The RoundHouse | 12/12/2022 9:45:00 AM

After roughly eight hours immersed in the waters of a drainage ditch, Pat Wilson estimated six minutes or so remained. The muddy water filled the cab of his 2022 Toyota Tacoma. He needed to escape.
 
He flipped off a bridge late that rainy night in May, likely disoriented from a brain tumor doctors would soon discover. His truck landed upside down in the water on a country road west of El Dorado.
 
Wilson quickly cut himself free of the seat belt with the blade in the Leatherman Multi-Tool he carries. He held his breath and ducked under the water, pushing aside the tattered air bag floating in his way, as he searched the extended cab over the next few hours in search of his tools and an exit. He found a tire iron and used it to try to break the passenger window, with little success.
 
Wilson coaches pole vaulters at Wichita State and vaulted for the Shockers from 1993-97. There is danger in pole vaulting, as Wilson describes it, that moment of decision when an athlete hurls their body into the air propelled by a fiberglass pole.
 
With the cab filling with brown, cold water, Wilson reached that decision point again.
 
"It's the fear factor," he said. "You're coming down the runway and the warning alarm is going off in your head. You've got to decide that you're going to do it. That's what I did with that window. I didn't have enough air left. I decided to really get aggressive."
 
That is how his family and friends know him, how he grew up roaming the family ranch, hunting, fishing and learning how to handle precarious situations. His mother remembers finding him climbing to the top of a two-story scaffolding attached to the house around age 5. He loved wrestling and pole vaulting, pursuits that reward toughness, individual motivation and more than a bit of daredevil spirit.
 
"He didn't have much that he was afraid of," said Annie Wilson. "Probably, it's just as well I didn't always know everything he was up to."

 
Wilson used his right elbow to free himself. Perhaps the spider-web cracks started by the tire iron helped. Wilson knows his elbow did most of the damage and it took repeated blows.
 
"I hit that window as many times as I could, as hard as I could," he said. "It finally shattered. The doctors couldn't believe that I didn't break my arm. My whole arm was purple. Extremely bruised."
 
He tried to ignore a water snake that swam past during his escape. He pulled himself out of the water using tree roots on the bank. He walked to a farmhouse and the residents gave him a ride to his family's 1,400-acre ranch northeast of Leon.
 
Later that day, a CAT scan found a mass in Wilson's frontal lobe, soon diagnosed as a glioblastoma, an aggressive type of cancer that "can be very difficult to treat and a cure is often not possible," according to the Mayo Clinic.
 
Wilson returned to coaching in August after brain surgery and weeks of chemotherapy. An infection sidelined him again in early September before he returned to work with his pole vaulters later in the fall. He is currently on sick leave while he undergoes more chemotherapy treatments. On his head, he wears an Optune, a device which sends an electrical pulse targeted at the brain to make the chemotherapy more effective by slowing cell division.
 
"I really miss coaching and I really miss being at practice," he said. "I really care about those kids."
 
Wilson spoke to the team in the early fall at the request of Steve Rainbolt, director of track and field. The meeting answered questions about Wilson's health and moved the athletes and coaches.
 
"We have tremendous love and admiration for Pat," Rainbolt said. "It's deeply meaningful to see how he is handling this. I pray for him daily and I'm pulling for him."
 
In early November, Wilson hunted and shot a deer to fill his freezer with venison. Hunting is one of the activities he can turn to during treatment and while he is away from the Shockers. He hunts with long-time friends who are prepared with his seizure medicine.
 
"That's something that really lifts my spirits," he said. "Luckily, I've got several friends who are willing to go sit in the blind with me."
 
Wilson is realistic – and optimistic – about his prognosis. He believes a positive attitude will help him fight.
 
"I know if you Google it, it's not good," he said. "I wake up, literally, first thing is that I'm thankful I saw the sun come up again. I don't know where this is leading. I know what doctors will tell you."
 
He follows support groups on social media. He hunts with friends. He believes diet and enthusiasm can improve the prognosis.
 
"In support groups, I want to be the guy chiming in and commenting "Hey, look at me," he said. "That's what encourages me. I do believe in strong resolve. If you want something bad enough you can get the results you want, if you're totally committed."
 
His time coaching the Shockers lifted his spirits early in the fall. He worked with pole vaulters briefly helped with cross country team's pre-season retreat. He made plans for his athletes, as he does each season since joining the coaching staff in 2006. He met his newcomers.
 
Wilson's plan to deal with the cancer draws upon his athletic background and echoes the way coaches challenge and encourage their athletes.
 
"He talks with a competitive tone," Rainbolt said. "It's inspirational for me to see him and talk with him about the things he's doing to try to compete with this."
 
Wilson considers coaching the best job in the world. He loves working with young people and feeding off their energy and enthusiasm. His parents are Wichita State alums, and the university is long a part of his life.
 
"It felt so good to be doing what felt normal," he said. "I'm constantly looking for familiar things that are encouraging. The best medicine is to do what you like to do and keep your spirits up."
 
This ordeal gave Wilson another way to lift his spirits, a reconnection with the Catholic religion of his youth. The story of Fr. Emil Kapaun, a United States Army priest who died in a prisoner-of-war camp in 1951 in North Korea, grew in significance for Wilson.
 
During his surgery, Wilson said he felt a calm that he attributes to the priest.
 
"There was certainly a presence and a comfort and serenity I couldn't describe," he said. "I really felt like somebody was with me."
 
Wilson was familiar with Kapaun's story because of one of the miracles credited to him.
 
In 2008, Hutchinson Community College pole vaulter Chase Kear fell while practicing. The fractured skull and brain swelling threatened his life. Wilson visited the hospital to pray for Kear. The family credits prayers to Fr. Kapaun pulling Kear out his nonresponsive state.
 
Wilson attended the Tallgrass Film Festival earlier this fall to watch "Once Was Lost: The 70-Year Search for Chaplain Emil Kapaun," a documentary about Kapaun's life and quest for sainthood.
 
"(Kapaun) told his men – 'I'm going to a place I always want to go. I'll pray for you,'" Wilson said, remembering watching the film in the Orpheum Theatre. "I felt such a connection in this moment. I couldn't help but wonder if it was him."
 
One of his cousins carried a cross with Wilson's name emblazoned on it to the church in Pilsen, Kapaun's home. Wilson plans to visit Kapaun's remains, located at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in downtown Wichita since 2021.
 
"(The documentary) really impacted Pat," Annie Wilson said. "How strong (Kapaun) was and what a good, good person he was. If he's done one miracle, maybe he'll do another one."
 
 Paul Suellentrop writes about Wichita State athletics for university Strategic Communications. Story suggestion? Contact him at paul.suellentrop@wichita.edu.