Michael's story
One night. Twenty-six years.
Michael and his friend Mike went to a local bar. He dropped Mike off and headed home in the rain. A mile or two from his house he lost control, and his car went into a telephone pole hard enough to rip the door off.
He woke up from a coma not knowing where he was or what had happened. "I slowly came out of it and realized that what I had done was permanent."
A brain injury to the right side of his brain. Six surgeries on his feet, two on his arms, metal pins. Therapists who told him he'd probably never walk. A cooking school he was supposed to start one month later.
Michael works every day to walk, read and get his story out so nobody else has to live it. "I thank God every day I did not kill someone."