Soul Sisters: How Berta Jacobs Defied the Odds

In the days that followed, Berta lay immobile in a hospital in northern Vermont. Her neck injury was so unstable that it was unsafe for her to be transported to Boston. Her doctor informed her it was unlikely she would ever walk again. Eileen knew Berta needed to be surrounded by love and support, so she spread the word quickly. A blizzard of cards, gifts, and friends filled up Berta’s hospital room. All visitors were given strict orders from Berta herself: “I don’t want anyone coming in sad for me. I need laughs, not tears.”

Lying alone, she fought the darkness of her situation and made a conscious decision.

“If I’m sad, my whole family will be sad,” she thought. “It doesn’t help me or anybody.” It was hard and strange to rely on others for absolutely everything, even scratching her nose. She desperately craved good signs to focus on, and slowly they appeared. One day, she shrugged her shoulders, and a few days later, she moved an arm. Many of us were gathered around her bed on the day Berta was finally able to move a toe on her right foot. She had been wishing it so hard, she said, that she wouldn’t have believed it if the group hadn’t all pointed and erupted in celebration.

For five weeks, Berta had zero hand movement. But every day she spent in that hospital room, she focused on the good, on the progress, on doing a little bit more than she had done the day before. She was fortunate to have an exceptional primary nurse named Betty, who went above and beyond normal duties—even visiting on her days off to brighten Berta’s spirits.

Six weeks after the accident, Berta underwent a risky and complex seven-hour surgery to fuse and stabilize her spine. Its success allowed her to begin rehabilitation. She had to relearn how to do everything, including rolling over and crawling. With assistance, she was eventually able to stand and take a few steps. “That was REALLY exciting,” she says. That same day she was transferred to a rehab hospital in Boston.

“You have to look at the good things,” she says. “It’s okay to be sad sometimes. I’m not saying I didn’t cry a lot back then. I did. It always felt good to let it all out. But then I’d turn the page and focus my thoughts on getting better.”

In rehab, Berta saw many people who had it worse than she did—a reminder of how lucky she was. Her hospital friends organized a 5K run to raise funds for her living costs, and the Jacobs brothers followed suit with a fundraiser basketball tourney. Eileen was there by her sister’s side in every way, transporting Berta where she needed to be, coordinating visits from friends, and sorting through all the bills. Berta eagerly embraced her exercises, craving every possible sign of progress. “Every step of the way,” she said, “I felt lucky.”