Minot postal worker Kenny Moe has undergone two surgeries since Jan. 18 to repair tear ducts damaged by exposure to anhydrous ammonia. “You just learn to live with it,” he says. Photo by Colburn Hvidston III / Forum Photo Chief

MINOT, N.D. -- Judy Behm once loved the sound of the train rumbling along the tracks near her home.

"We used to sit on the deck in the summertime and hear the train whistle," she said, recalling evenings spent outside with her husband, Roger.

"It was so peaceful. I don't know if it's going to be that way anymore."

Today, those familiar sounds terrify her. She struggles with memories of Jan. 18, the morning a Canadian Pacific train derailed nearby, releasing a toxic plume of anhydrous ammonia. Behm, alone at home, found herself trapped and fearing she would die.

Seven months later, safe in a home neatly cluttered with porcelain dolls, angel figurines and Thomas Kinkade prints, she grows uneasy when a locomotive comes rolling through.

"I find myself reaching for the phone,'' she said. "It's amazing how much comfort you can find talking to someone on the other end of the phone."

Rising tolls

Life has changed in Minot since Canadian Pacific train No. 292-16 derailed outside town. For some residents, the difference comes in the unsettled feeling that lingers on about the railroad. Before Jan. 18, they gave little thought to the tracks running through town. The trains, at most, were a nuisance, with cross arms blocking traffic or a late-night whistle interrupting sleep.

Others in Minot cite more tangible changes, still evident seven months after the derailment. They find it hard to breathe and complain about coughing up blood, losing their voices and blurred vision. Still others attribute kidney, liver and bladder problems to breathing the toxic vapors.

Rescuers initially reported one fatality and injuries to more than 300 people. But, in fact, the injury toll in the months that followed rose to more than 1,600.

The wreck affected life in Minot in other ways, too.

Most residents in Tierrecita Vallejo, the neighborhood closest to the derailment, were forced from their homes for six weeks or longer. Some don't plan to return.

Cleanup crews dug up more than 72,000 tons of polluted soil and cut up more than 25,000 square feet of ice from the Souris River.

Canadian Pacific Railway is pumping 15 million gallons of contaminated groundwater into the Minot sewer system, a process that could take three years.

So far, one law firm has filed a federal class-action lawsuit against the railroad. Lawyers from Minot, Fargo and Minneapolis plan to file hundreds of more suits for injured residents.

Lawsuit rumors have sparked animosity in the city, with many uninjured residents claiming those hurt are looking to cash in on big payouts.

"They don't see that I can't do what I used to do," said Kenny Moe, who hears comments from co-workers at the Minot Post Office. "It makes me mad. They don't understand what you're going through."

Dreams on hold

Dani Reinhardt, a 19-year-old waitress, was one of a dozen people trapped by the cloud at Behm's Truck Stop for more than three hours.

The chemical burned her throat, lungs and eyes. She coughed up blood for a month. Her nose bled after sneezing.

"I can't even walk up and down the stairs," she said. "Lately, I haven't been able to leave my bed. I can't do anything anymore."

Before the wreck, she planned to join the U.S. Army. Her injuries put those dreams on hold when her Army recruiter told Reinhardt to try back in a year.

In a trial test before her Jan. 26 enlistment date, she scored well enough to qualify for about $50,000 in scholarship money. She was hoping to use her education to teach math.

"I feel if I could be a teacher, I could help a lot of kids," Reinhardt said.

At first, the rejection overshadowed her health problems.

"It was really emotionally hard because I couldn't go into the Army," she said. "It was a big passion I wanted to do."

Each day, she struggles to get out of bed, suffering myriad health problems she blames on the anhydrous ammonia: recurring kidney infections, kidney stones, bladder infections and difficulty breathing.

Reinhardt takes nine different drugs every day for her complications and worries about how to pay for them.

Cory Thompson knows the feeling.

He ran outside the truck stop to warn others of the deadly cloud. He said he's never been the same.

Thompson, 25, loved playing hockey. Now, he struggles to show up for games.

When he goes to the rink, he skates less than a period each game. The pain in his chest hurts too much to keep going.

"I still have trouble breathing," he said. "I don't play much anymore."

