This post was written by Christopher Staley (Thanks!)

It was 1.30AM on Thursday, November 2nd 2017, when the social services attendant finally cracked open the door to the freezing cold waiting room at Jackson’s Trauma Intensive care unit emergency wing, where we anxiously awaited any kind of news. Her words were “you can see him now, but only 2 at a time”. Unfortunately for her, there were three of us in the room, Enrique’s brother Edu, Andy and myself, and there was no chance either of us were going to wait for one more minute in that white walled, straight out of the ‘50s, coffee-less room, that felt more like an addicted substances anonymous meeting center, than what should have been a comforting hospital waiting room. On top of that, the last news on Enrique was a doctor expressing his concern around whether he would make it through the night, so after a very brief mix of sad, exhausted and fearful faces, along with a quick negotiation, the social services lady let all three of us in to see Enrique. This took place approximately 8 hours after the accident occurred, while Sonia and Jesus were still trying to find a way to get to Miami from Caracas. Unfortunately they could not get a flight out after dark, so the 3 of us had to keep this rebellious adrenaline junkie alive at least until they arrived. As we exited this post-Chernobyl Disaster-esque room, I had a sudden rush of fear, confusion, anxiety and depression, as I had no idea what to expect when I saw this kid who in many ways, is like a little brother to me. We walked to a fob entry only door, she scanned her card, and we walked into the official TICU emergency wing. This section of a hospital is in many ways known as the stairway to heaven, as the chances of coming out alive are heavily outweighed by… well, I’m sure you see where I’m going. As we entered, there was a freakishly eerie feeling about this wing; doctors pranced around in a very cool, calm and collected way, there was very little noise coming from any patients (which made sense as most were unconscious or being held alive by a machine), there were police officers standing by multiple bays (presumably for some of the victims that were also being accused of a crime) even though none of the victims seemed to be in any condition to rip off all the machines connected to their body and attempt a 007-esque great escape. We finally reached the end of this hallway after passing about 6 different bays with patients, 4 police officers and a plethora of beeping machines, and there was Enrique, laying on a bed in an induced coma being held alive by a machine, tubes in his lungs sucking out blood because of internal bleeding, both arms wrapped and elevated, along with burns and blood pretty much all over his body.  

Of all the incredible times that I have shared with Enrique over the years, one of the fondest memories will always be the triathlon running trainings on Thursday Mornings at 6AM, where most of the time it included 10 “all out for your life” 150M sprints up the steepest part of the Key Biscayne bridge; Enrique and I always battled for the top spot leading the pack, and there was no greater feeling than fighting for that finish line on every single sprint, than with someone that you consider family but that you don’t have to be related to (insert crying of laughter emoji here). Unfortunately for me, Enrique was faster most of the time by a matter of inches, and no matter how tired he was, he would find a way to reach that turbo mode, nitro-boost, or that next gear, when his legs were trying to convince his mind that he had nothing left in the tank. Standing over him in the hospital while he was still bleeding (8 hours after the accident), a part of me knew that he would find that next gear one more time, despite his body failing him in every worst way. Considering that “Underestimate me, it will be fun” and “Everybody loves a good comeback” were two quotes that Enrique lived by, I had this 6th sense that once again, he would find a way to beat all odds and pull off that cheeky death cheating move, just so he could prove the ultimate comeback to himself, and everyone else.

Funnily enough, within 4 days of the accident and after suffering 2 crushed arms, 3rd degree burns on numerous parts of his body, one punctured lung and one collapsed lung, an induced coma and a broken neck (1mm short of paralyzation), this adrenaline junkie was walking down the TICU hallway exercising his legs with minimal assistance. To this day, doctors have a hard time understanding how his body recovered so quickly, let alone the nurses that took care of him, who were convinced it was a hologrammed version of Enrique walking down the halls. Truthfully, I was never surprised because I knew if he made it through that first night, he would be activating that “next gear”, or in this case really that “turbo mode” to fast track his way back to 100%.

Over the next 3 weeks, he went on to beat all odds. His lung capacity was back to 100% percent within 7 days, every arm and skingraft surgery he underwent resulted in flying colors and he convinced every nurse on a daily basis that they were the crazy ones trying to keep him in the hospital when he thought he had no business being there. Two months after the accident he went on to walk the half marathon of Miami and 6 months after the accident he was back in the swimming pool, already outpacing most of our teammates, despite his neck not being 100% yet. Enrique officially found that next gear, activated the turbo and pulled off the ultimate comeback that everyone loves.

My point about this post is that our minds have some kind of supernatural non-scientific power that we all have the ability to unlock. There’s something beautiful about not fully understanding how our minds work, and part of that beauty is sometimes being pleasantly surprised by our body once an intention is set and never abandoned. Some people will say it’s about “how bad you really want something”, but I think it’s a lot deeper than that. I think it’s about the self conviction that we can design our own rationale of achieving a goal instead of taking into account all the variables that society would expect us to.  

My buddy Christopher and I after our first triathlon

This post is dedicated to every ICU patient fighting for their life right now, and to give them the strength and power to find that “next gear” to pull off that ultimate comeback.