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Teen fights hard to reclaim his life

A car accident a year ago robbed Dustin Kwilecki of memories and words, but he's determined to not let it darken his future.

By LORRI HELFAND
Published March 27, 2005

Dustin Kwilecki loves to play golf, download hip songs on his cell phone and sketch pictures of his dream house.

In many ways, he seems like a normal teen.

Those closest to him know he's not.

He can't remember Space Mountain.

He can't remember double dating with his twin sister.

And he can't remember the bash his mom threw them on their 16th birthday.

Much of his life before Feb. 21, 2004, is a fog.

That day, about three months before he was supposed to graduate from high school, Dustin was catapulted through the T-top of his friend's 1994 Pontiac onto the asphalt. His head took the brunt of the impact, fracturing his skull and causing multiple brain injuries.

He spent more than three weeks in a coma, almost three months at Bayfront Medical Center and about seven months in outpatient therapy.

His determination got him out of the hospital and back into Pinellas Park High School.

But now, a week before his 19th birthday, he's not the young man he once was.

He struggles to remember names of old friends, ordinary household objects and secrets he used to share with his twin, Danielle.

And two major milestones stand before him.

On May 17, he plans to walk across the stage at Tropicana Field to receive his diploma.

The next day, he will show up at Pinellas County Criminal Court, prepared to testify against a guy who was once one of his best friends.

Dustin was riding home from Clearwater Beach with three of his buddies when one of his friends started drag racing with a man on a motorcycle south on Keene Road.

Driving nearly 90 mph in a 45 mph zone, his friend, William J. Botelho II, lost control, hitting a curb and crashing into a tree on the opposite side of the street near Belleair Road.

Botelho and another passenger in his car were also ejected.

They were treated at Bayfront Medical Center and released.

Dustin remained at the hospital in a coma.

Dustin's parents got the news at 1:30 a.m. and rushed to the trauma room.

Blood was rushing from Dustin's ear. His eyes were pitch black. Gravel and blood were caked onto his body.

Debbie broke down.

He was her only son, her right-hand man.

She stayed by his side and sang "You Are My Sunshine" much of the night.

The next day, the doctor told her Dustin might not make it.

He had a traumatic brain injury and a severe bruise on the brain stem.

But he hung on. And day after day, Dustin's mom, dad, sisters and friends kept vigil.

Finally, 24 days later, he woke up.

"I thought, "He can finally go home' but it wasn't the case," Debbie said.

Dustin had to start from square one.

He had a tracheotomy and a feeding tube.

He couldn't hold his head up or move the left side of his body.

Little by little, he learned to walk and feed himself.

He learned how to count and recite his ABCs.

While he strived to recuperate, his twin tried to cope without Dustin by her side.

Since Day 1, they had an amazing bond.

At times, Dustin was like Danielle's kid brother. Other times, she looked to him for guidance.

Almost every day, they sat together at lunch. When she was selected for the homecoming court at school, she asked Dustin to escort her.

Now he wouldn't be there, and when she visited him, he barely knew her.

"It was a big adjustment, from your best friend being around, to where they don't even know who you are," Danielle said.

Their 18th birthday wasn't the soiree she had hoped for either. They ate yellow cake and sang happy birthday at the hospital, with a few friends and family.

Even though she was accepted to Florida Gulf Coast University around that time, she decided she couldn't leave Dustin. Instead, she planned to pursue her associate's degree at St. Petersburg College first.

Graduation day was roughest of all. She had to stand on the stage without Dustin while she received her diploma from Pinellas Park High.

Seventy-seven days after Dustin was admitted to Bayfront Medical Center, he was released.

The medical bills have mounted to about $500,000, his mom said.

Dustin continued therapy up until December, and he's still monitored by a specialist.

"He'd probably still be in rehab if it had not been for him pushing and saying "I want to be in school and I want to be with people and I want to graduate,' " his mom said.

Physically and mentally, he's come a long way.

