We were lucky to catch up with Katy Eberts recently and have shared our conversation below.
Katy, appreciate you joining us today. Was there a moment in your career that meaningfully altered your trajectory? If so, we’d love to hear the backstory.
On July 20th, 2023, my life was about to change forever. I was about to go from a full-time employee, professional baker, gigging musician and able-bodied wife to none of those things. I was now a passenger in a rollover motor vehicle accident that nearly took my life. I saw the moment coming from the backseat of the van I was riding in, along with four of my bandmates. It was a beautiful summer day as we headed to our next gig. Warm air and clear skies but a dark fate awaited me. All of a sudden, the van started to slowly veer off the highway, I closed my eyes and braced for impact. My body must have gone into protective mode because I don’t recall much after that until I woke up from surgery several hours later. In fact, so many hours had passed that it was now the next day. I woke up in a foreign place. My arms were strewn with wires as the machines I was connected to beeped and clicked in off-rhythm patterns. I tried to lift my arms. I could not. I tried to move my legs. I could not. Where was I and how did I get here? I opened my eyes and immediately felt the most incredible pain I have ever felt. My back had been broken in half and I had been mercy flighted to a hospital in Syracuse. At the time, I had no idea what the extent of my injuries were or if I was even expected to live. I just knew I had been badly injured and I was staring into the horrified eyes of my husband. This accident was devastating. Life changing. I was paralyzed and had a severe spinal cord injury along with many other injuries that needed constant monitoring including a bleed around my heart that if it didn’t correct itself, was going to need a very risky surgery that the doctor was very clear about not wanting to do. I laid in bed thinking about all the things I would never be able to do again. It was all doom and gloom according to the medical professionals taking care of me. I will never be able to effectively put into words, the level of anxiety I felt those first few days laying in that hospital bed, wondering if I would survive this. Even if I physically survived, would I be able to mentally survive? I did not believe I was strong enough. Turns out I was much stronger than I knew I was.
As the days slowly forged on, I entertained several visitors. I would ask them to “give me a cheek” in place of a hug because I was not strong enough to lift my arms but I so desperately wanted to feel the human touch of my friends and my family. By the time I was able to leave Syracuse two weeks later, I was finally able to hit the elevator button on my own. I only had the smallest of accomplishments to look forward to at this point and this was one of them. During my two week stay in Syracuse, one of those weeks being spent in the ICU, my room would be filled with flowers, balloons, cards and gifts. I was overwhelmed with the amount of love I was receiving. I had no idea that deciding to share my story would result in such an outpouring of love. My hope in sharing was that it might give someone else hope. The community quickly made me realize that sharing my story was the right choice. Putting hope, optimism and kindness out into the universe was coming back to me ten fold. People were reaching out to me and telling me that hearing about my story helped them get through a challenging time. It was stories like this that made my heart happy. Turns out all of that positive energy would play a huge role in my recovery.
Fast forward those two weeks and I am now in Rochester at an inpatient, neurological rehab facility. I have been told I will never walk again and I need to work on my upper body strength so that I can learn how to transfer myself. I am in shock and disbelief that this is my life now. Nothing would ever be the way it was before and honestly, it was much harder to cope with that than it was all the physical pain I was enduring. I wanted my life back but instead, I needed to come to the realization that I would be confined to a wheelchair and I had no idea what I would or wouldn’t be able to do on anymore. Was I going to need 24/7 care for the rest of my life? I did not know the answer to this question. Not yet.
I was spending several hours a day in both Occupational Therapy and Physical Therapy sessions. These sessions were grueling, especially in the beginning but they gave me purpose. On the days I didn’t feel like getting out of bed and going, I thought about my husband and all the love and support he showed me. He would always say to me “I believe you are going to walk again.” I wasn’t sure if I believed that myself but I never stopped working as hard as I could. He was going to become my caretaker. I had to do whatever I could to make this easier on him.
