28, one November morning.
Ice. Snow on top. 6 a.m. Darkness. I was driving to install metal chimneys.
Paralyzed.
“You won’t survive. You’ll be a vegetable. You won’t breathe, eat, or move on your own.”
Four years earlier, my mother died.

Now I am 52.
Three books. I create music for my poetry. I record audiobooks. I study.
I train. I breathe, eat, and go outside by myself.
I keep fighting. I still need 24/7 care. The state covers six days per month.

From the heart — let’s build the future together.
Four simple ways to do that are below.
Thank you!