“If anyone knows what it’s like to be on the outside, I do. Sometimes I feel like I’m out there fighting all alone. Sometimes I feel like giving up. But, then I remember what I stand for is more important than anything else.” – Superman
Well, unfortunately I did not have one of last Friday’s winning tickets for the Mega Millions record jackpot. But it was still fun to imagine what I would have done if I did! Had I the fortuitous luck of instantly winning the big prize. I would be out scouting locations for “The Quad” accessible housing complex. In fact, I’d be putting together plans to build a dozen of them in various locales across the country. I’d write checks with lots and lots of zeros to The Miami Project, The Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation and any other worthwhile endeavor seeking a cure for paralysis. I’d purchase a state-of-the-art Lokomotor machine for Buckeye Wellness Center so all its members could begin gait training. And I would send my parents on a very long and very relaxing vacation!
But instead of springing into action with the above plans, I awoke Saturday morning knowing that my ambitious agenda would have to wait until another day. Instead, I got dressed up and went to my cousin, Stephanie’s wedding to celebrate her nuptials to Kevin. It was great to be able to see so many of my relatives together, especially those I don’t have the chance to see as often as I’d like to. It was a beautiful ceremony filled with plenty of laughter, love, and wildly entertaining children. I even managed to spin a few circles on the dance floor! My friend, Holly, was in town from Texas and accompanied me as my date. Fortunately for the other guests I didn’t roll over any toes while getting my groove on, so I guess it was a successful night all-around (with the exception of OSU losing to Kansas).
Earlier in the week while organizing a closet I came across my day planner I used for so many years to keep track of my schedule and “to do’s”. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, but I had an overwhelming urge to see what my week looked like around the time I was injured. I always had a habit of crossing off each day as it was over, and even crossing off the weekend ahead at the close of each workweek. As I looked at the two pages of little squares representing all the days of July, I noticed the first five days had been crossed off. Nothing of note was mentioned in the space that occupied July 3. Just a big “X” marking the day had come and gone just like July 4 and July 5, even though those days were still ahead of me at that time. There was nothing to signal the events that were hours away. No warning, no caution, no subtle hint that would cause me to alter my plans. The following week, starting with July 6, was clean and unmarked, waiting for me to come back to the routine I was used to. There were a few notes scribbled on the side margin – schedule a vet appointment for Kingsley, exchange my timeshare week for an upcoming trip to Destin, Kristy and I had already booked. There was even a reminder that the upcoming Friday was Bob and Amanda’s baby shower for Anna, who is now 2 1/2 years old.
I’m not sure why I felt the need to revisit the week. Was I thinking I could somehow change things? Looking at all the unmarked July days had the odd feeling of staring into the sad face of a friend after I promised to meet for lunch but never showed up. There was nothing I could do about it now. An apology wouldn’t serve any purpose.
There was July 7, though. In this space were the written words, “Pick up DC.” My reminder to pick up my dry cleaning on Tuesday. Immediately, I wanted to know if the dry cleaning ever been picked up by Kristy. But then I realized she probably had no idea I had even dropped something off. What did I drop off? I began to obsess over the mystery that may never be solved. Was it my favorite dress shirt that I haven’t thought about in the past 2 1/2 years, but now suddenly seemed like the most important article of clothing I ever owned? All of a sudden, whatever had once been waiting for me at the dry cleaner took on the magnanimous meaning of some type of some symbolic link to my past. I needed closure, so I looked up the dry cleaners in the area hoping to find some type of resolution. I called the first place and the conversation went something like this:
Me: I’m calling to see if you are holding some clothes for Fedor.
DC: No.
Me: You know, without even checking?
DC: I am only holding three things and you’re not one of them.
Obviously, this couldn’t have been my dry cleaner. Surely, my garments were too meaningful to cast aside like last week’s garbage, right? I mean, come on, it’s only been 33 months since I dropped them off!
So I called the next place and the conversation went something like this:
Me: I’m calling to see if you are holding some clothes for Fedor. It’s been a while, but I just got out of the hospital and thought I’d ask.
DC: What is your phone number?
Me: (recite my old phone number)
DC: Just a minute… You have a pair of pants that are ready for pick up.
Me: (amazed) Okay, can you hold them until next week? (What’s he going to say after nearly 3 years!)
I have no idea what pair of pants are waiting for me, or whether or not I’ll ever wear them again, but in some strange way, it just felt like I needed them, like I was supposed to have them.
Shortly after this bizarre trip down memory lane I found myself online reading about a recent study that claims, 33, is likely to be the best year of your life. The result is from a survey of people over 40 by Friends Reunited, a British website. A whopping 70 percent of people were happiest at age 33. Supposedly, at this age “we’ve had enough time to have shaken off childhood naivety without losing the energy and enthusiasm of youth. By 33 innocence has been lost, but our sense of reality is mixed with a strong sense of hope, and a belief in our own talents and abilities. We have yet to develop the cynicism and weariness that comes with later years.”
Naturally, I immediately thought back to my 33rd year of life – I was working as a vice president for a Berkshire Hathaway company, settling into a city I desired to live in and married to my best friend. Just like the study claims, my life was mixed with a strong sense of hope and belief in my own talent and abilities. However, at the age of 33 I broke my neck and was left paralyzed as a result of a misfortunate accident. Contrary to what the study cited, I developed plenty of cynicism and weariness that I have worked extremely hard to let go of. I still work hard at it.
I used to try to look for meaning in my accident. I was born on March 3 and injured on July 3, exactly 400 months. Is there some meaning to this number? So far I have yet to find any and the combination of dates has yet to yield any Mega Millions jackpots! So I’ve stopped looking for meaning and started to live with meaning. It’s a much better payoff.
Finally, there has been a lot of news lately about a guy by the name of, Janne Kouri, who also broke his neck in a diving accident. He went on to found Next Step Fitness, a fitness facility, which uses activity-based therapy, similar to what I participate in at Buckeye Wellness Center. I have posted two videos below. The first is an overview of Next Step Fitness. The second is about Janne and personal triumph.
It will take you less than 15 min. to watch both stories. I’m pretty sure the take-away will last with you much longer. You might need a few tissues after watching them.
Click to watch \”Next Step Fitness Story\”
Click to watch \”Personal Triumph\”
I pray you all have a very blessed Easter week! The Lord Is Risen and that is something we can all find meaning in! Stand Strong!
Happy Birthday Mom! Thank You and I love you!
Scott