Up until April the 7th of this year, to some extent, I felt quite carefree. After my third attempt, I had finally earned my novice-stage driving license. I was filled with some of the self-confidence that had withered away over the past year through mediocre grades, failed crushes and employment hardships. I now felt a sense of belonging with the rest of my graduating class, especially my friends who had their own N licenses, the pleasure of being able to take care of myself (as well as the occasional passenger) on the road, and the glory of being complimented by everyone I knew about my newfound independence. However, I received a very loud wake-up call the day that Kevin Brooks wheeled his way into the Delview gymnasium.
Kevin began his presentation by asking the question of who amongst the students in attendance could drive, a question which had me raising my hand with pride and eagerness. Kevin then spoke with a very upbeat tone in his voice, a tone that had me listening very attentively, talking about his very exciting and adventurous high school years. While there were elements of his life I desired to have in my own, including his athletic ability and his social skills, there were other aspects of it that I felt fortunate not to be carrying with me, such as his struggle to pass every course in school and his nature to take unnecessary risks. I wasn't sure why he was so quick to reveal the wild, ruthless side of his life (or why he was smiling so much while doing it), but as the presentation was inching to its peak, it was becoming more and more obvious why he did so.
After working up our emotions a few times, a guilt-ridden Kevin finally revealed the gory and heartbreaking details of his alcohol-induced accident and the aftermath that followed. He even went so far as to show us the scars of the accident and the hospital treatment that saved his life. I have had only a few horrifying nightmares in my life, but when compared to Kevin's factual experience, my nightmares resembled heaven. However, Kevin's worst scars weren't the ones he carried on his wheelchair-bound frame; his worst ones were those he carried in his mind. The loss of his ability to walk (let alone participate in another sport), his innocence in the eyes of the law, and his childhood friend left me in a state of sympathy and reflection.
When I walked out the gym that day, I thought of his description of the situation with his little sister (who were 12 years apart in age) and how miserable they both were thanks to his paralysis. I thought of my little sister, whom I share a 10-year difference in age with, as well as the activities we could never do if I too ended up a victim of making bad choices. I also began to think of other things I could never do if I made the choice to drive drunk, including playing rugby, finding the career and the woman of my dreams or even breathing, eating, and (as Kevin put it) wiggling my toes. Despite the fact that I do not like the taste of alcohol and still believe that I will never receive a DUI charge, Kevin's appearance was just a stern reminder to me that making poor decisions with any risky situation in life will not only scar me, but everyone I know and love.
