Flying dreams

Being a pilot is all Ignacio Montoya ever wanted, and he won’t let a life-altering accident deter him.

Why was everyone crying?

Ignacio Montoya joined his extended family at the Camagüey airport in Cuba and wondered why tears were streaming down their faces.

All the 6-year-old boy knew was that he and his father were taking a trip.

Why would that make people cry?

He did not understand that he would never return to Cuba. It was 1997, and his father, after whom Ignacio was named, had won the legal visa lottery, allowing him and his only son to emigrate to the United States. They likely would never see their relatives again.

Ignacio had not seen so many tears since his mother died from leukemia, two years earlier.

She’s gone to heaven, his father had told him. Mami lives with God in a beautiful, peaceful place in the sky.

Once Ignacio was on board the plane, his family’s tears were forgotten as he took in every chime, every light, every click of a safety belt, every shutting of a bin. And when the jet took off, he watched in wonder as the sunlight glinted off the silver wings of the jet.

As they zoomed skyward, he wondered: Were they going to heaven, too?

Someplace like it, his father said.

It was dusk when the plane began to descend, and the cabin buzzed with excitement.

Libertad! Libertad! the passengers shouted. Freedom.

“I could see the twinkling lights of Miami and see how happy everyone was, and it was magic,” Ignacio, 26, recalled. “People were laughing and crying, and I was laughing just because everyone was so happy. I thought it had to do just with the plane.

“I decided then and there that I wanted to fly one of those things, because if it made people that happy, I wanted to bring them that kind of happiness.”

2.
Starting from scratch

Father and son soon found their way to Atlanta, where the father got a job installing garage doors.

On school holidays, Ignacio would accompany his father to work and watch him install metal tracks and splice wires.

One day his father held up his red, weathered hands for Ignacio to see. They were covered with cuts and scrapes.

You see my hands, Ignacio? You will not have to do this work. It can be different for you. We are in America now, and you can do anything you want to do. All you have to do is work hard, and you can be anything you want to be. Anything.

Ignacio gulped the coffee his father handed him, taking in his father’s message as he swallowed the steaming liquid.

Within two years, Ignacio’s father had saved enough money to buy a home. Ignacio helped with the bills by organizing them and calling businesses if there was a problem. A dispute over a couple of dollars with the gas company? The 10-year-old resolved it. A problem with car insurance? Ignacio took care of that, too.

“I grew up very, very fast,” Ignacio said.

By 14, he had his first part-time job at Bojangles.

“Work was my extra-curricular activity,” he said.

In 2008, Ignacio graduated from Brookwood High School with the Hope Scholarship. That fall, he enrolled at Georgia State University, majoring in business, and became head teller at a Bank of America branch.

And then, slowly, the dream that was born the day he left Cuba came back.

What do I need to do to become a pilot? he asked an Air Force recruiter one day.

He was advised to have a Plan B because enlisted men rarely become pilots.

Undeterred, Ignacio enrolled at Georgia Tech in 2009 and joined the Air Force ROTC. He was made honor guard captain and was soon training during summers at Maxwell Air Force Base in Montgomery, Ala., and Camp Shelby Joint Forces Training Center in Hattiesburg, Miss.

He underwent laser eye surgery to improve his vision and joined the Tech’s Yellow Jackets Flying Club to learn how to fly. He gained top-secret clearance.

Still his instructors and commanders told him that getting tapped for pilot training was a long shot.

On Valentine’s Day 2012, more than 100 cadets gathered in the AFROTC training room on the Georgia Tech campus to learn who would go on to pilot training. Only five names would be called. This was it — the moment Ignacio had been working toward for three years.

One by one, the lieutenant colonel called cadets up to the front.

One name was called. A second, third and fourth.

Ignacio’s head was spinning. The last name had to be his, it just had to be.

Ignacio Montoya, the officer said.

He stood tall and walked to the front of the room, emotionless.

“I was standing at attention, very serious,” Ignacio said.

But after the ceremony, he went to the men’s room and all the bottled-up emotion and effort of the past several years broke through.

“I went in a stall, and I cried. I couldn’t believe it,” he said. “I had given it my all, the blood, sweat and tears, and it was really going to happen.”

Just one more year of college stood between him and a commission in the United States Air Force.

Senior year was going to be a breeze. Ignacio was in love. He had a nice apartment, a dog named Mimi and a Yamaha R1 Raven motorcycle.

On Dec. 3, 2012, Ignacio turned 22. The next day he took two final exams and participated in an AFROTC change-of-command ceremony, which required he wear his full-dress regalia. Ignacio loved dressing in his Air Force blues. Later that evening, he was invited to deliver a few words of inspiration to cadets in the Arnold Air Society, a service organization of Air Force officer candidates.

Afterward, while a few guys hung around to talk and joke, Ignacio grabbed his helmet, gloves and book bag.

Good night, everybody, he said.

He walked into the chilly night air. He had come to love the cold weather and looked forward to his ride home.

He put on his helmet, straddled the bike, pulled on his leather gloves and revved the engine.

It was the last sound he heard for three months.

