This is a story about the actual events that happened to Mike Hawkes. Just before Christmas in 1991, while playing recreational hockey, Mike fell to the ice following an incidental contact with another player. He hit the ice and while trying to get up, he found his arms flopping around and felt no sensation in his torso or lower legs. Unable to move, he tried calling out, but no sound came from his lips. He'd suffered a spinal cord injury at the cervical 5/6 region, from what's commonly called a broken neck. He was paralyzed from the mid-chest down, including my arms.

While the doctors were suggesting that he'd never walk again, others-particularly his wife, personal nurse, physiotherapist, and occupational therapist-held out a possibility that, if the break proved incomplete, he would regain limited function. They helped him to set short-term goals and supported and rewarded his determination.

Thirty-three days after his injury, on January 20, his big toe moved. As the days passed, his atrophied muscles began to spring to life. The physiologist and Mike worked together to stimulate his muscles into performing, a process much like being a baby again. But this time his body had to learn to move a 200-pound frame.

At the same time, Dennis Bird of the New York Jets gave spinal cord injury a high profile. However, Mike was neither a football star nor an actor like Christopher Reeve. Mike’s support group consisted of a close circle of family and friends, teammates, fellow patients, and his newly acquired team of health professionals. But he faced a choice: to accept a prognosis of paralysis, or to believe in the possibility of a full recovery. Therefore, Mike adopted a "never give up" attitude. He chose to be proactive and work his muscles into the form they once had. He spent all the extra time He had-and there was plenty-using the physio tables, parallel bars, dexterity games, exercise facilities, strengthening machine s, and swimming pool. Three months after his injury, he left the hospital and entered a rehab facility. Nevertheless, Mike focused on minor accomplishments, and after five months, he began walking between parallel bars. From there, he progressed to using a walker, then arm crutches, and finally to walking solo.

Seven months after his injury, albeit somewhat awkward and uncoordinated, he left the rehab facility to be an outpatient. Mike could walk short distances and had regained his driving privileges. And although it took several years, today Mike can label myself a novice runner.

Early on, Mike was taken out one day for a game of wheelchair tennis, the hardest thing he'd yet encountered. He'd seen wheelchair athletes before and admired their perseverance. But he never appreciated the skill required to maneuver a chair to a spot, pick up a racquet, hit the ball, and wheel to a new spot for the next shot. The experience motivated him to work harder and eventually play the sport, but on two feet.

Today, Mike still has moments of frustration, like when he lacks the dexterity to use a screwdriver. But he focuses on how fortunate he is to have had a chance to recover, and to have such encouragement from others and from his own will power. And he’s still looking forward to the day when he will walk his daughter down that aisle.