T.C. – The Comeback

Hello everyone. Just to get it out of the way and to prove my sincerity, I’m sorry I haven’t posted in so long. I would blame it on my inability to type; but actually, yes my inability to type is why I’ve not posted in such a long time.

Much has happened in the past 6 weeks: I began the ABLE program (Athletic Based Locomotor Exercise), which is spectacularly wonderful. I’m guinea pigging new electrical stimulation methods on the Locomat (a robotic walking machine); the salty grind of a Minnesota winter has joined the party; and I started eating breakfast. As one can assume, these monumental changes have upped my spirits, increased my energy level, and legitimize me lying down at 6 PM.

Before we safely jump into (no diving) the issues, I want to share with everyone a few things I miss to make doubly sure that they are appreciated. Not in any preachy kind of way, but in a kind way like when you see a little kid staring at a dirty window, and then you look at the dirty window and realize that it somewhat it looks like a bad piece of art, but you get it. The things I miss:

1) Tying winter boots in preparation for 3+ inch snowwalking. Being able to cinch up so many rows through the frictionless eyelets is really a great feeling, so enjoy that.

2) Writing with a really nice pen and, more specifically, signing your name on an important document with a really nice pen.

3) That’s it, those are the only two things that I really miss. Everything else I could give or take.

As of today, a true Minnesota winter has presented itself in full form including comically low wind chills and T-shirt deserving highs. What this creates, besides proof that the world is ending, is a sloppy, slippery, sassy quagmire that is discriminatory against wheelchairs. It is too difficult for me to use a manual chair except for plowed areas. My power wheelchair lacks the low-end torque to plow through anything that is too serious (but it does have the high-end speed to throw donuts and drift corners with only a light dusting). In reality I need only to move between my house, the minivan, and to a nearby building. I guess what I’m trying to say is I imagine my first wheelchair winter would be a complete and total ****; but it has proven manageable and only slightly cold, likely because I can’t feel any temperature below my chest (except for my feetsies)

Clever transition.

The ABLE program is an intensive exercise-based therapy with a focus on re-connecting signals from my brain to areas of my body that were affected by the cut to my spinal cord. It is three days a week, 2 and a half hours a day during which I spend 1 hour on a treadmill harness. That is in addition to my twice weekly physical and occupational therapy. During the ABLE treadmill session, alternating percentages of my weight (typically around 15-20%) is supported by a harness, while 2 fitness specialists initiate and lead my legs in a walking pattern. And here is the big news, 2 weeks ago I was able to left my foot from a planted position and initiate a step. I wasn’t able to lift my legs all the way through as my foot was dragging, but it was the first time I made my leg move. Have no fear, I know the word picture that I just tired to paint looks like a dirty window in your mind. I’ll put up some videos and pictures for the visual learners among you. The rest of the ABLE session is devoted to a range of exercises intended to reactivate and strengthening my core. The core, as it turns out, is pretty much used for everything the body does. As a result of my injury, I lost most of the control of my core muscles, both front and back. But now I have contractions and firing of those muscles-though they are still weak. This focus on the core and increased time on the treadmill have made me significantly stronger and I can now sense most of my core and leg muscles moving. It is a strange feeling to know that you are contracting your calf muscles, but not seeing a giant bulge below your knee. Basically, the ABLE program, combined with my outpatient therapy, combined with yoga, combined with acupuncture, combined with breakfast, and with a touch of stupid, impossible patience; I know I’m doing everything I can to walk again.

Now that I’ve gotten paid for my ABLE promo, let’s get real and talk about tomorrow-Valentine’s Day. Who is joining me at the Highway 7 White Castle for a crave case? Honestly

, you have to make reservations there; White Castle has a huge Valentine Day thing-its ridiculous and awesome.

As always there is much more I would like to share and I will try to do so as soon as I can. But more importantly, I want to thank all of you for helping me through this FUBAR situation. I know that I wouldn’t be in the relatively good position I’m now in without the support you have given. As a thank you-Fringe, Science Channel, Fridays, 8 PM.

Chau for now.

Hola mis amigos, como se van?

I want to toss out two things quickly and concisely:
1. I’m very sorry that its been more than a month and a half since my last post. As daylight lessens, so does my ability to not lie in bed and watch on-demand Showtime and roam the interweb with my iPad (in all honesty I ‘m sorry for not letting you know what’s been going on).

