- W
- M
Hello,
I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Steve. I've known Steve since early 1992, when we were both 21 years old. Steve's father passed away from a terminal illness when he was just 17 years old; his mother passed away in a car accident when he was 19. He and his sister, who is two years younger than him, were therefore orphaned when they were just teenagers.
In 1992, Steve had just returned from Orlando where he had studied audio production at Full Sail University, a school that specializes in world class degrees in entertainment, media, arts, and technology. He was beginning to work with several up-and- coming rock bands, both in the studio and in live performances on tour, and was building an impressive reputation as an audio producer. He helped set up the sound system a nightclub that specialized in live shows with acts from all over the country, the Cow Haus, in Tallahassee. He loved helping musicians do what they loved, and what they loved in common was music.
Steve also had a love for muscle cars, and bought a 1968 GTX that he fixed up and converted into a hot rod. He had tons of friends and was always busy doing something, either going out with friends to concerts, going on tour with really great bands, meeting famous rock musicians and trying to get his foot in the door of the music business. He was on his way, and he loved his
life.
Then, in 1994, the unimaginable happened. He broke his neck while swimming. I remember getting the call that evening from a frantic, hysterical friend saying Steve had been injured and was in the hospital. I will never forget the way he looked when I first saw him in the hospital.
My vibrant, outgoing friend was immobilized and in great pain. He was scared to death. He said he couldn't move his legs. He didn't want us to leave. He wanted his mom. I had to run out into the hallway to cry.
Steve underwent tests for weeks. He was in the hospital for three months. The doctors were not sure at first if he would regain his mobility or not. It turned out that he never would. He was pronounced a quadriplegic, paralyzed from the chest down and, barring some miracle in medical science, would need to remain in a wheelchair and have round the clock care for the rest of his life.
Steve was devastated. The thing I will never forget though, is that he never gave up hope. He knew his situation was dire, but he was determined not to let it get the best of him.
Steve needed help moving from his bed to his chair, help eating, basically he needed help with everything. He needed help medicating himself against the constant pain he endured (there is a misconception that being paralyzed means you don't feel pain - it is actually quite the opposite and is an experience of near constant pain, a secondary condition that often comes with paralysis
called neuropathic pain). Nurses would come and go to do some of the more medically challenging work, but he couldn't afford to have one there around the clock. Cooking and cleaning were part of the effort as well. We all pitched in as much as we could for as long as we
could because we couldn't imagine being in his shoes and having so much need for care and no extended family available to help care for him.
It is hard to care for someone else that intensely and thoroughly on a long-term basis. People burn out. Money runs out. Other facets of their lives take precedence for myriad reasons. So all he has now is a small handful of people that occasionally come over and nurses to help him a few hours a day. His condition is deeply isolating which only adds to the heartbreaking pain of it all.
Steve is now in dire straits. He is 46 years old, he has been a quadriplegic for 23 years - half of his life has been spent in this extremely debilitating way. Friends have moved on. People owe him money and are unable to repay him.
He desperately needs help with health insurance - his current medical help is state funded and is severely limited in this area, and it does not cover the type of specialists in North Florida who can help him.
He needs a new van or one donated to him - his current van is old and falling apart and is not reliable transportation.
He needs a new wheelchair - he has had the same chair for 7 years and they cost $3,000 (beyond what will be covered by insurance) that he cannot afford nor can he find funding for; the wheelchair company has not answered his requests for funding for the last year and a half.
His health is deteriorating - he deals with recurring infections with high fevers that he has to take specialized antibiotics for due to his condition (he's currently in the hospital now fighting another infection), and he worries that they will stop working altogether. He is now having muscle spasms that are uncontrollable, and his tolerance to pain medications has increased tremendously, rendering them less effective. He has had to go to the ER four times in the last month to get an IV medication to make the spasms stop. The pain and isolation cause him extreme depression and sleep problems. He is in more need of round the clock care now than ever before.
Steve feels that moving out of North Florida may be the only thing that can help save his life at this point. He wants to move to Oregon. There, he says, exists a more robust state-funded health care system and social services for people with disabilities that he would qualify for that would improve his life a great deal. He just needs to get there. He desperately needs help with pain management - he currently goes through multiple pain medications, as well as other medications he is required to take daily (about 15 different prescriptions). He can get three times the amount of nurses assigned to help him there than he can here. He can find housing and transportation there to suit his needs. He can find community there and not feel so alone.
But he needs our help. Steve needs to raise money. If you can donate $23 ($1 for each year in the wheelchair.) or more to help Steve raise funds to help him to upgrade his van, purchase a new wheelchair, and relocate to Oregon where he can get the quality healthcare he needs, he would be most grateful.
