How it all began.

The recent long weekend brought back many memories of when this whole ordeal began. I had been told several times over the past months, both by my therapists at Spaulding and Rehab Without Walls, that the anniversary of my injury would trigger intense emotions. Naturally I tend to brush aside forewarnings such as these and take things on the chin, but in this particular case, they were spot-on. I felt the same intense feelings of guilt and fear as I did on day one. This time, however, I also felt a great deal of pride that I have come as far as I have in one year! I promised myself, around this time last year, that I would be walking on my own again… even if it took me the rest of my life. Aside from the clunky fore-arm crutches, a pace that would make a sloth seem nimble, and my legs appearing like I just worked a week on the high-seas, I suppose I have achieved that promise. But I cannot, for the life of me, understand where the time has gone for an entire year to have passed? From the moments just after my injury to the very first weeks in the hospital, to being transferred to Spaulding, and then moving into my own apartment in Boston, and finally home again; I keep thinking to myself: Was this all just some crazy dream? Have I really had my head down for so long… carefully monitoring my steps… that entire seasons have passed me by? I am certain this has been the slowest, most arduous, and most brutally vicious year in my life… yet it is already over… I am left with only hazy memories, some new friendships… and perhaps of course, important lessons I’ve learned along the way. The most important lesson of all: “Nana korobi, ya oki” ~Fall down seven times, stand up eight.~

In my last blog post I promised to share the series of events that have transpired over the past year… to share what it is like to live with an SCI. (Especially so during the first months.) While I still intend to do just that, my ultimate goal will be to eventually shift the dialogue and focus on more positive horizons. I want to share stories about the activities and skills I have relearned despite the challenges brought on by this injury. I also want to make it abundantly clear to early readers that life goes on after a SCI. Should a SCI survivor choose, there is so much to look forward to after an injury! I can testify to that! It all comes down to maintaining a positive mind-set… one that I chose to adopt early on. Ultimately, time is the “final boss” when it comes to recovery from an SCI. Also let’s face it, if I started this blog only intending to write about the “doom & gloom” surrounding SCI’s, this blog would have the traction of Zippy Chippy. (Google it!) But before beginning to share everything I’ve learned about SCIs, how it has changed my perspective in life, and to unveil those bright horizons in the distance, I need a concrete starting point. I need to lay the first stepping-stone. 

Predictably... certainly non-climatically... I suppose the best place to start is at the very beginning: The day I suffered an SCI. (I will do so, below…)

It can be really hard to navigate the community in a wheelchair. Of course there are the physical challenges. (I will cover that extensively another time). But also, you tend to be gazed upon with intense curiosity. At one point I had my hair cut relatively short and I began to notice that people would occasionally salute me in passing. I can only assume they thought I was a veteran who may have been injured on the battle-field? I cannot fault anyone for reacting that way. Humans are generally curious creatures and the sight of a wheelchair only peaks that curiosity! I am asked about my wheelchair almost every day… or at the very least... when I strike up a conversation with someone. The question I am most often asked on a daily basis, that is, aside from “Will you ever walk again?” … Is: How did your injury happen? This also happens to be the most difficult thing for me to share… not because it was overly traumatic at the time, the trauma came shortly after, but because it is truthfully hard for me to recall every detail. (That also might be for the best!) Nevertheless, it is truly the best starting point… the first stepping-stone… and certainly the most fitting place to begin this blog! 

Over the past year I thought of funny ways to embellish the story I am about to share. Since I don’t have all of the details at hand I found it entertaining… especially during the nights I could not sleep… to fill in the blanks with humorous spin-offs. At one point, I had many of the nurses at Spaulding convinced that my injury was caused by a disgruntled Humpback Whale. True Story. As you can imagine… rumors spread quickly on that one and a couple of staffers even took to calling me Ishmael before I corrected the record and informed them that I was, in fact, joking. As much as I wish I had an incredible adventure to share, one with perfectly intact details, perhaps one with heroic undertones or something at least more glamorous, the truth is… I was reckless. I was climbing something I had climbed several times before in the past. My confidence blinded me and I lost my balance, I slipped, and fell about six or seven feet onto my back. Plain… boring… unexpected. This is also what makes SCI’s so frustrating and equally scary! If I had known how easy it was to cause such significant trauma from such a small height, would I have ever taken a risk in my life? And if not, is that a life worth living? I still struggle with those questions every. single. day.

