SURVIVING A BLAST FROM PAST
Published on Tuesday, March 2, 1999 Section: Valley & State Page: B1
© 1999 The Arizona Republic
Byline: E. J. MONTINI, Republic Columnist
David Carey Jr. was asleep when one of his roommates took the cartridge clip out of a 9mm pistol and began waving it around.
The shrieks of laughter coming from beyond his bedroom door didn't wake him.
A weary 19-year-old sleeps with all his weight.
That night 10 years ago, Carey descended into his favorite dream, the one in
which he went from playing baseball for Scottsdale Community College, to a major university, to the pros.
The merrymakers on the other side of the wall were having too much fun to remember the bullet left in the pistol's chamber, at least until the gun went off.
Carey was on his stomach.
The slug ripped through the door of his room and struck him in the middle of the back, riding the rail of his spine all the way to his jaw.
At 3 a.m. on March 7, 1989, the dreamer awoke - paralyzed.
''I don't dwell on it, now,'' he says. ''Mostly because I know there's nothing I
can do to change what happened.''
I first heard about the shooting from one of Carey's teammates.
It was a few months after the accident by then. Carey was in a rehabilitation center, unable to move his arms or legs and still with a metal ''halo'' screwed into his skull, its braces keeping his back straight.
His father was in town from Florida, his mother and sisters from Texas. The whole family was devastated.
Time reveals error
I hung around just long enough to produce a senseless-act-of-violence-shatters-once-beautiful-dream article, figuring
Carey's life as a quadriplegic would be a nightmare.
Ten years after the fact, I could disguise my arrogance and journalistic
sloppiness by calling today's story a ''follow-up. '' But it's not.
It's a correction.
''I'm doing fine,'' David Carey says. He works for the state Department of
Administration helping people who need assistance with the Americans with Disabilities Act.
He also works with Arizona Bridge to Independent Living, visiting those who've suffered injuries like his own.
After getting out of the hospital, Carey returned to Scottsdale Community
College, then went on to Arizona State University, from which he graduated with a physical education degree.
On March 15, he'll be one of four people honored at the 6th Annual Gene
Autry Courage Awards Banquet, which recognizes athletes who've overcome disabilities and hardship.
'I've moved on'
''Honestly, I don't see what the big deal is,'' he says.
He's uncomfortable with those wanting to replace the metal brace once
screwed into his head with an actual halo.
''I see people every day who must overcome obstacles,'' he said. ''Poor
people. Sick people. Life is making the best of what you have and moving forward.
That's all I'm trying to do.''
He still likes sports, at least watching them, but sees his life going in a different direction.
''I've moved on,'' he says. ''Some things are not meant to be, which doesn't have to be bad.
Not everybody is supposed to be an athlete or a movie star.''
He lives in an apartment with his father, who moved here after the accident.
His mother and sisters live just down the road.
''I've been lucky enough to have a lot of support during a tough time,'' he said.
''I realized there are people who want me around, no matter what.''
How else have you changed in 10 years? he's asked.
''I'm more aware of things now,'' he says. ''I'm a better person.
Once you lose something you took for granted, it gives you a perspective on life that you
didn't have before. You appreciate the small things around you. I do. And I still feel I have a lot to do in this world - to make it better somehow.''
Ten years ago, I took it for granted that Carey's losses were too monstrous to beat. I should have known better.
Dreams can be shattered, but not dreamers.
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