The first hour after a major accident is called the Golden Hour. If paramedics can get to an accident victim, stabilize him, then get him too a hospital inside that first hour, his chances of survival are greatly increased.

It was only a matter of minutes before the paramedics arrived and began attending to me.  "Keep your head still."  said the medic who was putting a collar on me.  They then turned me to one side and put a flat board under me and began buckling me in.  As they put these large square foam cushions on each side of my head the medic asked, "Are you having any trouble breathing?"  I said no and thought that was a curious question to ask. 

My wife asked me if I was in any pain and I told her not really.  I felt as though my arms and legs were extended above me.  I felt numb all over but not real pain.   I was quite surprised but thankful.

"1, 2, 3."  I heard the medics speak the phrase that I would be hearing almost daily for the next six months.  Then in perfect unison, they lifted me and my board and set it on the gurney where they did more fastening.  They raised the gurney to waist height and rolled me to the ambulance.  They methodically shoved it in, helped my wife aboard and shut the doors.

They asked which hospital.  I looked at my wife who'd lived in this city all her life compared to my 3 years and she said "Saint Francis."  The medic turned toward the driver, relayed the message and we were off.  It was curiously quiet and I asked why the sirens weren't running. 

"This doesn't fall into that category because you are coherent and able to breathe on your own."  There was that breathing reference again. 

I asked, "Why did you ask about my breathing before."  He told me that some spinal cord injuries result in the person not being able to breathe on his own.  So, I was able to be thankful for something for a while.

After about a 10 minute drive we arrived in the hospital where I was wheeled into emergency.  "1, 2, 3." and over I was slid to the examination bed as my wife was ushered to the reception desk to begin filling out papers.  "We have an apparent spinal injury from a diving accident," said the medic to the attending doctor.

"How's your breathing?" he asked automatically.

"Fine." I said as they began cutting off my favorite bathing suit.  'I guess I won't be needing that anymore,' I thought to myself as I desperately tried to find humor in an otherwise hopeless situation.

As the nurse began to insert a needle into my arm for the IV, I further realized there would be no more reason for my typical fear of needles.  I couldn't feel it.  Just as she finished that and the doctor checked to see if I could give him any resistance at my wrist, forearm, and biceps.  Then he pulled out a pin of his own.  It was a safety pin.  'What's he going to do with that?' I thought.

To my disbelief he began poking on my stomach, slowly moving upward.  "Can you feel that?"  I shook my head.  "Can you feel that?"  Again I shook my head realizing that in a few seconds I would have a new fear for sharp objects.  Then suddenly...

"OW!  I felt that!"

He kept poking.

"Apparently his feeling line runs across his chest about here," he spoke as he ran his finger across an imaginary line on my upper chest.  You'd think he struck oil with his discovery.  Next he started on my arms. 

I was thinking, 'I don't like this guy all of a sudden.'

After a minute more of that, they pulled a sheet up on me and prepared to move me to ICU.