Welcome to My World

Note: after you read this story, click here to watch a video of John Skydiving!

“Simon! Hoser! What's up?” With a grin on my face, I greet the director of the Swedish MS Center Adventure Club when he opens the door to the gym. “I got one word. Skydiving.”

“Oh!” he responds. “You got the Swedish newsletter. You want to go?”

“Well, I don't know? I saw they do tandem jumps with a skydiving instructor. Can I?”

“Hell, yeah. You can, John! I take non-ambulatory patients all the time. It's so much fun! Trust me.” He sounds encouraging.

“Let's go to the Moto-Med exercise machine and talk some more. My legs hurt.” I drive my head-controlled power wheelchair in front of the cycling machine and Simon straps my feet on the foot pedals. “I saw where the tandem skydiver pulls a strap, so my legs will come up and I'll land on my ass. Right?”

“That's right! John, these guys will take care of you. They've done hundreds of jumps with quadriplegic people. Quads.” He turns on the machine and my legs begin slowly turning in circles. “There's a Ukrainian guy named Vlad. He's done thousands of jumps. I hope you get him for your instructor.” Simon goes silent for a moment. “Shit!” he says, as if he’s quickly realized something. “Let me check your chart. The skydivers are super anal about their weight limit of two hundred pounds for non-ambulatory participants.” He frantically dashes to his messy office, and I cross my fingers while he views the computer screen.

“Yup. One hundred and ninety-four. You qualify!” He comes back out of the office, shouting.

“Yessss. I'm going, Simon.” I raise my eyebrows with excitement. “I don't care what anyone tells me. I’ve got nothing to lose! I haven't been on an airplane in years.”

“That's fantastic. Really John, you’ve got to go. The plane ride alone is amazing. You can see both of Washington’s volcanoes, and everything looks like a tiny model train set.” He is pumping me up. “I’ll be there too.”

“My mind's made up! I'm making that reservation ASAP!”

“Cool. This is my favorite adventure activity at the Adventure Club. Listen, I'm not trying to sell anything to you, I am not a salesman, but if you have the money for thirty extra seconds of freefall and for the GoPro video they offer, then you should spend the extra money.” He is challenging me with more danger, and he knows it.

“Hell, yeah. I'm doing both.”

***

After I make my reservation, my life starts changing. My spirits are up, and I have something to look forward to and to plan. Another reason to live, which is hard to find lately. So much has been taken away from me already, but now Swedish gives me a chance to fly with the Turkey vultures over Washington State. I'm nervous as heck, but I’m ready for the plunge. I'm not afraid of anything, even death. I want a thrill ride.

Just flying in an airplane will be a huge victory because of what happened to me several years ago, when United airline’s incompetent staff couldn't board me on my flight to a childhood friend's wedding. Jumping twelve thousand feet is just a bonus, and I hope this adventure works out. I joyously tell everyone about my skydiving plans, with mixed reviews. My mom and most of my friends tell me: Go, John. Do it!

I tell Seth, who's the head advocate at the Pacific Northwest chapter of the MS Society. We're planning to include some GoPro photos of my skydive in an advocacy statement we're working on together, for local senators to view. We’re lobbying for better disability accommodations on domestic airplanes. Now that I’ve told him, the pressure is really on. I have to jump.

My father and my sister are not too fond of the idea.

“Do you have a death wish, Son?” my father asks.

“No, I have a fun wish!”

He starts playing psychology games with me, trying to talk me out of my decision. “You know, I've taken chances in my life, like opening my practice and building our summer home ­– but none of those chances would result in death!” He is laughing now, playing devil's advocate.

“Don't try to convince me not to go, Dad. I already bought the non-refundable deposit,” I cleverly respond.

“No, you can go … but I'll pay your deposit if you don't.”

“Dad!”

The person I really have to convince is my sister, Holly. She’s supposed to take me to Skydive Snohomish at Harvey Field, which is an hour north of Seattle. I've already sent her some YouTube training videos and let her know that there's a real culture out there, even for quadriplegics like me, but she shakes her head and gives me a stern look.

I finagle her to visit the airfield for a pre-visit. On the day of the visit, I'm smiling bigly while we load me and my head-controlled powerchair into “Black Lightning,” my accessible van. As we get closer to Snohomish, giant fir trees engulf us on both sides. “There's so many trees that I feel like we're driving through the woods,” I say.

“Well, we're on the highway, not in the woods, but there are a lot of pine trees, yes,” Holly responds.

“Are you psyched to go check out the skydiving place? Maybe this will put your mind at ease a little.”

Oh, no. I realize I’ve slipped up. I’ve said too much.

“Wait…wait…” she says, catching on right away. “Is this why we're going on this trip? To put my mind at ease?”

“No, Holly.” I’ve got to think of something, and quick. “Simon recommended a visit to put my mind at ease.”

Phew.

“My brother’s jumping out of a plane! Nothing will ease my mind.”

The sea of trees disappears, and now open fields surround us on each side as we enter a small town. Some fields have wandering cows, llamas or goats, while others are filled with apple trees, corn stalks, and wine grapes. We're in the boonies.