1.5. That #1 was pretty inconcise.

2. This post will be devastatingly brief. Sliding past the details, this week has been stupid busy and when I speak with you I want to be able to sit down and have a meaningful conversation.

“A Briefing in Verse”

Over the past six weeks, my world has been improvin’
By the grace of God and friends, I can feel my hip flexors and gluts a movin’
I began the ABLE program, which is inspired and nearly proven
Though the answer to staying awake I still find quite pertubin’

Ironic it was to find a TC article yesterday,
For it was 6 months before when I dove into too shallow a bay
Now with the help of the heralded and renowned Star Tribune,
For future boat side divers, to an SCI they will be immune

Though this poetic form is forced and truly quite obscene,
I’m glad to share with you again, to let you know how I’ve been

Until next week, much love and thanks to all.

Thomas

Started the ABLE program, acupuncture and continued my therapies and can’t produce the deserved times to communicate with you tonight.

Hello to all and to all hello- A holiday greeting for our holiday meeting.

As required by my Post-master general, I will begin this message as so many of my other have. “I’m sorry I haven’t posted in such a long time………”

Now as required by my heart and brains, I will begin the second part of this message with immense and delightful thanks to everyone in my life. In the previous and superiorly written post, Audra covered much of what she was thankful for. So I feel no need to produce my list since redundancy is a fallacy. ***but secretly, thanks to my mom and dad for all of they have sacrificed***

When thinking about the structure of this post, I didn’t know whether I wanted a linear story, a roller coaster of emotion, or a 142 character description of my inner feelings. What my muse (Alex Falenczykowski (typist)) and I have decided is to rip this thing wide open with some kick ass news! As of August 30th 2012, my injury status was measured and defined as a C5 vertebrae complete injury with an ASIA (American Spinal Injury Association) score of A. Now I’m gonna get Bill Nye all up this. What we have here are two different measurements of my spinal cord status. 1. The vertical level of my injury, which determines what function and motor ability I have (shoulders, triceps, fingers, etc.), was originally C5 meaning that the 5th of 8 vertebrae in the cervical section of my spine was crushed. This in turn severed my spinal cord. Hoorah, this flawlessly segways us in my next point. 2. My ASIA score, based off a physician performed exam. ASIA scores help determine the completeness of the slice through the spinal cord by determining the full level of sensory ability over the entire body. Basically a doctor takes a safety pin, opens it, and pokes you with the sharp and dull side in key areas from head to toe. My responses to dull, sharp, and location are measured to determine an ASIA level. You’re every day Ernesto will have an E score meaning normal motor and sensory function. I started with an A score meaning a complete injury, no motor or sensory function below the injury site. *Any and all medical knowledge pompously stated in these posts can and will be either completely accurate or devastatingly inaccurate.

As of today, November 28th 2012, I have officially been moved up the ladder or down the spine…….. to a C6 ASIA C. This is cause to be happy and is significant for a few a few reasons. The first is in recovering both spinal cord cells and cervical health at all means that I can heal. The floodgates work. Now its just a matter of cranking them open super wide. The other cool thing about this is that I’ve jumped this far in only 4 months. The timeframe of recovery and healing for a young male is primarily in the first year with smaller pieces coming back in up to five years. Having gone this far in just 4 months is promising that I’ll continue to move farther in the coming months. When I say “is promising,” I mean that its definitally going to happen.

Thomas with a C5 ASIA A= 15-17% chance of walking
Thomas with a C6 ASIA C= 45-47% chance of walking
Thomas with a C6 ASIA C with the awesomeness and passion of his peeps and fam= 45-47% chance of walking…… but feels like 100%

Now to me, 45% isn’t enough, but the small victories build the castle……or something like that. What I’m doing to increase the likehood are things including: accupuncture, adaptive Yoga in and out of my wheelchair, a Locomat machine (which puts me on a treadmill and attaches my legs to robotic arms which walk my legs while being in a harness holding a certain amount of my body weight. This aligns my brain, spinal cord, and legs to encourage my nerves to relearn how to walk), a gluten free lifestyle, and many other things to come.

