Hailey Waldo
Reporter@greenepublsihing.com
For Malcom Wingfield, resilience is something he learned over time, shaped by where he came from, the challenges he pursued and the recovery he continues to work through today. After a sudden injury that left him in a coma, partially paralyzed and facing a long uncertain recovery, his path shifted into a long recovery that tested both his physical and mental strength.
Wingfield was born on Nov. 19, 1994, in Philadelphia, Pa. and raised in Madison. “I was born in Philadelphia… I trickled down from Chicago to North Carolina, then I finally ended up in Madison,” Wingfield said, describing the path that eventually led him to graduate from Madison County High School (MCHS). He spent over two decades living in Madison, before deciding to enter the military. His introduction to the military came unexpectedly. “When I was at MCHS my senior year in 2013, the recruiters came and I wasn’t thinking about it at all… I didn’t even know there was a difference in the branches,” he said. But one moment stood out. “I saw them in their uniforms and this Marine walked by and they all looked at him a certain way… there’s a reason they did that.”
That curiosity turned into interest. “I was watching YouTube… looking at all the branches, and the Marines stood out, it wasn’t the same,” he said. “Their demeanor, what they stood for, it wasn’t the same,” he added, explaining what drew his attention more deeply. He began to notice differences not just in appearance, but in the mindset and expectations, which made the Marines feel like something more than just an option. What drew him in was the challenge. “They were the hardest, most physically demanding… I truly wanted to challenge myself.” When he went to enlist, he was told he wasn’t ready. “They said I was overweight… I had to lose at least 150 pounds and the recruiter said I wouldn’t be able to do it.”
Instead of walking away, Wingfield committed to the process. “I was tired, I was extremely tired and I never took any days off… all I cared about was proving them wrong,” he said. His routine became repetitive and demanding, centered entirely around reaching that goal. Days blended together with little rest, and his focus remained fixed on meeting the requirement. “Even the last day before I went to the recruiter, I didn’t go to sleep at all, I was still running to get that weight off,” he added.
While he now recognizes the risks in how far he pushed himself, at the time it represented determination and a refusal to accept limits placed on him. By March 10, 2014, he had made weight and entered boot camp. Over time, what started as a challenge became something more to him. “I fell in love with it… it wasn’t an interest until it turned into a dream I didn’t know I had. I felt at home there. I wanted to do 20 years or at least until they kicked me out.”
He served for six years in the Marines before his life changed unexpectedly. After returning to North Carolina, following a military operation, he recalls, “I just blacked out… and then they never really told me what happened.” “I was the last one there on the base” he added, describing how sudden the moment felt. The moment itself remains unclear to him, something he describes as sudden and without warning, making it even more difficult to process afterward.
The last thing he could recall, he was loading up weapons into a training vehicle. When he woke up, he was disoriented. “I woke up and thought everyone was in my room… and I didn’t even realize I wasn’t talking because I had lost the ability to talk.” As he became more aware, the reality set in. “I realized it was a hospital room… I was trying to move and I didn’t even realize I was paralyzed. Once the morphine wore off, I realized I wasn’t dreaming, and I was in unimaginable pain.”
Before those early stages of recovery began, the extent of Wingfield’s injuries revealed just how serious his condition was. He suffered a traumatic brain injury along with fractures to his C1 and C2 vertebrae, injuries that affect the upper spine and are critical to basic movement and stability. He also experienced a brainstem injury that led to right-sided paralysis, known as hemiplegia, along with nerve damage and hearing loss. Internal injuries added to the severity, including damage to his organs that resulted in the removal of his spleen, as well as a left kidney hematoma and lung contusions. During his time in recovery, he also endured a heart attack, difficulty swallowing and required a feeding tube and other complications that affected his ability to function independently.
The early stages of recovery were especially difficult. “The first two months were definitely the worst. I couldn’t tell anyone the pain I was feeling… or that I needed to use the bathroom or was choking,” he said. “I almost choked to death a few times… I had a call button but I couldn’t press it. By luck someone always walked in.” Without the ability to communicate, even routine moments became unpredictable and, at times, dangerous. “I went from being strong and independent, to now needing help constantly,” he added. Wingfield relied heavily on the presence of others, which made even basic needs feel uncertain. With limited movement and no way to communicate, even time itself felt different. “Since my neck was broken, I couldn’t even look around, or at the TV. The only time I got to see something other than the ceiling was when I was turned to the side… I could wave my hand, that was the most entertainment I got.”
The moment he spoke again came suddenly. “One day, I was choking and just blurted out ‘help’… and everyone freaked out because I was talking, but in the moment, I just needed help.” That moment stood out because it happened out of necessity, making the return of something he had lost without realizing it. Even after regaining his voice, the mental toll remained. “I told them ‘I don’t want to be here no more’… I couldn’t live in this much pain for the rest of my life.” Yet, through it all, Wingfield remained resilient.
