The Road to Recovery

HORIZON WEST — There are reminders everywhere.

There’s the 28-slot weekly pill organizer, the walker, the gauntlet of specialists poking and prodding him. There’s the personal trainer pushing for more flexibility and strength. There are the thousands of question marks in his memory: What is a sweet potato? Then, there’s the binder — a dictionary-thick collection of documents required to get Kevin Root through the day.

This is life after “The Situation.” That’s what Kevin and his wife, Ligia, call “it” — the collision on Tiny Road that changed their lives forever.

Kevin was heading to the gym — as he had done hundreds of times before — that Sunday afternoon in March, when another driver, Nicholas Recanati, 18, crossed into his lane on Tiny Road and hit him head-on. Recanati died, and Kevin’s injuries — particularly in his brain — were so severe that it still is unknown how much damage is permanent. 

The crash stole countless memories and knowledge. And that is why the most important reminder of “The Situation” is sitting by the couch. It’s a photograph of Kevin and Ligia before the crash. In it, Kevin is at least 40 pounds heavier. Ligia is smooching his cheek as he flashes his infectious smile.

“I want my life back,” Kevin says with eyes as laser-focused and intense as those of a professional athlete. “I didn’t think I’d make it. I thought I was going to die, but I’m still here, thank God, and I’m going to get better. I just have to have patience. It’s easy to say but a hard thing to live.

“All that matters is that I have a life,” he says. “I’m alive.”

Ligia smiles. After all, that level of determination is one of the aspects of Kevin’s personality that survived the crash. And she knows that’s a good thing. 

He’s going to need it.

WHAT DOESN’T KILL YOU

Kevin accidentally left the garage door open when he left for the gym March 8. And, were it any other Sunday, Ligia likely would have been in the car, too. But her mother was in town from Brazil, so she stayed behind.

Kevin should have been back in time for a late lunch. Ligia watched the clock as it ticked past one, two and, finally, three hours. No call or text from Kevin.

“My heart was racing,” she remembers. “Finally, at 3:45 p.m., I decided to drive the route to the gym.”

That’s when she found the crash site. Kevin’s ID was in his phone, so he had been taken by ambulance as a John Doe. Ligia saw the yellow tape — and then Kevin’s silver Toyota Corolla on the hill.

A Florida Highway Patrol officer grabbed her by the arm. 

Be prepared, he said. Kevin was hit head-on. It’s very serious.

“As he spoke, my whole world fell open,” Ligia says.

At the hospital, the chaplain was awaiting Ligia’s arrival.

“I’ll never forget that first surgeon — that look on his face,” she says. “He was the first to put hands on Kevin. He said, ‘We’re going to do what we can.’ It was the worst feeling in the world.”

Kevin suffered broken bones in his right arm, right leg, right knee and right foot and severe internal injuries and head trauma. He had a stroke and was resuscitated. He endured seven surgeries on his abdominal region alone. To address seizures and relieve swelling in his brain, he was placed in a medically induced coma — an experience of which he was aware.

“Anyone who tells you a coma doesn’t hurt hasn’t been in a coma,” Kevin says. “I felt everything. And I saw my grandma, who is dead. She said to me, ‘I’m going to save you, Kevin.’ And she did. She saved my life.”

Kevin didn’t open his eyes until April 1. He was breathing through a tracheotomy, so he wasn’t able to speak. He had no movement in his left side.

“His eyes were open, but he wasn’t there,” Ligia says. “And I said to him, ‘Kevin, I know you’re in there. I know when we ask you to wiggle your toes, you’re probably thinking, What’s the point? But you have to do it. You have to prove them wrong.’”

When he finally was able to speak, Kevin told Ligia: I’ve been doing everything you’re telling me to. Help me. Take me away from this place. What happened to me? 

That was when Ligia told him about the collision, about the surgeries, about everything. 

Kevin listened for a while. Then, he said: OK. Can I go back to sleep now?

MAKES YOU STRONGER

Kevin qualified for admission into the Brain Injury Rehab Center May 6. He started making remarkable progress through the intense BIRC treatment. His left side started moving, and by the end of the month, he was able to take his first steps.

On June 1, Ligia began training with the hospital team to prepare for Kevin’s return home on June 5. 

In the four months since the crash, Kevin and Ligia have learned to celebrate every small step. First, it was when he awoke from his coma. Then, it was when he did so after every one of his many surgeries. Last month, Kevin was able to return to his home in Independence to begin a two-year rehabilitation and recovery process not only for his body but also his brain. 

Since the former high-school and college wrestler returned to West Orange, he already has shown improvement. He can sit down and stand up without assistance. Two weeks ago, while working with local trainer Wagner Ferreira, Kevin took steps without his walker. 

“Oh my God!” Ligia beamed. “Look at that!”

With Ferreira at his side, Kevin made his way across the living room. 

The Roots know these are the benchmarks by which they will measure Kevin’s recovery. After brain injuries, patients have about one to two years to make as much progress as they can. Like a sculptor molding clay, there is a limited amount of time for change.

The collision left holes in Kevin’s memory and stole his ability to perform simple tasks such as cutting with a knife. He didn’t remember Chipotle Mexican Grill. He couldn’t recall whether he liked bananas. 

“He’s had to relearn how to eat, how to walk, how to talk, how to think,” Ligia says. “And, he has to relearn his whole life, all his memories.”

The crash also altered his personality.

“I have to learn to love the new Kevin,” she says. “He still has some of his old personality, but he’s a different guy. He’s more emotional, more sensitive. He appreciates life more.”