While all of these things are insanely exciting and progressing me towards walking, all of the increased activity in leg motion leaves me in pain by the end of the day. Its kind of a catch 22 that I’m doing this all so that I can walk and get around again. As of right now, after 5:00 I’m bedridden. But don’t feel to bad as this is definitely the good kind of pain.

Thank you to Alex Falenczykowski for helping me with this post.

Thanks to each and everyone of you for any thought, word, joke, or poetry you have produced for me because I will need them now more than ever as winter is coming, as is HBO’s runaway hit Game of Thrones.

Much Love. Hopefully talk to you sooner than later.
T-Bone

Hello All,

I hope everyone is doing well and enjoying the fall colors and smells. Last week I rolled around Lake Harriet with power assist wheels and in between nearly striking children and running over small dogs I was able to inhale the fresh autumn scents (my power assist wheels were aligned horribly).

As I have done in the past, today I will allow someone other than myself to populate your screen. This person, having championed a mix of both physical and mental puzzles of my design, now owns his rightful place in these annals.

This person is Michael Hromadka, a good friend from college and a bueno amigo de Argentina. He spent his fall break from the University of Tennessee Law School visiting my new digs in Minnesota and being the rigorous documenteur that he is. On Friday, he followed my daily routine to the minute and will now share it with you.
In all sincerity, I truly appreciate my best friend coming to see me and sharing parts of my life that I tend to overlook, even though he’s a Brad. Now open the open door and take a step into my life . . .

Friday October 12, 2012

8:56 am – Jackie arrives. Jackie is one of Thomas’ PCAs, or Personal Care Assistants, who helps him with personal, physical mobility, and therapeutic care on a daily basis. Jackie is young and easygoing, two traits that mesh well with Thomas. Thomas only requested young female PCAs from his PCA provider. He assures his family that the reason for the request is that young female PCAs are superb caregivers. His family suspects that there might be ulterior motives.

9:02 – “Cathing” begins. Thomas uses a catheter to drain his bladder. It’s not fun, but Thomas is pushing a lot of liquids as his body recovers. He gets especially thirsty after strenuous exercise and therapy sessions.

9:12 – Stretching begins. Jackie stretches Thomas to improve his flexibility, mobility, blood flow, and muscularity. She starts with his ankles, then moves to his hamstrings and quads. The stretch routine is a combination of pushing, pulling, rubbing, turning, and repeating. It resembles a yoga session combined with a pre-football game warm up. Jackie then massages Thomas’ shoulders and hands. The massage is largely therapeutic, since Thomas is experiencing some muscle pain now that he is exercising rigorously in therapy and trying to master his manual wheelchair. Thomas is working on improving his muscularity even when he is in bed by performing upper body stretching and flexing exercises while watching his super awesome, brand new HD TV.

10:17 – Breakfast is served. Thomas’ choice: two strawberry Pop-Tarts, one sliced banana, one blueberry muffin, and one pineapple orange juice.

10:53 – Daily mid-morning bathroom break.

12:00 – Thomas takes his noon meds. The drugs include antispasticity, muscle relaxers, and neuropathic pain control.

12:16 – Thomas transfers from his bed to his wheelchair. Thomas sometimes uses a hydraulic sling lift called a Hoyer to make the transfer.

12:18 – Thomas gets dizzy from the transfer. He immediately reclines in his wheelchair to alleviate the sudden change in blood pressure.

12:26 – Second cath.

12:46 – Thomas loads up in his wheelchair accessible van. The red Chrysler Town and Country van has a retractable ramp and no middle seats so that Thomas can cruise in and out with ease. An added bonus in the van is that Thomas always rides shotgun.

12:55 – Thomas navigates Jackie to the hospital for his physical therapy (PT) and occupational therapy (OT) appointments. He gives directions while texting his high school buddies about the horror movie they all went to see last night.

1:05 – Thomas starts his PT session on the electrical stimulation bike. Riding the bike starts with the physical therapist attaching small pads to Thomas’ quadriceps, hamstrings, and glutes. Small electrical pulses are sent through the pads to the leg muscles to stimulate the nerves and cause certain patterns of motion. The electrical pulses force his legs to pedal while prodding nerve cells that have been asleep since the accident to start firing again. This exercise will rebuild muscle Thomas has lost since the accident.

1:51 – Thomas gets off the bike.

