Editor’s Note: This is second in a four-part series depicting the life of ISU golfer Tyler Swanson after a near-fatal car accident.

Tyler Swanson first picked up a golf club at the age of 3. He was sick and tired of staying home while his dad, Cal, escaped to the golf course for long periods. With a cut-down five-iron, a putter and a smile on his face because he loved riding in the cart, Tyler learned the game with Cal. It wouldn’t be long before the tables were turned and Cal was the one following Tyler’s 300-yard drives. At age 12, Tyler defeated Cal for the first time.

Cal hasn’t beaten him since. When Tyler qualified for the PGA Tour’s John Deere Classic in 2003, his choice of a caddy was easy.

Golf, among other things, has been a bond the two have shared throughout their lives. His mom, Cindy, always made sure Tyler got to whatever practice he needed to attend and supported him through every game and tournament. Her warm presence and smile quickly disappeared after answering the phone to every parent’s worst nightmare at 4:30 a.m. May 2.

Cindy was startled by the call and barely coherent when she answered. She had a bad feeling … a feeling that nothing good could come from a ringing phone at this time in the morning. She answered.

“Hi, I’m from Grinnell Medical Center. Are you the mother of a Tyler Swanson?”

She didn’t hesitate with her answer. She was shaking. Her heart raced. She was told only that her son had been in a very bad accident and that he was being airlifted to Iowa City.

She remembers thinking that wasn’t good enough. There had to be someone else she could talk to with more information.

“I wondered if I was really awake,” she said.

“I asked myself if this was really happening. That same feeling carried on for weeks.”

Like any parent, she wanted more information, but she was told no more was known at the time. She left her cell phone number so she could get any updates while the Swansons drove.

Within 15 minutes, the family — Cal, Cindy and their 16-year-old son Taylor — piled into the family car. What was typically an hour and a half drive from Clinton to Iowa City took an hour. Driving upward of 95 mph, Cal was trying not to exceed the governor on the family’s Jimmy. He set it off twice, causing the car to decelerate slightly before getting back to speed.

The ride was quiet, and Cal remembers Cindy telling him to slow down several times. Cindy kept telling Cal it was important that they arrive safely. Cal remembers his head going a “100 miles a minute.” Outside Coralville, the low fuel light popped on, but there was never any intention of stopping for gas. Cal whipped into Parking Lot 3 at the hospital. He wouldn’t see the car again for four days.

After entering the emergency ward and asking for Tyler, they were told to hold on for the trauma doctor to arrive. He led them into a conference room. It was occupied by someone reading, but the doctor asked the person to leave.

“He told us there was a possibility that we wouldn’t see our son alive,” Cal said.

Tyler was getting a CAT scan and X-rays to see if damage had been done to other parts of the body. Doctors agreed they would only perform brain surgery in order to save his life. If that happened, they would possibly have to go through good brain cells and Tyler might not come out right. Cal prayed.

“If it had to be that way, where they were going to have to go through good tissue, I prayed for the Lord to take him,” Cal said. “I wanted it all. I wanted him back.”

All the family wanted next was to see Tyler. The doctor suggested they stand by the elevator in the Intensive Care Unit to catch him on the way to his room. They did so and busied themselves by making phone calls to friends and family. It was all they could do. Time was passing, and questions remained unanswered.

An hour later, he came past. They had already seen the dirty clothes that were cut off his body, but nothing could prepare them for this sight. Tyler was in a medically induced coma. He had a black eye and a fat lip, and blood on his face from a cut around his temple. He had tubes sticking out of what seemed like every orifice.

“We kissed him and told him we loved him,” Cal said. “His heart monitor bounced up after that, and we didn’t see him again for another couple hours.”

By Sunday afternoon, word of the accident had spread to Ames and Clinton, and the waiting room filled with family, friends and teammates there to offer strength and support. Cal, Cindy and Taylor wouldn’t leave the Intensive Care waiting room often during the next two weeks, but they were fortunate to have people arrive non-stop with food and good wishes.

“We didn’t have a lot of idle time, and that helped a lot because that made no time to think bad thoughts,” Cindy said.

Head men’s golf coach Jay Horton was one of the first people Cal called early that morning, and he relayed news of the accident to the men’s golf team and to Tyler’s roommates and girlfriend.

Even with finals less than a day away, the whole team was present that afternoon. ISU Athletic Director Bruce Van De Velde, several players from the women’s basketball team and a couple of coaches, friends and athletes in other sports were on hand to offer support. Tyler’s girlfriend at the time, ISU volleyball player Katie Jessen, also made the trip.

Cindy, still thankful for all the support, easily understood why Tyler liked Iowa State so much.

“It’s like an extended family,” she said.

The news got worse on Monday. Tyler’s brain had swollen to a dangerous level. Cal and Cindy knew it was inevitable that at some point they would be asked to make a tough decision. Doctors were discussing a lengthy surgery that would take out the front-right part of his skull. They were hopeful the decision would help remove some of the pressure on the brain. Cal and Cindy placed their faith in the doctors. Doctors came out of the long surgery saying it was a success. Cal and Cindy were told there was a 50-50 chance Tyler would live an unassisted life.

“You don’t know my son,” Cal told the doctor. “If you give me 50-50 odds, I have a lot better odds than that.”

The surgery allowed Tyler’s brain room to swell, but shortly afterward he contracted a fever that lasted five days. Doctors conducted a spinal tap, and Tyler was diagnosed with spinal meningitis. Five antibiotics later, it was under control.

Those closest to Tyler aren’t surprised he persevered. They describe him as a tough-minded, stubborn individual whose competitive nature was unparalleled. All those qualities, along with a smooth swing and putting stroke, helped Tyler reach the pinnacle of his young career just eight months before the accident. At 19 years old, he shot even-par for two days to became the first amateur to make the cut in the history of the PGA Tour’s John Deere Classic.

Paul Niedermeyer, Tyler’s golf coach at Clinton High School, recalls his final round in the 2001 Class 4A state golf tournament.

“He had nine birdies, and it was about a 30 mph wind with a wind chill that was probably in the low 40s, at best,” Niedermeyer said. Tyler would go on to win the state title by 11 strokes, and as Niedermeyer put it, “He still owns about every record we’ve got.”

Instead of using the word “unbelievable” as his coach did to describe the state championship, Tyler will tell you it was just another tournament and that he got lucky for two days, and that was it.

Those personality traits could help Tyler fight through the coma and make it out of the hospital. He would make a recovery, but would he ever live on his own? Could he return to school? What about golf — would he ever pick up a club again?

Many questions remained.