Saturday, October 22, 2011
Six Years On
I'm lying in bed, warm sheets pulled up around me, lost in a dream...one where I'm hiking the trails in the Porcupine Mountains with my friend Mark Hatfield. (Mark and I actually hiked in this region of Michigan's Upper Peninsula when we were in high school. This is where we lost our food to a black bear and had to hike 14 miles on an empty stomach, but that's a story for another time...if I haven't already told it. I've been writing this blog for almost six years now, and it's hard to remember what tales I've spun.) This dream is a little bit different than the actual experience. As I'm climbing over an outcropping of rock to get to the top of a cliff, I hear Mark tell me to be careful of my footing, then laugh. I look down and realize that he's laughing because I'm not actually climbing, so much as hovering in front of the rock face and using my arms to steady myself as I rise. There appear to be small jets attached just above each ankle and the jets are allowing me to float high above the ground. The legs look nothing like the prosthetics that I currently have.
These are made of a shiny metallic material that looks black, but gives off shades of purple, red, and dark blue as they catch the light. There are no shoes at the end, rather a solid looking foot made out of the same material, with five long almost bird like talons instead of toes - clearly meant to add stability and traction. The legs feel super light; I can't feel where my body ends and these semi monstrous, yet eerily elegant limbs begin. As I pull myself over the edge of the cliff I watch the little jets at my ankles retract into my calves and my feet settle to the ground. I am immediately shocked to feel the ground beneath my feet. I turn to look back over the edge at Mark, down below, and am amazed to discover that my legs and feet aren't reacting to what my upper body is doing; they are moving independently based upon my thoughts!
"Come on! Throw down the ropes so the rest of us can get up there! We don't have much time left." There is a sense of urgency to his voice. That's when I realize that we aren't alone. I can see other people starting to emerge from the edge of the tree line at the base of the cliff. Mark's wife Lauren approaches him, barefoot as always, and waves up to me. "Well, will we be safe up there?" she calls out. She looks stressed. Both of them also look older than they should. Then a young man, maybe 16 years old, and a young woman who looks to be about 18 step out of the trees.
In this world I have never met them, may not ever, but in the dream world I recognize them immediately. The boy carries in his hand the very same bow and quiver of arrows that I had when Mark and I backpacked through this mountain range during our youth. I can tell by the distinctive coppery color of their hair that these are my children. Then, my heart catches as the woman who I instinctively know to be their mother steps partially into view. She has long dark hair, delicate looking porcelain skin, and a slender build. Her mere presence causes me to hold my breath in anticipation. She is just lifting her face to look up at me when I feel something furry rub against my cheek, then something pulls on the hair of my goatee.
The dream shatters before I can get a clear look at her. I'm in darkness, there is a chill to the air around my face but my body is nice and toasty in the sheets and blanket. Where was I? Something furry rubs up against my cheek again. Then I hear a timid "meow" and feel the cat nibbling at the chin hairs of my goatee. Another furry rub across my face and I pin the cat beneath my arm. I become aware of birds chirping outside my window. I open my eyes to the faint, surreal light of dawn. As I sit up the days light is already beginning to intensify and I'm keenly aware of what morning this is. For most of the world it's just a day, which in someways makes today feel like a birthday, because for myself and those closest to me it is the six year anniversary of the accident.
On Saturday October 22nd, 2005 I left work around 8pm and had the misfortune to cross paths with a sixteen year old girl who had only had her license for 20 days. The next morning Pastor Kevin Armstrong would begin the worship service at North United Methodist Church with an announcement that I had been in a tragic car accident and that I was currently in surgery at Methodist Hospital, a surgery that was expected to last until about noon that day. (Six years later and there are still tears streaming down my face as I type this, though the tears are not for what I've lost, but for the life I've gained and the support I've received along the way.) Kevin asked the congregation for ministry through prayers and additional support for my family. Later in the service Pastor Sharon White led the congregation in a special prayer for my healing and survival.