I recall it being absolutely gorgeous that day… dare I say, perfect! The day captured that delicate balance when the heat of the summer met the cool breeze of fall. In fact, it is no coincidence it was very much like the weather over this past week. The date was August 26, 2023 and it was late in the afternoon pushing into the early evening. After spending the afternoon enjoying a lobster bake with friends and family, it was decided that an evening boat ride would be the best way to top off the day and weekend. Although my memory wanes from this point forward, I decided at some point that I wanted to climb the channel marker “nun” marking the entrance to the Sheepscot River. At that time, I also thought it was a good idea to climb up higher on the railings to a vantage point where I could take some photos of friends and to celebrate the end of summer, of course!

 I had completed this (not-so daring) feat many times in the past while growing up in the area! In many ways, this is a right of passage for coastal Mainers… one I had defied many times, so no harm, no foul! What I didn’t expect this time was that my weight and imbalance on the “marker nun”  resulted in a sudden shift which caused me to slip backwards and fall to the steel platform below. My last concrete memory was seeing a flash of red, the color of the “nun,” and feeling my inertia snap-back, similar to when a mechanical riding bull “bucks” its rider. I still have no idea how the marker snapped-back with such force, I have pondered many different theories over the past year. My most logical theory was that the chain holding the nun to the sea-bed was given just enough slack from my weight that it caused the nun to move slightly in the current before the chain snapped tight again. (Thus jolting to a halt.) But perhaps it was just a wave? …Or perhaps it was the disgruntled whale that was recently seen in the area? I will never know that answer. 

Where my body made contact was at the base of the marker nun. This is composed of solid steel with giant bolts and cleats designed to hold the marker in place. (Or secure it in-tow.) The brief impact resulted in me fracturing &/or breaking fourteen ribs, my sternum, my manubrium, puncturing my lung, and causing a “burst fracture” of my T12 vertebrae in my spine. Ultimately it was the latter of these injuries that resulted in my paralysis and the inspiration for this blog. This all occurred within a milli-second before knocking me unconscious and into the water below. I have little doubt that had it not been for the quick response of my friends, those I consider family, I would not be here today to write this post. The sea takes lives every year… indiscriminately… and that is especially true off the harsh coast of Maine. That is something I never take for granted… then or now… but this one particular lapse of judgment cost me. I am incredibly fortunate it was not worse, I count my blessings for that everyday! My brush with death was thankfully only that… a brush. I was recovered from the water, rushed to shore, and ultimately life-flighted to the hospital. (On a side note, after seeing the bill I wish I could remember the flight!)

Before I was rushed to the hospital I awoke briefly to my dog Penny licking my face and hearing a high-pitched ringing in my head. It was a sensation I can only compare to the movies when a soldier is hit with a grenade or flash-bang. Confusion set in, my ears were ringing, and there was commotion and shouting all around me… yet no words were coherent. Finally things started to settle in their place. Suddenly I began to make sense of my surroundings. I made eye contact with Nicole and studied her concerned expressions. I began to make out the discussions around me. “Do you know what day it is… Do you have any pain… can you tell me your name?”   “…Are you with me, soldier!!?”

My response at the time was akin to a shrug: “I’m fine… I’m going to stand up!” There was no pain… there was no fear… things were fine. I was in shock.

~Then the bomb dropped.~

“Wait…. Wait…. Wait! I can’t feel my legs… I can’t feel my waist… What happened… what’s happening to me?”

That fear… damn that fear!!! That fear draped over me like the darkest cloak known to man. It stuck to me like ink. Even today… despite all of my gains, despite my optimistic demeanor… despite finally coming to terms with my injury, despite it all! That fear is something I will never be able to forget! But I hope a day comes that I do! 

Just as the panic began to set in… just as my heart rate began to climb… They sedated me and took me away.

To be continued…