NASA Astronaut Hospitalized after Return from Space Station

FILE PHOTO: The NASA logo is seen at Kennedy Space Center ahead of the NASA/SpaceX launch of a commercial crew mission to the International Space Station in Cape Canaveral, Florida, US, April 16, 2021. REUTERS/Joe Skipper/File Photo
FILE PHOTO: The NASA logo is seen at Kennedy Space Center ahead of the NASA/SpaceX launch of a commercial crew mission to the International Space Station in Cape Canaveral, Florida, US, April 16, 2021. REUTERS/Joe Skipper/File Photo
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NASA Astronaut Hospitalized after Return from Space Station

FILE PHOTO: The NASA logo is seen at Kennedy Space Center ahead of the NASA/SpaceX launch of a commercial crew mission to the International Space Station in Cape Canaveral, Florida, US, April 16, 2021. REUTERS/Joe Skipper/File Photo
FILE PHOTO: The NASA logo is seen at Kennedy Space Center ahead of the NASA/SpaceX launch of a commercial crew mission to the International Space Station in Cape Canaveral, Florida, US, April 16, 2021. REUTERS/Joe Skipper/File Photo

A NASA astronaut was flown to a hospital with an unspecified medical issue on Friday shortly after returning to Earth from a nearly eight-month mission on the International Space Station, the US space agency said.

The astronaut, who NASA did not name for privacy reasons, had splashed down off Florida's coast at 3:29 a.m. ET (0729 GMT) on Friday aboard SpaceX's Crew Dragon capsule with three other crew members - two NASA astronauts and a Russian cosmonaut, according to Reuters.

The crew included US astronauts Matthew Dominick, Michael Barratt, and Jeanette Epps, and Russian cosmonaut Alexander Grebenkin. Their 235 days in space made it longer than the usual six-month ISS mission duration and marked the longest stay in orbit for SpaceX's reusable Crew Dragon spacecraft.

NASA initially said the entire crew was transported to the medical center for additional evaluation and out of an abundance of caution, but did not specify whether all or a portion of the crew had been experiencing issues.

NASA later said it was one of its astronauts who experienced a medical issue and that the crew had been flown to a hospital in Pensacola, Florida, near the splashdown site. The three other crew members have since left the hospital and returned to Houston, the space agency said.

"The one astronaut who remains at Ascension is in stable condition under observation as a precautionary measure," NASA said in a statement, referring to Ascension Sacred Heart Pensacola hospital. The agency said it will not share the nature of the astronaut's condition.

Russia's space agency, Roscosmos, posted on the social messaging platform Telegram a photo of Grebenkin standing upright and smiling, with a caption reading: "After a space mission and splashdown, cosmonaut Alexander Grebenkin feels great!"

The crew's return from the football field-sized science lab 250 miles up in orbit had been delayed for weeks because of two hurricanes that swept through the US southeast near Crew Dragon's expected splashdown zones.

SpaceX maintains a fleet of reusable spacecraft and has flown to the ISS 44 times. The Elon Musk-owned company remains the only US option for NASA astronaut trips to and from the ISS. Boeing's (BA.N), Starliner, intended as a second US ride, has been hobbled by years of development issues.

Crew Dragon safely undocked from the ISS on Wednesday afternoon and reentered Earth's atmosphere early Friday morning, deploying parachutes before plunking into the Gulf of Mexico.

At a post-splashdown news briefing, a NASA official said "the crew is doing great" and made no mention of any issues with the astronauts. He noted two hitches with Crew Dragon's parachute deployment.

Richard Jones, deputy manager of NASA's Commercial Crew Program, said Crew Dragon's initial set of braking parachutes suffered some "debris strikes" and that one of four parachutes in a subsequent set took longer than expected to unfurl.

Neither event affected crew safety, Jones said, calling the splashdown weather "ideal" for the crew's recovery.