3.
Everything changed

“I wish I could remember what happened,” Ignacio said one afternoon nearly four years later.

According to the police report, a minivan made an illegal turn in front of him on Pleasant Hill Road in Gwinnett County, less than a mile from his apartment. He was traveling 45 mph at the moment of collision.

Witnesses assumed he died on impact. In fact, he was dead for 15 minutes. A nurse who witnessed the accident performed CPR until medics arrived.

The list of injuries was long. The skin on his face was torn back by his helmet. All the ribs on his right side were broken. The nerves and tendons in his right arm were ripped away from his neck and shoulder. His spinal cord was damaged.

Ignacio was to have been assigned to Sheppard Air Force Base in Wichita Falls, Texas, that spring. He woke up at Shepherd Center in Atlanta instead.

“I saw lights and white and shadows, but that was all I could see,” Ignacio said about his first few days of consciousness. “I thought I was in heaven, so I kept looking for my mother.”

Once he realized he was in a hospital, he was informed he’d been paralyzed and had only one working limb — his left arm.

One of the first visitors he remembers was his AFROTC commander, Lt. Col. Shawn Bevans, who came to discuss Ignacio’s medical disqualification from pilot training. But he promised to hold his slot open until December 2020.

Determined to get his life back on track, Ignacio left Shepherd one day and maneuvered his wheelchair down Peachtree Street to Georgia State to inquire about enrolling in classes in the fall.

But things got worse before they got better.

Upon discharge from Shepherd, Ignacio was unable to live with his father or other relatives who had since emigrated from Cuba. Their two-story homes and narrow doorways were not accessible for his wheelchair.

His class of cadets had graduated and left for their training posts. He and his girlfriend broke up. He had no money and no source of income. Because he had not yet received his commission, he didn’t qualify for military benefits.

A bright spot came when he got to see his dog, Mimi, for the first time in five months.

“She jumped on me and just cried and cried and cried,” he said.

The two of them moved into a one-bedroom apartment near Duluth, where Ignacio was tended to by home-health aides.

He sometimes wondered whether his dreams had been too bold. Was God punishing him? Had he dared to get too close to the sun?

His grandmother cleaned and stitched back together his uniform that had been shredded in the accident.

It hung in a frame on his living room wall, a reminder of the dream snatched away from him.

4.
A helping hand

That’s when Ross Mason entered Ignacio’s life.

A Madison native and former board chairman of Georgia’s Community Health Department, Mason was a successful international businessman and a former Iron Man competitor.

He was also a health-care innovator who founded the Healthcare Institute for Neuro-Recovery and Innovation, a nonprofit organization that provides pro bono venture capital services to new, innovative health-care nonprofits. One such organization is Warrior 2 Citizen, which helps returning veterans adjust to civilian life.

Ross and Ignacio had two things in common. One, they both went to Georgia Tech. It was through Tech alums that Ross learned about Ignacio. Two, Ross was also paralyzed, the result of bicycle accident on the Silver Comet Trail.

“One of the things about a spinal cord injury is that it destroys personal relationships, your finances, civic involvement and physical hobbies,” said Ross.

Recognizing the importance of emotional support and financial stability in the paraplegic’s road to recovery, Ross contacted Ignacio and requested a meeting.

Ross was so impressed by Ignacio’s positive attitude and determination, he invited Ignacio to his spacious, fully accessible Buckhead home, where Ignacio could use the rehabilitation room for his daily workouts instead of going to a rehab facility.

“He is such an impressive individual that I can’t even begin to tell you,” said Ross. “He never asks for any help, any handouts, anything.”

Ignacio accepted, and their friendship grew. Before long Ross invited to Ignacio to move into the basement apartment.

Trading his small apartment for Ross’ large, open house with its fireplace, screened-in porch and full wheelchair accessibility, including an elevator, was too great an opportunity to pass up.

“We took it easy for the first six months,” said Ross. “We laugh now that, here he was, and he didn’t know us from Adam’s house cat. It had to be hard.”

Ignacio admits to feeling a lot of uncertainty when he moved into Ross’ house, but his concerns were soon assuaged by the loving support he got from Ross and his staff.

And as wonderful as it was to live in a nice, fully accessible house with a helpful staff, the best part of Ignacio’s new living arrangements was the intangible gains.

“I wasn’t alone,” said Ignacio.

5.
The three angels

The remarkable thing is, Ross wasn’t the only person to come to Ignacio’s aid.

Elena Hamilton, the mother of a cadet Ignacio knew from his training class, had met Ignacio before the crash.

“I was so impressed by his hard work, by his politeness and by his work ethic,” Hamilton said. “Everyone just loved him. We couldn’t believe what happened to him.”

After he was discharged from Shepherd, she made him homemade meals, ran errands for him and took him to the doctor.

Martha Garcia heard about Ignacio through her church. She also cooked and cleaned for him.

“When you see how he works and how hard he tries, you just want to do everything you can to help him,” said Garcia. “He is like family to us now.”

Alexandra Betancur, a married mother of three who lives in Alpharetta, heard about Ignacio through friends. She found his address and one day appeared at his apartment, asking how she could help.

Ignacio initially rebuked her.

