An example of hope

It was supposed to be one last short ride on a three-wheeler in the Arizona hill country to cap off a fun afternoon before calling it a day. She was snuggled behind the all-terrain vehicle’s driver – a handsome, kind man she was madly in love with – as the warm late afternoon sun seemed to give its blessing to a day that was planned to end with a large reunion of Wasilla High School friends now living in the Lower 48.

It wasn’t supposed to end with her then boyfriend, Jason Robbe, dying in her arms as his body was crushed by a GMC truck jacked way higher than the legal limit that hit the ATV head-on in a blind corner before she went flying 15 feet backward landing on her head shattering her helmet in three places.

That blind corner was one requiring a 90-degree turn. Canyon walls lined the left side and a bank of trees was on the right side.

“Somebody had painted, ‘I heart Jason,’ on the canyon wall and we both thought it was funny. We both said, ‘I love you’ to each other,” Manning said with a tone of nostalgia. “Those were the last words we said to each other.”

After that, Manning said she doesn’t remember hearing or seeing the accident.

The accident occurred Thanksgiving weekend 1989 and the Wasilla High graduates Chery Manning – then Chery Schultz – was on top of the world. She had graduated from DeVry University in Phoenix and landed a well-paying job with MCI in Scottsdale. At the start of Nov. 1989, she had qualified for insurance benefits with her new job.

Little did she know just how much she would need those benefits in the coming months of reconstructive surgeries and physical rehabilitation.

At the point of impact, Manning was oblivious to all that would happen next. It was months in to her recovery –when her body and mind were strong enough to handle the details – that family and friends told her a harrowing story of survival and what they believed was divine intervention.

“We were out in the middle of nowhere at least 45 minutes outside of Scottsdale and this was in the day when there weren’t any cell phones,” Manning explained. “The people that first came up on the accident had no way to call for help.”

That first group of helpers was a Christian outdoors group with members varying from media professionals to lawyers to emergency medical technicians – people with some degree of expertise in the type of first aid the type of major trauma she was experiencing.

The group elected one of its members to go for help when just a few minutes later the sound of helicopter blades slicing the air above them was heard.

“I was told that the folks in the helicopter were headed to another accident when they saw this one because the pilot decided to take a short cut that was not the usual route to where they were headed,” Manning said. “When they saw the nature of our accident, they phoned the hospital and asked for permission to divert to us. Had they not taken that short cut, I doubt I would still be alive today.”

That helicopter landed nearby and medics rushed to stabilize Manning, where she died twice only to be revived by medics.

She doesn’t remember that first night in the hospital when medical professionals worked round the clock to keep her stable but didn’t even dare to begin the surgeries necessary to repair all of her injuries. Her jaw was broken in three places and her left knee and left ankle were badly damaged. The impact of the crash blew her left knee wide open taking chunks of the cartilage. The ATV’s foot rest had gone through her left ankle.

She was in a coma for a week.

When she woke, Manning had the mind of a 3-year-old. She had to learn everything again – everything from tying shoes to reading words to walking to how to have a conversation. She also had to learn how to control her temper as the portion of the brain that controls aggression had been damaged in the accident.

Doctors feared she was not yet strong enough to be told of Jason’s death or even the details of why she was in the hospital. Only immediate family – her mother and sisters – were allowed to visit and only under the strictest instructions to not mention Jason or tell Manning she had been in a violent accident.

But at that point, Manning’s mind didn’t even remember Jason. For a couple of days, she asked about a high school boyfriend named Bruce, but that ended quickly after family convinced her he was no longer a part of her life.

The work of repairing her jaw – four plates, 16 screws and implants – was done and Manning was being fed through a feeding tube.

After about a week at Scottsdale Memorial, Manning was transferred to Meridian Point Rehabilitation Hospital where doctors expected a three-year recovery process would be needed.

She was making steady progress, yet mum was the word regarding Jason.

“I thought it was weird that no one would really explain to me why I was at that hospital. They kept not answering me about what happened,” Manning said. “But then because my brain was still recovering, I just seemed to drop it until the next time I asked again.”

