Reviewer: Hélène Vernet June 27, 2010. I’m on the starting grid of the Motocross World
Championship in Latvia. My mechanic is beside me.
He’s giving me his final advices. The 15 second sign. The 5 second sign. The gate opens. Whoosh! I have a speedy start. I'm in a very good 5th position. I felt like I was flying over the track. I was riding properly, comfortably,
without taking any risks. And I arrive at this famous bump, a bump that was difficult to handle,
with ruts and holes that are shaped during every round. I take the take-off ramp, the bike ejects me. I land on the bottom of my back and I feel a big "crack" in my spinal cord. The diagnosis is final. I can feel that I am paraplegic. In a split second, I see a flashback showing my whole career. I look back at all the practice sessions
in the snow, the rain, all my youth, sacrificed, and I think, "All of that for this? All of that to end up paraplegic
at 20 years old, for the rest of my life?" Luckily I remained conscious, which allowed me to guide
the first aid teams who arrived, to explain that the situation
was very serious, and that they needed
to handle me with great care. I am evacuated from the track, to the ambulance. My parents arrive. I tell them that the situation
is very serious. My father leaves to speak to my manager
to try to get precious advices that could be very important
for the future. I’m taken to Riga's hospital in an ambulance from the 90s or even 80s in really difficult conditions. In Latvia, roads are cratered,
and full of holes, speed bumps, sometimes potholes, which aren't the ideal conditions
in which to be evacuated. After an hour’s drive,
I finally arrive at Riga's hospital where I am put in a room
with doctors, surgeons. They explain to me
that I will have to be diagnosed to determine the precise lesion
on the spinal cord. I get an MRI scan. The rest, I don't remember because
I completely lost consciousness. The only thing that I remember
is waking up in a room. My parents were there
as well as my mechanic. The first thing that my father said
was, "Axel, how are you feeling?" I said to him, "You know Dad,
I can’t feel anything anymore." Then, he looked at me and said, "Axel, this is your Grand Prix. This one is the Grand Prix of your life. You must win it. You must do
everything to win it." I looked at him and said, "I will do everything to win it.
I will fight until the end." My mother was beside us,
he led her a bit away as she was crying. My mechanic asks me
how I'm feeling. I tell him that bone plates
have been placed in my spine. I’m suffering,
but I still can’t feel anything. After a few days, I’m transferred
to France, back home, in Lille, where I’ll be operated on a second time, a second operation aimed to try
to decompress the spinal cord, in the hope of a better recovery. After the operation
which lasted almost eight hours, they had placed longer bone plates
in order to better stabilize the spine. The following morning, the surgeon
come to see me in the room. He tells me that the operation went well and that I'm going to be sent
to rehabilitation in a week's time. But for me, at that moment,
there was no time to wait a week. One week is too long. I decide to start working
on a mini-contraction that was still there
just after my accident, but that had disappeared
after the first operation and was beginning to reappear
following this second operation, a tiny muscular contraction,
just like moving your nostrils, but there is something. And I decide to start working on it. I do series of 10, 15 contractions
every hour at the hospital. My dad is at the end of the bed. He tickles the soles of my feet and I try to concentrate
and feel the tiniest feeling. But nothing changes,
I still can't feel anything. I'm transferred to rehabilitation,
where, on my first day, I was given a wheelchair. I'm transferred from the bed
to the wheelchair, a tricky manoeuvre because I had plates
that were pulling in my spine. I sit in my wheelchair and I start
my first day of rehabilitation. It’s not that easy to drive straight
with a wheelchair for the first time, to get to the technical facilities,
and begin my workout. During my rehabilitation, I went through various emotional steps: hope, despair, hope again, and accepting the change
in my new life. But one thing obsessed me every morning:
get out of bed to learn to walk again. I wanted to walk again. I tried to engrave in the deepest
of my subconscious the image of me walking again. This image was almost real, I could almost touch it. I knew that if I stayed true
to this image, it would one day become reality. I thought about it 24/7. I didn’t think, "Ah today,
I’ll walk again”, no. I used the moments of somnolence,
the moments of relaxation to work mentally. 80% of my work was mental. Later, when I came out of rehabilitation, I read a book, and in this book,
I discovered that I had subconsciously
used the visualisation technique. Little by little during my rehabilitation, the mini contraction of my left quadriceps
began to gain strength. And following this,
another small contraction began to appear in the right leg. I also work a lot on strengthening
the top half of my body to try to recover my autonomy, to be able to push my wheelchair,
to move myself onto the bed or a chair. I begin to see that I'm on the right track
and that the work is paying off. After one month of rehabilitation, I receive an unexpected call in
from the chief rehabilitation doctor, with my physiotherapist, sports teacher,
occupational therapist and the nurse. The doctor begin by asking about the care given to me on my floor
with the nurse, if all is going well. She says that I go to sleep
at a reasonable time, that I eat well and I am polite, unlike other patients
who are very arrogant because they're struggling
to accept their situation. It's then my occupational
therapist's turn, Xavier, who says that I don’t
work out with him anymore. The astonished doctor asks me: “Mr Allétru, why don't you attend
occupational therapy anymore ?" I answered that Xavier,
my occupational therapist, wanted to rehabilitate me
exclusively for the wheelchair. He wanted to teach me
to ride straight, go up steps. I had said to him,
"Listen Xavier, I want to work on the mini contraction in my legs. with exercises that I could do daily." He had answered, "You know Axel,
your spinal cord is very badly damaged. I don’t think you'll be
able to walk again. So I prefer to rehabilitate you