“I confronted her and told her that I was completely self-sufficient and that I didn’t need people feeling sorry or coming by with little acts of fake or temporary compassion that resulted in nothing in the long run,” he recalled.

Undeterred, she continued to return, asking how she could help.

“I asked her what did she want from me and she said, ‘I do not have an agenda, I do not know about spinal-cord injuries, I don’t know how to ever help you, but I just want to be your friend.’ That’s where it all began,” Ignacio said.

When Ignacio returned to classes in fall 2013, Alexandra was by his side, taking notes for him. She also has driven him to doctors in Baltimore and Charleston, and taken him on outings to Six Flags and the lake. He now considers her like a second mother.

Says Betancur, “I learn so much from him, from his courage, that it is a privilege to help him.”

All three women, whom Ignacio calls “the three angels,” have remained by Ignacio’s side throughout his ordeal.

“I couldn’t live without these people God sent into my life,” Ignacio said. “My life has changed so much, and so much was taken away from me. But then I look at what God brought into my life, and I see that he gave me more than he took away.”

6.
Keeping the dream alive

A quarter million people in the U.S. are paralyzed from spinal cord injuries. Roughly 12,000 new injuries occur each year.

Fifty years ago, most people paralyzed from a spinal cord injury died within a few years. Today quadriplegics and paraplegics are living longer and gaining more mobility, thanks to medical and technological advances.

Scientists around the world continue to look for ways to make those paralyzed walk again. Brain implants, exoskeletons and stem cell regeneration are just a few of the avenues being explored.

So Ignacio’s dreams of walking again — and flying – may not be so far-fetched, say some experts.

“Oh, it’s going to happen,” said Ross. “It’s not a matter of if, but when. The science is accelerating so fast that it’s going to be like Lasik (laser eye surgery).”

That kind of thinking keeps Ignacio motivated.

He believes the exoskeleton is his best option. The robotic device is worn over the legs and torso and uses a computer to propel the body forward with the aid of crutches. Approved by the FDA in 2014, the devices weigh about 50 pounds and cost $150,000.

In addition to the prohibitive cost, there’s one other roadblock that stands in Ignacio’s way. Users of the exoskeleton must have use of both arms. So first he needs an orthotic limb to make his right arm functional. He’s waiting to see if Medicare/Medicaid will approve the $87,000 cost.

Meanwhile, Ignacio continues to contend with health challenges related to his condition.

Wheelchair users often suffer from pressure sores caused by sitting or laying in the same position for too long. If left unchecked, they can become severely infected and possibly fatal. Ignacio has had one on his lower back for nearly four years, at times encompassing an area of two inches. He has followed every medical protocol to heal the wound, spending 90 days face down on a massage table, taking antibiotic treatments and experimental ones, too. The sore now measures about a centimeter, and full closure is within reach. He is scheduled for treatment in a hyperbaric chamber before the end of the year, which he hopes will do the trick.

Earlier this year it was discovered that a screw used to stabilize his spinal column during his initial surgery lay within millimeters of his aorta. If not removed, it could have pierced his aorta, causing him to bleed to death in an instant.

He underwent surgery to remove it in October and was told he would be in the hospital for five days to recover – if he survived. In typical Ignacio fashion, he was out of the hospital eight hours after surgery.

Ignacio has endured unfathomable challenges, certainly in the last four years since the accident, but from the start, really. Living in communist Cuba, losing his mother when he was 4, coming to a foreign land where he didn’t speak the language, taking on adult responsibilities at a tender age. But by all accounts, he met every obstacle with remarkable determination and a positive outlook.

And despite the odds, he will not be deterred from continuing to pursue his dreams.

“I don’t think God had me go through everything I went through — to get to this country, to be chosen for pilot training, to get top-secret clearance — for me to give up,” said Ignacio. “Because if I give up, I’m giving up for everybody else with spinal cord injuries, too. I believe if anyone can do it, I can. And so I chose to kick butt.”

Behind the story

ABOUT THE STORY

Virginia Lynne Anderson was working on a different Personal Journey last year when Jenifer Shockley with Georgia State University’s Robinson School of Business told her about Ignacio Montoya. Anderson spent four months getting to know him and trying to discover how he stays so optimistic and determined. The answer appears to be simple: Ignacio Montoya is a remarkable man who is just wired that way.

Suzanne Van Atten
Personal Journeys editor
personaljourneys@ajc.com


ABOUT THE REPORTER AND PHOTOGRAPHER

Virginia Lynne Anderson is the senior health and medicine editor for The Conversation. She has been a medical and healthcare reporter and editor for more than a dozen years, focused primarily on health inequalities and the gaps in medical care between the rich and poor. She is an alumna of the University of Georgia and Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism.

Hyosub Shin was born and raised in South Korea. Inspired by the work of National Geographic photographers, he came to the United States to study photography and joined the AJC photo staff in 2007. Past assignments include the Georgia Legislative session, Atlanta Dream’s Eastern Conference title game, the Atlanta Air Show and the Atlanta Braves’ National League Division Series.

Read more of our Personal Journeys at myAJC.com/personaljourneys.