Breaking my neck was the best thing that happened to me

I believe that I have two birthdays, the first being my legitimate date of birth and the second being the day that changed my life. There is an immeasurable amount of layers to this story that I wont be able to touch on this article but the message to be shared is how every adversity we face brings with it a seed of equivalent advantage. Before I begin I want to take a brief moment to highlight two remarkable women that play a significant role in my life. To my mother Alessandra and my former coach Colleen Millsaps I couldn’t be more thankful for you two incredible leaders. When people ask me who are the strongest people you know I acknowledge each of you. You both have showed me the true meaning of strength, resilience, and discipline. Thank you Colleen for saving my life, for believing in me when I didn’t, for helping me break my barriers, and for being that second mom in my life. To my mother Alessandra I love you so much and I thank you everyday of my life. You stood by me everyday and provided me the shoulder to cry on when all hope felt lost. You never gave up on me and you always encouraged me to chase my dreams and conquer everything I do. Anywhere is home as long as I am with you.

On February 4th, 2021 (my second birthday) I experienced a near fatal accident while Motocross training that resulted in a broken clavicle, a broken sternum, a shattered wrist, internal brain bleeding, and a broken C1, C6, and C7 vertebrae. The worst of them all being my C1 which was and remains split in half in two different places. My body was said to be falling face down 50 feet from the ground but nobody saw how I landed due to an obstacle covering the view of my fall. I was unresponsive but I was lucky to have my coach Colleen Millsaps with me who saved my life by requesting immediate air evacuation. It was my first helicopter ride but sadly I wasn’t awake to experience it (lol). I made it to the ER in a time of 20 minutes where I was attended to and started to open my eyes. I don’t remember anything from the first couple of weeks in the hospital, in fact I struggled to remember my own name. According to my mom, when the doctors asked me for my name some days I would give them names of famous motocross racers. Other days I remembered my name correctly. My memory and cognitive abilities were compromised. The doctors said it was a miracle I didn’t die or become a quadriplegic. I believe now there must be a reason for this. I was told by the neurosurgeon that maybe with time my neck will heal. The option of neck surgery was complicated but to be considered depending on how I progressed. I had youth and good health on my side the doctors kept saying.

The road to recovery was slow and hard or at-least it felt too slow. I had told my mom I wanted to ride again despite my injuries, so I was determined to get back on the bike. “I survived so I can show them that I belong, I have to go back” was my answer. The two weeks I spent in intensive care is still a blur to me. My mom who never left my side will later give me the full account of events. I remember when I tried walking for the first time, I nearly collapsed if it wasn’t for the nurses who stood by me holding my back brace like a puppet. I had also forgotten how to do simple tasks such as read a clock, brush my teeth, and take a shower. I knew right there that if I wanted to race again I had to fight harder than ever.

I was moved to Brooks Rehabilitation hospital in Jacksonville, Fl. Looking in the bathroom mirror my arms were spaghetti noodles, a cast snuggled my wrist, my rib cage protruding, my neck concealed in a brace, and my legs had no muscle from being bed ridden for weeks. As a matter of fact I had lost majority of my muscle from muscle atrophy. Standing six feet tall I was down to 125 pounds. I gritted my teeth; the task was simple, nut up, fight the fucking fight, and work harder to be better everyday. I spent weeks learning how to walk again, picking items off the floor, reading Dr. Seuss books, and learning how to read a clock. I got frustrated constantly and fell into depression but still I rise keeping that promise to be better everyday. I was lucky to have my beautiful mother by my side. Her unwavering strength gave me hope and the resolve to stay focused on the promise I made to myself. I attended classes daily with other kids who had also suffered traumatic brain injuries. I worked my ass off everyday, each morning I woke up with the intention to get out and get back on the bike as fast as I could. Often I asked my mother with tears and snot on my face “why me mom?”, “of all the kids why was it me?”. My mom firmly believes everything happens for a reason, and I trusted her word.

