Friday, February 10, 2012

A short story

I was born January 6th, 1982 in Guadalajara, Mexico.  My parents were poor for the most part of my child hood.  We lived in the makeshift second story of my grandmother’s house.  This second story consisted of only one room in which the dining table and the sleeping beds were almost next to each other.

In my parent’s pursuit to afford a better living, both of them decided to leave me and my sisters behind while they embarked in a journey to Grand Rapids, Michigan.  My sisters and I were left behind in the care of my grandmother that afforded her living in the door to door pesticide business which she had developed herself and at that time we were helping her perform.

After one year of staying behind, my parents finally came back and were able to take us with them.  When we got to the United States my sisters and I did not know how to speak or write any English, however we were able to attend school right away.

My parents gradually started to earn more money and were able to afford a house and at the age of sixteen I finally had my own room.

Some of my parent’s differences and the inability of my father to put his Mexican engineering degree to work for him in the United States ultimately led to my parent’s divorce when I was seventeen.

Without a father and with a very emotionally tired and depressed mother in the eve of the end of my high school years in 1999 I decided to join the United States Marine Corps.

Within the first years of my military career, I discovered responsibility, discipline, and purpose and I was sold.  I was one of the best new Marines my command had ever seen.  I won multiple personal achievement medals and moved through the ranks fairly quickly.

I re- enlisted twice when I was in the military, held many key responsibilities within my command, and was deployed to Iraq four times for a total of almost two and a half years spent deployed overseas while in combat operations.

In June 2008, while riding my motorcycle back to the military base I was stationed, I lost control and crashed against a guard rail in the road ultimately leaving me with the inability to move and feel my right dominant arm.
I underwent three very invasive surgeries to repair my right arm which along with the recovery phase and physical therapy lasted a total of three years and ultimately failed. Throughout the duration of those years my arm was constantly in a very large and bothersome sling.

Finally, in December of 2011 my doctors suggested to have my arm amputated shoulder height to which I accepted.

In February of 2012, while attending physical therapy, one of the therapists recommended to get in contact with Robert Rosser, one of the U.S. Biathlon paralympic coaches, to see if I could find recovery aid in his program.  I got in contact with Robert Rosser and he invited me to an event in Lake Placid, New York in which he thought me along with other coaches the basics of the adaptive biathlon, and cross country skiing event.  All of the coaches agreed that I had natural talent in the sport and asked me to approach organizations to help me train and compete in future events. 

I am currently in development team of competive U.S. biathlon and cross country team, and going from event to event until 2014...  Winter Olympics, in Russia...