Mike Sabin is teaching his on Darryl to walk. Picture/John Stone
Up-and-coming rugby player Darryl Sabin suffered a catastrophic head injury that could have killed him. Yet the determined young man is taking his first tentative steps on the long road to recovery. Reporter Kristin Edge visited the plucky teenager at the West Auckland brain injury rehabilitation centre as Darryl and his father, Mike, work to beat the odds.
It's not the first time he's taken his first shaky steps in front of his proud dad.
Darryl is 18.
In a gym at a West Auckland brain injury rehabilitation centre, Mike stands face to face with his son. They're about the same height and look into each other's eyes.
Darryl rests his left hand on his dad's shoulder for support.
"Step forward with your left foot Darryl," Mike encourages. "Big step ... go. Now bend your right knee."
Darryl hangs from a blue harness, face scrunched in concentration underneath his black rugby helmet as he forces his hips to push one leg in front of the other.
His bare feet shuffle slowly along the floor in small steps. Physiotherapist Ann Sezier is on her hands and knees pushing Darryl's right foot flat to the floor.
"Just slow down a little bit," Mike says.
Darryl sees the funny side of this last instruction. He emits a throaty chuckle.
Tipping their heads together so their foreheads touch, father and son enjoy the humorous moment.
It's a bit different from the first time Darryl learned to walk.
But step-by-step Darryl is determinedly treading his way back from the brink. And walking every step beside him is Mike.
Darryl's laboured, slow steps represent a major leap in recovery given his life had hung in the balance.
D-Day, as Mike calls it, was April 25.
Darryl, a farm worker, jogged onto the pitch leading from the front as captain of his Far North rugby team, Te Hapua. It was his second game of rugby since suffering a serious head injury in March 2007.
Darryl took the ball up from a tap and go and was hit in a tackle. He was knocked backwards, slammed his head into the ground and was knocked unconscious.
He regained consciousness and staggered off the field, where he fell into a coma and began fitting and vomiting.
He was flown first to Whangarei Hospital where staff established there was a major bleed on the right side of his brain, then to Auckland Hospital where emergency surgery relieved the pressure on his brain.
His family rallied at the hospital, including his mother Megan Whimp. Surgeons told them they had nearly lost him during the operation and he was a "very, very sick boy".
Critical Care Unit specialist Les Galler delivered his diagnosis: "Darryl has suffered a catastrophic head injury, which is more than likely going to kill him."
The family were told to prepare for the worst.
For the next few days they clung to hope that Darryl would survive. Hour by hour they waited. On day three they were rewarded.
Dr Galler said: "Darryl has done a few things that have surprised us . . . we feel we need to give him the benefit of the doubt."
Darryl was responding to basic commands to wiggle his toes and squeeze a hand. A tracheotomy - a tube down his throat - was performed, a major indicator doctors held more hope for his survival.
For two months Darryl Sabin lay silent in his bed unable to speak.
His family had faith he would pull through, and again he rewarded them.
Darryl had no facial expression since the accident so getting him to smile, then talk was a major achievement.
Mike rattled off jokes to Darryl in a bid to encourage a grin. It started as a chuckle, then developed into a hearty laugh.
So when Mike said "how" and it was repeated by Darryl it was a major breakthrough.
The conversation continued.
Mike: "How are you?"
Darryl: "How are you?"
Mike: "I'm fine Darryl, nice of you to ask."
After the short but monumental exchange both burst into tears of joy and laughed together.
Since those tentative steps of recovery Darryl's dramatic improvement has stunned even some of the experienced rehabilitation team.
MIKE, a businessman who established a drug-education business called Methcon, has temporarily left his Far North home and moved to Auckland with wife Catherine and four-year-old daughter Brenna.
While the rehabilitation team have been impressed with Darryl's commitment, they have equally been moved by Mike's dedication.
Most days he spends between 12 and 14 hours at the centre.
He arrives about 7am when Darryl is sleeping, wakes him and helps him shower. Until about 9am stretches are done in bed to help with Darryl's mobility. Mike cooks breakfast and brews up a cuppa.
Then it's rest time before an intensive hour long gym session.
Lunch is followed by a rest - for both of them - and the afternoon is filled with speech therapy. More stretches, followed by dinner, another wash and off to bed.
What has Mike learnt from this heart-wrenching experience to date?
"I have been so focussed on work when I was with the police and now my Methcon business. This has given me a better perspective on the importance of family against the value of working for the community. Family comes first.
"It's helping me to grow as a person and as a father. It's definitely changed me as a person.
"In life things are going to go wrong - you can guarantee that. Ten per cent is what happens to you but 90 per cent of life is what you do about it."
Hearing his son speak was one of the biggest milestones in Darryl's recovery. Mike stops. Draws breath. Blinks away tears.
"It made me feel he really was on the way back.
"Hearing him talking was amazing. Now every day brings a different milestone . . . getting him up on his feet seeing him go from eating only a spoon of yoghurt to multiple servings of a three course meal. He just keeps improving."
IT'S been an emotional rollercoaster ride filled with tears and laughter.
"There are days you want to get off the world. There are so many question marks - it's a minefield," Mike says.
"No one can give you answers. With someone with a brain injury you can't expect anything."
Staff are encouraged by Darryl's rapid progress but they are unable to predict the future.
Rehabilitation programme manager Nick Godbolt of the West Auckland brain injury rehabilitation centre said no two injuries were the same and predictions were difficult.
However, the indicators in Darryl's case are good.
"He was in a coma when he came here. He's making a strong physical recovery at the moment. He is standing and breathing on his own and doing all the basics of life.
"Darryl has drive and independence. It's a 50/50 job. We provide the care but the patient has a level of responsibility "
Darryl's key worker and speech therapist Maegan Miller is delighted at how the teen is chowing down his food.
In the couple of weeks he has been able to swallow, Darryl has chomped through yoghurt, roasts, spaghetti bolognaise, beef stir fry, omelettes, chocolate, KFC and a heap more.
"It's been quiet phenomenal to be part of this. Darryl came here with a very low level of response ... he could barely wiggle a thumb. Now every day he amazes us with what he achieves."
She will not be drawn on future prospects.
"We love to be proven wrong and he's really done that every step of the way. We have to keep raising the bar with this guy ... it's quiet exciting."
Darryl is re-learning everything.
Mike describes the process as similar to a computer that has crashed and lost its files - they are still on the hard drive . . . somewhere.
"And just as you would painstakingly recover lost files from a hard drive and restore them to normal operating systems, so too does Darryl recover the connections between his brain and the sea of nerve pathways that control his body functions, movement and coordination."
Mike reckons he learnt a long time ago when Darryl was told "no" he adopted the approach "no means alternative approach needed".
"He still doesn't take no for an answer," smiles Mike proudly.
"And no-one should put limits on his recovery. He won't stop until all the files are restored. He's just that kind of guy."
It's that kind of determination that will see this young man go from shuffling across the gym floor to striding through life again.