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Friday, October 26, 2012 - 7A

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From Pge 1
his favorite color, cheesy poses
and microphones that engulf half
his face like the local TV stations.
Instead, I'm interested in Drew.
And who is Drew?
His eyes light up, a smile etch-
es across his face, and he leans
back in his chair. "He's this crazy
kid willing to do anything at any
moment."
It's this crazy kid - the one who
said high school "went too easy,"
the one who needed to find a way
to stay entertained, the one who
proudly wore purple booty shorts
to his high school spirit week, the
one who always pushed the enve-
lope - who pushed it a bit too far.
He talks about his accident in
his essay application to the Uni-
versity, titled "The Date of My
Accident." In addition to playing
on the football team in his home-
town of Commerce, Mich,, he was
a trombone player in the band and
earned a role in his school's theat-
rical production of "Seussical: The
Musical" during his sophomore
year.
During rehearsals for the
performance, his high school
director asked if anyone had any
special talents to add to the per-
formance, and Drew claimed he
could do a backflip. Though he had
never actually done one before,
he rehearsed several times with
his friend's mother who owned a
dance studio, and the first time he
d;d te fln withou her hein mwas

while "goofing off" in the hallway
after school. Little did he know
then it would also be his last.
Drew doesn't remember what
happened next. In fact, he doesn't
remember the first week in the
hospital, thanks to the drugs that
helped ease his pain.
What he later learned is this:
He landed on and broke his back,
rolled over and threw up. He then
received CPR from his freshman
football coach until paramedics
came. He was unable to breathe on
his own for an hour until the para-
medics put a tracheotomy tube
down this throat, and was then
airlifted to University Hospital,
which would become his home for
the next three months.
As he recalls the story, he jokes
in typical Drew fashion that he
wishes he had remembered the
transport since it was the only
time he's been in a helicopter.-
Though much of the first week
remains a blur, his father, LeDon
Clayborn recalls that every time
Drew would wake up, he would ask
what happened and apologized for
what he had done. It wasn't until a
week after the accident that Drew
finally remembered. A nurse told
him. Straightforward. Just the
facts.
His initial thought was relief.
He would probably get an exten-
sion on his English essay that was
due. But after that realization,
the permanence set in and Drew
accepted the inevitable.
Hs n nralrzed

When asking others about their
impressions of Drew, they often
talk about his strength and inde-
pendent attitude, which might
seem ironic due to his need for
24-hour care.
For his family, it seems as
though Drew's lack of burdening
self-pity propels the entire family
past the experience.
"I think he still wants to prove
to his dad he could do whatever he
thinks I want him to. He's striv-
ing to be independent and to grow
with life," LeDon says.
"The whole family moved
forward because Drew moved
forward," his 19-year-old sister
Desirae explains.
His nurse, Kandi Epifanio, is
his arms and legs. But everything
else is Drew. She recalls his cour-
age in the wake of his accident.
"He turned to me and said
he was glad that this happened
to him and no one in his family
because he could handle it," she
said. "He's not resentful for what
happened. He's done everything
but given up."
His confidence is contagious.
In all the time I've spent with
him the past few months, I've
never seen him falter. While there
are occasional fallen moments,
Epifanio says they are more out
of frustration - days when the
simplest things others take for
granted become a small battle,
like itchy noses and watery eyes.

witnessed was Drew's recollec-
tion of a conversation he had with
his mother, in which she revealed
after the accident she had strug-
gled with whether or not to abort
him when she was pregnant with
him.
Drew's voice grows quiet and
he pauses. His already scratchy
voice drops to a whisper and his
eyes bow down before glancing
my way.
"I told her that she probably
should have," he says.
When Iask if he often truly feels
that way, he responds: "I mean, it's
out of truth for everyone's sake."
However, a stranger walking
into this household doesn't get
that sense of despair. It's a home
and family built on love. A place
where LeDon's booming laugh
fills the house at any given time
and Drew's wheezy laugh is heard
from his ground-floor bedroom.
When Drew finds out his first
Math 115, Calculus I exam score
is an A-minus, the house fills with
cheers - "Welcome to college!
That's the Michigan Difference"
- and Drew beams, but not with-
out a slight jab at himself for the
minus.
Would I necessarily ask an
incoming freshman that isn't par-
alyzed what they hoped their leg-
acy on campus would be? Maybe.
Maybe not. But suddenly, the idea
that he's a survivor seems to over-
shadow the other aspects of his
life. Of course, he's an incredible
vision of courage, but he's also an
18-year-old
boy and a
freshman in
college try-
ing to figure
life out.
What I
j can tell you
is this: The
medical
equipment
tin his bed-
roomis over-
powered by
a large styl-
ized print
of Jay-Z
that adorns
his wall.
He tapes
"The Ellen
DeGeneres
Show" dur-
ing the day
to watch at
night, and he