2:02 – Thomas heads across the rehab gym to start OT. OT is therapy that encourages rehabilitation by performing the activities of daily life. During this particular session, Thomas works on bed to chair transfers and taking his shoes off.

Thomas shines during OT. Anyone who knows Thomas knows that he works hard. Nowhere is that work ethic more apparent than during OT.
Taking off one’s shoes requires maximum effort three months after a major spinal cord injury. The occupational therapist on this day had only worked with Thomas once before, and he did not expect Thomas to be able to successfully take off both shoes after completing a strenuous chair to mat transfer. After all, Thomas has lost a lot of muscle since the accident.

Thomas completes the chair to mat transfer quickly. The occupational therapist is bewildered; Thomas completes the task much quicker than expected. Now on the mat, Thomas turns to taking off his shoes. His arms shake and flex as he places his hands palm down on the mat behind his back to support his upper body. He walks his hands up to his waist as he leans his body forward. He slips his hands into leg loops which are wrapped around his ankles. These legs loops will allow him to move his legs as he pleases. He takes his right leg and bends it over his left leg which is extended. He then slips his right shoe off.

Thomas is working hard and his muscles fatigue quickly. You can see his triceps flex as he walks his hands along the mat, shaking as he seeks his balance. Two occupational therapists comment that his strength is improving; one informs him that she is impressed with how his triceps are coming along. Thomas is happy to hear this news. Anyone who knows Thomas knows how much he loves his triceps.

As fatigue sets in, the left shoe is harder to take off. After a couple of minutes, the therapist asks Thomas if he would like to move on to something else. He says no because he wants to finish what he started. Thomas’ muscles aren’t used to this much action for a prolonged period of time.

Finally, he takes the second shoe off. Task completed.
Thomas uses his remaining strength to lift himself up for the transfer back to the chair. Both the occupational therapist and an observing intern tell Thomas that he worked hard and will be tired later. And they both say that he looks like he is getting stronger.

3:03 – Thomas gets back in the van to head home.

3:21 – Everyone stops for malts from the Convention Grill in Edina. Thomas orders a large Butterscotch Oreo malt. I pay for it because I lost a bet.

3:46 – Everyone arrives home.

3:55 – Third cath.

3:59 – Thomas sorts through his mail.

4:54 – Thomas watches the end of the movie Prometheus while dozing off.

6:46 – Thomas sits down to a hearty bowl of cheddar soup with toast on the side for dipping. He manages finishing dinner while texting high school and college buddies about the movie he saw last night, fantasy football, and other important topics.

7:46 – Thomas’ mom gives him a therapeutic massage. Thomas is sore and in pain from his earlier therapy sessions. He is also frequently in some pain and discomfort on days he does not have therapy, since pain is a natural symptom of his body waking up from the injury. A good massage and strong analgesics help reduce the pain.

9:03 – Thomas starts watching the movie War Horse while stretching and moving around in bed. Thomas works on repositioning himself in bed often in order to shift the pressure he puts on any one side of his body.

10:21 – Final cath.

11:34 – Bedtime. Thomas gets ready to wake up early the next morning to go see the University of Minnesota Golden Gophers take on Northwestern University at TCF Bank Stadium in downtown Minneapolis.
I’m not a Brad; Thomas is a Brad.

Saturday October 13, 2012

6:47 pm – Thomas completes dictation to Michael. He stresses his thanks to everyone for all that they’ve done in making his life easier.

6:51 – Thomas tells Michael to hit the post button.

Good evening everyone. I hope this post finds you well. The Fifth Element just came on AMC, so god knows I’m well.

I want to issue a warning; the following post will be slightly off my typical path of go lucky excitement and pure positive review. It may at times delve into the negative or macabre.

I don’t consider myself to be an unappreciative person or one to complain when things are good. But I’m shocked at the power this injury, both physical and psychological aspects, to overcome all of the good that I’ve received since I broke my neck. My day-to-day life is not mine. To get up in the morning requires the assistance of a caregiver, takes 2 hours, and to the average person would be humiliating. Be it the doors I can’t open, the stairs I can’t ascend (or descend), or the fresh air I no longer have a desire to meet; the effects of my injury have evolved into a new beast entirely. In the hospital, I was ok; I even enjoyed my time there. In the hospital, its expected for one to have a medical problem. But once you leave the hospital, its assumed that you have gotten better and you can return to your normal life. Once I left the hospital, the life I encountered was far from normal. Its frustrating to be in a place that I’ve known my whole life and with which I interacted my whole life; but to see it from such a perspective (such a limited perspective). It’s like watching ….

