Words from Matt Hoffman

Christian’s friend Matt here. Jess and the family asked me to write a post for the blog. Please forgive me if this rambles a bit, as I was given a very open assignment.

The most important thing I can tell everyone is Christian seems to be doing better.

The trick, I have found, with an injury like this, is defining exactly what “better” means. Collectively, the hospital struggles to do this well. You can tell the nurses actually want to give you some context around his progress, but can’t seem to bring themselves to provide any lasting conclusions, and the doctors, well, they just seem busy. In this case progress comes in tiny increments, played out over frustratingly long periods of time for all of us who would like to see our friend miraculously shrug off a broken neck and walk out of the hospital asking, “you want to go camping this weekend?”

Alas, I’ll gladly settle for the fact that he is no longer in a perpetual state of trying to puke out his intubation tube. (Imagine the last time you had the flu, sitting in front of the toilet, and those first moments or retching, your whole midsection contracting. Now do that for 12 hours.) He can breathe well on his own. (Grab an extra long snorkel, hold your nose closed, imagine having the worst cough of your life, and breath as best you can while swimming. Repeat for 4 days. See above for added challenge of gagging on a tube.) And, amazingly, he has been moving lots of muscles in his legs, feet, midsection, and butt. These are all definite signs of progress based on his lack of movement after the injury.

I guess that’s been the point of watching Christian for the last few days. This whole lousy cosmic poker hand has illuminated the concept of “relative progress”. Before Thursday it would have been hard to imagine being really happy about Christian moving his feet, but I am. It’s great to celebrate each little victory as they happen, watching his determination (he has plenty), his own self satisfaction with each incremental step, and his family and wife by his side. It starts the mind reeling.

OK, here comes the trite attempt to acknowledge what I’ve seen and have begun to learn. If you believe in god/fate/predetermination, this one is a case study. We weren’t riding anything technical, never took any abnormal risks, and I probably couldn’t find the spot where Christian fell if I tried. Christian is a fantastic guy, as we all know, and had nothing but good karma built up with the cosmos. Shit just happened, as they say. (Still a tough one for me to process.)

Also, the waiting room has been a virtual laboratory of whom and what is really important in your life. The people close to Christian have done an amazing job of providing a support network and constant stimulus. Although I would rather not have every relative I have seeing me in such a compromised position, I wish I had the same sort of family network here in Utah. You should see Jessie work the nurses with smiles (when they respond quickly) and the casual get-your-butt-in-gear look she delivers so well when Christian has to wait.

And most importantly, Christian never fails to amaze me. I’m sure he has his tough moments, but I haven’t seen them. Let’s just remind everyone a few things about Christian that should help you understand the level of dignity, grace and strength that he has summoned from the first moment of his injury. First, the guy is a ridiculous clean freak. Have you ever been to his house? Casual dinners at his place have literally inspired me to clean up my kitchen. He cleans dishes between courses. He organizes his refrigerator. The guy is a nut. Try helping him do something, or offering advice on a task when not requested. When we go camping, he won’t even let me bring my camp cooking materials because (and he’s right) his setup is better and he’d rather cook himself. He’s also about the most organized guy I’ve ever met when it comes to his schedule and his free time. He was scheduled four weekends out when I called him a month ago. Our ride on Thursday was the first time we both overlapped in six weeks. During the summer it’s like scheduling time with a dignitary.

This must be a tremendous exercise in patience for him. Even asking him yesterday, “I bet this is super annoying not to be able to talk. Are you getting sick of all these visitors coming in here and asking you questions?” He just shook his head no and smiled. Though between Jessie and I talking too much, he must be lying. Not having control of things as simple as suctioning out his mouth, or scratching an itch on his head, will inevitably make Christian a more patient person and provide him an even larger sense of empathy toward others. I can’t wait until he can talk and some of those pressures can be relieved. (No doubt he’ll grow as a person, but nobody wants to be THAT patient.)

So his “relative progress” has been encouraging. He’s gone from no movement at all, to “really remarkable” (nurses words) movement in his lower body. He can breathe, he can begin to communicate, and he gets to spend some quality time with his wife and family. He’s also the kind of personality who will look back on this and credit his fall with making him a better human being.

His Mom mentioned to me yesterday that clinicians believe that the success of the rehab coming up will largely be dependent on three things; his desire to do it, his support network, and signs of progress thus far. That left me feeling pretty good about Christian’s prospects. He’s got all three of those things in spades.

As for our friendship, we can go mountain biking (and will again), or eat dinner with the girls anytime in the future. It’s these hard moments of real life that actually build lasting bonds between people. I have no doubt we’ll remain friends for a long time after this is all finished. In the mean time, I can’t wait for him to be able to talk without strain, so I can beat him at board games, make fun of his hair, and tell him how much I have learned from him this week.

(You can tell from Matt's comments what a wonderful human being he is.  We love you Matt!)