s(NO)w Boarding Allowed

Let me start this one by saying - GOD IS GOOD. I AM ALIVE.

March 6th, 2021 was a whirlwind of events to say the least. My dear friend and brother GERRIT was getting married at the end of the month, and I had been given the honor of being one of the co-best men. We planned a weekend getaway in Big Bear for the bachelor, with the intent of spending the first portion of the trip doing an activity that is near and dear to his heart - snowboarding.

The last thing I can remember was sitting on top of the mountain, taking a picture with all the bros before making our run down the hill. The next thing I knew, I woke up in the emergency room. But let’s explain how I got there.

According to Gerrit and other members of the groomsmen clan, we were coming around a bend on the hill, moving fairly quickly. The entire way down, I had apparently been practicing my toe brakes - facing uphill while having your back facing downhill and leaning into the mountain to slow down. As we rounded the corner, I had either caught my board on something in the snow and/or leaned too far back, but either way - I fell backwards, while speeding downhill, and broke my nearly 180° fall to the ground using the back of my head. 

(An important detail to note: it had not snowed for at least a few weeks prior to that day, so all the snow was artificial and would melt each evening and refreeze into ice underneath the crunchy, man-made powder. A couple of the guys confirmed that they felt the patch of snow where I fell and it was basically ice.)

I was reportedly awake for a few moments, even giving a thumbs up when my friends yelled in my direction to see if I was alright. But it wasn’t long before I blacked out and was unconscious for a few minutes.

(Again, all of this is being told by James, but as told to James by others because he could not and still cannot remember any of this.)

The guys called for help and I was placed on a stretcher and brought down the hill to the medical bay using a snowmobile. An ambulance was called and brought me from the resort to the emergency room in a Big Bear hospital, which is where our story started. (Fun fact: I didn’t find out I was in an ambulance until I received my medical bill from the ambulance service provider months later.)

I wake up in the emergency room, extremely dazed and confused. I had no idea where I was or what had happened. Gerrit was sitting in a chair in front of me and calmly explained that I had been in an accident, and that the doctors were running tests on my head to check my brain. I vaguely remember this but apparently I joked with Gerrit and told him, “They checked my brain and said it’s bigger than yours.” It was funny the first time, but as he tells me - I couldn’t remember I had just said the joke and would repeat the same insult to him over and over again, all within a few minutes of each other. I was not okay.

What I did not know was that they had brought me in for a CT scan of my head and had found a “subdural hematoma” - my brain was bleeding from the impact.

The doctors, my family, and the guys with us began coordinating to have an emergency helicopter airlift me from Big Bear to the nearest hospital that had a neurosurgery team available to operate.

As we waited for the helicopter to arrive, I was given a phone to talk to Sharon and my family. We called via FaceTime, and everyone told me they were praying for a miracle. As I talked to Sharon, she asked me what year it was. I couldn’t remember.

She began to try and find clues to what I could remember and what year my head might be in, so she asked what book I was reading. I confidently answered, “The Warren Buffett biography.” I had been reading that book at the end of 2019, almost a year and a half ago. Finally, she asked me, “You remember we’re having a baby, right?” I paused, and slowly answered, “…yes.”

I can’t imagine what it was like for Sharon going through all of this. Here she was, five months pregnant, hearing her husband suffered a concussion and was in the emergency room waiting to be transported for possible emergency brain surgery, and I couldn’t even figure out what year it was. Scary doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface.

I continued to fade in and out of consciousness, so there are plenty of gaps in between the hazy memories. The next thing I knew, I was being carted out towards the helicopter, with all the guys and Gerrit standing at a distance, watching it all. I apparently asked him to record a video of me going for a helicopter ride.

As my stretcher was loaded into the cabin of the helicopter, my heart raced as I thought of Kobe. I didn’t want to die. But I couldn’t give it much thought because I lost consciousness again. The next thing I knew, I was lying in another hospital bed, with doctors telling me they needed my signature on some forms. Alone, confused, and barely cognizant, I willingly signed, not having any idea what I was consenting to. For all I know, they could have been asking me to donate my body for the next Captain America (Captain Indonesia?) experiment and I would have signed it.

My mind started to slowly come back, and one of the nurses handed me a plastic bag of personal items from my family, who she said was outside the hospital. So they must be out there somewhere, waiting for me. Before long, I got more FaceTime and WhatsApp calls - Sharon and my parents explaining what was going on: I was moved to another hospital where they were doing more scans. They told me to just get some sleep.

The curtain was drawn in front of my bed, so I couldn’t see who was behind it. I heard a voice ask, “What’s happening to 6?” 

I slowly looked up above the curtain and saw a sign hanging over me: “6”. They were talking about me.

“Neurosurgery is waiting to admit him.” Neurosurgery?? Admit?? That can’t be good. Pretty sure that means they need to cut my head open and operate on my brain. But I like my brain!

It wasn’t long before someone came in, telling me we were going to do some more CT scans. As we started to move, the entire world felt like it was spinning. Any slight motion felt like the world was moving at 100mph while I was barely moving. What is going on with me?

