MINNEAPOLIS – The smell of hospital food lingering in the air, the sounds of nurses talking with patients and the repetitive tones of opening and closing elevator doors begin to depict the place where 22-year-old Justin Greenwood has spent the past few months of his life.

Reality sets in as you step foot off the elevator onto the fourth floor of the rehabilitation center and stroll past a few of the 30-some residents at University Good Samaritan Center, Minneapolis.

But only after entering room 412 and looking straight into his bright green eyes do you finally get an idea as to how far Greenwood has come since his Sept. 27 football accident, from which he sustained brain injuries and remained in a comatose state for 17 days.

“Not too bad,” Greenwood said Saturday afternoon when asked how he was feeling. He walked into the lounge slowly but surely, guided by the help of his mother, Glenda Greenwood.

Clad in a T-shirt, sweat pants and K-Swiss tennis shoes, he sat upright in a lounge chair, only a few feet away from his bedroom. His mother sat by his side.

Within the past week, some of Greenwood’s vision has started to come into focus, although things remain “dark and blurry,” he said. Even so, he still is able to see faces.

“He was reading words yesterday with Josh,” Glenda Greenwood said. Josh is Greenwood’s older brother, a senior at UW-Eau Claire.

“They’re about as close as two brothers could possibly be,” said senior Mike Lansing during an interview later that afternoon. Lansing was a linebacker, with Greenwood, on the Eau Claire football team.

“He’s one of my best friends,” said Lansing, who is close to Greenwood’s brother as well.

Josh Greenwood loves to come visit his brother, lay down next to him on the bed and “b-s” with him just like they used to before the accident, Glenda Greenwood said.

“He’s got a real empty spot in his heart right now,” Glenda Greenwood said of her elder son. The boys were roommates before Greenwood was injured.

Each year in the United States, an estimated 1.5 million people sustain a traumatic brain injury, which is eight times the number of people diagnosed with breast cancer and 34 times the number of new cases of HIV/AIDS, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Greenwood said he has no memory of the late-September accident. When he initially woke up in the hospital, the first thought that came to his mind was, “How the hell did I get here … what the hell happened?” he said.

Senior Nels Fredrickson, who played quarterback for the football team, said Greenwood was running down the field on a kick-off when a player came and hit him from the side.

“It was a clean shot,” Fredrickson said. “When he came off the field, it looked like he was dazed. Then he said, ‘What the heck is wrong with me.’ ”

Lansing, who was on the field and saw the hit on film as well, agreed with Fredrickson and said it was a freak accident.

According to the CDCP, an estimated 300,000 sports-related brain injuries of mild to moderate severity occur in the United States each year.

“I’m still alive though,” Greenwood said.

“That’s even more triumphant than a victory in football,” Glenda Greenwood added.

Her son agreed.

As Greenwood’s eyes grew drowsy, his mother explained how Saturdays and Sundays are her son’s lazy days. But during the week, his days are filled with therapy sessions.

“By nighttime, I’m tired already,” Greenwood said.

He’s beginning to build more strength and has started to lift weights periodically, he said.

“I talked to him yesterday for a while,” Fredrickson said Saturday afternoon. “He’s actually sounding like himself now … he’s asking questions.

“I hope and pray to God that he does come back 100 percent. People have … I really hope he does.”

Lansing said he can’t believe how far Greenwood has come since the accident.

“My dream is that he can someday be everything he once was,” Lansing said.

Fredrickson said Greenwood was, by far, the football team’s best athlete and suited for playing in a different league, such as Div. 2.

When asked whether he would ever want to play football again, Greenwood said, “Maybe … it would be nice.”

Glenda Greenwood said she often looks over at her son and wonders what is going through his mind.

“It just doesn’t feel real,” Greenwood said in reference to his day-to-day life. “It’s like it’s a dream.”

The next step for Greenwood, his mother said, is to begin visual therapy at the Philips Eye Institute in Minneapolis. Once he is able to do more things on his own, he will be moved to the Courage Residence in Golden Valley, Minn.

“We know we have a long road though, don’t we,” Glenda Greenwood said as she looked at her son. “But that’s all right.”

Greenwood smiled and replied, “Yeah, it is.”