My Accident

How I Became a Quadriplegic

On the 27th of February 2005, seven days after my 20th birthday, a dirt bike accident changed my life forever. I became a ventilated quadriplegic, meaning I can’t move my arms or legs, and I rely on a ventilator to breathe. But despite everything, I’ve never lost my positive outlook., I felt invincible, as if nothing could ever hurt me because, up to that point, nothing had.

I don’t remember much of the accident, but here’s what I’ve been told. It was a Sunday afternoon, and I’d been hanging out at a friend’s workshop, just five minutes from my home. I drove back to my place, but instead of staying in, I decided to return to the workshop on my trail bike—a choice that turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life.

As I geared up, a friend rushed out and tried to stop me. He even took the spark plug cap off the bike so it wouldn’t start, knowing the dangers of riding alone. But he didn’t pull it off enough, and the bike roared to life. I took off down the road, heading toward the workshop.

In a bid to show off, I sped past the workshop at 80-90 km/h, turning my head to look back. That’s when everything went wrong. When I turned forward again, I slammed into a freshly pruned bush. A branch struck my helmet, ripping it off my head and snapping the connection between my skull and spine.

A Life Saved by a Stranger

I had just three minutes to live after the crash before my brain would be starved of oxygen. Miraculously, someone from a nearby nursery saw the accident and rushed over. My face had already turned dark blue; it was clear I didn’t have long. Without hesitation, they started CPR while others called the police and an ambulance.

When the police arrived, they took over the CPR, alternating for approximately 45 minutes until the ambulance came. I was rushed to Fremantle Hospital’s ICU, still without any identification. For four hours, I lay there, unknown, while my friend frantically searched for me, eventually tracking me down by calling the police and hospitals. Because he was under 18, the police needed his father’s permission to let him identify me.

The Wait for Answers

I remained unconscious for almost four weeks while my family and friends anxiously waited for news. Would I survive? Would I have brain damage? No one, not even the doctors, had clear answers. It was obvious that I would be paralyzed and dependent on a ventilator for the rest of my life, but the biggest question was my mental state.

It took three weeks before I began showing any signs of awareness—first with small eyebrow movements, then my eyelids, and eventually mouthing words. This became my new way of communicating.

At first, everything felt surreal. I didn’t believe this was my permanent reality. It felt like I was just unwell, and with time, I would get better. But that wasn’t the case—it was denial. Even in the ICU at Fremantle Hospital, it didn’t feel real, perhaps because of the compassionate staff. I kept hoping I would wake up and be fine again.

I spent a total of two and a half years in the hospital. Seven weeks in Fremantle Intensive Care Unit (ICU) in a very critical condition. Another seven weeks in Royal Perth Hospital ICU undergoing surgery to re-attach my skull to my spine. I was unable to eat or drink, so I was fed by a tube that went straight into my stomach for 18 months. I then had an operation called a Laryngectomy. This is an operation where they bring your trachea (windpipe) to the front of your neck. Your esophagus (food pipe) and your trachea are separated. This means there is no chance of food going down to your lungs and causing a chest infection.

Finally, two years in Royal Perth Shenton Park Rehabilitation Campus waiting for the Ventilator Dependent Quadriplegic Program (VDQP) to be set up and finalized. This program would fund staff, equipment, and modifications to my house enabling me to live at home.

When I was transferred to Royal Perth Hospital ICU it was intimidating for me as Fremantle had become my comfort zone and I felt safe there. Anyway, the move was on because I needed the operation to stabilize my head to my spine.

My operation was booked for the day after I arrived. The operation was going to be delayed until the Leading doctor intervened and the operation went ahead on

I was in theatre for five hours and the operation was a success. I thought I was going to wake up all groggy from the aesthetic, but instead, I woke up, looked at the time and said: “PUT THE SIMPSONS ON”.

I was only allowed to sit up 30 degrees for three months after the operation. That meant four and a half months flat on my back which was not fun at all. Eventually, I got up into a wheelchair, not that I used it very often. I felt that there wasn’t any point in getting up just to sit around the hospital.