Accident + ICU: Jake’s Perspective

8/31/25

Joe – Where were you when you found out about the accident?

It was Thursday, May 18. I was working in Olivet, Michigan, across from the college, on a job with Mitch, Hank, and Mike O. I got a call from Jessica saying you’d been in an accident. I phoned Dad right away, but he was extremely upset and couldn’t give details beyond “it’s not good.” I walked off the site to my truck and just sat there, thinking the worst. I called Janel. We didn’t know the severity—too much time had passed before officers reached Dad—and you’d gone straight to the ER, so there were no answers.

First Reaction

I sat in that truck a long time, debating whether to drive straight to Wisconsin. I kept thinking about Max—who would take care of your dog? I felt torn about leaving without more information, and I was thinking about telling the boys and checking in with Mom and Dad. Janel told me she’d support whatever I decided. The guys at work were fully supportive too—“Do what you need to do.” I was really grateful for that.

Our foreman from PJ Steel—big biker-type—had a sister with a spinal cord injury. Even though he barely knew me, he came over immediately to offer help and talk about the ups and downs. About a year and a half later, I ran into him again and the first thing he asked was how you were doing. That stuck with me.

Family’s First Steps

I headed to Mom and Dad’s. We tried to make sense of everything: Where were you? Where was your motorcycle? Who had your stuff? Who would take care of Max? We knew you had good friends in Wisconsin, but we didn’t have their contacts. Thankfully, your buddy Joe stepped up for Max, and then John and I brought Max home and set him up with my unused doghouse.

In those days and weeks, I leaned on men in my life who’ve been steady in their Christian faith. I asked them to pray: Jeff Gibson (he still calls to check on you), a friend in Tennessee, Uncle Mark—solid, non-judgmental, and Dr. Lewis, my chiropractor and longtime Oakland Christian football coach who’s always encouraged how Janel and I try to do family life. Their support meant a lot.

Visiting in Milwaukee

When Mom, Dad, and I came to Milwaukee, you had just barely woken up. You were out of it, but you said something funny about the nurses that made us all laugh. I hugged you as gently as I could and told you I loved you. A nurse later explained the injury to us: “complete spinal cord injury,” “5% chance to ever walk again.” I cried—but right then I knew in my heart that wasn’t going to be your story. I’ve seen enough in medicine to know how much we don’t know, and I refused to believe that statistic would define you.

Following Weeks and Legal Help

A few weeks later I brought Dad back out while Mom stayed with you. Over lunch we asked, “What can us siblings do?” We talked about moving you, about a lawyer, about everything. Dad was already talking with Mike Brewster—huge blessing.

After lunch we went to the police department to recover your things. I’d been calling constantly, keeping a legal pad full of case numbers and who I’d spoken with. It was frustrating—lots of runaround and “What accident?” I tried to apply pressure without being a jerk. Through Michelle Seefried’s connections, we reached attorney Jeff Zarzynski, who filed the critical declaration of injury within the 90-day window. That filing kept the door open for you to pursue a lawsuit. Jeff even went to the crash site himself for nearly two hours to observe the intersection before he knew the travel direction. I was grateful he invested that kind of time.

Other Reflections

One thing that burned me: no one from the fire department or EMS ever visited or followed up. Maybe it’s policy or liability, but it bothered me.

When we visited you in the ICU, we knew you wouldn’t remember—and that didn’t matter. Being there mattered. Later, when you were stable enough for surgery, Dad and I visited again. That might’ve been the last time I saw you before you left the hospital.

I tell people about your progress all the time. It isn’t always easy to talk about, but I feel better when I do, and I want folks to know how far you’ve come. And for the record: I still don’t believe that 5%—I believe you’re going to walk again. It’s not up for debate in my mind.