- A surprise helicopter joy flight over Uluru ended in a devastating crash that left Jay with a spinal cord injury and multiple broken bones
- Doctors warned he had a slim chance of walking again and a high chance of being a paraplegic
- Despite still needing braces and crutches, Jay is back on his feet with his family by his side
Here Jay Stevens, 37, from Sydney, NSW, tells his story in his own words
‘Be safe and have fun,’ my wife Melissa, then 39, kissed me goodbye as I left to catch a flight.
It was January 2018, and Melissa was staying at home with our son Kai, 18 months.
Working in the medical tech industry, I was heading to Yulara in the Northern Territory, for a three-day conference.
Employees that’d hit their sales targets, like I had, would be rewarded with a surprise gift on the trip.
Sitting down to lunch the next day in the conference centre, the reward was revealed – a 15-minute joy flight around Uluru.
Scheduled for the last flight of the day, I’d see the sunset and then have a starlight dinner in the desert.
That sounds incredible, I thought.
Meeting my colleagues Ben and Deb in the lobby, we were ferried out on mini- buses to the take-off area.
There, we stepped inside a shipping container office to be weighed. 92 kilos, the scales read.
‘My wife would be happy with those numbers,’ I joked with Ben.
I’d thought I was closer to the 105-kilo mark, but didn’t think much of it.
Jumping into the seat behind the pilot, I buckled up and pulled on a headset.
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Then getting out my phone, I filmed the take-off.
Seconds later, an alarm blared, but with the propellers chopping through the air loudly, we barely even noticed.
I looked over at the pilot and he seemed unfazed.
He knows what he’s doing, I thought.
As the helicopter continued to climb, the cabin began shaking.
Turbulence, I reasoned.
But with every metre we climbed, the worse it became.
Suddenly, the cabin stopped shaking… and the propellers stopped turning.
We were high in the air, over sand dunes.
‘We’re going down!’ the pilot yelled.
Grabbing the pilot’s chair in front of me, I braced for impact.
I’m going to die, I thought.
Someone screamed, then everything went black.
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When I came to, my seatbelt had snapped and I’d been catapulted to the other side of the cabin, landing on Ben’s lap.
And as my shaken colleagues climbed out of the destroyed helicopter, which was now lying on its side in the red dirt, I realised I couldn’t feel anything from my chest down.
‘Help, I can’t move!’ I screamed.
With thick smoke billowing around me, green liquid began dripping on my forehead.
Moments later, I felt myself being lifted from the wreckage by Ben.
Incredibly, he had come away with a concussion, the other passenger Deb had a few broken bones, while the pilot and I both suffered spinal cord injuries.
People watching from the office rushed to our aid, along with a doctor and a police officer.
‘Sorry guys!’ the pilot shouted between his shrieks of agony, still strapped into his seat.
Within an hour, he was airlifted to Adelaide.
I was still lying on the dirt track, ants crawling over me, as Ben stomped the ground to keep snakes away.
Feeling like my chest had caved into the ground under me, I closed my eyes as I struggled to breathe.
Who will look after Melissa and Kai if I die? I feared, trying to breathe through the pain, still unable to feel anything from the chest down.
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I can make it out of here alive, I decided.
Four hours passed before a 4WD ambulance arrived at our remote location.
The drive across the rocky terrain was brutal, and my back jarred with every bump, but finally we were on the regular roads to Alice Springs hospital.
Scans showed I had a burst fracture in my spine, incomplete spinal cord injuries, eight broken ribs, a broken sternum, broken hips and shrapnel wounds to my right foot.
I was taken into surgery to repair the spine fracture.
My colleagues called Melissa who jumped on the next flight, arriving the next day.
My parents looked after Kai while she spent the next fortnight at my side.
Doctors explained the implications of my injury.
There was a slim chance I could learn to walk again, and a high chance I would live the rest of my life as a paraplegic.
I couldn’t believe I’d been paralysed by a gift.
After five weeks, I moved to the Royal Rehab hospital in Ryde, NSW.
‘I’m here to walk,’ I told my specialists, who were planning to teach me how to navigate life in a wheelchair.
‘You’re not going to walk again,’ one doctor told me.
I was determined, but after four months of tireless rehab, it felt like I wasn’t getting anywhere.
What kind of father am I going to be? I thought,only able to lift my right lega centimetre from my chair.
Back at home, Melissa and I hoped for a miracle.
The Australian Transport and Safety Bureau found that the Professional Helicopter Services scales were under-reading the passengers’ weights.
It meant the helicopter operated at a higher than planned weight, which increased the risk of the chopper not achieving its usual take-off performance.
It was gutting to hear the inaccurate scales had been identified as a safety issue.
As a result, the company introduced a calibration schedule for its scales.
Melissa and I welcomed our son Taine into the world in December 2018, and my determination to walk was further strengthened.
Pushing myself every day, I was over the moon when I took my first steps on crutches in July 2021.
Although I still can’t feel my left leg, and use braces and crutches, I’m now able to walk alongside my beautiful family.
With them, I can do anything.
