Gibbons' Williams recovering from scary wreck

Do you remember, Nick?

Do you remember that moment your life changed, that instant your car jumped the curb and took almost everything with it?

Nick Williams doesn't hesitate. He knows the answer. He can spend all day searching his mending, 17-year-old memory, but he won't find anything.

''Not at all,'' he says. "The day of the accident is a complete blur.''

Actually, it's more like a blank.

Smashing the street sign and then the tree? Gone.

Lying comatose for weeks, while family and friends sat bedside? Not there, either.

Only the evidence remains -- the scratches, the surgical scars, the shattered bones and, most frighteningly, those near-lifeless legs that confine him to a wheelchair at University of Miami/Jackson Memorial Medical Center. That's all that tells him what he faced -- the ventilation tubes, the rapid weight loss, the amnesia -- and what he faces -- months of rehab, maybe years of uncertainty about his education, his future, everything.

But wait.

There is a memory lurking back there.

''The only thing I think I remember,'' Nick says, "is when we beat St. Thomas. That sticks.''

ON THE COURT

In a Fort Lauderdale gym in early May, he soared above the volleyball net, slamming kill after kill at the feet of his opponents.

That was Nick: athletic, determined, dominant. A junior at Fort Lauderdale Cardinal Gibbons High School, he was a star. All-County on the court. All-American in the hallway. If his skills as an outside hitter didn't land him in college, his 4.0-plus grade-point average certainly would.

In the meantime, though, he was busy helping coach Marcy Meyer's Chiefs drop heated -- and hated -- rival St. Thomas Aquinas on May 1 for the district championship. Regionals were next.

Then state. Then, the Junior Olympics near Salt Lake City, where college coaches would see him play.

That was the plan when May 1 ended.

But that was the last day Nick would play competitive volleyball.

EARLY MORNING

Nick wasn't out late on May 3, a Saturday. He was up early May 4, leaving his father's house for his mother's to give his uncle a ride to the airport.

Somewhere along the way, on Federal Highway in Fort Lauderdale, Nick, then 16, lost control of his Ford Explorer. Maybe by dozing. Maybe by taking his eyes off the road. Nobody knows. One of the few certainties is, according to the Fort Lauderdale Police Department, no drugs or alcohol were involved.

Nick was rushed to North Broward Medical Center in Pompano Beach and treated for fractures in his left ankle, left foot, left elbow and one of his ribs.

He was placed on a respirator. He was barely conscious, his brain rattled from the impact.

His mother, Donna Pappas, and his father, Jim Williams, stayed glued to his side. Scores of people -- friends, family, teammates and even rivals from other schools -- flocked to the hospital, making shirts, banners, ribbons and offering other shows of support.

People worried. They wondered. They prayed. The volleyball team even won its regional before losing in the state quarterfinals, clearly missing its difference-maker.

Meanwhile, Nick slept.

A BAD DREAM

It wasn't until he woke up that anyone realized he was paralyzed.

Now most of Nick's upper-body weight has returned, rekindling visions of that well-conditioned athlete. His memory is on its way, too, and no longer does he ask questions again and again, in a manner all too reminiscent of movies such as Memento and 50 First Dates.

But his legs remain numb. He moved some of his toes recently. ''That's promising,'' he said -- but he can't always move them on command.

Dr. Barth Green, cofounder of the Miami Project to Cure Paralysis at UM's Miller School of Medicine, recently examined Nick's X-rays, finding a ''slight curve'' of his spinal cord, along with injuries to his T2 and T3 vertebrae. No surgery was needed, Green said, although he will reevaluate with a magnetic resonance imaging exam in about three months.

For now, though, Nick is a paraplegic, and -- because of the high velocity of the crash's impact, Green said, along with the location of the injury on Nick's spine -- his chances of walking again appear slim.

Slim. Not zero. Nick's proximity to the Miami Project -- one of the reasons he transferred from North Broward to Jackson -- gives him hope. Green said Nick even has a chance to participate in some of the project's innovative techniques.

''He's in a great place,'' said Jim, referring not just to the Miami Project, but to the entire Jackson staff overseeing his son. ``We lucked out there.''

TOUGH CHOICE

In 1982, after her mother died, Donna had a choice: Stay in her hometown of Framingham, Mass., where the faces were familiar and friendly, or satisfy that long-standing urge to move south.

She chose the latter, despite a major worry: She didn't know if she wanted to live in ''a cold climate with warm people,'' she called it, "or a warm climate with cold people.''

Now?

"I can honestly say I need to change that to, 'I live in a warm climate with extra-warm people,' '' she said.

That's the one positive Donna sees. She never realized how close-knit Cardinal Gibbons was -- with friends, teammates, teachers, even the principal trekking to Jackson to bring food, DVDs, even just a smile to her son's face.

It's not just the school. Nick's ties to volleyball -- both high school and club -- gained him friends from all over South Florida, many of whom continue to visit. Linda Heneks, whose son, Tim, a Spanish River (Boca Raton) High School senior who previously played on a Junior Olympics team with Nick, even helped arrange a benefit volleyball tournament in late May.

And when Nick turned 17 last month, he said, "I had more visitors than Club Med.''

In fact, he noticed just one problem with his party:

''I just want to know why there's more kids than I see presents,'' Nick joked.

Then he turned serious.

''You're all my presents,'' he said.

BIG ADJUSTMENT

''It's amazing what you can adjust to so fast,'' Jim said.

One day, Jim and Donna were living separate lives -- they divorced in 1993 -- with Donna the weekday mom to Nick and 8-year-old Allison, and Jim the weekend dad. Now Jim spends his mornings by Nick's side, Donna her afternoons and evenings. Both are struggling with logistics and finances, but -- as Jim said -- they're adjusting.

And that's nothing compared to Nick's new life: Two therapies -- either physical, psychological, occupational, recreational or speech from Monday through Saturday. Hospital food -- and hospital food jokes. ''I didn't really think they were funny [before],'' Nick said, ``but now I realize, wow, this is what they're talking about. This food is terrible.''

His humor and his visitors keep him going while he's inside Jackson. Occasionally, Nick can leave -- sometimes for a movie with fellow patients, others for a full weekend with his family. But for now, he's still confined by the stale hospital walls.

For now.

''I'll get out,'' he said.

SCHOOL CONCERNS

And then what? Nick already is worried about the school year, afraid his memory won't let him complete calculus problems and history essays. Donna said Nick might take half the usual course load but likely won't complete a full day, even with Cardinal Gibbons' wheelchair accessibility.

Still, even with the future cloudy, Nick is planning -- he's even writing a speech for Cardinal Gibbons' freshman orientation -- because he's still fighting.

''That's just part of Nick's spirit,'' said Susan Belt, the mother of Nick's best friend and former teammate, Austin Belt. "He's always a real competitor.''

So is it true, Nick?

Are you really still hoping to recapture that life, the one that car and that curb almost took away?

Nick doesn't hesitate much here, either. He knows the answer.

He can spend all day complaining about his situation -- and, to be sure, he has had his share of self-pity -- but that won't fix anything. Not now.

''There's not a lot of places people go, usually, from here,'' Nick says. "But hey, I've heard a lot of stories of people who make it through this.

''I see people who are here, who are in their old age, that are all down [on life],'' he continues, "and I'm like, 'Man, you've got to keep fighting. That's what gets people out of here -- just to keep fighting.' ''