We finally reach an area of Snohomish where all the fields are flat green grass stretching three football fields far and wide. We pull into the airfield parking lot and there is a giant old blue barn with big white letters spelling “Skydive Snohomish” spread across the top. Holly puts the ramp down from the van, so I can hurry myself to the entrance. I make it halfway there when I stop to look at all the airplanes.

Dozens of white and yellow, single engine Cessna 182s, and a big blue Cessna Grand Caravan with an upgraded Blackhawk engine are in view. Several of the planes are sitting in outside hangers under candy-cane awnings. The smile on my face grows even bigger.

“Can I help you?” a professional-sounding staff member asks.

“Yes. I made a reservation to jump next week, and I'm visiting.”

“No problem,” he says, welcoming us. “Just go around the corner to the back viewing areas. They're about to jump!”

We follow the yellow handicap path through the back fence to a whole new playful world. There are loud children playing cornhole and foosball games in the small back yard. I roll up onto the stone patio viewing area that spreads throughout the front and back and is shaded with brown awnings. In the middle there’s a shiny cement floor where four loading stations are set up. The stations are filled with harnesses, jumpsuits, and parachutes. At one station they are packing unfolded parachutes, while in the other station there’s a group of six skydivers getting ready for the next jump.

Holly and I head over to watch the action. Everybody puts their jumpsuits on. I can hear the stretching and tightening of the straps as they meticulously get ready.

“I just don't know how they're going to get the jumpsuit and straps on you,” Holly says, sounding concerned.

“They're going to put me on the floor and roll me.”

“I don't know, John.”

The skydivers are still making sure everything is secure when the big blue Cessna sputters over in front of the stations and the viewing area. The propeller putters out when the pilot turns off the engine, and the gassy smell of exhaust fills the air. Another staff skydiver puts a step ladder up to the airplane door.

“Time to roll!” someone shouts, clapping. The whole group screams, raising their arms. They take selfies by the plane before loading. The propeller screams along with the skydivers as the engine starts up. The plane starts rolling down the path around the airfield before taking off on the other side. I look up at Holly, and smile.

“How are they going to load you?” she asks.

“I think they’re going to lift me up from my chair.”

The plane is entering into the clouds now.

“Look how high they go!” Holly shouts.

I gulp. “That doesn't seem that high.”

Over the speaker a woman announces, “Jumpers are out!”

When I look up, I don't see anything, but Holly puts her vintage shades on. “Holy shit, John! They're like little dots falling straight down.”

“Did they open their shoots yet?”

“They’re open! Here they come.”

I reposition myself to watch the big red and blue parachutes swaying from side to side as they glide through the air. This looks so peaceful and serene, which makes me want to go even more. First the solo group comes down with mighty speed before they pull cords on the parachute that allows them to land perfectly on their feet. They make landing look so easy.

Next, the tandem jumpers come down. We keep an eye on them as they glide over the barn and approach the landing area in front of us. Each tandem jumper has an instructor in the back who has complete control of the parachute. One by one, the instructors slowly float the tandem jumpers down. Holly and I watch a woman land: the skydiver instructor lifts her legs so that she gently lands on her bum – but the instructor lands on his feet! Another smooth landing.

“Why do you want to do this, John?” asks Holly. “Skydiving looks so terrifying. I mean, you could die. What if they can't lift your legs in time?”

I turn and look at Holly. “Stop being a Negative Nelly. Those landings were perfect. And they stopped on a dime! She barely hit the ground.” I am begging, trying to make it sound like a joke. “This is going to be so fun. Simon from the MS Center will be there. You should come too. Jump with me, Holls! Come on!”

“Hell to the no!”

Well at least I tried. But the visit must be working, because Holly seems to be having fun. Finally, she agrees to take me to my drop-time. It’s in one week.

***

The morning of the skydive is finally here. Chills run down my spine, causing a spasm through my body. I couldn't sleep the night before, because of the excitement – as if Santa had come last night. I've been waiting forever for this moment. The weather looks perfect, partly cloudy at sixty-five degrees. I dress comfortably in a beige hoodie with my camouflage pants. I look like a guerrilla soldier.

I take extra baclofen, a muscle relaxer. I need to combat muscle spasms caused by the cold elevation and my MS. I don't want to accidentally unhook myself from my tandem and fall to a glorious death. That's all I worry about.

We get to the Snohomish Skydive just in time. Simon is standing with our group.

“You're next, man, and you're with Vlad!” he greets me. “Are you nervous?”

“I'm not afraid, Simon. Are you helping?”

“Yeah. We're just waiting for…him.” He points.

Skydivers are landing in the distance. Someone wearing a blue jumpsuit and holding a parachute approaches me.

“You John? I'm Vlad. I'm your best friend for next half hour,” he says in a thick Ukrainian accent. “Let's go. Get to the station!”

I position my chair in the middle of a bamboo mat which has been laid over the cement. Vlad comes back with two other muscular staff members. “Is there anything we should know before starting, John?” he asks, looking into my eyes.

“I have violent spasms sometimes, and I am afraid I might get unhooked from you.”