After 6 weeks of therapy, I was able to leave the facility sooner than the expected two to three months. I was cognitively and physically good enough to head home and continue my recovery there. I surprised all my therapists with my recovery but I had one only one goal in mind, I stayed focused and resolute on that. Home at the time was the Millsaps Training Facility in Cairo, Georgia; a motocross training compound that trains some of the best professional and rising amateur racers. Once I got back I worked with my gym trainer Jacob everyday. I attended physical therapy for my wrist that is still held together by a plate and nine screws. Jacob and my riding coach Colleen devised a program tailored for me. My neck was still in a brace so I had to be careful and play it smart when it came to strength training. The program involved a lot of time on the stationary bike, rowing machine, elliptical, ski machine, free weight squats, push ups and hours upon hours of doing oxygen chamber therapy. Even though I was happy to be back and out of rehab, I was also depressed. My mom had to to go back to my home country of Jamaica due to her Visa and when she left I never felt more alone. With my neck still in a brace I couldn’t drive anywhere, I relied on others to take me places and to my doctors appointments nearby. My life was a lot more sedentary than before. Everyday I heard the bikes scream and watched my peers getting faster while I stood on the sidelines. At the end of each day I walked the track on my own day dreaming. I enjoyed these walks; the Georgia sunsets were religiously stunning, the facility was mute, and it was a space for me to cry unbothered. I would go to bed at 2-3am most nights watching movies or listening to sad music with a stack of oreos next to me sending signals of dopamine with each bite. This went on for months.

After just five months since the accident, I was strong enough to get back on the bike but I was never the same again. I struggled to find my balance, my technique was sloppy, and my speed was no where to be found. I kept telling myself that it’s okay, my coach told me to be strong and patient. I knew that deep down everything will come back with time but it hurt to see the guys I was faster than start passing me with ease. Two months later I was seen by another neurosurgeon in Miami who told me that my neck while stable will never heal completely and that it will remain broken for as long as I live. “Continuing to race motocross is like playing Russian roulette” she said. My mother glanced at me while I sat on the doctor’s seat with the annoying parchment paper beneath me. I saw it in her eyes, the ghosts that haunted her from a familiar past. One look and I knew that I had to make a decision that involved a lot of pain and heartbreak. To love means to be vulnerable, to love something means to be willing to let go or in my case ‘hang up the boots’. I left the hospital leaving a trail of tears and my dreams shattered across that cold floor. My mother consoling me with her love reminded me that everything was still good and a world full of possibilities and options was out there for me.

It has been three years since my crash and whenever I look back I couldn’t be more grateful to have survived and to have experienced the trials and tribulations that stood in-front of me. They taught me material that no amount of schooling could ever teach me. I proved countless doctors wrong, but I also proved them to be right. They told me “I’d never be the same again” and they were absolutely right. Breaking my neck was the greatest gift I was not consciously aware of. When you come close to death you become enlightened. The corner stone of Buddhism is the idea of ‘impermanence’, meaning that nothing lasts forever. You can be the person who says you only have one life to live so you spend your time partying till dawn drowning in alcohol screaming “yolo”, or you can be the one who is actively working on a GOAL that will bring passion and purpose into your life. It would've been easy for me to let myself go and say “fuck it all” but I refuse to believe that my story is over. That chapter of my life is closed but I will never go back to the person I used to be. That person who would go to bed at 2am and wake up at 11 was going to be buried six feet under. I will never be that person who chose the easy way out, the attitude is “working smarter AND harder”. If I had to do 20 push ups i’m giving you 40. If I was told to run 3 miles i’m giving you 5 miles. This behavior I implemented carried over into other aspects of my life from school and work to daily chores. I used to leave my bed unmade every morning whenever my mother was not around, “It’s going to be messed up again later so whats the point?” was my excuse. Now it must be made every morning, no exceptions. I spent the first 2 years after the accident asking “why was it me?” but I now understand why. My mother said “Everything happens for a reason and believe it’s happening for you, not to you”. I discovered it can take days, weeks, months, or years for us to see why but keeping our minds open will spawn with it the greatest gift we’ve inadvertently been asking for.

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