During my early years in High
School I got involved in sports. I played (and lettered in) football,
track and field (I specialized in the shot put and discus, occasionally ran
the 220 and 880, and ran the third leg on the 880 relay). I played basketball
(forward), volleyball, softball (pitcher), and a few other sports for the
DeMolay Organization I belonged to. My life wasn't all sports, in or outside
of school. For a couple years I had a Summer job bailing hay for the Whiting
farm, in Wilton, NH. Working dawn to dusk, seven days a week was seemingly
inhumane (and I wasn't bored). It kept me in spending money and also in good
physical shape for football season.
At the age of 16 I considered myself to be the luckiest guy in the World!
I owned a car (1967 Ford Custom 500), a motorcycle (Honda CL350), I was working
part-time at a grocery store (Violette's IGA), and I even had time for a
steady girl friend (Pam). I was up for school in the morning (before 7am)
and I seldom got home before 10 o'clock in the evening. My girlfriend belonged
to the Rainbow girls' organization, so we found time to do things together
at Rainbow-DeMolay functions and of course on our own.
One of my other loves in the world was playing the guitar. My brother
and I took guitar lessons for about six months until we decided to learn
on our own. Growing up with a piano in the house helped too. I was able to
play both, guitar being my primary instrument. My friend Karl grew up taking
piano lessons so we would get together on the weekends with a drummer friend
of ours and we had some fun jam sessions. I owned four guitars before I knew
it. I had a nylon string acoustic (my first guitar), a six string "classical"
body acoustic ("f clef", or "ƒ"), an electric guitar, and a twelve
string acoustic guitar. I would play the guitar about every night before
bed, or whenever I felt sad, depressed, or happy. The guitar always seem
to make things stay on an even Kiel. It seemed like I always had a song playing
in my head.
On December 22, 1974, it was a beautifully sunny day with clear blue
skies. I was seventeen and in my second semester of my senior year in high
school. It was pretty cold that day as it usually is for that time of season.
My friend Matt, a fellow-DeMolay member, and I went skiing at the Crotched
Mountain ski area which is about a 30 minute drive from my home. We decided
to ski a half-day, so we got there around noon. We skied for about an hour,
starting on the easier side trails and working our way to the middle of the
ski area where it was most challenging. Around one o'clock we went in the
ski lodge for some coffee and hot cocoa and to warm our feet up. Having size
13 feet and only finding size 13 boots meant my feet usually got cold as
there not much room for heavy socks! Today was no different from any other.
We got back on the slopes after 20 minutes or so. The trail we chose to ski
on was named "Dipsy Doodle"...appropriately named as it zigged and zagged.
I was the first one down the trail, though Matt wasn't too far behind. As
I rounded a few corners, I came upon a spot in the trail that was bad. The
snow was scraped down so far that a few rocks had kicked up and some of the
bare ground was visible. Having skied in New Hampshire for twelve years,
you get pretty used to surprises around the corner, not to mention the icy
or crusty conditions. I called back to Matt to watch out for the bad spot
in the trail. I cut to the inside of the trail, where the snow was deeper
and less traveled. I found the snow conditions to change to an old powder
that was ungroomed. The snow was a little deeper and it had a thin crust
on it. I "jetted" (leaned) back on my skis to keep my tips up to maintain
my balance and control. Just then I came upon a mogul (bump in the snow)....
The next thing I saw was the sky. I lay motionless on my back, with my body
facing downhill. The sun was in my eyes and the snow was cold on my neck.
I didn't know what happened as I must have blanked out during the tumble.
I figured that I was stunned as I was not in pain. I tried to move my arms.
I lifted my right arm and it flopped over with no more movement. I tried
my left arm with the same result. I tried to lift my head to see my legs
but my neck seemed weak. In the mean time, Matt caught up with me. He knew
I was in trouble immediately as my head was bleeding where the right ski
flipped up and lacerated my scalp. He called out to some skiers passing by
to quickly go and inform the Ski Patrol. Being a Ski
Patrol myself (my second season) I thought about everything but the obvious.
I thought I would shake this thing off and get back up. There was only one
problem with this - I was not getting up. As the realization sunk
in as to the severity of my situation, I looked up to the sky and stated,
"Oh Fuck!" I just waited there with Matt as the Ski Patrol showed up to earn
their day's pay. They sand bagged my head and took me down the mountain on
the back of a "snow cat". It took them three hours because the trail was
too bumpy. I was transported to the closest hospital in Peterborough, NH
for x-rays. The films revealed that I sustained a broken neck. Then I was
rushed down to the emergency room at
Massachusetts General
Hospital. I was given something to relax me on my ambulance ride to Mass.
General. The next thing I remember I awoke to the jarring of the ambulance
stretcher as I was taken into the emergency room. The place was swarming
with people as they started cutting my clothes off. I was well into shock
by that time. Everyone appeared to have Asian features and I couldn't understand
what people were saying. Then I felt a sharp, searing pain on both sides
of my head and I passed out. Evidently, the causes for the pain were the
tongs that were seated into the sides of my skull with 40lbs. of weight on
it to keep the pressure off my spinal cord and fracture site. I had damaged
the 4th through the 7th vertebrae with the 6th being crushed. That January
I had an interior fusion of the C5-6 vertebrae where they operated through
the front of my neck. The doctors removed bone from my lower leg to reconstruct
the 6th vertebra. After the operation I wasn't allowed to eat or drink for
the first week (for fear of a hole in my esophagus). On the second post-surgical
week, I could start drinking liquids, eat Jell-O (I'm sick of Jell-O!), and
pop sickles. On the third week I could start eating solids -stewed beef!
