September has been a strange month for me over the past few decades. Along with the significance of the 9/11 attacks in 2001, the day after also holds a special meaning for me. On Sept. 12, 1997, I became a quadriplegic and lost the ability to use my arms and legs.

Each September years after that fateful illness brought a wide range of emotions, but this year, one emotion stood out more than most. Fear.

As I look back on my experience with my illness, Hopkins Syndrome, I vividly remember how I felt initially as I woke from my coma in the intensive care unit at Phoenix Children’s Hospital. Once I gained my bearings, I could feel the fear wash over me. I was covered in tubes as I.V. bags and monitors towered over my bedside. I was a scared 14-year-old boy stuck in a life-changing moment.

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