I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Steve. I've known Steve since early 1992, when we were both 21 years old. Steve's father passed away from a terminal illness when he was just 17 years old; his mother passed away in a car accident when he was 19. He and his sister, who is two years younger than him, were therefore orphaned when they were just teenagers.
In 1992, Steve had just returned from Orlando where he had studied audio production at Full Sail University, a school that specializes in world class degrees in entertainment, media, arts, and technology. He was beginning to work with several up-and- coming rock bands, both in the studio and in live performances on tour, and was building an impressive reputation as an audio producer. He helped set up the sound system a nightclub that specialized in live shows with acts from all over the country, the Cow Haus, in Tallahassee. He loved helping musicians do what they loved, and what they loved in common was music.
Steve also had a love for muscle cars, and bought a 1968 GTX that he fixed up and converted into a hot rod. He had tons of friends and was always busy doing something, either going out with friends to concerts, going on tour with really great bands, meeting famous rock musicians and trying to get his foot in the door of the music business. He was on his way, and he loved his
life.
Then, in 1994, the unimaginable happened. He broke his neck while swimming. I remember getting the call that evening from a frantic, hysterical friend saying Steve had been injured and was in the hospital. I will never forget the way he looked when I first saw him in the hospital.
My vibrant, outgoing friend was immobilized and in great pain. He was scared to death. He said he couldn't move his legs. He didn't want us to leave. He wanted his mom. I had to run out into the hallway to cry.
Steve underwent tests for weeks. He was in the hospital for three months. The doctors were not sure at first if he would regain his mobility or not. It turned out that he never would. He was pronounced a quadriplegic, paralyzed from the chest down and, barring some miracle in medical science, would need to remain in a wheelchair and have round the clock care for the rest of his life.
Steve was devastated. The thing I will never forget though, is that he never gave up hope. He knew his situation was dire, but he was determined not to let it get the best of him.
Steve needed help moving from his bed to his chair, help eating, basically he needed help with everything. He needed help medicating himself against the constant pain he endured (there is a misconception that being paralyzed means you don't feel pain - it is actually quite the opposite and is an experience of near constant pain, a secondary condition that often comes with paralysis
called neuropathic pain). Nurses would come and go to do some of the more medically challenging work, but he couldn't afford to have one there around the clock. Cooking and cleaning were part of the effort as well. We all pitched in as much as we could for as long as we
could because we couldn't imagine being in his shoes and having so much need for care and no extended family available to help care for him.
It is hard to care for someone else that intensely and thoroughly on a long-term basis. People burn out. Money runs out. Other facets of their lives take precedence for myriad reasons. So all he has now is a small handful of people that occasionally come over and nurses to help him a few hours a day. His condition is deeply isolating which only adds to the heartbreaking pain of it all.
Steve is now in dire straits. He is 46 years old, he has been a quadriplegic for 23 years - half of his life has been spent in this extremely debilitating way. Friends have moved on. People owe him money and are unable to repay him.
He desperately needs help with health insurance - his current medical help is state funded and is severely limited in this area, and it does not cover the type of specialists in North Florida who can help him.
He needs a new van or one donated to him - his current van is old and falling apart and is not reliable transportation.
He needs a new wheelchair - he has had the same chair for 7 years and they cost $3,000 (beyond what will be covered by insurance) that he cannot afford nor can he find funding for; the wheelchair company has not answered his requests for funding for the last year and a half.
His health is deteriorating - he deals with recurring infections with high fevers that he has to take specialized antibiotics for due to his condition (he's currently in the hospital now fighting another infection), and he worries that they will stop working altogether. He is now having muscle spasms that are uncontrollable, and his tolerance to pain medications has increased tremendously, rendering them less effective. He has had to go to the ER four times in the last month to get an IV medication to make the spasms stop. The pain and isolation cause him extreme depression and sleep problems. He is in more need of round the clock care now than ever before.
Steve feels that moving out of North Florida may be the only thing that can help save his life at this point. He wants to move to Oregon. There, he says, exists a more robust state-funded health care system and social services for people with disabilities that he would qualify for that would improve his life a great deal. He just needs to get there. He desperately needs help with pain management - he currently goes through multiple pain medications, as well as other medications he is required to take daily (about 15 different prescriptions). He can get three times the amount of nurses assigned to help him there than he can here. He can find housing and transportation there to suit his needs. He can find community there and not feel so alone.
But he needs our help. Steve needs to raise money. If you can donate $23 ($1 for each year in the wheelchair.) or more to help Steve raise funds to help him to upgrade his van, purchase a new wheelchair, and relocate to Oregon where he can get the quality healthcare he needs, he would be most grateful.
Organizer and beneficiary
Steve Wilkie
Beneficiary