by Chris Norton
Back home, with Chris and Alex in Decorah, Deb, Katie, and I heaved a sigh of relief. Within months, we’d made two huge transitions, and with the help of family and friends, we’d somehow made it work. One of the things Deb and I continuously battled internally was not putting everything on Chris’s injury. When we worried if he’d meet the right girl, or take care of himself when he was away, or get a good job, we tried to remember that we had the same worries for Alex and Katie. It was too easy to place, “because of his injury” on the back of normal parental fears. Armed with that knowledge, we thanked God for our blessings and kept on praying for the future.
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I keep my eyes always on the Lord. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.
~Psalm 16:8 NIV
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WHEN I was in high school, I had no idea about my future. I loved the lake and I wanted to make enough money to have a lake house. I thought becoming a lawyer would be a natural fit because lawyers made a lot of money, and I enjoyed a good argument. As a lover of the stock market, I also considered business and finance. Like most kids my age, all I knew was that I wanted to make money while somehow making a difference.
When I started back to school in the fall of 2011, I was intent on going to law school to possibly become a lobbyist or an advocate for people with spinal cord injuries. I wanted to do some sort of legal work to help injury victims who needed assistance with funding and working with insurance companies. By then, I knew the system was broken for most patients forced to stop rehab when their insurance ran out, and I longed to improve the system any way I could.
As I made progress in therapy, my plans for the future changed accordingly. I considered becoming an engineer when I saw a need for better, more affordable equipment and technology for spinal cord injury patients. I hadn’t totally given up on the law, as the need for improved insurance coverage for injury victims and advocates for people in my situation was great. My injury and recovery dominated the career avenues I explored, but I eventually circled back to business.
The student academic support center at Luther was a big help to me. For instance, they coordinated a system where students were paid a small stipend for taking class notes, typing them up, and then e-mailing them to me. I was able to pay attention to what the teacher was saying instead of worrying I wasn’t getting it all recorded. Once I knew my way to each classroom and had someone lined up to take notes, I was able to relax and concentrate on my studies.
My teachers were given advanced notice about my presence in their class, and I communicated with them about some of my needs and how they could help me succeed. For example, instead of handing out a paper copy, teachers scanned the handouts and e-mailed them to me so I could do worksheets and readings on my iPad. The teachers were all very flexible in allowing me to turn in my work electronically.
Having Alex around school really put me at ease, especially during the transition. If it wasn’t for her willingness to put her life on hold for me, I wouldn’t have been able to live on campus and continue college at Luther. Before Alex and I moved to Decorah, I was nervous for her. She was going to be living by herself, she didn’t know anyone but me, and I started to feel badly that she was coming to help me without any friends of her own. If she was with me all the time, how was she going to make friends? I was worried and scared for her emotional well-being.
In the beginning, I could tell she was nervous about the isolation. We hung out a lot because she was involved with pretty much everything in my life, especially that first semester. Alex was a social person who didn’t want to hang with her brother all the time, so it didn’t take long before she began making some good friends of her own. A lot of people knew she was living alone, and they took it upon themselves to include her. Eventually, I was asking her to hang out with me because she’d made such good friends from Luther that when she wasn’t helping me, she was having fun with them.
I had scheduled patient nursing care for Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday mornings to help get me out of bed, go to the bathroom, shower, shave, and cut my hair. At first, the nurses rotated, but soon Nancy became my main nurse, solidifying her status as my mom away from home. She took really good care of me and even did things for me outside of her nursing responsibilities, like picking things up for me at Walmart, making my bed, cleaning my room, and sometimes doing my wash. She made me feel special, and I was blessed to have her.
When Nancy’s aide, Sandy, moved from Decorah to New York, Kaitlyn took over for Sandy, helping me for over two years. She did all the extra stuff like Nancy—picking up things at Walmart, keeping my room orderly, and driving me to appointments.
I always knew my college friends were unique in how supportive they were, but when it came down to really depending on them at school, I could count on them for anything. I trusted them, they always looked out for me, and they tried to include me whenever possible. It was one thing for my friends from back home to be there for me because we’d grown up together, but I’d only known my college friends for a short time before my injury. They went out of their way to help with unexpected loyalty, sacrificing for my benefit, and were willing to take on the added responsibility of caring for me. I depended on them, they understood that, and selflessly helped as if it were no big deal. My college buddies became my brothers.
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“I still remember the very first visit with Chris. I was very impressed with how he arrived with two big football buddies. I was amazed at how kind, caring, and helpful they were. The support he had from friends and family was unmatched. His personality and demeanor was also unmatched.”
~ Jennessa Luzum OTR/L CHT, Winneshiek Medical Center
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As much as my friends tried to include me in everything, I sometimes declined their invitations. For example, I desperately missed playing basketball and shooting baskets, so whenever my friends said they were going to play a game of pick-up basketball and asked if I wanted to go with them, I’d tell them to go ahead without me. They wanted to include me, which was awesome, but I would have given anything to play a game of pick-up basketball and it hurt to even watch. Whenever my friends told me they were going to the rope swing in town and they’d be back in a couple of hours, I acted like it was no big deal so they didn’t feel uncomfortable. I didn’t want them to not go just because I couldn’t, but I really wished I could’ve gone. It was hard on all of us because I think they knew I felt left out, but I had to accept there would always be things I couldn’t do. They did the best they could to include me, and for that, I was grateful.