Hey, I thought it looked good then. After undergoing months of intense
therapy my level of function stayed at the C5-6 level
(fifth and sixth
cervical). I had become a quadriplegic (tetraplegic for you Brits). While
I was in the Hospital, my hometown community rallied together and started
the "John Rougeau Fund". Their goal was to raise $30,000 to help pay for
my hospital bills. They held walk-a-thons, battle of the bands, swim-a-thons,
different concerts (barber shop quartets, choruses, etc.), they sold bumper
stickers that read: "Hang In There John", and just about anything else you
can think of. The town rose in excess of their goal! The fund raiser was
a big success, not just in terms of the funds raised, but in the bringing
together of a community...to work for a common good. I guess that was something
positive to come from the accident. My stay at Massachusetts General lasted
9.5 months and in October of 1975, I went home....
You may have heard about Christopher Reeve (the actor), Travis Roy (a
Boston University hockey player), Mike Utley (a Pro football player), or
Darrel Stingley (another football player)? They all experienced similar
situations. I met Mike while I was out at
Craig Hospital a couple of years
ago (I had some surgeries and my medical re-evaluations done at Craig since
1976). He was doing better than I function and sensory-wise and has hopes
for a full recovery. I wish him well but being a realist and a SCI
(Spinal Cord Injury) veteran,
I think a cure (medical breakthrough) may be his only hope. It seems like
when celebrities get injured it draws attention to the plight of spinal cord
injured people. You can check out my
medical links
on my Link Page to spinal cord injury sites if you wish to enlighten yourself
on some of the mechanics involved with SCIs. I could go on for hours, however,
I'll spare you <grin>. Feel free to
contact me directly if you want to discuss
my situation or anything about SCIs in general. I am always willing to
chat!
After the accident my parent's built a house that was wheelchair accessible.
I got a van and had it equipped so that I could drive it from my wheelchair.
Freedom Again, oh what a feeling! When you are able to drive a vehicle, you
are no longer disabled and just as able as the next vehicle on the
road. Freedom or independence is nothing to take for granted...and after
you've lost that you can really appreciate all those old clichés.
After a year or two I enrolled (part-time) in a community college -
NH Community Technical College
(formerly NH Vocational-Technical College). I graduated from there in 1980
with an Associates degree in Marketing Management. Then I transferred to
St. Andrews Presbyterian College. Nestled
along the "Bible Belt" in Laurinburg, North Carolina, it was an oasis...a
Mecca of sorts...of various international students. You hardly knew you were
in the rural Southland (until you ran across a student who was a "local redneck")
or until you left the campus grounds. I did find the residents of Laurinburg
to be very friendly and charming. I do miss those adventurous times. I graduated
from St. Andrews in 1984 with a BA in Business Economics.
In the fall of 1984, I started a part-time job at Smith & Bellows
Company, in Amherst, NH (selling "upscale" computer accessories). After working
there for nine months I was laid off. After a small vacation I got a job
with Indian Head Bank (later to become Fleet Bank-NH), in Nashua, NH. I worked
there in international banking for eight years...until five spinal cysts
surgeries made it difficult to continue working full time. I am currently
taking some college courses at NH Technical College with hopes of sharpening
my skills to return to the working force. You are welcome to view
my resume', if you desire.
I presently live in an apartment in Milford with my two
bodyguard roommates (two cats!). My
"cow" cat, Josie (Josephine), as she is fondly referred to as she has black
and white fur (kitten and
now). Gary (Garret), was born on my birthday
(kitten and now and
now again). Gary has short gray fur, his mother
was a full-blooded Siamese and his father was just a gray unknown (Woops!).
He resembles a Russian Blue...so we're told. He was quite a runt when got
him. He would often hunch up his back (like a Halloween cat) and try to beat
up Josie, so I call him "Scary Gary". Josie didn't like Gary at
first, but now she acts like his mother, giving
him baths!
I have written the adventures on My Trip South which tells of how
not to take a vacation...along with a few photos.
(*Warning: this was NOT your "typical"
vacation)*.... It can be found off my Interest Page or by clicking
the arrow below.
I am around 6'1" tall, 190lbs., dark brown hair, and hazel
eyes. I was born in 1957, on the third rock from the Sun, in Keene, NH (I'm
an Aries). I lived my first six years of my life on a 64-acre farm in Marlow,
NH before moving to Milford, NH.
I've lived in New Hampshire for all of my life, except for the four years
that I attended college in North Carolina. My father was a State Police Officer
(for 25 years!) and my mom stayed home to raise us kids. I have an older
brother, by three years, and an older sister, by five years. Yes, I'm the
"baby" of the family (Ggggggrrrrrr!). While I was in grade school, my mom
got a job with the school's hot lunch program. I couldn't goof around without
her finding out! When I was in Jr. High School my mom finally got
a full time job at a bank so I had more freedom. (heh-heh) When High School
came around I was unstoppable! I had it made...at least so I thought...(read
on).