Progress came gradually. “I kept moving one of my hands… and wondered what’s wrong with this one?” as he began to understand the extent of his paralysis. Wingfield was diagnosed with hemiplegia, a type of paralysis that affects only one side of the body. Despite setbacks, he stayed focused on improving. “I told my physical therapist I’m gonna do this no matter that,” Wingfield said. Small steps followed. “I was able to stand on a walker for the first time… everyone was surprised I was even able to move.”
Those moments built toward something bigger. “Four months later, I was able to walk again and I went to surprise my family, I didn’t tell them right away until I walked to visit them” he said. Everyday experiences began to take on new meaning. “I hadn’t drunk water with my mouth for over a year… I started crying,” he said. “Just the feeling of water—I didn’t even know I took it for granted.” Even going outside became significant. Wingfield recalls one snowy day in the hospital when he was allowed to go outside. “I went outside with just a tank-top, the doctor thought it was brain damage, but I wanted to feel the cold.” In moments like this Wingfield realized how much he had taken for granted. “Before I’d always try to be warm when it’s cold, or cool when it’s warm, but I wanted to just feel the cold air. Imagine being on your back for over a year just staring at the ceiling, I can barely describe the feeling when I as finally able to go outside.”
During his recovery, Wingfield also connected with others. “I went around to other people’s rooms in my wheelchair and checked on them and we all became friends,” he said. One moment stood out in particular where Wingfield met a paralyzed 10-year old boy. The boy asked Wingfield, “How did you learn how to walk again’… I told him I don’t know how to tell you, but I can show you.” Before Wingfield was transferred, he watched the boy walk again, as he was leaving the hospital.
After more than a year in the hospital, Wingfield was transferred to a rehabilitation program in Tampa. “That program focused on Veterans learning to live again outside of the hospital,” he said, where he continued rebuilding independence.
“I was in a coma for around a month… the recovery was long, I am still hurting to this day,” said Wingfield, adding that even after major milestones, the effects of his injury never fully went away. “I didn’t recover till around the two and a half year mark… I missed a lot in that time, alone.” Adjusting back to life came with its own challenges. “When I was able to walk… I went to go swipe my card and they told me to insert my card chip, and I said ‘what chip?’” he said. “Things like that, and then Door-Dash came, Uber, all these new things. I had no idea what was going on.” Even outside the hospital, the world felt unfamiliar. “People graduated, people had kids, I had no idea what was going on.” Wingfield continued to struggle, trying to catch up to a life that had continued without him.
He explained that accepting that lost time was one of the harder parts of recovery, learning to move forward without being able to go back. “If I let it hold me back I never would’ve gone back to school, never would’ve loved my mom the same way or never would’ve had my final moment with her before she passed away,” he said, adding that his experience ultimately changed how he valued his relationships and made every moment more meaningful.
Today, Wingfield lives in Gainesville, Fla. and is continuing forward. “Now I go to school… I’m graduating from Santa Fe Community College next semester,” he said. He works in nutrition and is pursuing motivational speaking, while also sharing his experiences through his book, Me Against Me: Not All Storms Come to Disrupt your Life, which has reached an international audience, permanently earning its place in the London Book Fair Book Gallery, in Olympia, London. The event is one of the most anticipated book fairs on the calendar, bringing together thousands of professionals from across the globe. Wingfield’s book is avalible for purchase on Amazon, where he dives deeper into his loss, self-transformation and personal resilience, all framed around the saying, “Not all storms come to disrupt your life… some come to clear your path.” His book continues to gain momentum and recognition within the global literacy community. He is also preparing for an interview spotlight, “Inside the Author’s World”, with Logan Crawford. “I saw life in a whole different way, I’m more appreciative of all the things I lost” reflecting how his perspective has shifted since his recovery.
Recovery, he said, is still ongoing. “I’m hurting still… sometimes I can’t even sleep,” and there are difficult days. “There’s days I sit there and can’t believe I went through that… sometimes… I just want to give up.” Even so, Wingfield’s focus remains on moving forward. “I remind myself of what I have in front of me… how can I move forward if I’m looking behind.” That mindset continues to guide him, especially on days when progress feels slower or more difficult to recognize.
“I cope with it by staying busy,” Wingfield said, describing how he manages the long-term effects of his injuries. “I have the worst days when everyone is used to seeing me up, but I continue feeling down” he said. He explained that while those moments can be difficult, he’s found ways to keep moving forward. “I really like running, believe it or not, it helps clear my mind… I listen to music and play the piano, too,” he said, adding that staying active gives him structure and balance. He also spends much of his time with his family. “I really like working with my brother… I like finding new ways to interact or do something new,” he said.
Wingfield’s story reflects the impact of persistence through long-term recovery. His experience shows that progress can come slowly, but it is possible. “I can still say I got through it,” said Wingfield, setting an example, he hopes, that others will follow and keep going even when the path forward feels uncertain.