(Here is where I’ve struggled to find a fitting analogy)

Its kind of like being handcuffed-I’m wait I’m handcuffed.

Beyond the physical restraints are the psychological effects I’m now experiencing. Again, my hospital stay had an end date; I knew when I would be discharged. For some reason, I thought that date would be the beginning of the end. In actuality, it was the beginning of the long beginning. Its that notion-the long road ahead without a map or timeline that gets me. But…..

Its not all bad. Every message, letter, text, visit, phone call, or mental image I receive reminds me I’m still alive and that I’m still me. Though it sucks pretty bad, it could always be worse. I could be fighting this alone-and without a 60” TV. For every morning that I wake up feeling blue, there are 4 afternoons or evenings spending time with my friends that make my journey less difficult. Instead of staring down this hypothetical road that I love to cite so often with all of its speed bumps and lack of Taco Bells, being with my friends or thinking about all the great times I shared with people in my life (Snowpa) elevates me beyond the road and returns me to being a regular (hilarious) dude.

Ok, now that I’ve got you guys teary eyed and depressed; I’m going to hit you with some positive action. The first is that I used my legs yesterday; I rode a fricking bike for 15 minutes with electric stimulation going into my quads and gluts. This is the first step in the process of my returning to the world of daywalkers. Its quite exciting to see my legs moving on their own, albeit if I’m not telling them to do so (picture coming soon). The thing that I find most exciting (now keep this very down low-don’t talk, don’t think, don’t even whisper about it as the slightest breeze could blow it away; but I wiggled my left ring finger a couple of days ago and continue to do so. Its hard to tell what this means because I’m no physiatrist; but it definitely means I’m getting my fingers back soon. Being that its my left ring finger, it may be the rehab equivalent of catching the bouquet at a wedding…. Ladies beware.

I apologize for being a little dark earlier in this post, but I think its important to keep it real. As always, thank you for everything. Each of you amaze me with your dedication, creativity, and hilarity. It blows my blues away.

Adios-boludos.

T Bone.

Hello friends,

It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? As proof of my dedication to all of you, I am writing this post during the Vikings’ inspiring, but inevitably heartbreaking game against the 49ers.

First and foremost, as my Catholic education has taught me, the thank yous.

-Thank you to the Triggs/Wallerius families for their hospitality and generosity in our time of transition. Since apparently it takes more than three weeks to completely renovate and adapt the first floor of a house, having a fantastic apartment three blocks from our home while construction was taking place was a God send.

-The UW hospital 4th floor rehab staff (I think now that I have left your care you can finally see this website). You guys are all amazing and I wish I could hang out with each of you, but in a setting where I am not naked half the time.

-To John Henry Hunter whose fancy fingers are typing this post. Thanks for the help in moving, you’ll receive your paycheck via mail, I promise.

-Thanks to the transition team that got the house ready for renovation (especially EClo and KJ- your sweat and blood never goes unappreciated) and helped move us back once construction was done.

-And finally to the two people without whom none of this would be possible, including that one time that I broke my neck: Dr. James C. Cloyd III and Mrs. Therese Bowman Cloyd, my loving parents. Both of you have been amazing, inspiring, frustrating, and unconditionally loving supporters throughout this entire crazy experience. Though this injury is terrible and I wish it never happened, it has brought our family closer together (but mom I don’t need to wear my seatbelt in the shower, I’m not going anywhere).

Phew, now that we’re done with the required thanking stuff, we can get to the real story. This will be formatted in more chronological order beginning with me leaving the hospital and ending with me in my new, amazing room at 4820 Maple Road eating sour skittles.

(to enter a midstory gem, I no longer have to wear my neck brace, making my everyday life roughly 750% better.)

