He’s a carpenter and skillful pool player whose hands are wrapped in bandages to cover the burns and shrapnel injuries. The legs are bandaged, too.

And Jarrod Clowery, 35, needs to remind callers to speak up if they want to know about what he experienced as he stood in the Boston Marathon crowds closest to the second explosion. His hearing is down to about 15 percent in one ear and only “moderately good” in the other, he said.

But, he said, more than once: “I am blessed.”

Three of Clowery’s buddies who were with him each lost limbs in the bombings, Clowery said Monday from his bed at Boston’s Brigham and Women’s Hospital, ticking off their names: two brothers and their friend. “Get that down. I am blessed.”

Clowery was raised in Stoneham, Mass., a town nine miles north of Boston. Recently living in Rhode Island, he was at the marathon to cheer on an acquaintance — and to be cheered up himself after a long winter with little work.

They heard the first explosion, and Clowery shouted at his friends to hop the metal fencing. He got both of his hands onto the railing, but before they all could clamber over, another bomb went off. Clowery believes he already was in the air, clearing the metal guardrail, when the explosion hit, which may have saved his legs. His friends still were grounded. “They’re all big guys,” he said. “I think they spared some other people when they took that impact.”

Mary Pat Flaherty