Check out this great vid.

The Eyewriter from Evan Roth on Vimeo.

Hey, at least I'll still have my engaging personality and be able to walk again!

One of Mr. Heim's masterpieces.

To learn more about the organization or make a donation, visit the Wheelchair Recycler website.

Published Nov. 20 in the online edition of Nature Neuroscience, the findings suggest that the regeneration of severed nerve fibers is not required for paraplegic rats to learn to walk again. The finding may hold implications for human rehabilitation after spinal cord injuries.

"The spinal cord contains nerve circuits that can generate rhythmic activity without input from the brain to drive the hind leg muscles in a way that resembles walking called 'stepping,'" explained principal investigator Reggie Edgerton, a professor of neurobiology and physiological sciences at the David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA.

"Previous studies have tried to tap into this circuitry to help victims of spinal cord injury," he added. "While other researchers have elicited similar leg movements in people with complete spinal injuries, they have not achieved full weight-bearing and sustained stepping as we have in our study."

Click here to read more.

But I didn’t even make it to halftime before I decided to leave. And it had nothing to do with the score of the game.

I went to the game with my dad and we got there about 45 minutes ahead of time, so we could find accessible seats. After we got our tickets, we made our way to the visitor’s bleachers on the west side of the field. This year’s game was at DV, so we of course were unfamiliar with the way their accessible seating was arranged.

Once my dad made it to the base of the bleachers, I rolled up the ramp to the seats. Basically, the bleachers had cut outs on the first row of seats where a wheelchair could sit. With this in mind, we went towards the 50 yard line to find open seats. We found an open section and waited for the game to begin.

And that’ when the shenanigans ensued…

As it got closer to kickoff, the bleachers became flooded with students, parents and other fans. It began to look like a sea of black as the Mountain Pointe fans adorned their black-colored apparel to support the “black out.” It quickly became apparent that it was going to be a little snug if we’re going to fit all the fans in the bleachers.

It soon got to the point where students were standing in front of railing at the bottom of the bleachers. And, of course, they stood right in front of me in my line of sight. So my dad and I spent the next quarter and a half telling kids to move.

Things finally came to a head in the second quarter.

After we finally managed to get a clear view, three boys came and stood right in front of us. My dad then tapped one on the shoulder and asked him to move. Two of the boys politely said sorry and moved out of the way, but one did not.

He simply stood there and continued watching the game. Believing he did hear the request, my dad taps him on the shoulder and asks him to move. The kid simply moves to the right, literally, a couple inches. I know right? My dad taps him again and tells him to move more. He then proceeds to move just a couple more inches.

Come on, really?

“You need to move out of the way so we can see!” Shouted my dad.

Finally, the kid then walks to the other side with his friends. But not without rolling his eyes and giving us a look of disgust. He actually had the gall to make us feel like we had nerve asking him to move. I guess in his world, they just put people in wheelchairs in rooms and never let them out.

I guess I should apologize for knocking him off his high horse (note my sarcasm). But after we got through all that, a horde of students came over and took over the railing. The crowd in front of me was now three deep and my view now was of the backs of the students who stood in front of me. At this point, we were tired of arguing with students, so my dad and I decided to leave.

It didn’t take us long to realize that getting kids to move out of the way while I rolled by, was just as hard a task. But after a few crushed toes and heels, they quickly got the picture.

So, to sum it up, the night was a fail on two fronts:

The accessible seating - It was horrible because you can’t see past the people in front of you and it needs to be redone.

The Mountain Pointe students – There are some rude and obnoxious kids who go to Mountain Pointe. And as an alumnus of MPHS, that’s a little disappointing.

But the night wasn’t a total loss. It ended in a 34-18 Mountain Pointe win.

September 12 is a bittersweet day for me. Exactly 12 years ago today marks the last day of my “normal” life. It was the day I said goodbye to the life I loved and mistakenly took for granted. It was the day I lost my innocence and childhood.

It was the day I became a quadriplegic. 

Every September 12, I go through a myriad of emotions; sadness, anger, confusion, happiness, appreciation, and determination. I am saddened because of all the things I have lost; experiences, time, abilities, and old friends. But I am appreciative of what I still have; family, new friends, health, courage, and determination.

I don’t ever get depressed as my anniversary approaches each year. I simply just reflect back on what I’ve been through and accept who I am and what has happened. It was a tragic event and my life was drastically changed because of it.

But it wasn’t going to change how I lived my life. 

I am fortunate enough to have battled depression about my situation, and most people are surprised to hear that. I guess it is common place for people in my situation to go through bouts of depression. I don’t really know what to tell people when they ask how I’ve been able to keep such a positive attitude.

I just like to think that if I have to use so much time and energy on being sad and reclusive, why don’t I just use that same time and energy on staying positive and extroverted? Yes, there are times when I feel bad, but I don’t let it rule how I feel.

So today, I simply look back and remember with appreciation and acceptance. While I have said goodbye to the past and lost many things because of my illness, I say hello to my future and have found a new outlook on life. 

One of hope, courage and perseverance.

Thank you to all of our brave men and women in uniform.