(Janne Kouri tells his story...)
(CNN) -- I was living the dream: a new house by the beach,
great career, beautiful girlfriend, wonderful family and friends -- and then in
an instant it all came to a screeching halt.
August 5, 2006, was an idealistic day in Manhattan Beach,
California. Blue skies, friends, warm water, a perfect day at the beach, and
the living was easy. My friends and I were playing volleyball, having the time
of our lives, and then I decided to go for a swim.
I ran into the water, dove through a wave and hit my head on
a sandbar. In a split second, my life changed forever -- I was instantly
paralyzed from the neck down.
Hours later, I was hospitalized and the results were in. I
broke my C5 and C6 vertebrae, and my doctor told me that I would never walk
again and had no hope for recovery.
Words cannot express the terror I felt when I heard those
words. The next couple of days were a living nightmare. But then, I had a
moment of clarity. I knew my life would be defined by this moment.
How would I handle this horrific news? Answering one simple
question put me on the path to overcoming this tragedy. I asked myself if I
wanted to live a happy life or be miserable.
The answer was obvious. I realized how lucky I was to be
alive. If not for a random person seeing me in a sea of surfers and swimmers, I
would have drowned. From that day forth, I dedicated myself to adopting a
positive outlook, not complaining and taking on this challenge with a smile.
After spending two months in a hospital intensive care unit
battling pneumonia and a 104-degree fever, breathing on a ventilator and having
two near-death experiences, I was finally healthy enough to start my
rehabilitation process.
After a great deal of research, my girlfriend found Dr.
Susan Harkema at Frazier Rehab Institute in Louisville, Kentucky. Harkema was
the only doctor in America that told us there was hope.
The decision was final -- Louisville, here we come. Harkema
was going to let me participate in a locomotor program, the most progressive
therapy for a spinal cord injury.
We left our lives behind -- our jobs, families, friends,
dogs, home and the California sunshine. But why did I have to leave California
to get rehab? It's the eighth-largest economy in the world. This made no sense
to me. What would I have done if I couldn't afford to move to Louisville?
This shocking reality opened my eyes to a major problem
within our health care system. There is a complete lack of resources available
to the 6 million people with paralysis-related disabilities in America. It is
not practical or affordable for someone to uproot his or her entire life and
move across the country simply to get the rehab desperately needed for
survival.
I was fortunate to have the opportunity to spend one year at
Frazier -- the average spinal cord injury patient only spends 36 days in rehab
before being discharged home due to their insurance coverage. If I were
released after 36 days, I am quite sure that I would not be here today.
I experienced amazing results from my rehab. I made lifelong
friends, I learned how to laugh and be happy during the most difficult of
times, but most of all, I learned how precious every breath is and how blessed
I am to have so much love in my life.
I wouldn't wish this injury on my worst enemy, but thanks to
that fateful day, I found my life's calling. If I had the option to go back in
time and go for a snack instead of jumping in the ocean, I wouldn't do it.
While at Frazier, we started thinking about my ongoing care
in California. I was experiencing such amazing results; I did not want to stop
my rehab. I knew to achieve my goal of walking again and living a healthy life,
I had to exercise daily. What was I going to do? That's when the idea of
NextStep came to us. We launched in June 2008.
Today, NextStep is a nationally recognized nonprofit
organization, but more than that, it is a nationwide movement that aims to
revolutionize the quality and accessibility of health care for the physically
challenged community.
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