About four months after the accident I asked for a recording of that worship service. That tape has been sitting in my room, untouched, for six years. Believe it or not, I still have a cassette tape player in my house (which has also been untouched for at least six years). Today, for the first time, I finally wanted to listen to the service. It was beautiful, and helped me enter a period of reflection on what this day now means for me.
Each year I have taken the time to sit down and share, through this blog, my thoughts and feelings on this day. Reflections on how the accident has shaped my life and the perceived lessons that help me carry onward. During the weeks preceding "Survival Day" as my father seems to have named it, I tend to think about what I will write and have a solid idea before the actual day arrives. This year has been different, I've been struggling for inspiration, which may be partly why I chose this day out of the 2000+ days that have passed since the accident to listen to the worship service from October 23rd, 2005.
What makes this year different, is that with each year that passes my life becomes more "normal" and it grows more difficult to see how much has changed from one year to the next. There have definitely been some new adventures. I've travelled more this year than I have since the pre-accident days. I'm more comfortable with my current situation than I've been in years. My independence has been restored and I feel in control of my life. Another shift, which is evident if you read the older anniversary posts (2010, 2009, 2008, 2007, 2006), is that on this day my thoughts no longer turn toward what I have lost. Rather, I find myself thinking about the progress that I've made and (based on this morning's dream) what the future holds...
What does this day represent for me? It is no longer the day that I lost everything; it is the day that I didn't die, that I survived and gained new life. Traumatic events have a tendency to cast long shadows, but if we take a step back and look at the other side of the coin, we will also find a shining light of hope. We determine what these moments in our lives will mean to us. Think about the moments in which your lives have been changed, be it through the loss of a loved one, the ending of a relationship, losing a job, the loss of limbs, etc...these are your "Survival Days". When that day comes, reflect on all the positives that came before and raise your eyes to the future, to a time when life will seem "normal" again. My life has become "normal" again, and tonight I ask that you to share a toast with me to my Survival Day!
(Now, where can I find that woman from my dream...?)
These are made of a shiny metallic material that looks black, but gives off shades of purple, red, and dark blue as they catch the light. There are no shoes at the end, rather a solid looking foot made out of the same material, with five long almost bird like talons instead of toes - clearly meant to add stability and traction. The legs feel super light; I can't feel where my body ends and these semi monstrous, yet eerily elegant limbs begin. As I pull myself over the edge of the cliff I watch the little jets at my ankles retract into my calves and my feet settle to the ground. I am immediately shocked to feel the ground beneath my feet. I turn to look back over the edge at Mark, down below, and am amazed to discover that my legs and feet aren't reacting to what my upper body is doing; they are moving independently based upon my thoughts!
"Come on! Throw down the ropes so the rest of us can get up there! We don't have much time left." There is a sense of urgency to his voice. That's when I realize that we aren't alone. I can see other people starting to emerge from the edge of the tree line at the base of the cliff. Mark's wife Lauren approaches him, barefoot as always, and waves up to me. "Well, will we be safe up there?" she calls out. She looks stressed. Both of them also look older than they should. Then a young man, maybe 16 years old, and a young woman who looks to be about 18 step out of the trees.
In this world I have never met them, may not ever, but in the dream world I recognize them immediately. The boy carries in his hand the very same bow and quiver of arrows that I had when Mark and I backpacked through this mountain range during our youth. I can tell by the distinctive coppery color of their hair that these are my children. Then, my heart catches as the woman who I instinctively know to be their mother steps partially into view. She has long dark hair, delicate looking porcelain skin, and a slender build. Her mere presence causes me to hold my breath in anticipation. She is just lifting her face to look up at me when I feel something furry rub against my cheek, then something pulls on the hair of my goatee.
The dream shatters before I can get a clear look at her. I'm in darkness, there is a chill to the air around my face but my body is nice and toasty in the sheets and blanket. Where was I? Something furry rubs up against my cheek again. Then I hear a timid "meow" and feel the cat nibbling at the chin hairs of my goatee. Another furry rub across my face and I pin the cat beneath my arm. I become aware of birds chirping outside my window. I open my eyes to the faint, surreal light of dawn. As I sit up the days light is already beginning to intensify and I'm keenly aware of what morning this is. For most of the world it's just a day, which in someways makes today feel like a birthday, because for myself and those closest to me it is the six year anniversary of the accident.
