Learning to Thrive

By Brett Swanlund

I’ve always been an active person and someone who likes a challenge. Growing up I played a wide variety of sports, never much of an all-star but always a great role player. Skiing, snowboarding, basketball. One pick-up basketball game in my early thirties, I missed about 6-8 wide open shots or layups. Frustrated with myself, I asked “Damn why can’t I get any shots to fall?! “An opponent, one of the more talented ball players on the court, laughed at me. With a smug, arrogant grin he said ‘’Because you have no ball control”.  I guess that was all I needed to get my head in the game. The next game, I hit every shot I took and scored 12 of my teams 21 points. I promptly left after that because I knew I wasn’t going to top that performance. At the age of 29, I enrolled myself in Shorin-ryu classes.  In a world filled with Hollywood theatrics and impractical styles it was refreshing to find something richly steeped in historical Okinawan karate tradition. Statistics show that 1/100 students reach their first-degree black belt but only 1/1000 reach their second degree. Three years ago, I was just a few months away from my 3rd.

My career started when I decided to leave college after a year and a half at Plymouth State University in NH.  In my youth, I had been told that a college degree is necessary to get ahead in this world, but school wasn’t for me. I wanted to make a living working with my hands. I went to work for a small mom and pop plumbing and heating company, but soon ended up working for the National Grid Gas Company.  It was exciting and meaningful work. I didn’t mind working in single digit temperatures, jack hammering through 3 feet of frost, or the oppressively hot summer days.  There is nothing quite as exhilarating as 60-90 pounds of gas pressure blowing in your face while wearing a fire suit and full-face respirator. I loved being outside everyday all day, busting balls with my crew. My coworkers used to bust me up because on the average summer day I’d sweat so much that I’d go through 3 shirts. They’d say “your wife must hate you with that much laundry.”  My wife always said my laundry would break the washer because my pockets were always filled with dirt and pebbles from working in a trench. I’ll have you know that the washer works just fine to this day. I was about 6 months away from being a crew leader before my accident.  Not everyone out there truly loves their job but I did, and having that taken away from me was a bitter pill to swallow.

At my core, I am a family man. My beautiful wife Jennifer is the strongest, most supportive, and loving partner and I am blessed to navigate this life with her.  I met Jennifer 21 years ago in the dingy basement of my fraternity across the beer pong table. It almost pains me to admit that she beat me, but we’ll chalk that up to the two extra semesters of practice she had on me. This year we will be celebrating our 15th wedding anniversary, but we’ve been together for more than half our lives. We’ve built quite a life together and have two wonderful children Logan who is 11 and Kayla who is 8. 

On June 9th, 2020, life as I knew it changed forever. At the height of the pandemic, I found myself going a bit stir crazy. The only social interaction I had was with my coworkers. My dojo was shut so I spent most afternoons after work running on the treadmill and lifting weights at home. Once spring rolled around a friend suggested I take up mountain biking with him. I really enjoyed it, as it got me outside with people.  On that day in June, I met my friends Zack and Dan after work in my hometown of North Kingstown, RI to hit the mountain biking trails. The ride was enjoyable, and everything was going great, until it wasn’t.  My friends were a bit ahead of me and as I crested a small hill, looking up at them in the distance, suddenly my front tire dropped, and I went over the handlebars. I was pile driven into the ground. I never lost consciousness but as I lay face down in the dirt, I knew instantly that I was gravely injured. I immediately told my friend Zack not to move me. He dug out a little hole under my mouth and gave me water.  My friend Dan called 911 and rode out to a nearby parking lot to meet the paramedics and lead them to me.  The paramedics put me in a neck brace and on a board and carried me through the woods to the ambulance.  Looking up at the green canopy above me, I was less concerned for myself than I was worried that my selfish desire to go mountain biking had put the wellbeing and stability of my household in jeopardy.  My wife immediately ran to the hospital but was not allowed in the ER because of COVID. Finally, a nice nurse snuck her in. I apologized profusely through tears, and in the most loving way possible she basically said shut up and assured me I did nothing wrong. 