Six weeks had passed since the accident. I still had not moved my legs but my upper body was definitely getting stronger. I was sitting up in my hospital bed chatting with one of my nurses, reluctantly bending my legs up so that I could reach my feet. This particular nurse liked to challenge me. She wanted me to try to do things for myself and work on things I could do independently. Little did we know that this day would be the day my legs would “turn on”. She casually asked if I had been able to wiggle my toes at all and I replied with a somber, “no”. Then in a more commanding voice she said: “Well try!” She pointed at my foot like a magic wand casting a spell and suddenly my toes wiggled. This was the beginning of a cosmic shift in my mind and my heart. Just like that I believed my body could do more. This was a game changer. My PT sessions started looking a little different. We started focusing on strengthening my leg muscles. Ankles and hips would eventually come into play but those took a little more time. By the time I was discharged from inpatient, nine long weeks later, I could stand at the parallel bars for about 30 seconds with three people assisting me. It was nowhere near walking but it was a triumph nonetheless.
My doctors, therapists, nurses, techs and entire care team had really been exceptional but it was time to move on. It was terrifying to be sent home without the comfort of 24-hour care. And we were not going to our home because it was not accessible for my new disabilities. We were going to be renting a beautiful accessible home until we knew where we would permanently land. I spent five weeks working with at home therapists until I was able to enroll in an outpatient program. We dug in hard on day one of outpatient and I was ready. I had become determined in a way I didn’t even know I had in me. Standing at the parallel bars quickly turned into standing at a platform walker where after only a few weeks, I took my first real step. The progress was quick at first. It seemed like every day my body could achieve something new. Either it was getting stronger or my range of motion was farther or I could move something I couldn’t move the day before. It was miraculous! The body is a truly fascinating thing. Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of tears and trying days but we were having more good days than bad now. I looked forward to therapy every day and I was full of hope. The community continued to rally around me like nothing I’d ever seen before. They believed in me so I had to believe in myself. And there was my husband saying: “See, I told you you were going to walk again.”
I am a year and a half out from my accident now. I am able to ambulate with a cane for short distances. I fatigue easily but recharge well with a little standing break. My speed is slow but safe and sometimes my right leg is a little late to the party. (I like to call it swagger.) I have way more independence than I ever thought I would have but there is still a long way to go. I am not confined to a wheelchair anymore but it is still a part of my life. Things like grocery shopping and outdoor concerts still require I roll rather than walk but hard work, determination and a positive mindset have proven to be very powerful. I continue to work hard every single day. And on the days I don’t feel like I can work that hard, I persevere because THAT is when you make even bigger gains. I lost a lot in this accident and I still grieve many of those losses. But I also work hard to see all that I have gained. Especially when it comes to my own mind, body and spirit. I am still me, but I have become a warrior, with a little swagger.
We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.
When it was explained to me that people with my level of injury had less than a 33% chance of ever being weight-bearing, my spirit shattered. Basically, if I was ever going to move the lower half of my body again, it would have done so within the first couple of days to couple of weeks after the injury. It was six weeks before I moved so up until that point, my chances of ever walking again had basically been diminished to 0%. At first, I got angry. Coming to terms with the loss of independence was completely debilitating. I did not want to accept that I was always going to need some form of help, assistance or special accommodation. I believe this anger fueled my efforts in occupational and physical therapy sessions. No one was going to tell me I couldn’t do something. I started visualizing what I wanted to happen in my mind. I guess I was sort of manifesting in a way and just didn’t realize it at the time. I have always been a person that likes structure and I’m very task driven. So if someone tells me to do something, I’m just going to get it done. So when my nurse told me to wiggle my toes that day, I guess I looked at it as a task, visualized it and made it happen. From that point on, I was going to command as much from my body as it would allow. I was out to prove everybody wrong, including myself. Because only you can power your mind and body at once and when you do, it is a very powerful thing.
We often hear about learning lessons – but just as important is unlearning lessons. Have you ever had to unlearn a lesson?
This may sound silly but I had a fear of setting goals. I hated the thought of failure or being overly optimistic. What if my goal was to walk and it never happened? How would I feel if that were the case? I had no goals because I had no realistic idea how far my body would take me. I thought maybe I’d just keep working in PT and see where I landed. If I had no expectations, I couldn’t be disappointed. I had to learn not to be afraid of setting goals because my fear was most certainly holding me back. My contemptible thoughts of no expectations were really me not holding myself accountable. What was the point of doing all this work if I didn’t want to really make the most of it? A goal is nothing more than a thought until you put intent behind it.
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