Marshall Leffler - one small step completely rearranged his life

Marshall Leffler took one small step on a fateful day that changed the course of his life. He cited the proverb, “Pride goes before a fall,” and noted that in his case, it quite literally became true. But that is too harsh a judgment for what happened to him.

Marshall is one of those people with a larger-than-life personality. A born storyteller, healthy and robust, gregarious. Career-wise, finding the right fit in established companies proved a little difficult so he became a self-employed insurance agent. He married Linda, his childhood pen pal – their mothers were friends and thought it would be nice if the two kids corresponded – 35 years ago, and they raised two daughters.

Fast forward to November 27, 2009. Marshall was continuing the yearly tradition of decorating the house with Christmas lights. It was the day after Thanksgiving, a balmy 70 degrees. “Linda offered to watch for me, but I said no,” Marshall said, “so she went inside to take a nap.” Though even had she been watching, the outcome likely would have been no different. Marshall climbed up the six-foot step ladder and onto the roof.

He strung the lights as always, across the front and up the sides of the gables, about a three-hour job. “Then I stepped back to admire my work,” Marshall said. That step turned into a skid from one part of the roof to the next, then another eight-foot drop to the ground. “I probably would have been okay if I had landed on my feet,” Marshall said, “but I landed on my butt.” He briefly lost consciousness, and when he realized he was on the ground, he attempted to move. “I started to get up, but I couldn’t move my legs,” he said.

He had fallen right outside the master bedroom window, so he thought he would call for Linda to help him. “I tried to take a breath, but I couldn’t,” Marshall said. With effort, he managed to take a series of about 12 quick puffs to build up enough capacity to yell for Linda. He was able to say her name before he lost consciousness again. Thankfully she heard him, came outside to see what he wanted, then called 911.

At the hospital, the news Marshall received wasn’t good. “My T12 vertebrae had exploded,” he said. “I had five shattered ribs, and the pieces of ribs had punctured both lungs.” Marshall credits the doctor, Doc Holiday he said his name was, with fusing several of the larger pieces so he would have that vertebrae again someday. He remained at the hospital for several weeks, heavily sedated, in part to keep him from pulling out any tubes or cause even more physical damage. He also dreamed. “In my dreams I could walk,” Marshall said, “and I could take care of people.” Because he was experiencing atrial fibrillation, irregular heartbeats, his heart was electronically started and stopped twice to alter its electrical system. Once that was under control, Marshall began to regain more consciousness.

On December 27 of that year, he was moved to another hospital that had a rehab program. The formerly fit man now had to deal with atrophied muscles, and limited to no movement in his arms, legs and hips. After 30 days there, he was released, and began a new program at the Rehabilitation Institute of Kansas City. “I was used to being quite strong and doing whatever I wanted,” Marshall said. “I went from lifting 240 pounds to one and three pounds.” He participated in a regimen of occupational, physical and speech therapy, starting three times a week and tapering to twice a week.

This is when he learned how a congregation can step forward to lend its support. “Norm Smith (a Holy Cross mission partner) organized a brigade of people,” Marshall said. “There were 12 or 15 from Holy Cross, they call themselves the Do-Nothings, who gave me rides.” Marshall said he also had some help from friends in the civic organizations he had been involved in, namely the Shawnee Kiwanis and the Shawnee Chamber of Commerce. “And then there’s Linda, let me tell you about Linda,” Marshall said, referring to his wife and her support when he was first injured. “Linda was there every day. The heartache she went through. She was terrified I was going to die.”

Since that fateful November day, Marshall has come a long way. He continues to use a wheelchair, but can pull himself to a standing position. His arms are strong again. His upper thighs are muscular. His target date is March, 2018 to have rebuilt his calves and ankles, and be able to flex his foot. That’s just how long it will take his damaged neural pathways to heal, one centimeter per month.

Too, he doesn’t need rides to get to the gym like he used to because now he can drive with hand controls. Here’s the routine: Wheelchair to the back of the van, pull himself up, fold up the lightweight chair that weighs 26 pounds, grab the walker from the back of the van, use it to get to the driver’s seat, hoist himself into the van, toss in the walker, and hit the road. Actually, a huge task that most of us take for granted.

But here’s the thing. Marshall has found a way to be positive. “I did a lot of praying,” he said. “God, why did you leave me here? You came so close to bringing me home.” Marshall received his answer. “He (God) wants me to encourage disabled people,” Marshall said. “I have met so many worse off than I. I rededicated myself. I still wish I hadn’t fallen off the roof, but I’ve had so many wonderful things happen, and have been able to help so many other people.” Therein lies an illustration of one’s man faith and trust.