On August 30th I was discharged from the UW-Madison Hospital. I was hoping to roll through a gauntlet of high-fives from all the staff who had undoubtedly grown to love me over the 8 weeks I was there; unfortunately I was not able to create enough force on the wheel chair to roll through more than 1 high-five at a time. Next came the death van ride provided by Uncomfortable Industries. For the 4 hour ride from Madison to Minneapolis (it’s definitely 4 hours, anyone that says its more, to you I say nay) I imagined the helicopter to be furnished with steak sandwiches and Blackberry Izzies. But the helicopter must have been double booked. Now, I’m not a big complainer and if you were to ask my mom to tell this story she might even use the word “suck”, but I’m going to complain about this van ride. After a few hours of keeping my head free from sharp, malicious objects; the relentless radiating bumps of the road began to affect me. Apparently 5 weeks after a spinal surgery, 4 hours packed into the rear of a ten-year old mini van is contraindicated. I could go into detail about the pain and discomfort of the ride, the claustrophobic nature of being in the van “trunk” (no vents), wearing a neck brace and two seat belts on my power chair, and, lastly, the disappointment of not easily being able to go into the gas station and get a 99 cent rib sandwich… I could complain but I won’t.

As noted above, the first floor of my parents home has been redesigned to make it wheelchair and Thomas accessible. This includes many awesome things: a expanded and redesigned bathroom with a roll-in shower (complete with sand-toned tile for a calming effect), a personalized brick sidewalk into the house, widened and automatic operated doors, and a taken over living room (you know that room in your house that no one ever goes into? That’s the room I’m in). Though I have no formal training in home construction and design, it apparently takes more than three weeks to redo an entire house with the amenities as described above. We stayed in an apartment for 12 days while the construction was completed. Many episodes of NCIS were watched in the apartment (Thanks again Triggs/Wallerius families).

After my comfortable stay in the apartment, my parents and I moved back to our home on Sept 12 to a buzzing hive of activity as the builders rushed to finish construction. A lot has happened since then including starting PT and OT at Sister Kenny Rehabilitation Institute, adjusting to my life with a spinal cord injury (I hate the term “handicap”, it sounds permanent), adapting to the reality of my limitations in such familiar surroundings, which has proven to be challenging and disheartening.

Given the length of this post and the closeness of the Viking’s game, I am closing for the time being, but expect more details sooner rather than later.

As always, thanks to everyone who reads, thinks, prays, or vibes my way. I’m just now realizing how long my road will be. So please keep it coming, the vibes help.

Click here to see comments from Thomas’s orignal blog post on Care Pages. 

Hello all. Let’s keep this one short because another post is coming through the pipes.

Jason Curry is a good friend of mine and a semi-awesome guy. I asked him to write a post from his perspective after spending about a week with me in the hospital. He worked for 2.5 years as an advertising copywriter for Leo Burnett. So direct any complaints regarding the humor, logic or quality of this post to the company.

By Jason Curry
August 30, 2012

Over the last week we’ve been filming some of Thomas’ rehab work: A) to document and remember what Thomas has gone through here (not really) and B) to send a video into Jamba Juice to try and trick them into sponsoring his recovery. We figure if Terri Cloyd has gone into the Madison Jamba Juice 4+ days/week for the greater part of six weeks there is a pretty solid chance they’ll agree to it.

Less importantly than the above, Thomas is leaving the hospital for good today. He is officially the most tenured patient in the rehab unit; so basically, he’s been running the show. And somehow this gave the nurses license to mess with him. On Sunday he woke up with his right big toe painted red thanks to a nurse named Mary. Then on Wednesday, the day before discharge, he woke up with his left big toe painted turquoise thanks to an old little Tibetan woman named Neelam (also a nurse; I have to say that for quality assurance purposes). Thomas will get them back someday. He doesn’t know when and he doesn’t know how, but it will be way over the top.

Alright, gotta run… roll… out of here, tis a glorious day and it’s only up from here. Thomas again says thanks to everyone for the amazingly thoughtful cards, care packages, movies, etc.

Good day everyone, it has been for me. My good amigo Jason Curry is in the house and providing the dexterous keystrokes to post this message.

The most important thing I need to say is thank you. Thank you to Pat, Julie, Cassie, Jesse, Darwin, Michael, and especially Casey. You are all to thank for me being alive today. All of those who read this post, please pray for them as you pray for me, for without their quick thinking and calm demeanor there would be no CarePages update to read today.