On Saturday October 22nd, 2005 I left work around 8pm and had the misfortune to cross paths with a sixteen year old girl who had only had her license for 20 days. The next morning Pastor Kevin Armstrong would begin the worship service at North United Methodist Church with an announcement that I had been in a tragic car accident and that I was currently in surgery at Methodist Hospital, a surgery that was expected to last until about noon that day. (Six years later and there are still tears streaming down my face as I type this, though the tears are not for what I've lost, but for the life I've gained and the support I've received along the way.) Kevin asked the congregation for ministry through prayers and additional support for my family. Later in the service Pastor Sharon White led the congregation in a special prayer for my healing and survival.
About four months after the accident I asked for a recording of that worship service. That tape has been sitting in my room, untouched, for six years. Believe it or not, I still have a cassette tape player in my house (which has also been untouched for at least six years). Today, for the first time, I finally wanted to listen to the service. It was beautiful, and helped me enter a period of reflection on what this day now means for me.
Each year I have taken the time to sit down and share, through this blog, my thoughts and feelings on this day. Reflections on how the accident has shaped my life and the perceived lessons that help me carry onward. During the weeks preceding "Survival Day" as my father seems to have named it, I tend to think about what I will write and have a solid idea before the actual day arrives. This year has been different, I've been struggling for inspiration, which may be partly why I chose this day out of the 2000+ days that have passed since the accident to listen to the worship service from October 23rd, 2005.
What makes this year different, is that with each year that passes my life becomes more "normal" and it grows more difficult to see how much has changed from one year to the next. There have definitely been some new adventures. I've travelled more this year than I have since the pre-accident days. I'm more comfortable with my current situation than I've been in years. My independence has been restored and I feel in control of my life. Another shift, which is evident if you read the older anniversary posts (2010, 2009, 2008, 2007, 2006), is that on this day my thoughts no longer turn toward what I have lost. Rather, I find myself thinking about the progress that I've made and (based on this morning's dream) what the future holds...
What does this day represent for me? It is no longer the day that I lost everything; it is the day that I didn't die, that I survived and gained new life. Traumatic events have a tendency to cast long shadows, but if we take a step back and look at the other side of the coin, we will also find a shining light of hope. We determine what these moments in our lives will mean to us. Think about the moments in which your lives have been changed, be it through the loss of a loved one, the ending of a relationship, losing a job, the loss of limbs, etc...these are your "Survival Days". When that day comes, reflect on all the positives that came before and raise your eyes to the future, to a time when life will seem "normal" again. My life has become "normal" again, and tonight I ask that you to share a toast with me to my Survival Day!
(Now, where can I find that woman from my dream...?)
Friday, October 07, 2011
Seeing the Soul Within
Ok, so at the end of my last post I hinted that in this new update I would be talking about finally finishing a 20 year old project. However, so much has happened over the past few weeks that I think I'll save that little anecdote for later. If you've been reading my recent posts, then you are aware that InclusionFest happened on Saturday, September 17th. (At the end of my last update I also promised that there wouldn't be anymore stuff about fundraisers for about a year, but it just wouldn't be fair for me to leave you in the dark about how it went!)
I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that everyone involved with planning InclusionFest was biting their nails the night before the event. It could either be a huge success, or a monumental flop. When I arrived at the park at 8am I was happy to see a large tent already standing in the lawn near the community center. There was a crowd of people waiting for volunteer orientation to begin. Vendors and Artists were starting to arrive, and as 10am rolled around there was a small crowd starting to gather at the registration table. InclusionFest began with a proclamation from Mayor Ballard officially making the day a "Day of Inclusion"! Then the Wheel-A-Thon began with people, wheelchair users and non-wheelchair users alike, wheeling through the park and stopping at fun, educational, "pit stops" along the way.
