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He had to wonder, had things been different, he would have been in Afghanistan instead of on his cell phone dealing with a woman from the Veterans Administration.
It had been a busy day for the 20-year-old West York native. He had to visit the state Department of Transportation and run a few other errands. He planned to start looking for a gym so he could work out. He had to make plans to travel to Philadelphia for a new rental wheelchair while his custom-made chair was being made.
He was going to relax playing a video game -- SOCOM 3, a Navy Seal simulation.
But this wasn't where he was supposed to be -- at least as the plans stood on July 11. If everything had gone accordingly, he would have been spending this recent afternoon in Afghanistan with his Navy unit.
Instead, a violent motorcycle crash stateside left him paralyzed. And rather than being in a war zone, he was awaiting word from the Navy on his discharge and spending what seemed like an eternity on the phone with the woman from the VA.
The woman was helping him wade through various issues with his medications. She had a habit of appearing to wrap up the conversation -- saying, "I'll let you get going" at least five times as they talked -- before launching into something new.
DeWalt listened on his cell phone, rolling his eyes as she resumed the conversation after saying she was going to let him get going.
"She likes to talk," he said.
His friend, Andrew Shoff, sat beside him, shaking his head. Shoff, whom DeWalt considers his brother, was there to help DeWalt as he adjusted to life at home.
DeWalt had been there only three days, having spent the preceding four months in hospitals.
"This is my life now," DeWalt said.
It happened on July 11 -- the day his life changed. It was a Friday.
He had
Protective Services before sustaining his injury.
He often ran on that beach. It was a 20-minute motorcycle ride from his base, the Naval Weapons Station Earle in northern New Jersey -- commonly called Colts Neck. Running gave him time to think and to relax. And it kept him in shape. He's competitive about it. He ran a 5K race on the base and came in second among 200 sailors.
One day, he hoped to qualify for SEAL training. As it was, he was a master at arms, the Navy term for a military police officer.
He got back to his motorcycle, a Yamaha R6, a sleek sport bike powered by a 600cc engine. He'd had motorcycles since he was a kid -- not all that long ago, really. He took a motorcycle safety class at Harley-Davidson in 11th grade. He was
He packed his running shoes in his backpack and, even though it was a hot summer afternoon, slipped into a pair of jeans, a leather jacket and a pair of boots. He always dressed that way when he rode -- protection from road rash should he have to lay the bike down in an emergency.
He put on his helmet. He always wore a helmet. For one thing, New Jersey requires motorcyclists to wear helmets. And even when he crossed the border into helmet-optional Pennsylvania, he wore it. He wanted to be safe.
He was about 500 yards from the beach when it happened.
He woke up in the Jersey Shore Medical Center in Neptune.
He couldn't move
DeWalt doesn't remember anything about the crash. He had to be told what happened later. About all he knows is that a car ran a stop sign and hit him.
Before he came home Oct. 23, he lived in a room on the second floor of the Kessler Institute of Rehabilitation, a modern rehab hospital in West Orange, N.J.
It's a beautiful facility, with spacious rooms, wide hallways and good lighting. The view from his room was beautiful, too. The hospital is cut into the side of a hill, and the large windows in his room faced the woods, where he could occasionally see wildlife, even deer.
The last few weeks he was in Kessler, his family and friends were working on his mother's
"Everybody has been so great," Bosley said.
And even though the work's not done, DeWalt's pretty glad to be home.
He has plans.
DeWalt graduated from West York Area High School in 2006. In school, he ran track for a year.
He joined the Navy a year before he graduated. The Navy had the best schools, his mother said. DeWalt considered that. But he also said, "They had cool commercials."
He reported for basic training in Illinois on July 24, not long after graduation. After training to be a master at arms in Texas, he was assigned to the New Jersey base.
Earlier this year, he volunteered for duty in Afghanistan, working with the military's Protective Services, providing security for officers and dignitaries.
"I always wanted to go overseas," he said.
He wasn't too concerned about the danger of entering a war zone, one that had been heating up in recent months. "It was something new," he said.
It would be an adventure.
Besides, he said, "If I went over there, it gives somebody else a chance to come home."
It was his turn, he figured.
He was scheduled to leave Oct. 11.
Bosley was worried about her son entering a war zone. "I don't think any mother wants their son to go to war," she said. "My worst fear was that he wouldn't come home from Afghanistan."
At the same time, she said, she was filled with pride that her son would sacrifice for others, that he would volunteer for dangerous duty so another soldier could come home.
And then, the crash happened.
"For a while, I was pretty angry that God would let something like this happen," she said. "But these things happen for a reason. Nathan is going to do good things."
It sounds cliched, and he realizes it, but he says he's lucky to be alive, considering the violent nature of the crash. It doesn't sound so cliched when he recites the list of his injuries.
All but three of his ribs were broken, and the bones punctured his lungs, which collapsed. His collarbone was broken. His spine was shattered, broken in half.
"On the X-ray, it looked like I had two spines," he said, describing the overlapping broken spine he saw in the X-ray.