The crew's reusable Crew Dragon spacecraft was on its fifth flight, logging 702 days in orbit since its first mission, SpaceX's vice president of flight reliability, William Gerstenmaier, a former senior NASA official, told reporters during the news conference.



In Beirut, a Photographer's Frozen Moments Slow Down Time and Allow the Contemplation of Destruction

A bomb dropped from an Israeli jet hits a building in Ghobeiri, Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, October 22, 2024. (AP Photo/ Bilal Hussein)
A bomb dropped from an Israeli jet hits a building in Ghobeiri, Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, October 22, 2024. (AP Photo/ Bilal Hussein)
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In Beirut, a Photographer's Frozen Moments Slow Down Time and Allow the Contemplation of Destruction

A bomb dropped from an Israeli jet hits a building in Ghobeiri, Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, October 22, 2024. (AP Photo/ Bilal Hussein)
A bomb dropped from an Israeli jet hits a building in Ghobeiri, Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, October 22, 2024. (AP Photo/ Bilal Hussein)

We watch video after video, consuming the world on our handheld devices in bites of two minutes, one minute, 30 seconds, 15. We turn to moving pictures — “film” — because it comes the closest to approximating the world that we see and experience. This is, after all, 2024, and video in our pocket — ours, others', everyone's — has become our birthright.
But sometimes — even in this era of live video always rolling, always recording, always capturing — sometimes the frozen moment can enter the eye like nothing else. And in the process, it can tell a larger story that echoes long after the moment was captured. That's what happened this past week in Beirut, through the camera lens of Associated Press photographer Bilal Hussein and the photographs he captured.
When Hussein set up his camera outside an evacuated Beirut apartment building Tuesday after Israel announced it would be targeted as part of military operations against Hezbollah, he had one goal in mind — only one. "All I thought of," he says, “was photographing the missile while it was coming down.”
He found a safe spot. He ensured a good angle. He wasn't stressed, he said; like many photographers who work in such environments, he had been in situations like this one before. He was ready.
When the attack came — a bomb, not a missile in the end — Hussein swung into action. And, unsurprisingly for a professional who has been doing this work for two decades, he did exactly what he set out to do.
Time slowed down
The sequence of images he made bursts with the explosive energy of its subject matter.
In one frame, the bomb hangs there, a weird and obtrusive interloper in the scene. It is not yet noticed by anyone around it, ready to bring its destruction to a building that, in moments, will no longer exist. The building's balconies, a split-second from nonexistence, are devoid of people as the bomb finds its mark.
These are the kind of moments that video, rolling at the speed of life or even in slow motion, cannot capture in the same way. A photo holds us in the scene, stops time, invites a viewer to take the most chaotic of events and break it down, looking around and noticing things in a strangely silent way that actual life could not.
In another frame, one that happened micro moments after the first, the building is in the process of exploding. Let's repeat that for effect, since even as recently as a couple generations ago photographs like this were rare: in the process of exploding.
Pieces of building are shooting out in all directions, in high velocity — in real life. But in the image they are frozen, outward bound, hanging in space awaiting the next seconds of their dissolution — just like the bomb that displaced them was doing milliseconds before. And in that, a contemplation of the destruction — and the people it was visited upon — becomes possible.
Tech gives us new prisms to see the world
The technology to grab so many images in the course of little more than one second — and do it in such clarity and high resolution — is barely a generation old.
So to see these “stills,” as journalists call them, come together to paint a picture of an event is a combination of artistry, intrepidity and technology — an exercise in freezing time, and in giving people the opportunity to contemplate for minutes, even hours, what took place in mere seconds. This holds true for positive things that the camera captures — and for visitations of violence like this one as well.
Photography is random access. We, the viewers of it, choose how to see it, process it, digest it. We go backward and forward in time, at will. We control the pace and the speed at which dizzying images hurtle at us. And in that process, something unusual for this era emerges: a bit of time to think.
That, among many other things, is the enduring power of the still image in a moving-picture world — and the power of what Bilal Hussein captured on that clear, sunny day in Beirut.