I was told to crawl onto another bed-like apparatus, and the nurse who wheeled me in walked out of the room. Someone appeared in a glass window across the room and she began speaking through a microphone, telling me to when to breathe in, hold, and breathe out, as the bed was being fed into a massive circular machine. My heart began to pound. I started to wonder if they knew I had spine surgery as a kid; two rods and nineteen screws in my spine. What does a CT scan do to metal? Does it heat up and radiate my spine?? I saw that episode of House on TV when I was in high school; that lady gets burned from the inside because of a metal implant, doesn’t she?? My heart started to race. The whirring of the machine grew louder and louder, competing with the violent pounding of my heart and rapidly escalating breathing. The inside of the machine radiated a deep red glow, and I shut my eyes, and began to say to myself, “I trust you, Jesus. I trust You, Jesus. I TRUST YOU, JESUS.” I braced for the worst and — the machine slowed down to a stop. No spontaneous combustion.

“All done!” the voice over the speaker said. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I’m okay. 

I was wheeled back to the bed, and over the next few hours, I was transferred out of the original room I was in (trauma ward) and into a regular room, complete with a TV and a roommate. The nurse who moved me explained that they had been performing CT scans of my head and upper body to check for any further nerve or brain damage. They knew my brain was bleeding from the fall, and they had to make sure the bleeding stopped or they had to perform emergency neurosurgery to make sure my head didn’t fill with blood. But for now, the doctors wanted to keep me in the hospital overnight to monitor my condition. I listened and gave plenty of weak “thumbs up” as my way of saying “OK”. I didn’t ask, but I assumed it was a good thing I was moving out of the trauma ward.

Long story short (or just slightly less long), they kept me in the hospital overnight. I did nothing but sleep, eat, and occasionally text Sharon or send her a picture of me sleepily smiling at her. 

At 8:38AM, a woman walked in, saying she was part of the neurosurgery team. My update after their team had been monitoring me overnight: the bleeding in my brain had stopped and was essentially a brain bruise. I would have typical concussion symptoms (sensitivity to light, sound, etc.), but I was clear to go home later that day.

Another doctor came in to talk to the man in the bed next to me. He looked at me asked, “Oh, you’re the snowboarding guy?”

“Yessir.”

“Were you wearing a helmet?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Good. That saved your life. You would probably be dead if it weren’t for that helmet.”

I thought the morning before - when our group stood in the parking lot of the resort, and where I had told the group my helmet didn’t fit over my beanie. “Should I wear the helmet or just the beanie?” One of the guys said, “Just wear the helmet. You already paid to rent it.” I nodded in agreement and took the beanie off, replacing it with my helmet. A moment’s decision that could have unimaginably changed the end of this story.

I ate lunch, said goodbye to my roommate Chuck, and by about 4:00PM on March 7, 2021, I was wheeled out of the doors of the hospital.

God is good. I am alive.

RECOVERY —

The next few weeks were a battle - no light, no sound, and lots of sleep from anti-seizure medicine. Severe headaches and something very new to me: vertigo. 

What I would later discover during a follow-up neurologist appointment was that the dizziness and lack of balance were from the impact of the fall and its effect on my ear (not just my head) and the fluids your ear inside that affect your balance. I would sit up in bed, and instead of stopping at a 90* angle, I would feel like my body was still moving forward and spinning in that direction indefinitely. Any turn or movement of the head had the same effect: turn my head left and stop, but my balance and head would keep spinning left regardless of the fact that I was no longer moving my head.

While the physical effects were a challenge for the first 2-3 weeks, what lingered for the next month or so were the cognitive limits. Not being able to work, read, or even watch TV made up the biggest hurdle of all. In the words of Switchfoot, “You never know what you got ‘til it’s gone.”

Through the entire recovery, our family, friends, and particular business partners/family members took such good care of both me and Sharon. We barely lifted a finger as they would spoonfeed me, stand in as a human walker/cane for me, do the laundry for us, cook for us… everything. We owe you our deepest gratitude. No other words to say but “thank you.” Thank you for showing us what family really looks and loves like.

Jogging for the first time about 3 weeks post-concussion

MARCH 28, 2021 — Three weeks after the accident, I was able to stand at the altar with my dear friend Gerrit as his co-best man. I even gave a best man speech, complete with a cold pizza toast. If you know, you know.

Just over three months have passed, and it honestly feels like a lifetime ago. I am fully back to work, ministry, and everything else in my life - sans snowboarding. Sharon and I are preparing to welcome our daughter into the world, and as I reflect on everything, I cannot help but marvel at God’s goodness in my life. That one fleeting moment could have so irreversibly altered the course of my life, and the lives of those around me, still baffles me. I am here today and am able to be here for my wife and for our baby, because of one thing and one thing only - the grace of God.

And if you have bothered to read this far, I urge you to heed these words:

Never take a moment of your life for granted.

Live every moment of every day filled with the purposes and plans that God has for your life, and leave nothing on the table.

Live a life that you can look back on and say, “I gave it my all.”

Give your loved ones an extra kiss or hug on your way out. You never know how many you have left to give.

This life doesn’t last. Spend what you can now on things that last forever.

And finally - always always always wear a helmet.