“No. No. Impossible! I've done this thousands of times – and no one ever dies. I am the best!”

The three instructors and Simon work together to lift me from my chair. While I hold my breath, they gently lay me down on the bamboo mat. Rolling me from side to side, they skip the jumpsuit and focus solely on hooking the straps on my body. They also tie up my crossed arms, like I'm wearing a strait jacket. Vlad seems satisfied with his work, so everyone grabs the straps and together they effortlessly lift me off the floor and put me back into my powerchair.

The big blue Cessna pulls up in front of the station. The propeller sputters out as the pilot waits for our group to board. Holly drives my chair up to the plane door after the rest of the group loads. They remove the step ladder.

Vlad points a GoPro at my face. “Any special occasion for skydive?” he asks.

“My birthday!”

“Happy birthday to you,” he jokingly sings. “John, we're going to have big blast.”

He jumps in first, sitting on the floor next to the door. The staff counts to three and lifts me up, putting me in the front of the skydiver train of bodies, up against Vlad.

I'm on the plane! Holy shit. I realize I'm the last one on, and that means I'll be the first one out. There's no turning back now. I'm too excited to be scared.

The engine starts with a thunderous roar that shakes my body from side to side and sends a gassy, smelly cloud of smoke through the back. My heart beats faster as we start pulling away and see everyone cheering.

“You ready, John?” Vlad asks me, then slams the door.

My heart is bulging out of my chest as we turn the corner to get ready for take-off. I feel claustrophobic in this small cabin with everyone all packed so closely together. Once on the runway, the engine loudly revs up. We gain lightning speed, which pushes everyone even closer to me. We gain enough speed to lift off into the sky and I can't believe I'm actually flying again, like a turkey vulture. My ears start popping as we raise elevation. I see the suburban neighborhood layouts and little tiny cows. People have vanished, we're climbing so fast.

“Three thousand feet! Eleven thousand more!” Vlad announces.

That's gotta be some kind of sick skydive joke.

We're climbing so fast my stomach drops, making me queasy. The wind crashes against the rumbling plane. I can feel air all around me, sneaking through the cracks of the thin see-through door my leg is leaning on. The temperature drops fast too, but adrenaline keeps me warm. I am not spasming, which is good. I can see three different mountain ranges now all around me, including Mount Baker, which seems to be just below us, underneath the clouds.

“John! We're at elevation! Ready?” Vlad roars, tapping my shoulder.

“Let’s do this shit!” I scream with excitement.

Vlad takes one final picture of me. Then he secures my straps and my helmet and pulls the goggles down over my eyes. He opens the door, and a tornado of air rushes into the cabin, slapping me in the face.

“Three …two … one!” he yells. He grabs hold of my straps and turns me. Then he shoves me outside the plane door with my straps attached to him, and I'm just hanging for a moment, three miles above earth. He pushes us both all the way out of the plane, and tilts me so I'm looking up at the plane in the clouds, then he turns me again so I'll be facing down during my sixty-second free fall. The freezing air pressure is powerful. It violently pushes against my body and causes my face to ripple. This feeling of almost dying is extreme, and all I can do is scream fuck-fuck-fuck as we zoom down like flaming meteors.

And then Vlad pulls the cord, letting the parachute out, jerking us up into the air until we're peacefully gliding through the clean fresh-smelling air.

“Hey, John! Welcome to my world!” he says as we start coasting. He takes off my goggles. The fantastic views of Washington State include ocean, lakes, rivers, and glorious pine forests, and it all brings tears to my eyes. However, that may be the wind from free fall.

Vlad points. “Look, John! Seattle!”

I can almost reach out and grab the tiny Space Needle. This view's beautiful, but I want more action. “Can we do tricks?” I ask into the quiet, tranquil sky.

“Let me show you what we can do! If I pull this cord, we go left, and if I pull this cord, we go right. Most importantly, when I pull both, this happens,” he says as we stop moving, hovering in mid-air like a couple of falling angels.

“That's how we land?” I ask.

“Exactly, my friend. You ready?” he asks before surprising me by swiftly veering left and then right. My body tingles when the g-force kicks in, swaying side to side, getting closer to Earth. This is way more intense-feeling than the highest roller coaster I've ever been on.

Once the fun is over, Vlad straightens us for landing. “Down there! You see everyone?”

I look down and see the big blue barn with crowds waiting for us in the landing zone.

He glides us down around in front of the barn, looping us back to the zone. We're coming down slowly when he lifts my legs with a strap, softly plopping me down on the grass.

“Hooray!” Simon yells.

Everyone celebrates. Even Holly is grinning.

“That was awesome!” I joyously scream. “Let's go again!”

Skydiving is the wildest, most fun adventure I have ever been on. I'm happy that today's trip went so smoothly, and that Simon’s Swedish MS Adventure club offers this program. Being able to forget about my disease and my everyday struggles for a while is what made this adventure so very special to me. Plus, getting the skydiving photo to illustrate my impact statement for Washington State lawmakers is crucial; I am determined to make a difference.

I will stay true to my word. I know next year will be even better – especially because I will inspire other disabled people to go skydiving too.

Author: John J. Mistur