Wheelchair wisdom from pastor on a mission

Words Jill Nicholas

Pictures, video Stephen Parker

May 31, 2010 was the day Timothy Lee's life was irrevocably altered. 

A catastrophic mountain bike crash in the Redwoods switched him from being a super fit action man into someone whose body  instantaneously lost 92 per cent of its functioning ability. 

In the blink of an eye he became tetraplegic.

It's a word he detests, saying it's a label that can be judgemental and demeaning.

Timothy Lee's is a life where he can no longer do the simplest of things. Lifting a cup to his lips, putting his glasses on, picking up a piece of paper, are tasks he relies on others to do for him.

He has assistance from support workers virtually round the clock. 

One, Leuila Letoga, has been with him almost the entire 15 years he's been immobile.

"She's become part of the family. I appreciate her a lot."  

A practitioner of the power of positive thinking Timothy remains impressively upbeat, thanking God the accident didn't rob him of his brain power or ability to speak.
For 40 days and 40 nights he was cared for in Middlemore Hospital's Intensive Care Unit (ICU). He was in an induced coma for the first 10 of them.  

Those 40 days and 40 nights are significant. It's a time span frequently referenced in the Bible.

That means much to this man whose profession is a pastoral leader. At the time of his accident he held the senior pastoral role at the Malfroy Road Baptist Church.

"Since this happened [his accident] a whole new career, speaking engagements and roles within different community groups have opened up to me," he says.

Today Timothy Lee's an itinerant preacher with a raft of church-related duties.

These include giving professional vocational supervision to colleagues and chaplains.

He's on the Rotorua Hospital chaplaincy team, assisting patients and staff.

"I go into the orthopaedic ward and hang out with the patients and staff. Staff morale can be low at times, too.

"I love joining with people for one-on-one time from a holistic perspective." 

He delivers lectures to international Bible College students and provides ministry at St John's Presbyterian Church to homeless people and those living in short-term housing. 

"These people are really struggling. 

"I've been their official chaplain for the past two years.

"There's a huge lot of mental health and addiction issues among them.

"They tear at my heart. I come away from the homeless in tears."
He dislikes the word homeless for the same reason he shuns tetraplegic. 

"Our identity is best described in terms of character, values, principles, culture and heritage."

Book latest mentoring tool

Timothy Lee may officially be classified as disabled but he's very far from helpless.

His mission is helping and encouraging people. 

His latest inspirational tool is a book he's written based on his lived experiences  since he's been confined to a wheelchair.

With the catchy title Hopes, Fears and Wheelchairs, it was recently launched at the Baptist church where his Rotorua ministry began.

Although no longer on the staff he still preaches there occasionally. 

Becoming a published author had never entered his mind. 

He was talked into it by friends and mentors who insisted he had a story to tell. 

They were right.

In Profile has previously had the privilege of sharing a small part of the Timothy Lee story. 

That was nine years ago, meaning it's high time for a catch up, especially to help spread the word about his latest achievement, his book.

From now on in we refer to him as Tim. Timothy seems far too formal for someone who patently isn't at all that way inclined.

Aspiring authors are often advised to write as they talk. This is exactly what Tim has done. 

He had no choice. His frozen hands aren't keyboard compatible. 

He dictated his words, many thousands of them spread over 10 chapters, plus a preface, bibliography and acknowledgements.   

When he speaks they appear on screen as they normally would.

He was introduced to this kind of software during the three and a half months he spent in rehab at the Otara Spinal Unit following his time in Middlemore's ICU and a month in the orthopaedic ward. 

After shunning frequent urgings to commit his story to print, Tim gave in when the late Martyn Norrie put the pressure on.  

They met in a doctor’s waiting room.

"Martyn was there because he'd badly damaged a leg just days into an overseas holiday. 

"He ended up in hospital. I journeyed with him. We became close friends.

"It was Martyn who got me thinking I really did have a unique contribution to make.

'There's only a very small percentage of people in New Zealand with spinal injuries and yes, they do need support and assistance.

"I so very nearly died so I guess my story is one of survival.

"I write about the practical part of my journey and the very real impact it's had on my family and myself."  

Advice invaluable 

One chapter's named Finding Myself in an Unfamiliar World, another's titled Getting the Right Help. Both contain invaluable  helpful hints for those who find themselves as incapacitated as he suddenly became.

The 'right help' chapter includes a focus on ACC.

Timothy considers it world class.

"It's been a great blessing to me and my family to be able to tap into its billions of dollars in investments. This means I've been able to draw funds for house modifications, transportation, medical fees and the like.

 "We've had to fight a bit along the way but you learn the right language, to be proactive and to value the system."

In his book he recounts the challenge of needs assessments. 

"It feels very degrading as a client let me tell you, though in fairness it matches funding with needs." 

He's adamant the discrepancy in funding between ACC and Ministry of Health clients shouldn't exist.    

He writes how everyday healthcare needs can be "interesting".

Take his dentist's visits.

"Occasionally my dentist has to stand on a stool to reach my mouth."

When he needed a tooth out he accepted an ACC case manager’s  advice that he "shop around" for quotes.

"Several came in at thousands of dollars. 