He was on life support for 21/2 weeks. After that, he was in traction. The hospital kept him unconscious for much of the time. He had four tubes snaking from his chest, draining fluids from his lungs. He had a feeding tube.
He was heavily medicated --
Dilaudid, mostly. "It felt like my bed was floating in space," he said. "I'd see a purple car, and the car would turn into an elephant. I was seeing crazy things."
It was hard seeing him like that, his mother said. Her son was broken, she said.
But he was alive.
He knew it the moment he woke up.
"It's hard to describe," he said. "I just woke up, and I knew. I just knew."
He didn't feel any different than he did before the crash.
"It's weird," he said. "I can't really describe it. I'm the same person. I don't feel any different than I did before. I just know I can't move my lower body."
The condition is permanent. The crash severed his spine at the T3 and T5 vertebrae, the doctor told him, meaning he was paralyzed from about mid-chest down.
From that day he regained consciousness, he said, "I came to terms with my injury. I never thought, 'Why me?' This is just me. This is the rest of my life."
When he first got to Kessler, he didn't talk much with other patients. He went to his physical therapy in the mornings and pretty much kept to himself. His family and girlfriend visited a lot. His buddies from the base stopped by. His commanding officer visited.
He wept.
DeWalt comforted the officer from his hospital bed, telling him it was all right.
Everything would be all right.
His first days at Kessler were pretty much the same. "I would go to rehab, and I'd just sit in my wheelchair," he said. "I didn't know anybody, and I didn't really care to know anybody."
His therapist didn't think that was very healthy. A few days into his stay, she introduced DeWalt to Victor Muniz. They're about the same age -- Muniz is 22 -- and they were both paralyzed in crashes. But, as DeWalt likes to say, Muniz wins the prize for the most bizarre case.
Muniz, from nearby Kearny, just outside Newark, N.J., was walking home from work on June 16 when a storm whipped up. He was cutting through a park when the wind knocked down a tree.
The tree landed on him, severing his spine and leaving him paralyzed from the waist down.
"It's crazy," DeWalt said.
The two are best friends now. They spent much of their free time together while at Kessler. Muniz's parents live close by -- a 15-minute drive -- and visited every day, stopping in to see DeWalt. They'd bring food from home. They treated him like he was their son.
"He's like my brother," Muniz said.
Now that he's home, DeWalt plans to stay close to Muniz. He calls every day. Muniz tells him how boring it is at the hospital without him.
They have plans. When Muniz gets out of Kessler, he plans to visit DeWalt for a couple of weeks.
DeWalt has plans of his own. He's going to take college courses. He hopes to help others who are in his position, talking about staying positive.
"From day one, I've never been depressed," he said. "I knew what was going on, and I was OK with that. A lot of people get depressed, and I think I can help them."
For now, he'll remain in the Navy until his rehab is finished. He will soon go to the Hershey Medical Center three times a week for rehab. He had hoped to stay in the Navy, perhaps taking a desk job, but regulations forbid it. He expects to receive a medical discharge when his rehab is completed.
He also plans legal action against the driver of the car that struck him.
"I want to take care of my family," he said.
Then, he plans to take Muniz skydiving -- something DeWalt tried once and enjoyed.
"It was amazing," DeWalt said. "They only took us up 10,000 feet."
"Only?" Muniz asked.
DeWalt plans to do it again, doing a tandem jump -- strapped to an experienced skydiver -- from 15,000 feet.
Muniz doesn't know whether he's up to it.
"That's crazy," he said.
"It's so much fun," DeWalt said.
Another plan gets more support from Muniz.
They're going to go to Disney World. It'll be a great time, DeWalt said.
"We're in wheelchairs," he said, "so we're getting to the front of the line."
mike@ydr.com or 771-2046.
ABOUT KESSLER
Nathan DeWalt received care at one of the best rehab hospitals in the country. The Kessler Institute for Rehabilitation in West Orange, N.J., has been recognized as one of the top two such facilities in the country by U.S. News and World Report.
His doctor, Steven Kirshblum,
director of spinal cord injuries at the hospital, is an internationally recognized expert on spinal cord injuries, having published numerous peer-reviewed articles in medical journals and having edited a textbook on the topic that is used in medical schools throughout the world. His former patients include the late Christopher Reeves and R&B singer Teddy Pendergrass.
TO HELP
Nathan DeWalt's family is planning several fundraisers to pay to remodel his mother's Dover home to accommodate him. His mother, Tonya Bosley, said the family and some friends are planning a benefit concert and several other events. Plans for those events were on hold while DeWalt's family worked to prepare his mother's house for his return.
The family also has ordered wristbands imprinted with "Pain Is Only Temporary ND," which will sell for $5. The wristbands arrived, but were not exactly what the family wanted, so Bosley said they've sent them back and are waiting for the new ones to arrive.
Meanwhile, donations may be made on behalf of the family at any White Rose Credit Union office in York County. The credit union has branches in East York, West York, Red Lion and York.
