m worried that i don't... i don't have your... (gasps) like, crazy fascination. yeah. mozgala: are you gonna be sad when it's over? i don't think it's ever gonna be over. i think, you know, i'll be on my death bed, and you'll be coming to ask me about the psoas muscle. mozgala: i am. yeah. totally. - i know you're gonna be. - then, finally, i'll be like... yeah, and then when i'm dead, you'll go, "oh, that's interesting." (both laugh) (man playing saxophone) i'm going to be in this really great play in this ten-minute play fest. i'm not really that concerned about all that. and i'm gonna have a play in the ten-minute play festival. are you gonna write? are you gonna dance? are you gonna stretch in the morning? i'm building... it's like there are silk ghosts. the whole lower back thing. - yeah. the lower back. - and just noticing if... - oh, my god. - things get tense and then... - you know what? - it's being good to yourself. nobody probably thinks more about the lower back than you or me. i know we think a lot about it. it's crazy. a lot. but that's because, you know, it's the key to a lot of things, but now we've actually got a little higher.

i mean, it was two years ago. tamar, i think this is a really important conversation we just had. you do? (both laugh) (indistinct conversation) i learned a lot! ♪ - okay. - yeah. - do what you want. - so come on around. mozgala: come into the room. how was your week? - good! - yeah? busy! mozgala: once a week, i teach a young woman named margot, who has cerebral palsy.

i'm trying to reinforce what i know through this experiential learning with tamar and apply it to someone else's body. so it's-it's... it's a lot like what tamar says. never having a plan, never having an agenda, just sort of starting from where she's at. it's really nice to be able to... share with another person who not only has the same disability but also can say, "listen, i've been through this too." and here. hit the sternum. good. close the ribs. excellent. and i finished my test today. so i am officially free! whoo-hoo! that's awesome. - high five. whoa! - whoops! (laughing) yeah. sorry. that's cool. i know that was probably embarrassing for myself. you okay, though? you're not hurt though, right? yeah, i'm used to doing that. we've never high-fived before. - yeah. - or high-tenned. okay, talk to me about your knees, 'cause that's what we worked on last week, right? yeah. i've been trying to exercise that muscle.

mozgala: what have you been doing? margot: just telling it to go up like this, and of course it won't go all the way up unless you help me, but... right. that's great. previous to last week, margot had never moved her leg ever in that way. okay, and i want you to think about this great little be... okay. i'm just gon raise th up. in your ankle. - oh. - right? rgot: that i don't have much use of yet. mozgala: yeah. that's okay. i don't either. this is exactly what i'm up to. when i met him, i was like, "why don't physical therapists have the disability themselves?" (laughs) make things ch easier. we're the new breed. ♪ (upbeat piano music)

♪

♪ del toro: stay up to date on america reframed at worldchannel.org. subscribe to world channel's youtube to go beyond the lens with our filmmakers. tell us what you think using #americareframed.

♪ ♪ and so there i was, lying crumpled in the snow in austria, at the base of a ski jump at one of the world's most prestigious ski jumping events, with tens and thousands of spectators in the crowd and millions of people watching on tv. and as i was laying there, curled up in the snow, i had the most intense and severe sharp pain

just jolng through my back. and to think that just one year prior to this moment, i was representing the united states as a ski jumper in the 2014 olympic games in sochi, russia. now, i have been a ski jumper and have loved ski jumping my entire life. just soaring through the air at 70 miles per hour and jumping distances of over two football fields in length, it is the most intense and awesome feeling in the world, and for me, it feels like flying. now, naturally, one of the last things that i want when i'mumping is for my boots or for my skis to fall off while i'm in the air. so i tend to tie my boots extra-tight, so much so that they can actually begin to hurt. and so, as i was lying there, crumpled in the snow, with medical personnel working to stabilize me, and in the most intense pain that i've ever been in in my entire life, i weirdly asked one of the first responders

if he could untie my boots because my feet were... uncomfortable. and the man, he looked at me, and he looked down at my feet, and he turned back to me and said in his german accent... "your boots are already off." and my heart dropped. and it was in that moment i knew that this fall wasn't like any of the falls that i've had before. and so i was quickly rushed into emergency surgery because i had fractured and dislocated my l1 vertebrae, i had broken two ribs, punctured my right lung, bruised my kidney, and was suffering from internal bleeding. and my injury had left me paralyzed from the waist down. now, the next few months were pretty crazy. you know, a lot of it, honestly, was really a blur just because of the drugs i was on.