My first week in the ICU is a haze because I was heavily sedated. My injury had left me a C8 quadriplegic. I also spilt my C1 vertebrae in half but luckily it did not hit my spinal cord at this level, so they put a bracket around it and fused my neck from C3 to T2. They also performed a tracheotomy because I had trouble breathing on my own and put a feeding tube into my stomach. I vaguely remember the first time I FaceTimed with my wife. I couldn’t talk and could barely move my arms, let alone grip a marker with grip tape to write.  Luckily, one of the nurses was good at lip reading.

Once I left the hospital and went to Spaulding rehab, they pulled the trache and feeding tube and I was able to eat, and more importantly drink on my own. I was also becoming much more functional with my hands which made things much better. Visitors were restricted because of COVID. The hardest part by far was not seeing my children, but once, a few weeks in, I was allowed to visit with them in a conference room. I was still weak, in a power chair, but tears of joy came to me instantly. They both climbed into my lap and hugged me as tight as they could. They told me how much they missed me and how much they loved me and I told them the same. Seeing them gave me bit of motivation to stay strong and keep fighting.  I vowed to persevere and make them proud of me, without them there is no story to tell.

I really hit the jackpot with the staff who were assigned to me at the rehab. The two most impactful were my physical therapist, Gillian, and my occupational therapist, Nicole. I won’t divulge which one dropped me on my head the first week, but I was fine and as she claimed it builds character. At a time when I was extremely isolated, they were the only people I had to talk to and confide in.  We basically laughed through every session. Though of course I had my grumpy and mopey days, they made it fun. Nicole was always the sympathetic ear, assuring me that there was still so much I could do and accomplish, like driving and adaptive sports. At the time, I rolled my eyes and didn’t believe her. She is wise beyond her years. Gillian and I had a lot in common, both being close in age, and our love for 80’s and 90’s music. She was truly my comic relief, usually at her expense. I had several hiccups while at Spaulding, including frequent UTIs and C Diff, but I never missed a session even though these things weakened me greatly. I’m pretty sure one session I completely fell asleep while Nicole was stretching and massaging my hands. 

I always had candy in my room. One day Gillian witnessed me take a handful of skittles and was appalled I didn’t separate them into flavors. This resulted in a weeklong poll amongst patients and hospital staff on how to eat skittles.  I won and Gillian’s punishment was to eat a handful of all the flavors at once, probably one of the most hilarious and dramatic moments in Spaulding history. 

As my discharge date approached, Nicole mentioned to Gillian that I’d be fun to have drinks with. When the day came, we exchanged numbers. A month later, Jennifer and I met Gillian and Nicole for dinner and drinks after and appointment. After that, we started doing monthly FaceTime cocktail hours. I’d update them on what I was doing, they’d help me find resources and we’d just laugh and enjoy each other’s company. For my one-year anniversary, they planned a surprise party with Jennifer. It meant so much to me. When they were leaving, my brother thanked them and commented that it was remarkable how much they cared for their patients. They told him I was the only patient who had ever warranted such an occasion. This revelation turned me into a sobbing mess. I was so happy. They had to be my therapists, but they chose to be my friend and that meant the world to me.

Before I came home, my family worked tirelessly to prepare my house. My mother and friend Barry from college started a GoFundMe to help with the exorbitant costs of making my house accessible. I was truly humbled by the amount of support I received. My parents, wife and brother had my bathroom completely redone, had a ramp installed and many other things to make life easier. My brother and his girlfriend Caroline came to the house all the time to play with the kids and to keep Jenn’s spirits up.

The adjustment to coming home was difficult. My spasticity ramped up and I suffered UTIs frequently. I was also battling with a lot of self-doubt and anxiety over how life was going to be. I worried that there would be no place for me back at work now that I had been stripped of the physical attributes that had helped me build a career. I had crippling anxiety thinking I wouldn’t be able to provide for my family and I worried I would never again have a reason to feel proud or accomplished. Some days, I just wouldn’t get out of bed. Being home alone while the kids were at school and Jenn was working was hard. My thoughts went to dark places, and I often ended up crying by myself.  

