy - a remarkable achievement for so public a figure. Lee and Bob Woodruff have chosen to lift the veil and share intimate details of what it was like for them and for their family to wade through the deep waters of his initial injury and subsequent struggle to live and then to achieve some sense of a return to "normalcy." This tale is a modern "Odyssey." A "warrior of the airwaves" leaves home to report on a war, is grievously wounded on the battlefield, and struggles to make it back home to his family - alive and able to resume his role as husband and father. Lee Woodruff is a latter day Penelope, fighting to keep her home, her hopes and her family together while keeping vigil over her comatose husband.
It is clear that Lee and Bob have chosen to share their story - to "imbed themselves," if you will - into the consciousness of those who are willing to read their story, in order to shine the light of public awareness on the plight of the many veterans who have also suffered from TBI:
"Because of our journey over the past year with traumatic brain injury (TBI), we felt compelled to make something positive out of something so negative. Goodness and healing needed to emerge from such a devastating event.
Our immediate and extended family became committed to helping the members of the military who have suffered brain injuries from the widespread use of improvised explosive devices, many of whom are not receiving appropriate cognitive rehabilitation for whatever reason. An overwhelmed Veterans Administration hospital system, lacking funding, and a dearth of professionals trained in TBI in areas outside of larger cities have all meant that the very people who need them most are unable to access services at a critical juncture in their healing.
We established the Bob Woodruff Family Fund for Traumatic Brain Injury, administered by the Brain Injury Association of America, a twenty-five-year-old national organization dedicated to research, information, advocacy, and support for this silent and misunderstood affliction. Brain injury affects an average of 1.4 million Americans a year." (Page 283)
In the first few weeks after he suffered his injuries, Bob's family - and his team of medical professionals - had no way of knowing if he would survive. And if he did survive, they would not know how much brain function he would have left until he woke up and began responding to the world around him. For weeks, he lay in a coma, fighting off infection and the effects of the multiple traumas that his body and mind had suffered. The first glimpse of hope that Lee shares is particularly poignant. It begins with a description of their daughter, Cathryn - Cackie - visiting her Daddy in the hospital while he was still comatose:
"'Daddy, let's do a kissing contest,' Cath said now into Bob's ear. Her expression brightened as she looked at him. She was on familiar territory and was relaxing, getting used to her father's new face. It had been one of their bedtime rituals on the phone, when Bob was out of town. Both parties would kiss into the receiver as long as they could, and the first one to give up was the loser.
Cathryn lifted up her head to Bob's cheek and began to kiss it. I noticed with gratitude that one of the nurses had recently shaved him, leaving his face smooth and white on the right side. Looking at the two of them so close, I felt the reverberation of our daughter's heart. I saw strength and sorrow and so much uncertainty. As her mother, I wanted to have all the answers for as long as time would permit. I wanted to be able to hang the moon in that way that parents do before kids realize their fallibility. But right now there was nothing I could tell my daughter about her father with any certainty at all. I felt not omnipotent but impotent, vulnerable and small.
But then, as I looked at Bob, I saw the most incredible thing. It was a sight that provided a jolt of hope to last for the next few weeks. A small tear was running down from the corner of his eye, his good eye, on the side where Cathryn was kissing him.
`He's crying!' I yelled to no one in particular. `He hears Cathryn's voice and he's crying.' The nurse came around, roused by my calls. It was, to this point, my only living proof that Bob was there, inside that Frankenstein head and swollen body. The nurse would back me up later, when I told the doctors. Cathryn and I had seen it. And it was enough for the two of us." (Pages 121-122)
Lee goes on to describe a conversation she had with one of Bob's doctors about the prospect of Bob having to deal with PTSD - post-traumatic stress disorder - as part of a rehabilitation regimen once his acute medical crises had been overcome. Their discussion has broad implications for the many women and men returning home to us from the battlefield:
"'Bob has seen a lot of human misery with what he does,' I explained [to Dr. M.]. `He has always been able to come home and shake it off. He saw mass graves in Kosovo, death in Afghanistan and Iraq, and unfathomable sorrow in Indonesia after the tsunami. Doesn't his ability to have processed this in a healthy way mean he may escape post-traumatic stress disorder?'
`I wish I could tell you it worked that way,' said Dr. M. `Actually, research shows that the more trauma a person has been through, the more they have seen, the worse the PTSD is. The cumulative effect appears to make the person more susceptible.'
All that collective human misery coalesced into one brain, I thought with a chill. There was the child's leg Bob found near a mass grave in Kosovo; the blood of Jesus Suarez del Solar, the marine in Bob's embed division who had stepped on an unexploded U.S. bomb during the 2003 invasion. There was a whole city's worth of devastation in New Orleans, and there were bodies on the beaches in Banda Aceh two weeks after the tsunami, so bloated they were pitchforked into a truck bed. Bob had a mighty good library of human misery inside is head, I thought. And now, I had learned, all that footage would be his worst enemy." (Page 166)
One of the most important and sweeping contributions that Lee and Bob Woodruff make through sharing their story is to make readers aware of the scope of issues that face the thousands of veterans returning from the war with TBI. The following catalog of symptoms, complications and treatment requirements is instructive, sobering and overwhelming:
"'Okay, Dr. M,' I said, pulling the tissue box closer to me, `I need to hear it. Tell me all the things we could be dealing with here. I think it's time for me to know.'