The weather was perfect and as the day wore on the musicians arrived, and more people joined us to celebrate, observe the sports demonstrations, visit the vendor booths, and attend workshops. One of my personal favorites was the Beep-ball Baseball demonstration. They even allowed sighted people to put on a blindfold and experience it for themselves. I'll never forget watching Bruce Armacost, a close family friend and neighbor, hit the ball and then (with the blindfold on) turn the opposite direction from the base (which was emitting a sound similar to that of an insect) and start running toward English Avenue. Everyone laughed as I yelled out "someone who is sighted go get him before he runs out into the street!"
InclusionFest was a tremendous success! We managed to create a fun, educational, event and raised much needed funds for accessABILITY at the same time. Our low end goal was to raise $20,000 in unrestricted funds for the organization, and our high end goal was $25,000. At the end of the day we managed to raise just over $27,000, with expenses around $3000, we came in just under the high end goal! This wouldn't have been possible without the support of many of my friends and family, and I want all of you to know how much I appreciate it!
Just as I was starting to recover from InclusionFest (I was on my feet much more than usual, and while it wasn't a problem at the event, my body punished me with aches and pains for the next several days!), I took a trip to Cincinnati for the World Burn Congress. The World Burn Congress is an annual convention, hosted by the Phoenix Society, for Burn Survivors. I had heard about the event for a couple of years, but it's just not the type of thing that I would normally spend money to do, so had never attended before. This year, my friends at Community Tissue Service invited me to attend as their guest. I had no idea what to expect and, as always, wasn't looking forward to being away from home, but I'm so glad I went!
When I arrived at the hotel I had the usual conversation with the Valet attendendant about the fact that they can't park my car (due to the hand controls), and arranged to park my car someplace relatively close to the front entrance. After I checked in, I headed over to the elevators where I found a large crowd of people waiting to head up to their rooms. A woman wearing a Phoenix Society t-shirt separated herself from the group and came over to give me a hug and welcome me. I did not know this woman, but thanked her, and asked "why the hug"? She responded "we hug every first timer!"
Now, I'm not sure how she knew that I was a "first timer", as I hadn't even registered with the convention yet. (After you register you're given a name badge, and all "first timers" have a heart on the name badge to identify them.) Clearly my prosthetics tipped her off to the fact that I was a burn survivor. We waited for the elevators for several minutes, but there was an event starting on the 3rd floor and the elevators just weren't making it to the lobby. Finally a staff member offered to take myself, and several others, up on the staff elevator. As we loaded onto the elevator I received several more hugs! It was a little strange, but I got used to it pretty quick.
After dropping my things off in my room, and checking to make sure I would be able to get into the bathroom with my wheelchair (they had only put a "request" on my reservation for an accessible room, and none were available), I headed back down to the lobby to meet my dear friend Kelly Clements (who lives in Cincinnati) for dinner. (For the record, I had to call the front desk to have maintenance remove the bathroom door so that my wheelchair could fit through the doorway, and to have them bring up a shower chair, which was already supposed to be in the room. I also had to have housekeeping remove a rollaway bed from the room, which, clearly, was not supposed to be there. However, I should note the the hotel went the extra mile by installing a hand held shower head, before my arrival, that normally wouldn't be in the room!) Again, I found myself waiting for several minutes for the elevator to arrive. I passed the time by chatting with a woman who was also waiting on the elevator with her 6 year old son (who also happened to be a burn survivor). As soon as I mentioned that I was also attending the Burn Congress her son turned around from the window and ran straight towards me, arms wide, to give me a hug!
The next morning I headed over to the convention center in my wheelchair (the distance was just too far for me to walk and not be uncomfortable for the rest of the day). Even with all the hugs from the night before, I still didn't know what to expect. I met my friend Tammy, from CTS, and headed into the ballroom for breakfast and to hear the opening keynote speaker. I found myself in a room full of hundreds of burn survivors, adults and children alike, many of whom had horribly disfiguring scars, missing noses, ears, fingers, hair, limbs, etc. Now, I've seen many patients in the burn unit with injuries as bad and much worse than mine, but I've never been with so many burn survivors at once. It was disturbing at first, at once hard to look at and hard to look away, but within a few short minutes I realized that none of it mattered.
