The injury

Spinal cord injuries affect fewer than 1 percent of Americans. Of the estimated 200,000 injuries annually, about 7 percent are sports-related.  "I played football from second grade through college. In all my years of football, I had seen one other neck injury," said Dave Anderson, who was coaching another team on the field the day Paul was injured.

After Paul ran head-on into a SunDevils teammate Sept. 9, he lay on the ground at Twin Lakes Park, drifting in and out of consciousness. He complained that he couldn't move.  Anderson said he remembered seeing Paul on a stretcher, his neck in a brace, as he was wheeled to a helicopter.

"It just makes you stop," Anderson said. "The blood just runs cold, and you wonder what happens next."  Neurosurgeons at All Children's Hospital melded pieces of Paul's pelvic bone to his spine to strengthen the two broken vertebrae in his neck and to prevent further internal injury.

After almost two months, Paul was moved to HealthSouth Rehabilitation Hospital, where he was weaned from a ventilator and therapists began building strength in his torso and stretching his limbs. He learned to use a mouth stick and to navigate his wheelchair.

He returned home in May, eight months after he was hurt, but continued to spend most of his days at HealthSouth.  He kept up with his eighth-grade assignments in between at least six hours of therapy a day. This summer, he completed an Earth science class -- his first high school credit.

Anderson, a Baptist pastor who held a prayer service for Paul a month after the accident, said he and others have been amazed at the teen-ager's tenacity.  "Since day one I was quite inspired by his reaction to it," Anderson said. "He was quite resilient."

A day at a time

Slowly, Paul is learning to do small things for himself.  It takes Paul an hour to prepare himself a plate of nachos. And he still needs someone to feed it to him.

He uses a mouth stick, a device about 8 inches long with a clamp on the end. He rotates his head to position the apparatus over a single chip. With his tongue, he depresses a lever that pinches the ends of the stick closed, then drags the clamped chip onto his plate.

Chip by chip, the pile grows. In much the same way, step by step, Paul must rebuild his life without the use of any of his limbs.

"Some days are better than others," he admitted.

Paul also uses the mouth stick to play cards and write.  Eventually he'll be able to type with it and use a computer, which also will translate his dictation into print.

"When I get my new computer, I'll be doing video games," Paul said, lighting up at the thought of an additional activity on his short list of possibilities: television, movies, occasional excursions outside. He's not a big reader. Even if he were, turning pages would be a major challenge in a life where the most minor of tasks deplete his energy.

School has added to the demands.  "It's a balancing and juggling act between school and therapy," McGaharan said.  Instead of six hours a day of therapy, Paul now attends therapy three days a week after school.

Though he doesn't like the hard work that comes with rehabilitation -- therapists stretching his muscles and training him to be more independent -- he said he misses his friends at HealthSouth.  Many of them were just like him. He fit in.

Support

As one of the younger patients at HealthSouth, Paul has become a favorite of his case therapist, Shelley Rayburn, and fellow patients.  Since his parents have yet to receive the van that will allow them to transport him in his 330-pound wheelchair, Rayburn often arranges Paul's excursions -- to the mall, to the movies, to get that red hair cut.

She often brings her son, a junior at Riverview, and his friends along on these excursions so Paul can get to know fellow high school students.  "It's kind of a little bit of a chance for (Paul's parents) to have five minutes," Rayburn said of her excursions with Paul.

By the time he returns home from hours of rehabilitation, Paul is frequently too exhausted to socialize with old friends or family -- his father, a plumber, and mother, a clerical worker; an older sister; and an older brother who also is in high school.

In the afternoon, Paul's mom meets him at HealthSouth and rides home with him in the transport van. At night, a nurse stays with Paul to turn him over every two hours and to monitor his breathing. In the mornings, she works with him to keep range of motion in his limbs. Without the nurse, Paul's parents would not be able to sleep through the night.

Paul's mom, Gail Salter, said a few of his middle school friends have kept in touch.  "They come by once in a while. They watch movies," she said. "But it's hard because Paul often comes home and sleeps."

The family has received a variety of help from the community to offset the huge costs of care for Paul. Rampart Homes is building the family a house that will be wheelchair-accessible and have voice-activated utility switches. The house is being built in stages as donations are received.  The house will be put in a trust for Paul, so when he gets older it will be his.

"No one can be OK with a spinal-injury child," McGaharan said of Paul's parents. "They are acclimating to this as well as anyone could. It's a devastating injury to the patient but also to the family.  Fortunately, Paul has had a lot of good support from community agencies."

Members of Faith Baptist Church, which hosted the prayer service, have kept in touch with Paul and tried to help his family.  Kevin Elwood, a church member, pulled some strings to get a Dan Marino jersey for Paul and became friends with him during five or six visits over the past year.  "He's a fighter type of a kid," Elwood said. "He likes to joke around and so forth. He likes girls, too."

But Paul doesn't like to talk about those interests. He's nervous about each day of school.  "I'm just trying to get through it," he said of his first week at school.  He added that he was just looking to get to the weekend. Just like any other teen-ager.

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