Max
06-03-2003, 01:36 PM
Quadriplegic keeps spirits high, thanks to perseverance and Faith
June 3, 2003
There is no better time to hope than when there seems no hope.
Darren Brehm has that down to a personal mantra.
And why not? He's lived long enough with the truth in that statement.
Ten years, it's been, almost to the day, since his sport utility vehicle tumbled out of control down a rural East County embankment; 10 years since he found himself jammed in the wreckage, unable to lift his head or move a limb.
Hard to believe it's been that long, but not hard to believe he still remembers everything that was going through his mind - he'll never forget.
"I knew I'd broken my neck," Brehm says. "I knew I couldn't move my (limbs). But I kept thinking, kept telling myself I was going to be OK.
"I kept figuring that we'd find a way to beat whatever was wrong - heck, I was 20 years old; I was invincible."
But even now - especially now - so much later, Brehm knows that being 20 and full of the vigor of youth was not what saved him and prepared him to cope with quadriplegia.
It was and is that something inside reminding him: "If you think you can make it, you'll never know for sure if you give up. Keep plugging."
Aptly named Faith Brehm loves that spirit in her husband of seven years; she was attracted to it when they first met and became fast friends five years before they married.
She realizes she's even more enamored of that spirit whenever she's reminded that 80 percent or more of her days involve providing care and support for Darren.
He's worth it, she'll tell you.
"I know that he's always going to be trying (to keep himself going)," she says. "I know he's going to be here - we can make plans.
"I don't mind being there for him. You don't even think about it. You just do what you've got to do."
Says Darren: "She's been my rock through all of this."
Kids are part of the Escondido couple's future plans. So is a venture into business.
And Faith wholeheartedly supports Darren in believing, firmly, that researchers will eventually find a cure for spinal-cord injuries. And those who keep their spirits up will be the ones who'll most benefit from the breakthroughs.
Faith, like her husband, is 30. She was right there as he returned to San Diego State University to complete his business studies that were halted in his junior year when the accident occurred.
She watched him persevere to graduate with honors last month, just missing the cum laude distinction by a fraction of a point.
Now she waits with him to see which one of the schools that have him on a waiting list - Harvard, Duke and UCLA - will accept him into its master of business administration program.
You'll never talk Faith Brehm off the power of her husband's positive thinking, either. She and a friend were trapped in that vehicle with Darren on the day of the accident.
Faith and the friend eventually fully recovered from their injuries.
But she was at the hospital when Darren stopped breathing for a time. All hope seemed lost. They were ready to give him last rites.
And yet, Faith never felt she'd lost him. Somehow, she says, she could always feel him fighting his way back.
It's all "made us a stronger team," she says. "We compliment each other and make each other better people."
In the spirit of sharing his blessings, Darren served as a mentor for about 20 freshman and transfer students in the SDSU business program. One of the students was on the verge of flunking out when she came to Darren; now she earns nothing but A's and B's.
He taught her effective time management, which he's learned through his ordeal.
The tough survivor also volunteers at Sharp Memorial Hospital's Rehabilitation Services, helping to encourage patients - mostly males - with high-level spinal-cord injuries.
"It's all kind of like a gift," Darren says. "The accident, the injury, they've opened my eyes, helped me see a lot more of what I have, a lot more of what's important.
"And I wouldn't trade the experience."
Find this article at:
http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/metro/roberts/20030603-9999_1c3ozzie.html
June 3, 2003
There is no better time to hope than when there seems no hope.
Darren Brehm has that down to a personal mantra.
And why not? He's lived long enough with the truth in that statement.
Ten years, it's been, almost to the day, since his sport utility vehicle tumbled out of control down a rural East County embankment; 10 years since he found himself jammed in the wreckage, unable to lift his head or move a limb.
Hard to believe it's been that long, but not hard to believe he still remembers everything that was going through his mind - he'll never forget.
"I knew I'd broken my neck," Brehm says. "I knew I couldn't move my (limbs). But I kept thinking, kept telling myself I was going to be OK.
"I kept figuring that we'd find a way to beat whatever was wrong - heck, I was 20 years old; I was invincible."
But even now - especially now - so much later, Brehm knows that being 20 and full of the vigor of youth was not what saved him and prepared him to cope with quadriplegia.
It was and is that something inside reminding him: "If you think you can make it, you'll never know for sure if you give up. Keep plugging."
Aptly named Faith Brehm loves that spirit in her husband of seven years; she was attracted to it when they first met and became fast friends five years before they married.
She realizes she's even more enamored of that spirit whenever she's reminded that 80 percent or more of her days involve providing care and support for Darren.
He's worth it, she'll tell you.
"I know that he's always going to be trying (to keep himself going)," she says. "I know he's going to be here - we can make plans.
"I don't mind being there for him. You don't even think about it. You just do what you've got to do."
Says Darren: "She's been my rock through all of this."
Kids are part of the Escondido couple's future plans. So is a venture into business.
And Faith wholeheartedly supports Darren in believing, firmly, that researchers will eventually find a cure for spinal-cord injuries. And those who keep their spirits up will be the ones who'll most benefit from the breakthroughs.
Faith, like her husband, is 30. She was right there as he returned to San Diego State University to complete his business studies that were halted in his junior year when the accident occurred.
She watched him persevere to graduate with honors last month, just missing the cum laude distinction by a fraction of a point.
Now she waits with him to see which one of the schools that have him on a waiting list - Harvard, Duke and UCLA - will accept him into its master of business administration program.
You'll never talk Faith Brehm off the power of her husband's positive thinking, either. She and a friend were trapped in that vehicle with Darren on the day of the accident.
Faith and the friend eventually fully recovered from their injuries.
But she was at the hospital when Darren stopped breathing for a time. All hope seemed lost. They were ready to give him last rites.
And yet, Faith never felt she'd lost him. Somehow, she says, she could always feel him fighting his way back.
It's all "made us a stronger team," she says. "We compliment each other and make each other better people."
In the spirit of sharing his blessings, Darren served as a mentor for about 20 freshman and transfer students in the SDSU business program. One of the students was on the verge of flunking out when she came to Darren; now she earns nothing but A's and B's.
He taught her effective time management, which he's learned through his ordeal.
The tough survivor also volunteers at Sharp Memorial Hospital's Rehabilitation Services, helping to encourage patients - mostly males - with high-level spinal-cord injuries.
"It's all kind of like a gift," Darren says. "The accident, the injury, they've opened my eyes, helped me see a lot more of what I have, a lot more of what's important.
"And I wouldn't trade the experience."
Find this article at:
http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/metro/roberts/20030603-9999_1c3ozzie.html