Today marks nine years since my first public announcement of my surviving. I made that sound mildly hyperbolic, I assure you that I am downplaying for dramatic effect.

I will recap the day even though I think I did a decent job describing it in my book for those of you who have not read it yet.

Basically, as far as the world outside of my direct circles were concerned, I died on or around my 25th birthday. Imagine the confusion when I post on my FaceBook “Alive and kicking in Hamilton”.

What I don’t think I have discussed, that was a bit of black humour, on my part. I was already fit with a wheelchair. In fact, at that moment, I was still considered a quadriplegic. The simple message I sent to my friends and family took me almost an hour to construct. Yes, I had most of my arm functions back, but I was still sloppy and shaky as I acclimatized to the situation. There was still a fair amount of shell-shock, regardless of the fact that I had been conscious for the last four months.

After nine years, I have to thank my family and friends who have stuck by my side. I have to thank the few people who keep reading my updates. I have to thank the people who have bought my book and read it. I have to thank the people who haven’t given up on me.

I love you.