Thanks to Luther’s head trainer, Brian Solberg, I was able to do extra workouts with the training staff. Most of my friends were busy at football practice, and after the first semester, Alex was busy working part time and doing schoolwork, so Brian showed the student trainers how to help me with the bike. A lot of the student trainers wanted to be physical therapists, so helping me was great experience, and I became really good friends with them. Some of them even went to PT with me and assisted me in the pool. The student trainers were eager to help, they kept me focused, and they saved me from bugging my roommates all the time.
I marked the one-year anniversary of my injury by going out with friends. I felt a lot of emotions that day, more than I ever thought I would. I couldn’t believe it had been a year, and yet it seemed like a lifetime had passed since my injury. I took the time to reflect on how far I’d come in a year, and eagerly anticipated where I’d be the following year. The one-year mark was especially hard because at the time, I didn’t know my path. Even though I was inspiring and motivating others, I still felt a bigger purpose and meaning waiting just out of reach. The uncertainty about my future made it scary.
The Saturday after I served as honorary team captain for Luther’s first home game, my parents and I went to the Central vs. Luther game at Central College. After the game, my family and I were really touched when the Central team came over to shake my hand and the coac
hes told me they were praying for me. Later, a Central player and his family approached and asked to take a picture. There was no doubt in my mind that the player with the pale face and glassy eyes was the kid involved in the play where I broke my neck. After a small exchange and the picture, they walked away. My dad confirmed he was the kid whose leg my head collided against.
If we’d spoken about the play, I would have told him it didn’t matter whose leg my head hit that day. It wasn’t his fault, and it wasn’t my fault, it was just an accident during a football game. I never once wondered who he was or felt any resentment or anger toward him, but I could tell he was shaken by what happened. I hope he found some peace after our exchange.
I was incredibly surprised and honored when my football coach, Mike Durnin, nominated me for the 2011 America’s Choice for Courage in Sports award. I was doubly excited because if I won, I’d get to make an appearance on the CBS Early Show. I thought there was no way I’d win, but after a big voting push by my family and friends, I made it into the finals. I found out I’d won a month and a half before they released the names to the public, and I was so pumped, but I had to keep it a secret. Winning meant my family and I would get to fly to New York City for the official announcement.
Flying for the first time since my accident made me nervous because I didn’t know what to expect. I’d flown before, but I couldn’t recall ever seeing anyone in a wheelchair on an airplane. After struggling to maneuver through stores and even our home, I knew airplane aisles were too skinny for a wheelchair.
At the airport, I transferred to an aisle chair, a really narrow wheelchair, and loaded thirty minutes before anyone else because it took some time to slide in between the rows and transfer into the seat. I was nervous for takeoff and landing because I felt as if I was going to slide out or fly forward with the momentum, but between the seatbelt and my dad’s arm, I stayed put.
My friends Shawn and Nick from West Point met us in the city, and we felt like kings being picked up by Escalades and Mercedes and driven around while Jay-Z and Alicia Keys’ song “New York” blared from my phone. I’d never been to New York City, and the sights and sounds made me feel as if I’d landed on cloud nine. They even put us up at a nice hotel downtown.
My family and I got up early the next morning to be at the CBS Studios where the makeup and hair people treated us like stars. No one really explained exactly what to expect on the show, and the next thing we knew, we were in the studio, and they announced we’d go live in ten seconds. My stomach curdled with nerves as the countdown began. With no idea what questions were coming, or what we were supposed to say, we answered without thought. Minutes later, when the segment was over, I thought we’d handled it well.
CBS and Intersport, the company behind the award, gave us tickets to the Rutgers-Army game at Yankee Stadium where they treated us to a tour of the new facility and the Yankees’ locker room. Yankees General Manager, Brian Cashman, also gave me a baseball signed by closing pitcher and future Hall of Fame inductee, Mariano Rivera. In addition to the tour and the ball, the Yankees gave us sideline passes and suite tickets with access to a VIP lounge and dinner.
We also met with Eric LeGrand at the game because we were both in the running for the Courage in Sports award and he was there supporting his alma mater, Rutgers. Eric was upbeat, happy, and optimistic, and his family was very nice and down-to-earth, but meeting him was very humbling. His family kept asking me questions because the location of our injuries, between the C3-C4 vertebrae, was the same, and yet I could tell they were wondering how I had regained so much more strength and movement than Eric. Despite everything we had in common, our recovery was very different.
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“I saw the news on Sunday of Eric LeGrand of Rutgers University. I couldn’t believe ‘it’ could happen to two young men on the same Saturday in October. I made a point of calling the Rutgers football office on Monday morning to offer my thoughts & prayers to them and to share Chris’s story.”
