JOPLIN, Mo. By all accounts, Mark Lindquist is a hero, an underpaid social worker who nearly gave his life trying to save three developmentally disabled adults from the Joplin tornado. Both houses of the Missouri legislature honored Lindquist, the Senate resolution calling him "a true hero and inspiration to others."

But heroism doesn't pay the bills. The tornado's 200 mph winds tossed Lindquist nearly a block, broke every rib, obliterated his shoulder, knocked out most of his teeth and put him in a coma for about two months.

Lindquist, 51, ran up medical expenses that exceed $2.5 million, and the bills keep coming. He requires 11 daily prescriptions and will need more surgery.

But he has no medical insurance. Lindquist couldn't afford it on a job paying barely above minimum wage. He assumed workers' compensation would cover his bills, but his claim was denied "based on the fact that there was no greater risk than the general public at the time you were involved in the Joplin tornado," according to a letter to Lindquist from Accident Fund Insurance Company of America, his company's workers' comp provider.

That reasoning has angered Lindquist's family, employer and even lawmakers.

"I think they need to take another look at the circumstances and revisit the claim," state Rep. Bill Lant, R-Joplin, said. "What he did went beyond heroics."

An unlikely recovery

Lindquist watched the skies darken on the evening of May 22 while on his way to the group home occupied by Mark Farmer, Rick Fox and Tripp Miller, three middle-aged men with Down syndrome. Soon after he arrived, a tornado siren began to blare.

Lindquist's employer, Community Support Services, had recently put workers through a tornado drill, so Lindquist and co-worker Ryan Tackett knew what to do. They placed mattresses over the men for protection and climbed atop the mattresses for added weight.

It seemed like little more than a precaution until Lindquist heard the unmistakable roar of the twister.

The EF-5 tornado was among the nation's worst ever. It destroyed more than 7,000 homes, including the group home, and killed 162 people. Among the dead were Farmer, Fox and Miller, a fact that still haunts Lindquist.

Lindquist's survival defies logic. After the storm, rescuers found him buried in rubble, impaled by a piece of metal. Large chunks of flesh were torn off. Bones from his shoulder crumbled as they placed him on a door used as a makeshift stretcher.

Doctors told his sister, Linda Baldwin, that if Lindquist survived, it likely would be in a vegetative state. Even in a best-case scenario, he likely would never regain use of his right arm and never speak or think normally, she was told. Then debris in the open sores caused a fungal infection that killed five other tornado victims. Lindquist overcame the fungus but remained hospitalized until June 16. Still in a coma, he was flown to another hospital for a little over a month before being sent to a rehab center in Mount Vernon, where he awakened.

His recovery amazed doctors. His right arm remains in a sling, but he has use of the hand. An eye that was temporarily blinded has full sight. He moves slowly and has short-term memory loss, but he speaks well.

Weighing legal options

Baldwin said the insurance company's decision is unfathomable because if her brother hadn't been at work, he wouldn't have been hurt.

Jahn Hurn, CEO of Community Support Services, said the agency has asked Accident Fund Insurance to reconsider Lindquist's case. Insurance company spokeswoman Stepheni Schlinker said she could not discuss an individual claim.

Lindquist also could seek relief through the Missouri Division of Workers Compensation but has not yet done so.

Amy Susan, a spokeswoman for the division, said the state could help facilitate settlement talks with the insurance company, or Lindquist could ask an administrative law judge to hear the case. That judge would decide if the company should pay the claim.

Susan said 132 workers' compensation claims were filed after the tornado. Only eight were denied by insurance companies.