Over the next two days I would sit in on emotionally challenging open mic sessions where fellow burn survivors would share their stories. I attended workshops and met people from all over the world. I had breakfast with a family from Beijing, China and had lunch with a Nun and her Insurance Agent who were from Ghana, Africa. (The Insurance company was sponsoring the Nun's, attendance at the Burn Congress and had sent her Agent along as her travel companion. Clearly the African insurance companies want to do more for their clients than the American insurance companies!) The environment was so open, welcoming, non-judgemental, and safe that you could sit down next to a perfect stranger and start up a conversation; finding common ground in our vastly different injuries and the stories behind them. As I spoke with these people, and watched the way everyone was interacting with each other, I realized what made it so easy for us to be together.
We weren't seeing the scars and the missing limbs, and all of the surface things that can easily make others uncomfortable. We were all seeing the souls within the people around us. (I'm reminded of Yoda's words, "luminous beings are we, not this crude matter...") Once you focus on that, you'll find that a person's physical presence really doesn't matter. So, the next time you find yourself interacting with someone who's appearance, movement, etc., you find difficult, or possibly even painful to look at, take a second look and see the soul within. Find that spark of the divine that makes us unique individuals, and yet profoundly connects us to one another at the same time. That is where a persons true beauty lies and if you can learn to see that in everyone, especially those that society might otherwise shun, you'll be amazed at the impact you can have on them, and they will have on you!
I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that everyone involved with planning InclusionFest was biting their nails the night before the event. It could either be a huge success, or a monumental flop. When I arrived at the park at 8am I was happy to see a large tent already standing in the lawn near the community center. There was a crowd of people waiting for volunteer orientation to begin. Vendors and Artists were starting to arrive, and as 10am rolled around there was a small crowd starting to gather at the registration table. InclusionFest began with a proclamation from Mayor Ballard officially making the day a "Day of Inclusion"! Then the Wheel-A-Thon began with people, wheelchair users and non-wheelchair users alike, wheeling through the park and stopping at fun, educational, "pit stops" along the way.
The weather was perfect and as the day wore on the musicians arrived, and more people joined us to celebrate, observe the sports demonstrations, visit the vendor booths, and attend workshops. One of my personal favorites was the Beep-ball Baseball demonstration. They even allowed sighted people to put on a blindfold and experience it for themselves. I'll never forget watching Bruce Armacost, a close family friend and neighbor, hit the ball and then (with the blindfold on) turn the opposite direction from the base (which was emitting a sound similar to that of an insect) and start running toward English Avenue. Everyone laughed as I yelled out "someone who is sighted go get him before he runs out into the street!"
InclusionFest was a tremendous success! We managed to create a fun, educational, event and raised much needed funds for accessABILITY at the same time. Our low end goal was to raise $20,000 in unrestricted funds for the organization, and our high end goal was $25,000. At the end of the day we managed to raise just over $27,000, with expenses around $3000, we came in just under the high end goal! This wouldn't have been possible without the support of many of my friends and family, and I want all of you to know how much I appreciate it!
Just as I was starting to recover from InclusionFest (I was on my feet much more than usual, and while it wasn't a problem at the event, my body punished me with aches and pains for the next several days!), I took a trip to Cincinnati for the World Burn Congress. The World Burn Congress is an annual convention, hosted by the Phoenix Society, for Burn Survivors. I had heard about the event for a couple of years, but it's just not the type of thing that I would normally spend money to do, so had never attended before. This year, my friends at Community Tissue Service invited me to attend as their guest. I had no idea what to expect and, as always, wasn't looking forward to being away from home, but I'm so glad I went!