Dr. M began to run through the litany of possibilities. Essentially, the main categories in the brain for cognitive damage were behavioral, social, spatial, speech and language, and executive function, the more logical part of the brain that controls how we order our lives and organize our activities. With a blast injury, it was hard to assess what was or wasn't damaged because an explosion caused the brain to slosh around against the skull. This sheared off millions of neurons and caused damage that wouldn't be revealed until Bob woke up. Even then it could take time. Sometimes the differences were subtle - slightly impaired judgment or cognitive ability, perhaps - and sometimes they were more grave, like major personality differences. One of the greatest frustrations with a head injury is that while the person may seem just fine to others, things are profoundly changed inside. These patients - with significant but outwardly subtle damage - were called `the walking wounded.' Back home in America they would be a haunting legacy of the war in Iraq." (Pages 212-213)
It is precisely because of their all-too-keen awareness of this haunting legacy that Bob and Lee Woodruff have chosen to share their story - in the form of this book, a national tour of media outlets and book signing events, and through the formation of the Bob Woodruff Family Fund for Traumatic Brain Injury.
For the sentient and sensitive person, the reading of this book must evoke a response - a response at the level of emotion and at the level of action. It is not enough for us to read and to feel empathy - for the Woodruffs and for the countless others who are not in a position to tell their own stories of TBI. That empathy needs to lead us to tangible action of some kind. I urge you to click on the link below and explore the fund's Website. I encourage you to make a financial contribution. I urge you to consider doing some research and volunteering to visit someone with TBI being treated in a rehab facility near you.
The action I have chosen to take is to donate a portion of revenues earned by White Rhino Partners to the Woodruff's Fund.
Odysseus has returned home from the battlefield and is recovering from his wounds. Let us attend his tale and respond accordingly.
Al
[...]
One might wonder how Bob could lose. After all, the nation put a man on the moon, etc. But, Bob's injuries were so severe, it was truly a miracle, and treated so by both Lee and Bob! Their subsequent efforts on behalf of TBI and PTSD are testimony to their recognition of that fact for which the nation should be grateful to both them and their Foundation.
As a disabled veteran, I would like to broaden the audience. Mental illness frequently appears from a sudden event. It could be child abuse, child birth, head trauma, death of a close family member, or hospitalization for severe illness such as cancer or sepsis. The severity of the shock to the mind can approach that of Rob's. The effect on close family (particularly children) will be similar to that seen by Lee. The effect on friends, colleagues, and the medical profession can, and likely will be, quite different. I have seen them all, close aboard.
If you bleed, you need. Otherwise,you may be seeing bugs on the wall. Or werewolves attacking your newborne child. You are told to suck it up, change the diaper, get back on the line, learn to play golf, get a hobby, or visit Saint Elizebeth's and see the screaming and drooling ones. You can be like them if you keep working at it. You are a coward, or worse, you are sentenced to life for drowning your kids to save them from werewolves.
One good thing came from these two wars if we will only open our minds to it. We need better shrinks using more analysis and measureable understanding of the brain. We don't need to close more mental health facilities, We need to remove the stigma from mental health! We need to gently show someone suffering that we love them. We need to be able to treat them to short visits to less expensive versions of Betty Ford Detox Centers for analysis without stigma, record or labeling. We need to identify the health care proxy holder. It will be someone who that person loves. That person and the person suffering needs to be told the results of that analysis, privately.
I may be dreaming, but can we stop obsessing about assault weapons,, large ammo clips, or gun purchase background checks. I believe another shock that imitates the one that caused the original problem can bring it back. The only answer is to remove the possibilities for possible immediate reaction whether it be guns, car, alcohol or care of children. The only one who can do that for sure is the person himself. It is just that time that the person needs someone else to lean on! If a system were set up, it would be the health car proxy, a person chosen for reasons of love and trust. But,it can be a fellow member of the AA, or VFW, or a fellow Wounded Warrior. Buddies that know the score and are willing - God Bless them.
That dream will not occur soon. In the interim, I would recommend this book and one other, both obtainable through Amazon. If you need help and, hopefully, are getting some through the medical profession, read the emotional trip provided by Bob and Lee. You will see yourself and your family and look for the love and caring in ways that you need that may be possible.
If you are looking for ways to help yourself, read Tom Ryan's Following Atticus, a story of how to regain your personal mental and physical strength, when alone. You may see yourself or your family in Tom's story and set your own goal. Best of all, you may obtain the love, caring, and the person that you need - as he did.