for the wheelchair." The chief doctor stupefied,
said to me, "Mr Allétru, there're rules, you must respect them. If Xavier says that you must
be rehabilitated for the wheelchair, then you must do it. From what I know, he has more experience
than you in the area of rehabilitation." He said, "In any case,
if you don't respect the rules, I'll have to expel you from the centre. And too much work
could make you regress." At that point, I became speechless. The chief rehabilitation doctor
telling one of his patients that working too hard
could make them regress ? I couldn’t believe my ears! I leave the meeting. I go to see my physiotherapist, Gaëlle,
and I ask, "Why such a reaction?" She said to me, "Axel,
you aren't like the other patients. You work hard, you make progress,
but you must respect the rules, or you could really be expelled
from the rehabilitation centre and not be able to progress at all." So, I said, "Okay. I will 'respect the rules.'" But I had a little idea
in the back of my mind. I asked my parents
to bring me some weights so that I could work alone
in my room, at night. I tried to copy the exercises that Gaëlle
had me do in physiotherapy, alone in my room after diner. I did series of 10, of 15. My parents also made me
some parallel bars, with a harness and a pulley, so that I could work at home
during the weekends. After a few months, at last, I am able to attend
balneotherapy sessions. It is a very important moment for me, because it was the first time
that I could stand up, I could stand up in the water. This was a first step. As sessions goes by, I begin to stand up
with less pressure on my arms. And Gaëlle, my physiotherapist, says,
"Listen, Axel, I think that we could maybe have you stand up
on firm ground, between the parallel bars." But to do that, we need to make a brace so that I could try to compensate
my paralysed muscles. We decide to contact the father
of a childhood friend who is an ortho-prosthetist. Three weeks later,
he had made a brace for me. And finally, the big day arrived: I put my braces on.
I face the parallel bars. Gaëlle stood in front of me. Then, I gather momentum, and puf! I can stand up. I can stand up on my two legs on firm ground. I can tell you, it was
quite an accomplishment. I could once again see the world
from the height of my 1.90m. I remember everyone in the room
had clapped for me. It was such an important moment,
and I was really proud of myself. Progressively with each session,
I make my first step, then a second, then a walk forwards,
then a walk backwards. Then, I can go back and forth
hundreds of times in a row. But I arrive at a moment
when the parallel bars are all fine but I can’t move around autonomously. So Gaëlle bring me a walker
with which I try to walk again. But I lose my balance. Though I work hard
and I try to do all I could, I don't make any progress.
I can't do it. I’d been in rehabilitation
for almost one year and time has come
to think about my future. What would become of me? I’m only 20 years old,
so why not start studying again or continue practising sports? After all, sport is my life. At that point, I decide to join
a parasport swimming club where I started to go
swimming every Saturday. I thought it could only do good to me, and might also help me
to progress further. I think that it was an important decision because It enabled me little by little
to rediscover the real world. And I realized that although
I was in a wheelchair, I could make new friends,
restore my social life. Because sometimes
in the rehabilitation centre, patients are afraid of progressing for fear of leaving the rehabilitation
centre and return to the real world. In the rehabilitation centre
everyone has a disability. Nurses are there to help us, everyone
make room in the hallways. So sometimes, it’s difficult to leave
the rehabilitation centre. When I finished rehabilitation, I feel like I need
to embark on a new challenge, a challenge in my new life,
to get up every morning. Today, my daily routine, is to become
a paralympic swimmer. I set myself the goal of competing
in the Paralympic games in Rio in 2016. Since 2014, I have been a member
of the French team. I won many titles as French champion,
European champion, record holder. I've managed to recreate what I was before
in the able-bodied world but this time, in parasport. I am autonomous: I can drive,
I can ride a bicycle. I can do all sorts of things.
but in an adapted way. But today, the most important thing is that I can move around with my two lifters, always, and my two crutches. (Applause) I can walk one, two,
maybe even three kilometres. I can even walk
with a single crutch if I want. You weren’t expecting that, were you,
when I arrived in a wheelchair ? (Laughter) I went back to visit
the rehabilitation centre and the staff was very
impressed by my progress. They didn’t think that I could
make any more progress after leaving the rehabilitation centre. I went back to see that famous doctor: "So, doctor! (Laughter) I walk again." He answered, "Mr Allétru,
you were very, very lucky." I look at him and said,
"No, no! It isn’t luck. it is doggedness and hard work." So now, you are wondering
if I achieved my goal to compete in Rio. Well yes, I qualified in March. At the French swimming championship,
I achieved the required standards for 2016. But unfortunately,
a few weeks before Rio, I was moved to another category, with people who were less handicapped. And as the effect is immediate
and the times much harder, I was sadly unable to participate in Rio. But when I was hospitalized,
right after my accident, if I had been told, "Listen Axel,
if you sign here, at the bottom, you’ll walk again, but you will never
be a paralympic champion," I think that I wouldn’t
have hesitated one second. From this whole journey, I have learnt one thing: resilience. Today, what I try to demonstrate daily is that life can be cruel
and generous at the same time. I bear no grudge against life. I’ve learnt to be resilient and resilience has also
taught me to accept things, to accept things as they are,
without anger. Indeed by accepting, I've been able to keep
going forward rather than to stop ; I've been able to keep moving rather than vegetate
at home, doing nothing. But, a word of caution: accepting
has nothing to do with resigning yourself. You have the choice to live like a victim, but you will never have access
to the other option: believing that it’s possible. Thank you. (Applause)
