With your dad, was an actual fracture or what? Did they not see it, or he didn't feel it until later? Just wondering how it went undiagnosed.
The character is the type of guy to be like "no no I'm fine," and just continue powering on through his life until he crashes. At the point when my story starts, he's hit that wall and is still in total denial.
I'm not totally clear on how it all went down with my dad, because I was only 8 when it happened, and he's pretty fuzzy on the details (was on very heavy painkillers in the hospital). But from what I understand, they did X-rays of his back and didn't see anything, and he didn't have paralysis or any obvious symptoms.
He was so badly injured otherwise, though, that they only gave him a 10 percent chance of making it off the operating table...and there were other obvious things, like his left ear being partially detached. So it's possible that they missed something. When he developed the arthritis ten years later and had MRIs done, the doctor told him he had the spine of a 90 year old, many of the discs were almost touching!
My dad's exactly the same as your character--my cousin went for a hot air balloon ride about a week after Dad got out of the hospital, and we were on the chase crew. The company also offers skydiving. Dad hobbled up to the guy in charge, still on crutches, unable to put weight on his left leg at all--and completely seriously, not being facetious, asked if he could go skydiving the next day! Years later, he sprained his ankle a few hours before we left for a vacation in Atlanta. He climbed Stone Mountain two days later, wearing a walking cast.
Just keep in mind that if your guy's stubborn like that, he'll still be the same way even after the health conditions kick in. Two years ago, now 100 percent disabled from osteoarthritis, Hep C and COPD, and bearing two shiny new stents in his heart, Dad had the opportunity to touch a glacier when we were in Alaska. So off he went across three glacier streams, using his cane to measure the depth. He once had a psychologist tell him, "You know, sometimes you're going to do something and it's going to hurt like hell. But it'll be so worth it." Dad was in pretty severe pain while crossing those streams. But he kept yelling out, "It's so worth it! It's so worth it!" Your guy will likely feel the same.
I love
Raventongue's ideas as well. My mom had chronic fatigue syndrome for several years before she passed of sleep apnea. She had pretty much every symptom on the list, as well as narcolepsy. It's a pretty nasty condition, and frustrating as hell for someone who's used to being alert and active all the time.
ETA: Dad used a travel scooter for a long time after he was diagnosed. But a little over a year ago, he saw the head neurosurgeon at Shand's in Gainesville, FL. He said that there's no real cure except major back surgery, which might or might not work, but Dad's spine is stable and he's not going to break or damage anything. Between that and having his new primary care doctor prescribe Arthrotec (a miracle drug that's not narcotic), Dad has pretty much abandoned his scooter and is getting more exercise than ever. So your guy's likely to "give in" at first, fearing massive damage, but if a doctor gives him an all-clear, then even if he hurts, he'll do stuff anyway.
Also, when Dad first got his stents, the doctor told him to take it easy for the first few weeks until his body adapted. Knowing his love of theme parks, the cardiac nurses gave Dad specific instructions to stay off of roller coasters until his next appointment. Dad spent the night at the hospital, got out and went straight to Disney (the hospital was 20 minutes away). He called the cardiac nurse's station to check in, and got the "stay off the roller coasters" lecture again. So he tried to convince them to let him ride Tower of Terror. "But it's not *technically* a roller coaster." This was his second cardiologist, by the way. The first one told Dad he's "not normal" when he asked about roller coaster BEFORE the stents were put in, when he had a 99 percent blockage in the widowmaker artery.