IT'S been almost a year since Danny Brereton died at the racetrack.
MATT STEWART reports in the MELBOURNE HERALD SUN that Brereton remembers little of the day he lay smashed up for 45 minutes at the 600m mark at Moonee Valley, his vital signs twice disappearing.
Brereton remembers having a smoke with Darren Gauci outside the jockeys' room and chatting briefly to Craig Williams just before the gates sprung open for the fateful race on August 21, 2010, that would take him only halfway before he speared into the ground.
"I died twice. My vital signs shut down. I remember nothing other than that it was peaceful. I'm not haunted by it. Kerry Packer was right. There's nothing there," the 46-year-old says.
As the anniversary of that terrible day draws close, Brereton, now in a slow-motion recovery measured in cherished centimetres rather than giant strides, shudders as he describes life since the fall.
The first hours, days and weeks were devastating for Brereton and his family; surreal, says wife Debbie.
Told en route to the Royal Melbourne Hospital that he had broken his neck and back, the doped-up jockey lashed out, almost in a dazed effort to disprove the diagnosis.
A steward rang Debbie 45 minutes after the fall.
"I asked if Danny had got up and there was silence. I just knew," she said.
Debbie touched her husband's feet as he lay battered and motionless in hospital. "They were cold. I will never forget that."
After being taken from the Royal Melbourne to the Austin to undergo spinal surgery, Brereton was told that future use of his legs was about "one or two in 10".
Children Darcy and Demi had their first visit and promptly broke down. Dad had ridden in thousands of races around the world and none had inflicted such damage. Brereton had shattered his collarbone, broken every rib, fractured his neck, punctured a lung and burst his aorta, which almost killed him. But the trauma to his spinal chord "was like being hit with a sledgehammer".
"The other injuries meant nothing. My first thought was my family, that I might become a burden to them."
Brereton was shifted to a rehab facility in Kew, Talbot House, on September 5. Father's Day.
"You had support from family and friends, people like Des O'Keeffe from the jockeys' association and top physio Gary Zimmerman, but it was a very lonely time," he says, adding doctors and physio staff are trained not to provide false hope. "That was the hardest part. They would tell you nothing."
Then, one day during last year's spring carnival, he wiggled a toe. "I was told it meant nothing. It breaks your spirit to hear that."
But there would be more movement, most importantly from Talbot late last November to the Epworth in Richmond, where Brereton had intense therapy for up to five hours a day under renowned physio Gavin Williams and his team. He still visits a few times a week, where trauma patients have therapy in an old mansion at the back of the hospital.
Each day, there was more movement, more hope, more hard yards. "Gavin's tough but without him and his team I don't know where I'd be. I'd hobble in and he'd tell me to leave my dress at the door."
Brereton returned home in January. He conducts his own rehab at the gym at the Brighton Sea Baths, hobbling about on his cane, strengthening his core with repetition exercises. He will never regain full mobility.
The great money rider measures success differently now. He doesn't miss riding but he misses his old routine and freedoms. Things he once regarded as all-important, winning races, are now trivial. The former risk-taker no longer lets his kids leap off the Brighton pier.
"My career now is rehabilitation. I now have empathy that I probably never had before. I've seen some terrible things, some people in heartbreaking situations. Success for me now is walking a few metres unassisted. I can't tell you how much that means to me. It's a win.
"All along, I've had this dream and it's to walk my dog, Ruby, on the beach with my wife and kids. I won't give up until I do."
STORY SOURCE: MELBOURNE HERALD SUN – NEWS LIMITED.
