It’s taken a lot of time, but the lights are finally set up. The cameras are tested, each moving up and backward, anticipating the group’s movement. Trash bags filled with balloons sit off to one side, and clients and team members begin filtering into QLI’s Gait Lab. After a few minutes, a couple on the team are given confetti cannons, and QLI’s Director of Creativity Jon Pearson runs through a rehearsal of the photo–directing everyone to come around the mark in the middle of the floor, through which client Ellie Alberty will emerge, in the Ekso Bionic exoskeleton, guided by physical therapist Paul Cipriano. As Ellie emerges in the middle, the team and clients begin to cheer, as the confetti is fired and the balloons fill the space. The purpose? On the surface it’s a photo shoot for a postcard, one to be sent out to donors, thanking them for their dedication to the mission, and the personal impact of the support they’ve given through the years. But this runs much deeper than that. They aren’t just celebrating for the sake of the camera—it is a celebration of how far Ellie has come.
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“Yellow.” Ellie pauses, smiling. “That’s the kind of color that resonates with me and my personality. I like to bring a light into the room.” For Ellie, that’s been the impression she’s made on others her whole life. It’s a trait that is so ingrained it’s impossible to focus on when it first shined through. It simply was always part of her. Further, she takes great interest in others—her family and friends mean the world to her, a tenet exemplified in her room at QLI—pictures of her with her boyfriend Caleb, their two dogs Rexy and Teddy—even having a blanket with some of the same pictures imprinted on it.
Ellie loves to immerse herself in the nature. Though, she notes with a laugh, “I’m more of a glamper.” Above all, however, was the opportunity to express herself through arts and crafts. This was not just a hobby, but one that translated to Ellie’s livelihood. “Post-COVID,” she says, “I needed a change of pace
—something fun, something happier. I saw that one of the bridal shops in my hometown of Springfield, Missouri was hiring—so I applied.” As a bridal stylist and seamstress, she could exact that passion.
She recalls the past summer, hanging out with friends, when, “I dove in. I’ve been a swimmer all my life, and I’ve dived into that exact depth of water a hundred times, but this one, I just made a mistake.”
Following a three-week acute care stay at Cox Hospital in Springfield, Ellie arrived at Shirley Ryan Ability Lab in Chicago for five and a half weeks, making progress, but the pangs of homesickness grew louder every passing day. “The team at Shirley Ryan and others wanted me to come to QLI, but I wanted to be back with my friends and family—so I went home, and it probably was not my best choice. I realized that I was not improving in my recovery. It was both unmotivating and depressing to not be able to do anything for myself.
So the conversation picked up once more—and in October 2024, after two months at home, Ellie arrived at QLI. “There’s something to be said about individuality,” says Ellie, “that when you have people simply taking care of you, some of that is lost. But when you work with others to start doing certain things for yourself that you weren’t able to, it is a link to the total independence you had before—you are that same person.”
While Ellie always desired to be home with friends and family, she found that the real-world and home-like atmosphere at the core of QLI allowed for a better transition for a variety of reasons. A house setting with peers, all working towards a variety of goals in their recovery, meant that Ellie could flourish, seeing ways to do for herself while receiving support as she learned and progressed. But there was another element—not what could QLI could provide for her, or collaborate with her on—but rather what she added to the environment.
“It’s like Norm on Cheers,” jokes Life Path specialist Kevin Houston. “When Ellie comes into a room, everyone there changes in a positive way, you see the attitude and the atmosphere lift. It’s a better place for her, and in turn, she’s made QLI a better place.”
Ellie had a couple of months to determine what she wanted to achieve and this was fueled by Kevin simply asking her, “What do you love to do?” The answer, of course, rested in her artistic passions, Ellie wanted to get back to painting and sewing. She knew what she wanted to do. Now it was up to the team to work with Ellie to implement therapeutic modalities to help her figure out how to do them.
This collaboration was like a key to a door that had once appeared locked after her injury. With this new perspective, suddenly everything was possible. She garnered a “let’s do it” mindset. “She’s never once done the ‘why me?’” says Kevin. “Ellie has never felt sorry for herself.” Even the more encompassing aspects of stopping by a coffee shop, or heading to the Joslyn Art Museum did not faze her, instead, they opened the door to showcasing how therapies come alive in a broad setting—having to transfer into
a vehicle, getting through the door of a building. At a restaurant, considering how she would navigate, problem solving if the tables are too low or too high, constantly applying a new lens onto how life is lived out, but by no means indicating that because it is different, it is therefore impossible.
“She’s motivated to have the fullest life possible,” says physical therapist Paul Cipriano. When it came to tackling things like transfers in and out of her wheelchair, in and out of her bed, and doing so efficiently and safely, Paul notes the question that always came to Ellie—“how are we going to do this?” Her strongest skill serves as an asset in these exercises, using her creativity to develop strategies and solutions to every scenario.
Having an incomplete spinal cord injury means that the chance exists for motor connections to fire once more through neuroplasticity. Her weekly sessions in the Ekso Bionics exoskeleton allow Ellie to learn to regulate her blood pressure and hone good posture, key in performing strong and safe transfers. Standing tall, even if just for an hour per week, means that Ellie and the team leave no stone unturned. “It’s 110% every day with Ellie,” says Paul. “Always accountable, always moving forward.”
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The camera clicks—the takes are done, and the cleanup is ready to begin. Ellie walks back towards her wheelchair, glowing. The photoshoot underpins the crux of Ellie’s journey and transformation. “I think I’m a lot tougher than I give myself credit for. We hear over and over again how hard recovery after injury will be and how much time it takes, but I do think it comes down to mindset. I feel like I will do great things soon, knowing I want to do them.”