Thompson feels shortness of breath due to the chemical burns to his lungs and carries an inhaler to help his breathing.

He downplays his health problems. When pressed, he'll give a list of ailments: His eyes feel "gritty" and dry. He suffers headaches. His vision blurs at times.

Many people suffering complications from prolonged exposure to the anhydrous ammonia don't want to sound like they're complaining. Thompson is among them.

"I went to the hospital four days later," he recalled. "I was still hacking and coughing up blood. It's not something I would want to go through again."

'Unanswered questions'

Kelsey Beechie, a 12-year-old living with her parents and sister in Tierrecita Vallejo, suffered second- and third-degree burns to most of her body after getting lost for 10 minutes in the cloud.

She spent 10 days in Trinity Hospital before doctors sent her home. Months later, she continues to use an inhaler, eye drops and pills every day as she fights to regain her health.

Before the derailment, Kelsey would swim 1,000 yards three nights a week after school and play basketball.

"Both of our daughters are in really good shape," said her father, Kerry Beechie. "I think that's what saved her."

He and his wife, Becky, took Kelsey to Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn., but the long-term effects of the anhydrous-related injuries aren't known.

"They can't tell you what is going to happen," Becky said. "There are a lot of unanswered questions."

One doctor said Kelsey may have problems with asthma as she grows older.

Since the wreck, Becky Beechie compiled a detailed scrapbook of notes and photographs of Kelsey's injuries.

"I don't think any of us will ever forget what ammonia tastes like or feels like," she said.

Mike and Sue Ellen Johnson, who live next door to the Beechies, still feel the effects from the anhydrous ammonia.

Mike Johnson, a 49-year-old physical education teacher, said he can't keep up his old routine of running and working out.

The Johnsons, like their neighbors, plan to sue Canadian Pacific. On advice from their attorney, the couple won't talk about specific health problems.

"I've gone to every specialist in town, I bet," Mike Johnson said. "I don't want to be sick. I just want to be my old self. I know what it is to feel good, and I don't feel good."

'I don't want money'

A wall calendar on Kenny Moe's kitchen table serves as a journal of his life since Jan. 18.

With blue ink in the squares, he scribbles each of the doctors' appointments and medicines he has received since finishing his shift at the post office early that morning.

The calendar also doubles as a daily reminder to the nightmare Moe faced when he drove home shortly after 2 a.m. and into the thick, swirling cloud west of the city. The cloud acted like a vacuum, sucking his breath away and scorching his eyes.

Now, instead of working overtime to save for retirement, Moe struggles to live a normal life.

"There's not a lot you can do but live day to day," said Moe, 55, a U.S. Navy Seabee for three tours during the Vietnam War. He turned down a full medical disability after the war and quietly returned home, where he has logged 33 years as a postal worker.

"It's just so damn frustrating," he said, "If I could retire right now, I would."

His short drive through the cloud burned his eyes, throat, nose and lungs. Moe underwent two surgeries to repair tear ducts in his eyes.

Before the surgeries, his eyelids curled up and prevented him from sleeping at night.

He sleeps better now, but his eyes still feel tired and dry. He dabs salve into them for relief and wears sunglasses outside.

At work, Moe struggles to complete each shift. The smell of ink and perfume makes him feel nauseous.

"I'll bend over to pick something up, and clear liquid would just pour out of my nose," he said.

More than anything, Moe wants to return to the way life was before the wreck.

"I actually thought I was going to die," he said. "In my mind's eye, I could see this stuff going through my blood veins."

He struggles daily to raise his pigeons and keep up with yard work. And more than anything, he wants to know his dreams for retiring at the lake with his wife, Jen, can still happen.

"You just learn to live with it," he said. "I figure I got to keep going and keep doing."

Those dreams are important to Moe, whose ties go back to the founding of Minot. The godfather of Jen's father is Erik Ramstad, who sold land for the original town site to the Great Northern Railroad in 1886.

"I don't want money," he said. "Just somebody to say, 'Yep, your plans are on track.' I just want to see a doctor who could see and tell me to take this, it will make you better. There are no doctors like that."

Readers can reach Forum reporter

Steven P. Wagner at (701) 241-5542