But then I started going to SCI Boston zoom meetings and it was a relief. I spent at least the first four meetings in tears. At the very first one, I shared that I was worried about how my kids would perceive me and if they’d be embarrassed by me.  The group assured me that they would become my biggest helpers and would love me even more knowing they could’ve lost me.  They weren’t wrong. Logan leads with his “can do” attitude. Every time I lament not being able to help him physically with sports or karate, he tells me that we will find a way, and we do. And Kayla is my little helper. When we go grocery shopping, she pushes the cart and, because we are both vertically challenged, she climbs up on my lap in the chair to grab items out of reach. My kids never cease to amaze me.  I soon decided that sitting around feeling sorry for myself was counter-productive and that I was going to do everything I could to experience all life has to offer. I decided to show my kids that even though life can be cruel and throw curveballs, it’s how you respond that defines who you are.

I started going to an adaptive gym a well as outpatient physical therapy and worked out multiple times a week, usually getting rides from my parents or friends. This inspired me to begin adaptive driving lessons, so that I could drive myself places and help transport the kids. My father built me a countertop at my height, and I started cooking family meals. Once I got back on the road that March with an adaptive van the fundraisers helped me purchase, I wasn’t going to let anything stop me. While the kids were still in school, I was constantly signing up for adaptive sports with Spaulding. I did everything, tennis, kayaking, cycling, mountain biking, archery and I even discovered there was a way to golf again.

What made all these new experiences more rewarding was having someone in a similar situation to share them with.  A few months after I had been home, I was at physical therapy and a young woman named Faith rolled in. At the time, I was the only wheelchair user in this time slot, so it was nice to see someone else in my situation. At first, we didn’t talk much but one day, while leaving, her casters got caught in a crack at the bottom of the ramp and sent her flying out onto the wet snow. My dad helped her back into her chair. To my surprise, she showed up to the newly injured group two days later. Little did I know that it would result in an unbreakable bond and truly special friendship. We’re separated by approximately 10 vertebrae and a whopping 18 years.  That spring, we both volunteered to work with physical therapy students at the University of Rhode Island. As the only wheelchair users, we were in a room by ourselves joking around and basically competing with one another the whole time.  Our relationship is a bit unconventional because if it weren’t for our paralysis when else would you see an almost forty-year-old man hanging out with a young lady barely into her twenties? But let’s be honest, conventional is boring. We have so much more in common than the chair.  We both love being active and aren’t afraid to try new things, we share the same twisted sense of humor and an uncanny ability read each other’s minds. Whenever we’re in a large group and no matter what the topic of discussion, we just look at each other and know we’re thinking the same thing and laugh.  We’ve done so much together--mountain biking, dozens of golf outings, even wheelchair football.  She even loaned me her smart drive while mine was being repaired. I guess I’m lucky her parents always taught her to take care of the “elderly” as she put it.  Seeing all that she does, being a full-time student and working part-time, really inspired me to pursue my return to the workforce more aggressively. She’s like the little sister I never had, though she never passes up an opportunity to remind me I’m old enough to be her father.

The last leg of my journey has been returning to work.  I’ve had the benefit of working for the National Grid Gas Company for the last 14 years. You may not like their rates, but they are a wonderful company to work for who values the knowledge and experience of their employees. And no, I don’t get a discount.  Finally, after a lot of hard work and persistence, I returned to work on December 1, 2022. This was the thing I had wanted most since my injury, to be able to once again provide for my family and make everyone proud. It’s been a bit of a learning curve going from a trench in the street to a desk in an office, but I’m learning quickly. I also have the benefit of seeing my former coworkers every day.

Going forward, I will always strive to make my family and friends proud of me.  I will never let this chair define who I am. I believe with the right mindset you can find ways to overcome physical limitations. I often reflect on the words of retired Navy Seal David Goggins, who always preaches mind over matter and mental toughness: “It won’t always go your way,” he said. “Don’t focus on what you think you deserve. Take aim on what you are willing to earn”. Simply surviving a hardship allows you to continue but in an impaired state. Recovering from a hardship sends you back to your baseline, meaning no progress has been made. To thrive, you have to learn from that hardship. I’d like to think that I have learned a lot and will continue to learn.