~ Mike Durnin, Former Head Football Coach at Luther College
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Eric was so happy and full of life that I understood how people were motivated by him and found inspiration in how he handled his injury and recovery. I totally understood when he said he was thankful for what he did have, as I tried not to dwell on what I didn’t have, but focused on what I did have and stayed positive. Like me, he was also very grateful for his family and support system. Meeting Eric reminded me to be thankful because my situation could have been worse.
During our time in New York, we visited the Statue of Liberty and went up to the top of the Empire State building. On our last day, I really wanted to go to Rockefeller Plaza to see the Today show. My family wanted to sleep in, but I pestered them until they relented. We arrived early to get a good spot along the roped off area, and my dad, never one to stand quietly, began talking to someone with security, telling him about my injury and how I loved the Today show and how watching it really boosted me up when I was in the hospital.
The security guard started whispering to someone else, who whispered to someone else, and before I knew what was happening, the security guard pulled aside the rope and my dad pushed me right next to the opening where Matt Lauer, Ann Curry, Natalie Morales, and Al Roker walked out. The Today show stars came outside and filmed their segment, and as they walked by to go back inside the studio, they all shook my hand and greeted me. We took a couple of pictures with them, and then as if in a dream, Ann Curry asked who was with me and if I wanted to go inside.
We all looked at each other as if Santa Claus had magically appeared and offered us a tour of the North Pole. With the wave of her hand, Ann gestured for my whole family to follow her inside the building, and then she just started giving us her own personal tour of the studio. She showed us the green room and offered us food. We followed her to another set where she had a segment with an author who looked nervous enough to puke.
It was surreal for us to be in the studio watching the show being taped right in front of us, especially because it was so unexpected. We all squeezed into an elevator and followed Ann upstairs where they were taping a food segment. Someone in my family made an offhanded remark about wanting to try the food they made because it always looked good, and the next thing I knew, they handed me a plate of food. It was like a dream come true.
Ann was all set to take us to the control room, but unfortunately we had to leave to catch our flight. I was really disappointed we had to go, and so thankful to her for the spontaneous hospitality. We made our flight, and everyone was glad we got up early and made it to the show. We couldn’t have had a better experience in New York.
Back at Luther, even with my hectic schedule, I always did well in school, mostly because of my work ethic. Someone once told me the phrase, “Work hard, win easy,” and I kept repeating it because it just stuck. Something about it really spoke to me, and I felt it summed up in the simplest way possible what I believed to be true. By working hard and putting in the time, the results would follow. The phrase basically meant success by preparation, capturing everything I ever felt about life and how life worked. It was smooth and easily flowed off the tongue, so “Work hard, win easy” became my catchphrase.
I took every opportunity to work my muscles, like purposely eating with my right hand because it was weaker than my left, and doing mini sit-ups whenever I found the time. I would type with my left hand until it fatigued, and then start typing with my right. I tried to think of new ways to push myself because I’d get restless and feel like I needed to be doing something constantly. If I dropped my jacket on the ground, for example, it was pretty easy to get one of my nine or ten roommates to come and grab it for me. There were times when I didn’t want to ask, so I’d try to pick it up, and sometimes I’d surprise myself. While watching a movie or TV show, I’d put hand simulators on my forearms that stimulated my hands to open and close, or I’d squeeze some foam blocks I borrowed from OT to work on my hand grip. My therapists
gave me suggestions for things I could do on my own, and because every single part of my body needed work, I could always find something to do.
Because of the damage to my spinal cord, my body would often spasm. The spasms were kind of embarrassing because my whole body would start to shake as if I were having a seizure. There was no way to tone it down or warn friends. Stretching and exercise helped calm the spasticity, but sometimes I’d have a spasm in my rib cage that would bend me over and knock me off my chair.
One afternoon when my sister dropped me off at Mayo for therapy, while waiting for her in the lobby, a big spasm surged through my whole body and jolted me to the side. I was stuck in the public area of Mayo hanging off the side of my chair, trying desperately to get someone’s attention to help me sit up. The receptionist at Mayo thought I was having a seizure or a heart attack, so she called a “45-code blue,” throughout the hospital, indicating the most serious emergency. Mayo’s EMS team ran over and sat me up, and when I saw the defibrillator and the syringe in their hands, I suddenly found my voice.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I had a spasm, not a seizure. It’s completely normal.”
There were almost a dozen people standing in a semicircle around me, staring at me with equipment at the ready. Of course, Alex arrived when it was over, so I had to explain to her what had happened as people continued to run to the area in response to the code. When I got to the rehab floor and told them what happened, they thought it was funny, especially Amy.
Around Christmas time of 2011, I started receiving requests to speak at events. In January, I gave my very first speech to the senior class at Decorah High School. It was especially bad—a lot of stammering—because I hadn’t taken the time to prepare. In February, I spoke at the Chapel at St. Mary’s Hospital in Rochester, Minnesota.