It was a week before Christmas Day 1989 and her doctor had called a family meeting.

She thought she was getting told that she could go back home to the Mat-Su Valley with her mother, Janice Ferdinand.

Not the case.

With her mother and sisters in the same room, her doctor began asking Manning a few preparatory questions. When he was satisfied with her answers, he sat back in his chair, crossed his arms across his chest and said, “OK, she can handle it. Go ahead and tell her.”

Manning said she remembers her mother and sisters both started to cry, but she did not know why they were so upset.

“I thought to myself, ‘well, that is weird.’”

Her family began asking her if she remembered what had happened; they asked if she knew why she was in the hospital.

“No,” was her cautious answer.

Her mother asked if she remembered riding on the trails and what happened.

Her sister asked her if she remembered what happened riding with Jason.

Manning couldn’t remember. She was trying to, but as it was later explained to her, the trauma of what she experienced caused her brain to “finish” that day as it had been planned – a fun afternoon riding in the hill country followed by a reunion party.

Her mother then told her about the accident.

Her sister told her that Jason died.

Manning’s response: “That is not even slightly funny.”

Memories were clicking back into place and Manning remembered that her sister and Jason didn’t always get along. And, Manning remembered who Jason was.

Her heart and mind were racing as her family members broke the news to her that Jason had died on impact.

“I said the words no parent ever wants to hear their child say, ‘I said, I wish I was dead,’” Manning said.

Her mother broke in to uncontrollable sobs.

Manning was taken back to her room and Jason’s family and friends from their former mutual work place were allowed to visit during the next few days. She learned more details of what happened – including remembering that Jason had stopped to help his friend, Joe, with his malfunctioning ATV and that was what put she and Jason in the lead of the group when their ride headed toward the deadly corner.

She remembered Jason insisting that she put on the better helmet for the last ride.

Within a few months, Manning was moved in to a rehab apartment facility where residents learn how to live a “normal” daily life of getting up, getting dressed, making breakfast, doing laundry, etc.

Doctors again were surprised by her quick progress.

What they thought would take years was taking months.

She was back to work, but soon decided to return to the Mat-Su Valley where she met Steve Manning. They married in 1998 and twenty years later have two boys, Alex, age 16, and Clark, age 14.

Life was humming along. She had a job as a chiropractic assistant. She and Steve were building a life together.

Yet something nagged at her. Why did she survive?

It was then she remembered a Christmas Day incident in the rehab center. Others had been to see her that morning but her sisters were coming later in the day. She was all alone in her room staring out at the Arizona desert with no snow. It just didn’t seem like a real Christmas to an Alaska girl.

“I just started to cry,” she said, remembering that she had buried her head in her hands. “I just wanted to be done with it all.”

It was then that she remembers a strong, warm hug and squeeze around her shoulders and a whispering voice saying, “I am not done with you yet.”

She got up and went to the nurse’s station to ask who had just been in her room.

“No one,” was the answer.

She believes that hug was delivered by Jesus.

“From that point on, I knew everything was going to be OK,” Manning said.

Today she is fairly certain she knows why she lived: It is to spread the word that a person can come back from immense tragedy; from debilitating injury; from the brink and do so without having to turn to alcohol or drugs to claim victory over the circumstances life handed them.

She’s written a book, “God Has A Reason For Everything,” that was published by Morgan James, a leader in the entrepreneurial publishing field. She went to a writer’s conference in Los Angeles where she met a movie producer and is in the last phases of putting together a script for the producer to market.

Manning herself has film-making experience. She is the executive producer of ‘Proper Binge’ that made its debut at the Anchorage International Film Festival earlier this month.

“I believe that I went through what I went through so that I could tell my story to other people so they can know first of all that there is more than just our life here but also that they too can go through tough circumstances and have a positive outcome,” Manning said. “I did. I got married; I have two great, handsome boys, a great job and a family and friends that love me. Recovery is possible. Hope is always there.”

Author’s Note: Manning’s book, “God Has A Reason For Everything,” is available at Fireside Books in Palmer, at Barnes and Noble in Anchorage and online at Amazon.