"A dentist in Ngongotaha dealt with it on the spot. It wasn't an easy extraction. I was there over an hour and the all-up cost was $190. 

"I didn't bother claiming for it. That kept ACC happy.

"I keep what could have been a $4878 tooth in a drawer as a memento."      

Slow process

Producing Hopes, Fears and Wheelchairs wasn't a speedy process.

"I started thinking about it, researching and framing it in 2019.

"I've been thrust into this world where I need help with everything so it's been a slow process."

"The pandemic's arrival affected progress and the tyranny of the urgent has played a significant part as well."

He's been hit by Covid four times with varying degrees of severity.

His immobile body makes him easily susceptible to infection.

"It's horrible if I get a tummy bug but fortunately I keep pretty good health despite having this high-level injury."

Talk of high level injury leads our chat to take a backward turn. It's to that fateful day when Tim's world was ripped to shreds.

A keen but not a competitive mountain biker, he'd gone out for a ride on his new bike with his neighbour Wilfred Wong-Toi. Both were  making the most of an afternoon off. 

In light of the dreadful things to come he couldn’t have had a better companion. Wilfred Wong-Toi's a surgeon, albeit of the ear, nose and throat variety. 

It was Wilfred's expert medical know-how, along with that of another neighbour, anaesthetist Stephan Neff, that Tim credits with saving his life. Dr Neff was on duty when he was taken into hospital.

Accident day

Verge-of-death experiences like Tim's are better told in the first person. 

We quote from his book:

"The trees were magnificent in the sunshine that day, the track conditions were ideal. 

"Near the end of the ride we had to negotiate the exit trail.

"There were two options, one was narrow and rutty. The other had a drop-off that required a level of gumption to tackle.

"I knew I'd need a fair bit of speed to clear the drop. 

"I started peddling harder.

"The next thing I knew I was waking up down a dirt bank, immediately aware I couldn’t move at all. 

"My head was propped up against the stump of a punga fern.

"Strangely I didn’t panic. I can honestly say I had a sense of peace which I acknowledged could only be God's presence."

Dr Wong-Toi  who'd been ahead of him hadn't seen the disaster unfold.

When he went back to check where his neighbour was, the accident scene spoke for itself.

Another stroke of providence was that the next person to arrive was an off-duty fireman.

"Who better", Tim writes,"to be first on the scene than an ENT surgeon with specialist knowledge of the head and a member of the emergency services with specialist knowledge of the forest?"

Family, friends rally 

Tim has no memory of the impact with its far-reaching consequences.

His wife Jenny will never forget the sight of her husband being wheeled into Rotorua Hospital's ED.

In one of her contributions to the book she describes in vivid detail the dirt and blood covering his grubby face.

There's a touch of the facetious when she notes he was still talking. 

"Typical Tim!" 

His helmet had been split in two.

 "As if it had been taken to with an axe." 

Word of Tim's plight quickly spread.

Within a couple of hours ICU was packed with family and friends from across the denominations. 

The Lees give daily thanks for the love and support they received. 

Tim's injuries were extensive. Rotorua Hospital could only do so much.

He was scheduled to be airlifted to Middlemore but the weather closed in.

His battered body was too fragile to risk a bumpy ride in an ambulance.

It was two days before he reached Middlemore.

His pathway to the best possible recovery he could hope for was drawn out and, at times, frustrating.

Tim never lost hope, saying his deep faith sustained him. 

It continues to do so.

Immersed in the community

Brought up on a farm, and trained as a diesel mechanic before going into pastoral ministry, he considers himself "just an average Kiwi bloke." 

The time and effort he puts into assisting others, the able-bodied and the disabled, is very many notches above average.

On top of his church and pastoral work he's immersed in the community.

He chairs the CCS Access committee which partners with the Rotorua Lakes Council. Through it he advocates on behalf of those with limited mobility.

The council recently adopted its first Accessibility for All policy.

Tim's proud his group's input has led to access improvements to roadways, crossings and public facilities. 

He's contributed to the accessibility of the forest's mountain bike trails. That's in collaboration with the Trails Trust. 

And no, it doesn't freak him out returning to the place that so drastically changed his life.

Come summer, he and his outdoor electric wheelchair are regulars in the Redwoods.

He's frequently out on the lake with Sailability.

"Working with fantastic volunteers to give children with special needs sailing experience."

A care agency contracts him to mentor newbie wheelchair users in what he calls "the reality of wheelchairs."  

He has intimate knowledge of the struggle it is to adapt to them. 

Tim Lee is the type of guy who sees his involvement in these organisations as a privilege.

"I think the greatest privilege in life is to journey with other people."

Seeing his book in print is, he admits, "weird."

"I would rather not see myself as the centre of attention.

"But I hope it [his book] is helpful getting behind people suffering various forms of trauma, uncertainty and sickness.

"I really want to convey to people that whatever is going on in their lives, their struggles, things to grapple with there is always hope, always a reason to carry on.

"I so embrace that.  

"For me, investing in others is helping my wellbeing.

"Helping people is a core part of me.

"I am a person of faith, the people in my life drive me.

"I don't see my injury as the be all and end all. 

"I just carry on. I love life."