and we also had to relocate my hospital room just for a little bit of privacy, because of all the media attention surrounding my injury. and then there was also the acting. acting like everything was all right to my family and friends, acting like i was fine, and that i was all right. but really, i wasn't all right. and every time i was alone, all i could think about was how for 20 years, i'd dedicated my life to the sport of ski jumping. and then all of a sudden, it was gone in 20 seconds. and i went to a state of deep depression, and i began to spiral deeper and deeper into a hole. and i was filled with so much uncertainty, i realized i had to start taking control of my thoughts, because although i might not have control over my body, i still have control over my mind. and so i would do things to start helping me out.

and i would post things on the wall in my hospital room, inspirional quotes thataid things like, "when life gives you lemons, add tequila and salt." (laughter) and then my teammates, and the very inappropriate magazines th they sent me, they would even sneak beer into the hospital for us whe i was still in the i.c.u. (laughs) we were just trying to make the best of the situation that we were in. and it was right around this moment, right around this time, when one of my dearest friends, jess, who was also our team's physical therapist, she said to me, "nick, this injury doesn't change who you are, "and you can still do whatever it is y want to do. you might just have to do it slightly differently." now, i still had my doubts, though, and i wanted to believe her. but really, i was just thinking she was just telling me some of that motivational bs.

however, it got me thinking. i am an athlete at heart and i need to be active. but i have no clue what sports are available, let alone what sports i can even do. and that's when a lot of people just started offering me suggestions. whether it was, you know, wheelchair basketball, or, or hand-cycling, or adaptive alpine skiing. but besides from ski jumping in the winter, i really love to water ski in the summer, and so i started to look fo. however, due how recent my injury was, my doctor was very reluctant. but after a bunch of poking and prodding, and i'm sure annoying the heck out of him, he finally gave in and gave me the okay. and then just six months after my injury, the next thing i know, i was sitting on top of this seven-foot-long, one-and-a-half-foot-wide adaptive water ski in the middle of this lake in mississippi being towed behind a boat,

and it just feels amazing, having my ski gliding across the glassy surface of the water, making these long and beautiful carving turns. i just feel like i'm flying again. and i realized that this is perhaps one of the best days that i've had since my injury back in austria. and when i return home from that trip down in mississippi, i finally realize for the first time what it was that jess was really trying to say to me in the hospital. that i can do things. i just have to do them differently. in fact, i have to do a lot of things differently as i adjust to my new life. whether it's learning how to drive a car with adaptive hand control or when i go out with my friends, and there're steps leading up to the bar. (chuckles) but what i didn't realize, and what i didn't know, when i came back from that trip,

was that just two years later, i would be representing the united states again at a world chaionship, but this time as an adaptive water skier. thank you. (cheerand applause) ♪ it's 2015, and i'm watching "dancing with the stars" with awe and amazement at the dance, but with a little wistfulness, because, alas, that could never be me. and now, i'm too old. and i'm also far too sick. i get up, and i'm moving across my living room, clutching onto furniture just to get my balance.

and i feel so tired, absolutely exhausted. because the medicine which is keeping me alive after breast cancer is making me feel like i'm 90 years old. every muscle and bone in my body is aching, and i'm in such pain. what kind of a life is this? you need to understand that in 2009, i was the woman who had everything-- health, wealth, and happiness. i'd been riding high as a successful businesswoman, and my marriage was very happy. and now, i have nothing. my husband died of brain cancer. and i had to empty out most of my retirement savings

st to keep the company alive. and now, have advanced breast cancer, unable to run the company, and so it was sold recently in a fire sale just to avoid bankruptcy. how do you start your life over at 69 years old? and what's even the point of living? being with my husband in heaven looks a whole lot more appealing. i get to my bedroom, and i sit on my bed, and through my tears i turn my eyes up to heaven and i ask, "why did you have to die? we were so happy." and the reply comes back, as incomprehensible as ever, that i have a job left to do on earth.

