The Day That Changed My Life

I was peaking in my sport and potentially landing a spot on the Canadian White Water Slalom Kayak Team. I wanted to train in the warmer waters of South America so I packed up my bags and headed south to paddle with some members of the U.S. team.

I traveled two weeks ahead of the training camp to explore the different waters of Chile. I found gorgeous cascading waterfalls and thunderous, exploding, large volume rivers to paddle. I had reached heaven (in a kayakers mind).

There was an opportunity for me to make a lot of money as a safety kayaker. A safety kayaker travels along side of a raft to pick up those who fall out and return them safely back to the raft. I had two weeks to play and make money at the same time.

I had been working for this company for a little over a week, and I had noticed that a lot of injuries were accumulating over the week due to the inexperienced guides and the dropping level of the river. The river was exposing some rocks which were causing the rafts to flip and become stuck on the river bottom. My job was becoming dangerous and tiresome as I had to be constantly on guard rescuing screaming inexperienced rafters.

The rivers are classified on a rating scale ranging from class I being slow moving water all the way to class VI which is a grade the same as Niagara Falls. This particular river is classified as Class IV+ and in some areas Class V. It was one of my favorites because of it's high waterfalls and technical drops. There was one drop that raised the hair on my back and that waterfall was called the Salto Feo, which in English means Ugly waterfall. I had warned the guides and other fellow kayakers of this particular waterfall because of the large rock that lay on the bottom of the falls. Ironically I was the one who should have listened to my own advice.

I had completed two runs on the river that day and I was tired. The rafting company wanted me to do a third run but I was not feeling up to it. The skies were becoming black and an uneasy feeling settled in my soul. I was not feeling up to completing a third run. The rafting company strongly suggested that I should, to earn some extra money. I agreed and slept on the way to the river. When we arrived at the river bank the strange feeling became stronger and I tightened up the helmets and life jackets of each rafter because I had a feeling something bad was going to happen to someone on this trip. I never once thought it would be me.

I knew my only option was to roll my kayak upright so that I could breath again, and that is what I did. I rolled my kayak with one hand but, I was not out of danger as I was headed for a second class VI waterfall. I did not have lot of time to spare so I began to ferry my kayak across the river. This is a technique that does not require paddling; it is the same way a ferry travels across a river with no motor. The photographer noticed the severity of my condition and raced to my rescue. He grabbed the bow of my kayak as I was just about to fall over the next waterfall. He saved my life.

My horror story was not over yet! The man lifted me from the water and placed me on the river bank. He did not speak English and I did not speak Spanish so there was no communication between us. The only thing I could do is scream with horror as he tried to pull me from my kayak. Eventually he got the message and left me alone. I was slipping in and out of consciousness and it took all my will not to pass out from the intense pain. Chaos filled the air as the rafting party appeared. Now I had to fight off fifteen people that could not speak English. Again the guides tried to heave me out of my kayak and place me in the raft and I all I could do is scream until they would leave me in my place. There was a radio on the bus and someone was sent for help but, while I was waiting for help, thieves stole my gear and ran off while I was helpless and broken in my kayak.

It was fifty minute later when the paramedics finally appeared. I had to be carried on an unstable spinal board up a cliff and through a forest. The paramedics stumbled and fell and I feared for my life because I was not sure if I would survive the journey to a hospital. An hour and a half later, I finally reached a seedy village clinic and I rayed in pain for another forty minutes waiting for confirmation of my medical insurance. Finally, it had been confirmed by the doctor that I suffered a fracture to my second vertebrae and needed to seek a specialist in a city in Northern Chile called, Temuco. It had been another two hours until I reached the second hospital when I was immediately placed in a cat scan. I was terrified, and no one could tell me what was going on because of our lack of communication. I rayed in my silver cyndrical world for one hour and twenty minutes until a specialist confirmed that my condition was critical and that I needed emergency surgery immediately.

The last thing I remember were tubes being placed down my throat, and when I awoke, I was attached to pumps, hoses, and wires. A team of six surgeons stared at me waiting for me to move my hands and feet. A sigh of relief filled the air when I could move my fingers and toes. They applauded and smiled and left me to rest. The right side of my body suffered temporary paralysis but I was reassured that I would gain full recovery within a few months. I stayed in the Chilean hospital for approximately three weeks and was released on February 14, 1997. My positive thinking and my appreciation for life helped me with a speedy recovery.

January 27, 1997, changed my life forever, but I wouldn't change that day for anything. It made me into the person I am today.