Bond of brothers

WRECK SHOWS BOYS HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO EACH OTHER
By Cassondra Kirby
HERALD-LEADER STAFF WRITER

RUSSELL SPRINGS - Ethan Hale tucked his younger brother under his arm, and extended a loose fist to the 10-year-old boy for walking support. Austin Hale, almost a full head and shoulders shorter than Ethan, looked up at his "bubby" and grinned, his freckles nearly disappearing into his cheeks.

It didn't matter that they were walking down a Russell County High School hallway. Or that Ethan's friends might see him hanging out with his nerdy little brother.

Two months after a head-on ATV-dirt bike crash nearly killed them both, the boys say they now realize how important they are to each other.

The physical scars are still visible across Ethan's head, under a patch where his left eye once was and in Austin's off-balance struggle to walk. What doesn't show, Ethan says, is the deep bond the crash has created between the brothers.

"I feel like God shut one eye but opened the other," Ethan said last week while sitting at a table in the high school. "This all happened for a reason. To be honest, I have not been living my life like I should."

For the Hale boys, life changed before they could scream. There wasn't even time to swerve as Ethan, 15, and his all-terrain vehicle came speeding from the opposite side of a curve toward Austin, who was driving an RX80 dirt bike.

The impact tangled the two machines, shattered nearly every bone in Ethan's face -- completely crushing his nose and chin and cracking his forehead and jaws -- and left Austin with a serious brain injury.

Ethan was able to get up from the crash and drag himself to their mother's home just down the road. Austin lay unconscious in a ditch.

Rhonda Hale, the boys' mother and an elementary school teacher in Russell County, was sitting in the living room when Ethan came limping into the kitchen on Nov. 20.

"God, I need help," she heard him whisper. Ethan's face was swollen to the size of a volleyball and covered in blood. His throat was already beginning to swell shut.

"Austin, road," was all he could say, Rhonda said. Still, he managed to lead her to his brother, who still lay face-down in the ditch.

Both boys were taken by ambulance to Russell County Hospital, where they were stabilized and then flown to the University of Kentucky Chandler Medical Center.
Two waiting rooms filled as more than 150 people gathered at the hospital and waited for news.

"Every report we got for some time started with, 'If they live through it,'" said Russell County High School Assistant Principal Keith Ellis, one of the first visitors to arrive at the hospital. "But the whole community (of Russell Springs) was in prayer for them. Every church, every individual. I think the doctors were even surprised at the healing that took place."

In a series of surgeries, doctors pieced Ethan's jaw back together and inserted a metal plate in the roof of his mouth in place of a broken palate. They couldn't save his left eye and had to remove it.

Back at school

Ethan was released from the hospital first. He is back at Russell County High School for half days. The freshman hopes to begin full school days soon.

And he plans to make it his mission to educate others about the importance of wearing a helmet when riding four-wheelers, motorcycles or bikes. Both Austin and Ethan were wearing helmets when they crashed; otherwise they would probably be dead, said Russell County Sheriff's Deputy David Cain, who responded to the crash.

Austin, who was unconscious for several days when he first arrived at UK, broke vertebrae, damaged his jaw and broke his left arm. Most alarming was the blow to his head.

When Austin finally opened his eyes, he couldn't talk and he didn't seem to recognize anyone. He was transferred to Cardinal Hill Rehabilitation Hospital in Lexington, where he spent nine weeks in the brain injury unit.

Therapists worked to help him become self-sufficient again, teaching him to brush his teeth and tie his shoes. But the injury to his head has severely affected his balance. He has trouble walking, as he sways and bobs and tries not to fall. It's too early to tell whether his balance problems are permanent.

After getting out of the hospital, Ethan stayed with his grandparents and attended school during the week. He spent weekends with his brother at Cardinal Hill. The boys' mother moved into a hospital bed beside Austin's.

"This accident has brought us all closer together," Rhonda said. "The very reason I'm alive is these boys, and they were almost taken from me."

In the UK and Cardinal Hill hospital rooms -- decorated with photos of the boys and "get well" cards -- Ethan began to tell his brother how much he means to him. At first, he worried that Austin couldn't hear or understand him.

"I was afraid for his future and that he may never know me again. I could hardly stand it," Ethan said.

Ethan remembered times before the accident when he was annoyed with Austin for wanting to tag along with him, and times when his patience with his bouncy little brother wore thin.

Slowly, Austin became more alert. First his eyes started following Ethan around the hospital room.

"I would tell him, 'bubby's here, bubby loves you,' and he would grin," Ethan said.
Finally, Austin began talking.

"The first thing Austin said to me when he started talking was, 'Bubby, I saw Jesus in the helicopter.' My heart just about stopped," Ethan said. "I said, 'What did he look like?' His eyes got big, and he said, 'He was beautiful.'"

Ethan said his brother described to him how Jesus, surrounded by a bright light, had held out his hand, but Austin said there wasn't enough time to take it.

"I'm glad he didn't take Jesus' hand," said Ethan, who had prayed for God to take himself instead of his baby brother after the crash. "I just don't think I could live with that."

Brothers just talk

Austin was released from Cardinal Hill last week. The boys have already attended a basketball game together and Ethan has spent more time just talking to his brother at home.

"Before, like at a basketball game, he would act like a 10-year-old and I would be embarrassed to take him. But now I'm not," Ethan said.

Ethan, who knows Austin's road to recovery could be a long, frustrating one, admires his brother for not letting his injury bring him down. Austin is full of laughs: He jokes with his therapist about chest hair, lifting up his shirt to show off his hair-free chest. He asks when he can play baseball, his favorite sport.

"Not for a while," says his physical therapist, Kerry Harris, patting Austin on the head.
Moments like that bother Ethan the most. He says he can't help but feel some blame, even though he realizes there's nothing he could have done to prevent the November collision.

In the tightly woven community of Russell Springs -- where signs have welcomed the boys home -- Ethan is nothing less than a hero for bringing help to his brother that day.
"I don't know how he got to the house," said Ellis, who also attends church with the Hale family. "In times of trauma, you hear about people doing things that are heroic ... It's unbelievable that he did that, that he could even function in that situation."

Still, Ethan frets that he let his little brother down.

"I feel like Austin looked up to me," Ethan said. "No matter what happens, I believe he trusts me to handle the situation. I know there wasn't enough time to do anything, but it's still hard. I feel like I let him down, you know?"

Ethan said he'll spend the rest of his life making up for it.

Just as the two walk down the Russell County High School hallway, leaning on each other -- that's the way they plan to walk through life.

"Together," Ethan said.