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As I approached the intersection of 35th Avenue and Thunderbird Road in Phoenix, Arizona I downshifted to first gear and stopped for the red light. While putting my feet on the ground, my so-called friend pulled along side of me and yelled through his helmet, "Hey Dean, lets go stop at my job, then we'll hang together!" At first I said no because it was my day off and I had things I wanted to do at my apartment. He asked again, and as the traffic going through the intersection cleared, I gave in and followed him. We made a right and accelerated westbound on Thunderbird Road while signalling into the left lane.
The last thing I remember was the incredible shock of an accident about to happen when a beige Kia Sephia turned across from the other side of the road and stopped sideways in our lane. I hit both my front and rear brakes firmly as the wheels locked and sent the bike crashing down on its left side. Both the bike and I slid along side each other for the next sixty-feet until we both hit the front right of the 80-year-old-jerk's car. As my motorcycle became wedged under the front bumper, I slammed forcefully against the fender. Hitting the fender caused my skull fracture and broken neck which went through further stress when I bounced off the side of the car and landed approximately five feet behind the rear bumper. It was 12:15pm on October 24, 1995, I was 21 years old, and my life as I knew it was over! The world faded around me as the heat from the pavement baked into my skin and my motorcycle winded down while spilling gas from the ruptured tank.
While laying on the ground I was not aware that my friend had made it safely around the front of the car. He turned around and came back to see what had happened. When he arrived back at the scene, he saw me laying on the ground while an off-duty nurse was trying her best to revive me. Naturally, my friend approached the old man to find out why he cut us off, and all the guy had to say was "you boys need to learn how to ride!" Unfortunately by then the police arrived and stopped my friend from beating the hell out of the old man. The paramedics had also arrived and hooked me to life support since the wonderful nurse had succeeded in obtaining my heartbeat (thanks Karen!). I faintly remember the sound of her voice as I was being lifted into the ambulance. "Five minutes Dean, just hold on for five more minutes." The doors of the ambulance closed and the normal life that I had ten minutes before that was never to be seen again.
| The initial extent of my injury: Skull fracture from top center to under left ear. Cerebral Hematoma. (Blood clot on my brain) A chip on my C1 vertabre. Fractured C6-C7 vertabre's Crushed spinal cord at C6. Stage 3 Glasgow coma |
About ten days after the accident I woke up in the intensive care unit of John C. Lincoln hospital in Phoenix. Opening my eyes felt strange at first because of all the various drugs that were flowing through my veins to keep me sedated. I believe it was around the eleventh day I was able to communicate by blinking my eyes when people rehearsed the alphabet and reached the letter I wanted. It was a long and tedious process to spell out words letter by letter, but that was the most progress I had made in almost two weeks.
My parents, two sisters, and my ex-girlfriend flew from NY to AZ to see me in intensive care. Luckily I was able to open my eyes and see them on the last day of their visit which made me feel great since I was still fighting death. My girlfriend at the time was unbelieveable. I met her only a few weeks before the accident, but it was as if we knew eachother much longer. We spent almost every day together from the middle of September '95 until the night before my accident. When I awoke in the hospital for the first time, she stood next to me holding my numb hand like an angel. I'll never forget what I said to her... "Lori, you are a beautiful young lady. I appreciate you staying by my side through all of this, but I understand if it is too hard to deal with. Please know that I love you, but you should go and..." Then she interrupts me and tells me to stop thinking about it. She assured me that she'll help me through everything, and she kept her word. (Lori, if you are reading this, I'll never forget what you did for me!)
I was showing improvement every day and come November 11th I was transported to Good Samaritan Rehab Hospital in southern Phoenix. My mother stayed in Phoenix with me and helped with my rehab a lot, both physically and mentally (I couldn't have made it without you mom, I love ya). A few days after arriving at Good Sam I was placed in a power wheelchair so the therapists could adjust it to fit me. I was still coming down from all the morphine I had and to this day I still have trouble remembering my first two weeks in rehab. I went through severe withdrawal that involved hallucinations (which were pretty wild) as well as extreme nervous cold chills every night as I tried to sleep. The halo brace was a tremendous discomfort when I tried to move and so any kind of therapy was an unpleasant experience.
The halo was removed February 1, 1996 and I flew back to NY on February 13th. I started rehab in Helen Hayes Hospital in West Haverstraw, NY on the 14th (Valentine's day) and continued until April 26th. I had some out-patient rehab until November of '96 and then that was the last of any therapy.
Since being home and away from therapy I have been living a normal life. Although still dependent on my wheelchair, I drive a car, go to college, go out to the bars and clubs, whatever, wherever, and whenever. I don't see using the wheelchair as an excuse for not being able to do something, in fact, it helps you appreciate the things that you can do... and I do more than most able-bodied persons think I can.
***** For some miscellaneous information on Spinal Cord Injury and how I deal with it on a daily basis, I have included a section on my "frequently asked questions" page that you can read about here. Don't forget, you can always email me at Dean@DeanJoyce.com.