Photography: Bernadette Peters
Five years ago, at 28 years old, Grace Archer was living her dream teaching in Rarotonga, swimming in lagoons and exploring the island by moped on her days off.
That was until she contracted foodborne illness listeria in 2020, triggering a horror health story that started with an emergency evacuation to New Zealand.
What followed was more than a month in a coma, during which time she underwent two brain surgeries and was terrifyingly locked in her own body when she woke up.
There have undoubtedly been dark days, but fiercely determined to find joy again and live a full, meaningful life, Grace now faces each day with resilience and positivity.
“Honestly, I never thought it was that serious,” recalls Grace, 33, thinking back to where it all began in April 2020. “I thought I’d just have some tests, possibly need a little medication and be back teaching in Rarotonga.”
At the time, she was experiencing headaches, a sore neck and ear, as well as numbness, dizziness and trouble walking straight.
On May 9, on one of the few flights allowed to enter the country because of Covid border closures, Grace flew home.
“There was a bed at the back of the plane,” she tells. “I couldn’t walk steadily, so I had to use a wheelchair. The nurse had to type messages for me because everything was so blurry. I was confused at the time and unaware that I was losing my eyesight.”
Things were about to take a turn for the worse as Grace was admitted to Auckland Hospital’s ICU, and started having seizures, then was placed in an induced coma.
Her devoted mother and now caregiver Kelly O’Connell, 60, drove straight from Ka¯piti Coast with Grace’s sister Jean, 37.
“We were only allowed to see her through a large glass wall, but I was relieved to have that opportunity,” says Kelly.
Doctors repeatedly cautioned Kelly that Grace’s odds of survival were low – at one point she was on life support – and if she did pull through, she would likely have severe brain damage.
But Kelly refused to believe it, saying, “I had unwavering faith my beautiful, strong and courageous daughter would overcome this challenge. It never occurred to me that she would give up.”
After four and a half weeks, Grace gradually regained consciousness. But while her brain was fully aware and functioning, her entire body was paralysed except for horizontal eye movement and blinking.
“One moment, I was sick in Rarotonga and the next, I couldn’t speak or move a muscle,” tells Grace. “Fortunately, Jean insisted that others explain what had happened. I vividly remember her recounting everything. I was desperate for them to know I wasn’t brain-dead, that I was still the same person.”
Using an alphabet board, Grace was able to communicate by blinking when a therapist pointed to the right letters. Her first painstakingly signalled message read, “Hi, Mum.”
Recalls Kelly, “I felt absolute elation and immense pride. That moment showed everyone that she was still Grace.”
Adds Grace, “The doctors were surprised because they had told my family that if I survived, I would have no quality of life.”
Defying all odds, Grace left the hospital after six months. She still lives with impaired muscle control, vision complications and involuntary movements, and is in a wheelchair most of the time.
Recent cuts in disability funding mean Grace can no longer access the intensive and varied physical rehabilitation that was her priority for four years.
“I’ve shifted my focus to my mental health and I incorporate everyday tasks as part of my therapy,” she explains. “Instead of a formal hand therapy session, I might empty the dishwasher or apply my
own make-up.”
Her speech has also been severely affected and while she’s self-conscious about the way she sounds, Grace won’t let that silence her.
She’s telling her story in the hope of inspiring others to understand people living with disabilities better and to be a powerful part of others’ recovery.
“During my hospital stay, my family was desperate to find stories of hope and now I aspire to be one of those sources of inspiration,” she smiles.
“It’s important to note that I haven’t always been this way. For a long time, I experienced profound grief, mourning my career, my home, my ability to drive and cook, and more recently, my relationship.
“But if there’s one takeaway from my story, it’s that having a disability doesn’t mean life is over – it simply looks different,” she insists. “I also want to highlight the harsh reality of judging a book by its cover. Even if my speech and the way I move might seem unusual to those who don’t know me, I remain the same person inside.”
Follow Grace’s journey on Instagram.
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