he year was drawing to an end when my brother and I were involved in a car wreck. On November 9, 1980, James and I left a party and hit a telephone pole. Again alcohol, marijuana, and another drug attributed to my troubles. I spent the next four and a half months in the hospital. Death seemed to stalk me continually. I left Shepard Spinal Center on March 21, 1981. It was the first day of spring and yet things didn't look to bright for me. I was paralyzed from my neck down and dependent on a ventilator to breathe for me at all times. I didn't know it but the doctors had told my parents that I might live a year. The paralysis and ventilator dependence was permanent.
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