A Former Quadriplegic Shares His Journey to Recovery

THE ACCIDENT 

Abe Daniel recalls being in a very good place in life by June of 1998. He had just graduated college, been newly hired as an associate pastor, and was soon to propose to his long-time girlfriend, Anna. “My personal life was progressing, my future marital life was taking shape, and I may have felt invincible,” he remembers.   

On June 8, friends asked him to join them for a round of golf at a local course where he’d played weekly for years. At the second tee, Abe hit a 250-yard drive that seemed perfect. As he and two friends rode in their golf cart toward their second shots, going down a steep cart path, the driver applied the cart brake to slow them down. Meaning to use the traditional brake pedal, he mistakenly pressed on the cart’s hill brake, which locked all four wheels and brought the cart to a rapid halt. All three young guys were thrown from the cart; the driver to the left, another friend through the center, and Abe to the right. The guys were startled, but fine … until the cart itself followed suit, flipping over and landing on Abe.

Their group of seven friends quickly lifted the cart off of Abe, who lay in a contorted position, his chin resting on his chest, and called 9-1-1. Abe remembers it all clearly. “Groups of first responders began to arrive including the highway patrol, the local fire department, local police, EMT first responders in their ambulance, and others.”  

Flown by helicopter to a hospital in Santa Clara, CA, Abe endured many x-rays and tests to determine the extent of his injuries. His main concern, though, was the cost of all those expensive tests and how he would pay for them. Then the neurologist broke the news: “Abe, you broke your neck.”  

THE AFTERMATH 

Abe had fractured his fourth vertebrae, a similar injury to the one sustained by actor Christopher Reeve, who spent the remainder of his life as a quadriplegic. Abe was given the same prognosis. In those first 24 hours, drifting in and out of drug-induced sleep, he tried to wrap his brain around what that would mean for his life. Just hours before, he was on top of the world; now, every dream he had seemed to be over. How could he be a youth pastor if he couldn’t move? Or play the piano to lead worship? "And as that dream was vanishing, the one that hit me hardest was marriage. I had a beautiful girlfriend who I knew God had brought to my life.” Despair swallowed him like a tidal wave.

During the first day in the hospital, Abe’s family and Anna weren’t allowed to see him, while tests were being run. The neurologist then explained to him that he would need to have a metal “halo” screwed into his skull until his neck strengthened enough to again carry the weight of his head. This meant that his head wouldn’t rest on any surface, including a pillow, for months. His hope evaporated. “While I was navigating through the most difficult season of my life, I found myself questioning many things related to my faith. Specifically, I began to question whether God was still with me?" Grief shifted to anger. “Pleading my case to God was not a prayer request, it was an accusation of my unfair treatment. Typing it today is the revelation of pride, arrogance, ignorance, and much more.” After venting his anger, Abe’s emotions turned to resignation. “My surrender was not healthy. My surrender became a prayer of defeat as opposed to a prayer of faith.”  

After that tumultuous first day in the hospital, something took place that no one expected. Abe asked his nurse for ice chips, and grew increasingly frustrated because she didn’t understand where he told her the pitcher was. “A pulse shot through my body, and filled my arm that caused it to raise and motion toward the left with my pointer finger fully extended at the existing pitcher of ice chips. At that moment, both the nurse and I froze. Something had just changed and both of us were trying to process what had just happened.”  

Incredibly, feeling began to return to Abe’s limbs. “Within a few moments, everything except for my left arm had regained all feeling and range of motion.” Mystified, Abe’s neurologist reexamined his charts and said, “Abe, there is no scientific explanation as to why you have movement in your body. However, after forty years of medical experience, I can tell you that I have seen signs that prove that there is a Being that is higher than us.”  

The following 100 days were filled with physical and occupational therapy, surgery, and more therapy until finally, Abe’s halo could be removed. He still displayed some paralysis in his left arm, but was an inch taller, and 95% recovered from what was fully expected to be life in a wheelchair.  
           
THE APPLICATIONS

As a pastor for two decades now, Abe has had to deal with many discouraging situations and crises. While he can relate, feel compassion, and provide encouragement, he’s also learned many lessons about God’s goodness amidst severe trials. One is learning to look to the Lord, not circumstances, for hope. “It’s again my reminder that looking down will only focus on what’s present, but looking up to our Heavenly Father will restore hope when it has all faded.”  

He also understands that a “spiritual fog” can easily set in when believers are deeply hurt or disappointed, which needs to be recognized by others. “Fog can truly paralyze even the strongest faith-filled Christian, preventing us from adequately preparing for the warfare ahead.” Abe reminds us that what God has promised is far greater than what our enemy attempts to ruin. “When this is our foundation, there is no fog that can overshadow our greatest tragedy. My faith in Christ will cause the fog to lift!”

Though Abe has remnants of his injury that remain 24 years later, he is ever grateful for his recovery. “The impact of daily muscle spasms, chronic neck pain and other side effects is a small price to pay for the ability to walk and run. For some, that would be depressing. For me, it’s a reminder of God’s promise.”