Another quick thing to get out in the open. In this post, as well as future posts, I may or may not make a few “I can’t feel my legs” jokes. These are for me as much as they are for you, because without comedy–especially in the face of tragedy–what are we but animals? For example, in a recent PT session, I was in a rather vulnerable position when in walked my Attending and no less than 15 medical students. As both my jaw and legs dropped, they continued to move towards me in a menacing fashion. As they approached me, I inquired of their intentions, which were to observe my spasms and the reactions that drive them. Fortunately I crave attention so I was happy to have the audience. After a few foot taps and twists, the “Oooos” and “Ahhhhs” started pouring from the crowd. Then a very young looking third-year medical student came to test the reflex of my left knee. After tapping my patella, I immediately shrieked, “OWWW!” and stared at the medical student. The mix of confusion and fear on his face, along with the shock of the crowd, made the invasion of my privacy completely worthwhile.

And thus the “I can’t feel my legs” joke was born.

On a more serious note, I know I always emphasize the positive: the milkshakes, the candy, the double quarter pounders with cheese’s whenever I need them… and of course my recovery progress. But to be fair, there are some challenges I face daily. The spasms I spoke of before have actually calmed down in severity, but with that comes an increase in neuropathic (nerve) pain in my forearms, fingers, and entire lower body. When I wake up in the morning it’s a stiffness of pain like I’ve never felt before, but fortunately throughout movement during the day the pain does subside. Again, I see this as a sign of my body waking up and have a reason to fight through the pain.

One other challenge that I have faced, and made me respect the wheelchair bound even more, was my brief trip to the market on the first floor of the hospital. Not only could I not open the freezer doors to reach my Vanilla Frappucino, but when at the register I could barely reach the counter top to hand over my credit card. This all took four times longer than normal, which clearly made a line behind me. Although no one seemed to mind, it was embarrassing and extremely humbling. But I know after a few more weeks in my wheelchair, I will be doing wheelies in the aisles and endo-ing up to the register.

To end on a positive note, my Occupational Therapist mentioned that in her substantial history of working in a rehab unit, I have by far the most function for any patient that she has seen with a C5 injury. I take this as a jump start to my recovery, so I’m already ahead of the game and know my progress will continue.

Thank you for your time. Sorry for the long post. Thanks to all for your messages; I read each and every one of them (the flattering ones twice).

No need for hellos, we just spoke. On top on everything else you all have done for me, I’m again asking you to continue to pray for a quick recovery of my fingers.

Hello everyone. I apologize for the delay in putting up a new post. I’ve been busy strengthening my shoulders and transferring to and from my bed (actually milkshakes and watching the Olympics-closing ceremony is going to be great)-Spice Girls are on in 30). A lot has happen since the last post-some good, some bad. This injury has taught me to start with the bad.

The nurses call it tone, my PT calls it clonus; I call it spasms. They struck with a vengance in the last few days. It began with a few leg shakes, then progressed to more intense movements. These spasms have moved from my legs to my mid-section to my arms. This often happens with a spinal cord injury. I’m not worried because this is a sign that my body is waking up from the initial spinal shock. Fortunately, God invented a thing called drugs. In this case a antispasticity product called baclofen, which helps reduce the intensity of the spasm. However, it may take some time to get the full benefit from it.

Now on to the good news. I’ve officially regained the use of two muscles-one in my upper chest and in my wrists! The one in my wrists is controlled by the C7 area of my spinal cord, which is two better than the original injury. That’s a good thing. Beyond that I gotten stronger and much more competent in use of my manual wheelchair, which is the chair I prefer to use. Along with my muscles, I’ve also regained sensation in several parts of my body including my back, my legs and, most excitingly, tingling in my feet. Understandably my doctors are not able to tell me this could mean, but I do know its a good thing. Is another sign of my body waking up.

With an official discharge date of Aug 20, reconstruction of my parents home in Edina has begun. The re-modeling will accommodate my wheelchair and unique needs (Thanks mom and dad). Though the 4th floor rehab team at the UW Hospital has treated me well, I’m excited about coming home and beginning outpatient rehab at Sister Kenny Rehabilitation Institute in Minneapolis so I can focus on re-gaining what I have loss. I’m looking forward to being close to my many friends in the Twin Cities, which will allow me to take another step toward returning to a normal life.

Millions of thanks for the millions of things you have done to help me and my family through this unfortunate period of time. Goodbye to you all. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be training like Missy Franklin in my recovery.