He can run, lift weights and play a mean game of golf.

In January, he returned to high school. He works after school with a teacher from Pinellas County Schools' Hospital/Homebound Program.

"I feel good because I'm improving," Dustin said. "But the thing that puts me down is my past. The big thing is people's names. I remember what they look like, but I just forget the names."

His mother quizzes him almost daily about everything from his childhood to the names of household appliances.

He's getting a handle on the kitchen. But he still sometimes calls the toaster oven a microwave or refers to Raisin Bran as "that stuff with black dots in it."

Since the accident, certain aspects of his personality have been amplified.

Before the accident, he was concerned about his appearance. Now, he's really into his looks.

He used to change the look of his room a couple times a month. Now, he does it three times a week.

There are other personality shifts, too.

Dustin used to be a mild-mannered kid.

Now, he can be rebellious or argumentative when his mother and sister give him advice.

"We never cussed in my house," his mom, Debbie said. "Now, Dustin cusses."

"I can't believe I did that," he finds himself saying after the incidents. "It's not me."

In November, Dustin got his first tattoo: a sun, waves and surf board.

Last week, the conventional mom found herself driving Dustin to a tattoo parlor to get his initials inked on his back, too.

Everything seemed so balanced before the accident, she said. "All of a sudden, it's like scrambled eggs."

Dustin's idiosyncrasies are typical for someone in his condition, according to his doctor, David Baras, a board certified physical medicine and rehabilitation specialist.

Because the majority of Dustin's injuries occurred on the left side of his brain, traits like language, higher thought processes and complicated abstract thought were affected.

And since parts of the brain work to inhibit people from doing and saying certain things, brain injuries can result in impulsive behavior like Dustin's.

Dustin injuries are typical in another way. Half of all traumatic brain injuries are caused by transportation accidents involving vehicles and/or pedestrians, according to the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke. And those accidents are the key cause of traumatic brain injuries in people under age 75.

Dustin continues to improve, Baras said.

"He had significant impairment, and over the year, he made tremendous progress. The brain has amazing reparative properties," he said.

But at this point, Baras said, they have no way of knowing how far Dustin will go.

If brain cells are damaged, they can often be restored. But if they're destroyed, they cannot be regenerated, Baras said.

Because Dustin suffered some permanent brain injuries, Baras said, "unfortunately, Dustin will never be what he was like before."

Dustin is getting back in a groove. Generally, he's happy and grateful.

He doesn't recall specific prayers, but he said, "No matter what I pray for, I pray to God and Jesus, thanking him for saving my life."

He's working two jobs again, just like he was before the accident.

He bags groceries at Publix and does prep work and waits tables at Pizza Hut.

Almost every day, he sketches architectural designs, and soon he plans to study architecture at Pinellas Technical Education Centers.

But as he tries to get his life back in order, the past looms before him once again.

In May, he and his mother plan to testify against Botelho, who faces trial on charges of speeding, felony reckless driving and racing on the highway.

"He's basically almost killed me," Dustin said. "He's changed my whole life around."

Dustin's mother feels the same way.

"I'm living with a brain injured kid that's not easy to live with. He's relearning everything all over again."

In the year leading up to the accident, Botelho had been cited four times for speeding, reaching 45 miles over the speed limit on one occasion. He had also been cited for reckless driving and careless driving.

During that same period, Dustin had a few infractions of his own. He was cited for an improper start, speeding and careless driving.

While Dustin is being forced to revisit his past, he also eagerly embraces his future.

Last year, he stood in the stands as his sister received her diploma. The audience gave him a standing ovation, although he barely remembers it. He had only been out of the hospital a couple of days.

In two months, it will be his turn to don a cap and gown. And he can't wait.

"I'm going to love it," Dustin said. "I'm going to love it so much."

Lorri Helfand can be reached at 445-4155 or at lorri@sptimes.com

[Last modified March 27, 2005, 00:34:19]