I was 17 years old and in my senior year of high school when a semi-truck turned left directly in front of my motorcycle. There was no time to react. One second I was living the life I loved, and the next I was fighting for my life.
I flatlined for seven minutes.
By the grace of God, I was brought back, rushed into emergency surgery, and placed into a coma. That coma lasted two months.
I had suffered more than 30 broken bones and would eventually undergo 22 surgeries. My doctors spent months trying to put my body back together. I also suffered a traumatic brain injury and was permanently paralyzed on the right side of my body above the waist.
It was waking up.
One of the hardest parts of my recovery wasn't the number of broken bones or surgeries. When I finally came out of my coma, I didn't recognize my own family. I didn't recognize my dad. I couldn't speak. I couldn't take care of myself. I didn't understand what had happened or why my life was suddenly so different.
I spent another two months in the hospital after waking up, bringing my total hospital stay to about four months.
Being active was who I was.
Before the accident, I never had to think about what my body could do. I climbed rocks. I played soccer. I ran. I surfed. I skated. I skied. I spent hours in the gym. I played competitive pickleball. I lived for the outdoors and the feeling of pushing myself physically.
Then I lost so much of that overnight. I had to relearn things most people never have to think about, and learn how to live in a body that no longer worked the way it used to: pain, weakness, paralysis, scars, and the lasting effects of a traumatic brain injury.
But the physical recovery was only part of the battle. I was trying to figure out who I was without the life I had always known. For a long time, I felt like I had lost myself.
I didn't want my story to end there.
So I started looking for answers.
I became obsessed with learning about recovery. I researched different therapies, technologies, and approaches that could potentially help my body and brain heal. That search eventually led me to hyperbaric oxygen therapy.
I don't believe HBOT is a magic cure, and I don't believe one treatment can undo an accident like mine. But I can tell you what it meant to me personally. I believe HBOT played an important role in helping me get my brain back. I remember what it felt like to experience more clarity and to start feeling like myself again. It gave me hope that I could do more than simply survive what happened to me.
I realized that recovery isn't always about one major breakthrough. Sometimes it's about finding every tool available, putting them together, and giving your body and mind the best opportunity possible.
That is why I started Peak Recovery.
I know what it feels like to desperately want your life back. To wake up and realize your body isn't working the way it used to. To be frustrated, scared, exhausted, and unsure of what comes next. And I also know what it feels like to find something that gives you hope.
Whether you're an athlete trying to perform at your highest level, someone recovering from an injury, or simply someone who wants to feel better and take their health seriously, I want Peak Recovery to be a place where you feel supported, educated, and encouraged to keep moving forward.
I'm not here because I have all the answers. I'm here because I've been through something that changed everything. I'm still recovering. I'm still learning. I'm still pushing myself.
It's not just about getting back to where you were. It's about finding out what you're capable of becoming next.
Luca
Gianluca "Luca" Lo Russo · Founder, Peak Recovery
Luca's experience is his own and is not a promise of results. HBOT at Peak Recovery is offered for general wellness and is not a substitute for medical care.