When I arrived at the hotel I had the usual conversation with the Valet attendendant about the fact that they can't park my car (due to the hand controls), and arranged to park my car someplace relatively close to the front entrance. After I checked in, I headed over to the elevators where I found a large crowd of people waiting to head up to their rooms. A woman wearing a Phoenix Society t-shirt separated herself from the group and came over to give me a hug and welcome me. I did not know this woman, but thanked her, and asked "why the hug"? She responded "we hug every first timer!"
Now, I'm not sure how she knew that I was a "first timer", as I hadn't even registered with the convention yet. (After you register you're given a name badge, and all "first timers" have a heart on the name badge to identify them.) Clearly my prosthetics tipped her off to the fact that I was a burn survivor. We waited for the elevators for several minutes, but there was an event starting on the 3rd floor and the elevators just weren't making it to the lobby. Finally a staff member offered to take myself, and several others, up on the staff elevator. As we loaded onto the elevator I received several more hugs! It was a little strange, but I got used to it pretty quick.
After dropping my things off in my room, and checking to make sure I would be able to get into the bathroom with my wheelchair (they had only put a "request" on my reservation for an accessible room, and none were available), I headed back down to the lobby to meet my dear friend Kelly Clements (who lives in Cincinnati) for dinner. (For the record, I had to call the front desk to have maintenance remove the bathroom door so that my wheelchair could fit through the doorway, and to have them bring up a shower chair, which was already supposed to be in the room. I also had to have housekeeping remove a rollaway bed from the room, which, clearly, was not supposed to be there. However, I should note the the hotel went the extra mile by installing a hand held shower head, before my arrival, that normally wouldn't be in the room!) Again, I found myself waiting for several minutes for the elevator to arrive. I passed the time by chatting with a woman who was also waiting on the elevator with her 6 year old son (who also happened to be a burn survivor). As soon as I mentioned that I was also attending the Burn Congress her son turned around from the window and ran straight towards me, arms wide, to give me a hug!
The next morning I headed over to the convention center in my wheelchair (the distance was just too far for me to walk and not be uncomfortable for the rest of the day). Even with all the hugs from the night before, I still didn't know what to expect. I met my friend Tammy, from CTS, and headed into the ballroom for breakfast and to hear the opening keynote speaker. I found myself in a room full of hundreds of burn survivors, adults and children alike, many of whom had horribly disfiguring scars, missing noses, ears, fingers, hair, limbs, etc. Now, I've seen many patients in the burn unit with injuries as bad and much worse than mine, but I've never been with so many burn survivors at once. It was disturbing at first, at once hard to look at and hard to look away, but within a few short minutes I realized that none of it mattered.
Over the next two days I would sit in on emotionally challenging open mic sessions where fellow burn survivors would share their stories. I attended workshops and met people from all over the world. I had breakfast with a family from Beijing, China and had lunch with a Nun and her Insurance Agent who were from Ghana, Africa. (The Insurance company was sponsoring the Nun's, attendance at the Burn Congress and had sent her Agent along as her travel companion. Clearly the African insurance companies want to do more for their clients than the American insurance companies!) The environment was so open, welcoming, non-judgemental, and safe that you could sit down next to a perfect stranger and start up a conversation; finding common ground in our vastly different injuries and the stories behind them. As I spoke with these people, and watched the way everyone was interacting with each other, I realized what made it so easy for us to be together.
We weren't seeing the scars and the missing limbs, and all of the surface things that can easily make others uncomfortable. We were all seeing the souls within the people around us. (I'm reminded of Yoda's words, "luminous beings are we, not this crude matter...") Once you focus on that, you'll find that a person's physical presence really doesn't matter. So, the next time you find yourself interacting with someone who's appearance, movement, etc., you find difficult, or possibly even painful to look at, take a second look and see the soul within. Find that spark of the divine that makes us unique individuals, and yet profoundly connects us to one another at the same time. That is where a persons true beauty lies and if you can learn to see that in everyone, especially those that society might otherwise shun, you'll be amazed at the impact you can have on them, and they will have on you!