loves "South Park." He's an infor-
matics major who cringes at the
thought of taking his freshman
writing seminar next semester.
He dreams of one day working
for Apple or Google and would do
just about anything to get closer
to that dream.
"Shoot, I'd dress up like Steve
Jobs. I'd just be a Steve Jobs
model to be around people that
smart and who are able to make
that kind of technology," he says.
Above all, his sense of humor
has carried him through the
experience. His senior quote,
after all, was "Don't Think, Just
Jump.".
But with his story comes the
added burden of being deemed an
inspirational figure, something
most freshmen in' college don't
have to worry about.
"I usually just smile and say
thank you. I don'tknow how quite
to respond. My entire life I've been
a go-on-er, just a pusher. If people
find that inspiring, that's great,"
he says.
Due to financial constraints
and the state of Michigan's insur-
ance policies related to nursing,
Drew cannot afford 24/7 care in
Ann Arbor and must live at home.
Drew received a full tuition schol-
arship from the University and
has a room set up in Alice Lloyd
Residence Hall for which the fam-
ily can't currently afford nursing.
In order to get Drew on campus,,
the family needs to raise an aver-
age of $1,000 a week to hire one
full time and one part time nurse
for extra nursing care.
The family is hosting a fund-
raising event, a SK run on Sun-
day, Oct. 28 in Novi, which the
family had hoped would raise the
$30,000 needed for one semester's
worth of additional nursing. But
with low registration numbers,
they're working on salvaging the
money invested in the race and
working toward another future
fundraiser.
Until he gets the money, he will
continue to commute from Com-
merce, about a 40-minute drive
to campus. Though the comimute
isn't bad, and Drew has season
football tickets, he said it's still
difficult to receive e-mails about
campus events he can't participate
in.
The first thing most people
might notice about Drew is his
chair, but in academia, the Univer-

sity isn't giving him an easy way
out. Homework assignments are
expected to be turned in on time,
and his exams are the same day as
everyone else.
"They've just made it seem like
I'm a normal person," he com-
mented.
Instead, something he has to
deal with is;a different kind of first
impression. While most might
see him in the chair and hear the.
equipment's buzz, Drew has his
own methods for asserting his{
individuality.
"A lot of the time I will have to
put a little something in, so they
don't look down on me. There's
nothing mentally wrong with me
and I want to-make sure they real-
ize that. I might say something
reallysmart," he says.
He also recalls on one occa-
sion during the beginning of the
semester, when his computer pro-
gramming teacher, not cognizant
of the details of his accident or his
level of mobility, treated him def-
erentially.
The next class Drew went early
and the two talked his accident,
and since then he says there's been
a noticeable difference in the way
the professor speaks to him.
Drew's best friend, Lyndsay
Burke, an LSA and School of
Music, Theatre & Dance fresh-
man, said school is an important
part of Drew's life and a form of
assertinghis self-sufficiency.
"He cherishes whatever inde-
pendence he can get," she says.
Despite his physical challenges,
there is a possibility that his inde-
pendence could grow, and he still
holds onto that hope. Thanks to
current advancements in technol-
ogy, there is the possibility that
in three to four years he could be
off the ventilator, or even walking
again, and he says he's even start-
ing to feel some sensations in his
body.
Until then, he'll continue mov-
ing forward by concentrating on
maintaining his calculus grade
and cheering for Team 133. He's
more than just his story of cour-
age.
But in describing himself, Drew
still puts it best. He's not first and
foremost a Wolverine, and he's not
just a survivor. He's just himself.
"The one thing I've always just
kind of stuck with is to make sure
that I'm just Drew still. I'm still
just Drew. This hasn't changed me
at all."

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