T-3 Complete
Seven years ago, in San Francisco on a crisp December morning, Arthur Renowitzky walked out of City Nights club, and down Harrison Street. With no one around, Arthur was approached by a man who had followed him, waiting. The man shot Arthur. A burning sensation filled Arthur, followed quickly by numbness, his new familiar friend. The bullet barely missed his heart but pierced both of his fresh young lungs; they rapidly filled with blood. As his lungs swelled, the bullet collided against his spine, and took a permanent seat lodged inside his liver.
After his body hit the ground, the gunman fled with Arthur’s wallet and the twenty dollars he would have happily given the shooter had he asked. Arthur could not move, although his gut and brain willed his body to run, it stayed, defiant and paralyzed. His blood flowed freely over the concrete as Arthur concentrated on breathing. Arthur was comatose, and rushed to San Francisco General Hospital, leaving six liters of blood behind in the street.
Twenty-one days later Arthur awoke from a coma, with a tracheostomy tube is his neck and a doctor seated beside him. He was gently informed of the T-3 complete spinal cord injury he had sustained, here I was thinking twenty years old -gonna be paralyzed and might not be able to talk ever again. A few weeks later, his lungs started to come around; with the prospect of getting the tracheostomy tube removed, Arthur made a promise to himself that if he got his voice back he would not take it for granted.
After months of immobility and sustenance from a tube Arthur sat up straight in a borrowed wheelchair. With no trunk control and a weakened state, he pushed himself approximately ten feet down the hospital corridor until he was out of breath and couldn’t push anymore. A surreal feeling accompanied his first few moments in a wheelchair, unable to accept his new life, Arthur resolved to beat his paralysis and walk again.
Years later, Arthur has spoken to over 100,000 young people about violence, spinal cord injuries, and living to your full potential. He’s now a motivational speaker and CEO of the non-profit organization Life Goes On. He coaches a youth basketball team at the San Lorenzo Boys and Girls Club, in support of the organization that shaped him as a young boy. Arthur has shared his story on the radio and television; he speaks primarily to students in high school and college, to raise awareness of spinal cord injuries. He plays semiprofessional wheelchair basketball for teams in Berkeley and San Jose; building upon his dream to one day participate in the Paralymic Games.
Arthur began rehabilitation through occupation and physical therapy in a supportive environment. The 6:00 a.m. mornings and tough days paid off when Arthur was able to return home; adaptations were made, his family members worked double time to recuperate financially. After twenty years, Arthur had to unlearn what he thought he knew about his daily life as he relearned how get dressed, drive, and use the bathroom. Some days, Arthur was left alone with his thoughts, and often asked himself why. Young and paralyzed, he entered in to a severe state of depression; religion and hand cycling revived his determination. Arthur began playing wheelchair basketball and pretty much never looked back. Despite speaking with numerous detectives and a private investigator, the gunman was never found.
In April of 2014, Arthur learned of the ReWalk, a robotic exoskeleton, after seeing a segment about the product on the news. In February of 2015 at Project Walk, Arthur stood up using the ReWalk, he was eye level with friends and family for the first time in seven years; he gave his trainer a hug while standing up. Approximately a month later, Arthur stood again using the ReWalk; one week ago, he took his first steps. Arthur took twenty programmed steps using the ReWalk at Project Walk with the help of his trainers, it brought back memories of walking again, playing sports like football-basketball. For twenty pre-programmed steps, Arthur had regained his independence and cannot wait to walk again.