22 years later: My strength may fade, but my hope never will

It’s that time of year. The month of September always brings around mixed feelings for me. Sept. 12, 2019 marks the 22nd anniversary of the day I became a quadriplegic.

I can’t believe it’s been over two decades since I lost my ability to move my arms and legs. It seems like yesterday when I was in the intensive care unit clinging to life. Looking back year after year, it is amazing to think about how I overcame such insurmountable odds. And while that was 22 years ago, my childhood is even farther away.

My life before I became sick seems like it was so long ago. One thing that always scares me is losing my memories from my childhood.

Not the actual memories of past moments, the sensory memories of my childhood. The feeling of the grass on the soccer field. The anxiety and thrill of attending a friends party. Or just simply walking around outside.

I know I had the ability to move around, but as the years go by, it’s harder and harder to remember what it was like to be “normal.”

As the years go by, I’ll continue to look back on my journey over the last two decades and reflect on all I have accomplished. While I may never walk again, my hope to regain my strength will never falter and I will continue to roll wherever life takes me in the meantime.