but what? now, you may find it a b weird at i talk to my husband, but aftehe died, he showed me in ways that i couldn't argue with that he was still very much alive. but just not here on this earth. months passed, and i was exercising by walking around my house to music, and i put on a slow rumba, and i was swaying to and fro to the music. and i lifted up my arms as if to simulate dancing with my husband. and then, i felt his presence, and as tears rolled down my face, i hear his voice. "honey, you should go and learn how to dance." me, dance? i still have neuropathy in my feet, a leftover from chemo.

i have no balance to speak of, and i'm still in constant pain. yes, i am making slow progress, but my will to live is more like a flicker, not a burning flame. but i didn't forget the advice from heaven. and so, ju before christmas in 2016, i enrolled in dancing lessons at a local studio. now, i was justifiably very nervous, because i'd had a whole lifetime of thinking that i couldn't dance. now, sometime in the middle of my first lesson, my instructor looked at me with amazement, and said, "are you sure you don't have any dance experience?

because you're a natural." oh, it felt wonderful to move to the music! and although i know i didn't look like a contestant on "dancing with the stars," i really did feel like one inside. and when i went to my car that evening, i could feel the constriction in my throat, and a tear came to my eye as i heard my husband's voice saying, "merry christmas, honey. this is my gift to you." now, i wish i could tell you that my road to becoming a dancer was some overnight miracle. not so. but dancing became the metaphor for rebuilding my life step by step. first of all, dancing cured the neuropathy in my feet.

and then, i lost 90 pounds. and i can smile at myself in the mirror again. and, in a couple of mohs, i enter my first dance competition. (applause) i am a dancer, standing proud and tall, full of the joy of life again. (applause) ♪ the school registration was tomorrow. girls were so excited, because they could go to school after taliban regime.

i was not sure if i can go to school. my father was off-site and i was waiting for my father to come home to ask him if i can go to school, because i have polio. i'm waiting patiently. so my father walks in and he is typical afghan guy with white clothes, a vest, average height, and a beard. and then i ask dad, "father, can i go to school?" he says, "of course you can." tomorrow, next thing, we did. we went to school. every... no one pays attention to me. everyone is busy on their registration. and there's one of my father's friends comes and asks my dad, "is she going to school as well? "people will make fun of her. she shouldn't go to school." i'm behind my dad, standing, and i heard everything. as i was walking to school-- it was 30 minutes' walk, but it will take me two hours

because i was on my crutches. my siblings were ahe of me and as i'm walking, it is hot, it is so humid and i... it's hurting, people are saying horrible things to me when i'm on my way. i arrive to school, i'm happy, so i can see my friends. i will learn about my favorite subject. years later, when i go to school, i see one of my teacher talks about me, gossiping to other teachers, and say, "she shouldn't come to school. "she can learn, she can stay home "and she can read and write. and this is such a shame, the way e walks." i heard everything. it just affected me so bad, and i sat on the bench, and i cried. i had nothing else to do. i cried. that was the hardest day of my life.

i went home and i told my dad, "i'm not going to school anymore." because my dad saw me so disappointed and sad, he said, "okay, fine, you don't have to go." because i wanted to be busy, i start sewing clothes. i was not happy, that's not what i wanted to do. that's... that was not my future. i didn't like going towards unknown future. so one day my father decides and tells me that, "i will take you to school every day." so he has a bicycle. he lost his leg during russia war, so he is disabled. and he takes me in his bicycle with a wooden pad. and i sit in the back of the bicycle and i hold to him. i'm happy because i am with him, no street harassment anymore. but as i arrived to school, because my class were in a higher grade, they took my class to the second floor

and as i was walking in the hallway on my crutches, i asked my principal, "can you please bring my class from upstairs to downstairs?" she says, "no." i didn't think so, but i just wanted to ask. so i look at the stairs, and i d to decide whether want to climb the stairs or not. i decided to climb the stairs, because i want to graduate from my university and work and be independent. that was only possible for me through education. so i lean against the wall, and i put one crutch in one stairs, my two feet in another stairs and another feet in another stairs. and i pulled myself up, and i did this 30 times. i made it to the top of stairs.

i was happy. and i did this for five more years. i got full scholarship, and i came to states. my graduation day came finally and my father was watching it livestream. he was so happy d proud, and i made it through. (applause)

(druoll playg) announce at is yo name, pase? my ne is anndagg my namis anne gg. my name anne dagg. annocer: i, ne dagg,m a univerty lectur in zoogy