My name is Michelle Fowler, but I go by the name Mickie. In 1984, as a young married mom of two kids, Paul, age 4 and Joy, 18 months, one weekend, my husband Doug and I joined some friends from our home in Claremont, Ca. to visit a place called Glamis, near the Arizona border. It is a huge desert area with many sand dunes known for riding recreational vehicles. Our friends had All Terrain Cycles (ATC) so I spent a few hours getting used to this new experience (not knowing how unsafe they could be).
About mid-afternoon, while riding this three-wheeled cycle by myself, I was going down a not-too-steep dune at a low speed when suddenly I lost control, panicked, and not knowing what to do to gai...
My name is Michelle Fowler, but I go by the name Mickie. In 1984, as a young married mom of two kids, Paul, age 4 and Joy, 18 months, one weekend, my husband Doug and I joined some friends from our home in Claremont, Ca. to visit a place called Glamis, near the Arizona border. It is a huge desert area with many sand dunes known for riding recreational vehicles. Our friends had All Terrain Cycles (ATC) so I spent a few hours getting used to this new experience (not knowing how unsafe they could be).
About mid-afternoon, while riding this three-wheeled cycle by myself, I was going down a not-too-steep dune at a low speed when suddenly I lost control, panicked, and not knowing what to do to gain back control, just let go and was thrown off, landing so hard on the sand I actually remember hearing a cracking sound and then feeling a sensation (like when you hit your funny bone on your elbow) in my back.
Doug, who had been riding ahead of me, turned around and seeing me on the ground with my leg twisted, asked if I was ok and if I broke my leg. I told him I couldn’t even feel my leg, then he leaned over and felt my back and could feel a lump. We knew it was serious and our friends called for emergency help. I was conscious the entire time and remember having a military helicopter, I think called a Huey, transport me on a gurney to the local hospital in Yuma, Arizona.
After a quick assessment in the ER that I had no other injuries other than possible paralysis. I was taken to Good Samaritan Hospital in Phoenix and, after my diagnosis of a T-11 SCI, I had to have surgery to place long steel rods along my spine to stabilize it.
While there for about ten days to heal in a bed that would rotate me to relieve pressure on my paralyzed body, I was flown to Pomona, Ca. in a small plane owned by a friend. From there, I was taken by ambulance to Casa Colina Rehabilitation Hospital and, after getting over the shock of being in a room with five men, began my new “normal” life of learning how to live in a wheelchair.
Three months later, I was discharged, continued therapy, learned to drive, bought a van and resumed my life as a wife, mother, and also had another baby, Adam, born in 1986.
I stayed active by volunteering at their schools, serving in my church, and eventually got a part-time job working for a CPA.
Now, 36 years later, after traveling to many places (including several cruises), I’m enjoying retirement, being involved with the Triumph Foundation and mostly loving being a Grandma!