A Year Ago, I Was Paralyzed

One year ago today, I was paralyzed from the neck down.

January 22, 2024, was eerily and ironically, much like January 22, 2025. Cold, and the remnants of a recent winter storm still coated the ground with snow and ice. I was working from home and not thinking that today would radically change the trajectory of my life.

My backyard Jan 22, 2025 looks much like it did Jan 22, 2024

Around 10:30 that morning, I let Buster and Belle out to go potty. Belle, our puppy, had and still has a predilection for eating her own poop. She had recently started eating Buster’s. So when they make, we needed to pick it up as soon as possible. Buster started to do his business, and I went outside. In the above photo, you’ll see our yard has a hill. Buster was at the crest of the hill between the shed and the first pine tree. I bent over to pick up his droppings, slipped, and fell.

My body went vertical, and I slammed hard on the ground on my back.

Initially, everything went fuzzy for a second. The sky above me and a branch I could see lost color and went out of focus. Then everything was fuzzy, and I felt woozy. Then, the scene above me flashed back into focus. I was conscious; I could see, but I was lying flat on my back.

Suddenly, I was aware that I could not feel anything below my neck and could not move. It was probably the most terrifying moment of my life. I did not have fall detection on my watch turned on. Technology fail. I immediately began screaming for help. “Please help me. I’ve fallen in my backyard, and I am paralyzed. Please, someone hear me and call 911.” I then would try and activate SIRI to call 911. It did not comply. So, for four minutes, I alternated between screaming for help and begging SIRI to activate.

Finally, one of my neighbors happened to let her dog out and heard my screams. “Where are you? What happened?” I recognized the neighbor as Patty and began talking to her. “Patty, it’s Rich. I’ve fallen, and I’m paralyzed. Please call 911.”  I still had my faculties and was able to communicate. Patty asked for my address and called EMT. Soon, another neighbor, Michelle, was hopping fences and telling me she was coming to help. I warned her of the slippery conditions as she jumped over the fence and made her way to me. She’s a nurse. How can she help? I told her I fell and couldn’t move. I think I’m paralyzed. She said she would help me and call 911. I said 911 had been called. She went to my house and got a blanket. Michelle retrieves my phone and calls Rebecca. I tell her I've fallen and cannot move. She's on her way.

After a few minutes, I could feel my legs. I moved one. Then the other. “I can move my legs,” I sobbed. Michelle said “thats’s great! Take it easy, though.” I continued using my legs but was aware I could not feel my torso area. Soon, I can lift my shoulders, but my arms are useless. My fingers are jello—more terror. I keep moving my legs and lifting my shoulders. I'm so cold. So scared.

Patty, Michelle, and my mother-in-law Linda are now all at my side as we await the EMT.

EMT arrived in about 9 minutes. They assess the situation.  Where I'm at on the snowy hill is precarious. They plan to dig their heels into the snow and through the dirt to secure themselves to get me on a backboard and up the hill. Soon, the plan is in motion. I'm on the board and up the hill. On the stretcher. In the ambulance.

On the way to the hospital, I begin to feel my fingers and can start to move them. A moment of relief.

We arrive at the hospital, and the trauma team is assembled. They begin assessing me. Rebecca arrives and sees I am moving. I hear the surprise and relief in her voice.

X-ray. CT Scan. MRI. STRESSFUL

Tests revealed an existing condition on my neck and spinal cord that would have required surgery anyway. The fall caused my spinal column to squeeze my spinal cord, causing a bruise and, ultimately, a permanent condition called Central Spinal Cord Syndrome.

Eventually, my legs started to move. By the time the EMTs arrived and loaded me up, my arms had begun to move. At the hospital, they cut off my favorite Boba Fett/Ohio shirt. And began the long process to where we are now.

The cut off shirt.

I had my first surgery on January 26th. Dr. Michael Kachmann performed the surgery. Essentially, this was a surgery that was going to have to happen anyway, as I’d been having problems with my neck, but the injury expedited and complicated things. I came out of surgery and began rehab. I could now move everything except my arms and hands, which could move but not well. Prognosis was good and rehab began in earnest. Eventually, I was discharged and moved to a rehab hospital to continue my recovery and rehabilitation.

Things were going well until the morning of February 5, 2024. I woke up with some pain in my neck that had not previously been there. I couldn’t sit and eat breakfast without pain. As the day progressed, the pain increased. I would try and do PT or OT sessions but the pain became overwhelming. An X-ray was ordered, but it never happened. By the evening, the pain had become pretty unbearable. My wife and my nurse, Sarah, were concerned. “This isn’t like him,” Rebecca expressed. Sarah called the doctor and explained the X-Ray never occurred and my pain had increased. They sent me back to the hospital. On the way there in the ambulance, my pain became so intense. I could not lay on my neck without extreme, searing pain. I arrived at the hospital and waited. An X-ray and MRI were performed, and I was admitted to the hospital to await the results.

During admission, my pain intensified to where I was thrashing in my bed. Suddenly, unexpectedly a familiar sensation. Paralysis. I was on my side and couldn’t move. I told my nurse. She didn’t believe me. “Try and move your leg,” she said. “I can’t move,” I replied. She realized this was bad.

Have you ever seen any television medical drama? ER, Gray’s Anatomy, Chicago Hope? Yeah, that’s what happened next. Instead of watching the action from the outside, I had a full patient POV of total medical chaos. Within moments, my room was full of people.

I started to fade. I could feel myself slipping. “Call my wife. Tell her what’s happening. Tell her I love her.” I won’t say I ever “saw the light” or anything. I did not have an “out of body” experience. But I could feel myself getting weaker and literally slipping away like very slowly falling asleep. I was scared. I heard them shouting things I knew from the aforementioned TV dramas to be bad. “He’s crashing!” “BP 80 over 40!”

Dr. Randall J. Hlubek stepped in for a vacationing Dr. Kachmann. He explained we were going into surgery. A hematoma had developed in my neck. It was unexpected and rare, especially for this long after my initial surgery, but it happened. It was pushing on my spine, causing the paralysis.

I woke up again at Bethesda North. This time, I could not move my arms and hands very well—the secondary trauma on my spine, which complicates an already complicated situation.

Thus began the next part of my journey. I spent the next eight weeks in the hospital, at two different rehab facilities, and fighting my insurance company. I’ll spare the details, but those were the toughest 8 weeks of my life. I could not have made it without the support of Rebecca, Wes, Emi, family and friends, and the most amazing nurses, PTs, and OTs.

Yesterday, I completed my 52nd round of physical therapy. After being paralyzed twice last year, I now have a significantly improved range of motion in my arms. They are still weak and nowhere near 100%, but I am alive, moving, and improving.

Thanks to everyone who has supported me this year. My family. My doctors. My nurses. My AMAZING physical and occupational therapists. My IRL Friends. My internet friends. I love you all.