And as part of that appreciation, the Roots are doing everything in their power to make the most of this recovery and rehabilitation time. Kevin’s Team — as they like to call it — includes virtually any -ologist one can imagine. Ligia, as Kevin’s drill sergeant, manages a binder full of pages that detail Kevin’s daily routine down to the minute. Each page includes schedules for medication, therapies and doctors’ appointments and has space for in-home caregivers to make notes about meals and snacks. 

Some of Kevin’s Team is covered by the couple’s health insurance, but many — including his neurologist — are not. Before the crash, Kevin owned and operated a 7-Eleven store, but the Roots sold that to help cover expenses. The Roots also used proceeds from a trail run fundraiser organized by their neighbors in Independence to help with health care costs.

Of course, there have been plenty of struggles — financial and otherwise. There have been many nights of Ligia crying into her pillow. Ligia’s mother has stayed in the U.S. to help since the crash. She’ll be returning to Brazil soon, but then, Kevin’s parents will visit from New York.

“She’s been my angel — slept with me, held me as I cried myself to sleep,” Ligia says of her mother. “I cry to sleep on a lot of nights. You never know the weight of the world on your shoulders until (something like this). You feel it … weighing on you.”

As the sole income-earner in the house, Ligia also juggles her time as a wife and nurse for her husband with her job as an account manager for Moneycorp. 

“It’s crazy how life has changed,” Ligia says. “What we value has changed. We believe more in God. We stopped thinking about all the shallow things in life. You also learn what it means to truly love somebody.

“Sometimes, people ask me how I do it,” she says. “I don’t see myself doing anything else. I love him, and I know he’d do the same for me.”

“No question,” Kevin agrees. “(From the first date), I was hooked — like a large-mouth bass.”

THE BEST MEDICINE

Kevin and Ligia met — quite literally — on a street corner. It was April 2008, and they both were clubbing in downtown Orlando.

“I thought he’d ask if I spoke Spanish — lots of people make that mistake,” Ligia remembers. “I was prepared to tell him off. Then, he asked if I spoke Portuguese.”

Their first date was to Aquatica, SeaWorld’s water park. Seven months later, they boarded a plane bound for Las Vegas and said their vows before an Elvis impersonator.

“Our life was a chick flick, and now, it’s Mexican soap opera,” Ligia says, laughing.

And yes, the Roots’ combined senses of humor have proven to be effective medicine in Kevin’s recovery.

“The first thing I saw on TV after waking up was that Bruce Jenner was a woman,” Kevin says. “That was pretty strange.

“And I can’t pee right now,” he says. “Doctors say that’s normal, but how’s that normal? I want to pee — because that’s freedom. And that’s a weight off everyone else.

“It’ll come,” Kevin says. “And I’ll scream that day.”

“I know you will,” Ligia says. “I know you will.”

One thing is certain: Neither Kevin or Ligia is angry — at their circumstances or the reason they are in them.

“He was being a teenager and being reckless,” Ligia says of Recanati. “From what I know, he was a good kid from a good family. I pray for the family. He lost his life in a second of being reckless.”

Kevin agrees.

“The poor guy died,” he says. “I’d never wish that on anybody.”

Although laughter indeed has helped the Roots adapt to their new lives, love — shown by family members, friends and neighbors — has buoyed them through the hardest moments and even has helped with Kevin’s memory.

“It’s starting to fall into place,” he says. “You learn that as soon as you wake up (and see) friends and family and even people you don’t know rooting for you.”

In the days and weeks following the crash, neighbors in the Independence community formed a meal train to provide the family home-cooked food. 

“We didn’t know any of them before; now, I consider them my family,” Ligia says. “If it weren’t for them, he wouldn’t be alive. They saw the crash; they called 911. … And somehow, they found a knife to cut the seat belt off and get him out of the car. How does that happen?”

And so, with so many examples of love, miracles and God’s grace dotting the past four months, the Roots stare down the long road ahead with confidence and optimism. They know this much: Kevin is going to beat the odds.

“He’s a 32-year-old guy with his whole life ahead of him,” Ligia says. “This was a stop for us, but we need to grow, to be stronger, to take the challenge.

“I don’t understand why it happened, but you try to accept it,” she says. “There’s a reason why this is the life for us. It’s God’s will. Why? Maybe because we’re brave enough to deal with this.”

Contact Michael Eng at [email protected].

HOW TO HELP

Family members are hosting an ongoing donation drive to help pay for the specialists and in-home care not covered by health insurance.

To make a donation, visit the GoFundMe page.

TIMELINE

March 8 to 31: Kevin Root was taken to the Orlando Regional Medical Center with multiple injuries, including severe brain trauma, abdomen trauma and broke right legs and arms. He had a stroke and was resuscitated, followed by seven surgeries on his abs. Doctors placed him a coma and drilled a monitor into his brain. He also had orthopedic surgeries. He had several complications on his abs during the ICU period. After his seventh surgery, he was stable enough to go to the step-down trauma unit.

April 1: Kevin started to open his eyes and move his right side a little. No movement on his left side. He was breathing through a tracheotomy and unable to speak.

April 15: The respiratory team started to block his tracheotomy to see if he was able to tolerate that and start to speak. After a few weeks, he said his first words and did the swallowing test. He also started to tolerate tiny sips of water. He started to get more responsive and follow more commands.

May 6: Kevin qualifies for Brain Injury Rehab Center and started intensive treatment that involved physical, occupational and speech therapies. Kevin then started to make remarkable progress each day. His left side started moving. His memory was still confused, but he was trying to focus on his recovery.

May 28: Kevin was released by the orthopedic team and was able to start taking his first steps at physical therapy. He was able to move with a walker and wheelchair.

June 1: Ligia Root began training in preparation to bring Kevin home.

June 5: Kevin was discharged from the hospital. The Roots hired a full-time caregiver and begin treatment with myriad specialists.