“Saint Adjutor, pray for us.”
Life happens. It happens fast and unpredictable. I am constantly reminded of this. I’ve had the good fortune of meeting many great people since my accident, many of whom I probably would have never met had I not been injured. However, most of these initial meetings involve conversation around my situation and story. In some ways, I am constantly reliving my past and never fully able to move on. People I meet want to learn about me and hear about my situation — how I have been able to adapt and move on with life. I am certainly open to helping others learn from my experience, but at the same time it often seems the more I talk about it the more I find it difficult to really move on and distance myself from what happened. I certainly don’t ever want to forget what has happened, but I also don’t want it to keep me from moving forward in a productive manner. The transition into the apartment has been great and introduced me to many new people, i.e. caretakers, but also been spent recounting the events that have transpired over the past 20 months of my life.
I enjoy being in my own place, but in a strange way am frustrated by it. There are constant reminders that although I am “home”, things are not the same as they were when I was last home, before my injury. I sleep on a hospital bed, constantly aware of its motor humming as it shifts air throughout the mattress relieving pressure points from various parts of my body. Over the bed hangs a hoyer lift which is supported by poles running from the ceiling to the floor on both sides. It is used to physically move me into the wheelchair that is parked next to the bed 24/7, and ever present reminder that I can no longer use my own muscles to transport me from Point A to Point B. Once I am in my chair it takes some careful maneuvering to squeeze through the narrow hallway and into the living room a few yards away. The living room is spacious, not because it is large in size, but rather because there is limited furniture so that I have room to move around. There is a workstation against the wall where I can work on the computer. It’s not the old looking mahogany desk with a plush leather chair that used to sit in my home office — this one is an adjustable table that looks more like something you might find at IKEA. It raises up and down to accommodate my wheelchair and allow me to do weight shifts every 30 minutes so that I can stave off pressure sores. Next to the workstation is a large standing frame. It sometimes can be an ordeal to get me into this machine so that I can stand on my own 2 feet (with plenty of support brackets) for as long as I can tolerate — sometimes it’s only 20 minutes before I grow tired. There is a very small patio I hope to spend time on once the warmer weather gets here. I am glad I am in this apartment and not a nursing home. But I can’t help to look around and wish I was surrounded by my furniture of yesterday rather than these “home living” contraptions of today. Life happens, and my new home is a reminder of what has happened in my life. I am not trying to sound blue and depressed, just intending to give a glimpse of what my new transition brings with it.
It also brings with it a much more relaxed and comfortable environment. My apartment has its own kitchen where my family and friends can prepare meals at our own pace. Meals that we can enjoy with wine, laughter and plenty of relaxation. There are comfortable couches, large TVs and beautiful scented candles to provide all the creature comforts of a home. Often at times there are cats running around freely, perched on windowsills or hiding under beds. There is even the occasional yelling for each other from room to room. Yes, my new home also has plenty of features reminding me of my old home. Sometimes I feel like a living paradox — a person unable to move who still feels and thinks he can; an individual longing to continue on with the way life was before my injury when it is clear that it is more different than ever. It truly is fascinating to contemplate the paths we find ourselves on throughout our life.
Indeed, life happens. It can surround us with its beauty and overwhelm us with its chaos. It can throw a lot at us and leave us with a sense of drowning, gasping for breath, desperately trying to keep our heads above water as we try to make sense of it all.
But life can give us so many great gifts — the love of family and friends; the beauty of a summer day; innocent laughter of a child; strong inner will to keep going when times are tough and to never, never give up… even after you’ve drowned.
I had a great gift in the form of a nice visit from Katie this past Sunday, who brought along one of her eighth-grade students, Hanleigh, who is preparing to make her Confirmation this Thursday. They brought me communion to receive since I was not able to get out to church. I am fortunate I have been able to receive communion every Sunday for the past year or so. The three of us talked about Hanleigh’s preparation to be Confirmed. For those of you who are not familiar with this sacrament, one of the steps involved is to choose a Confirmation name, often that of a saint. The young girl shared with me one of the more unique names that one of her fellow classmates has chosen. The example she gave me was that of Saint Adjutor. At the time, I laughed at the unusual sounding name and the fact that the student who chose it probably did so because it was so unusual. It wasn’t until I received an e-mail from Katie later that night that the saint’s name took on a new meaning. Katie, intrigued by the curious sounding name as well, went home and looked up some information about him. Imagine my surprise when I received an e-mail from her informing me that Saint Adjutor is the patron saint of swimmers, boaters and drowning victims. Yes, there is actually a saint for drowning victims. I think Katie and I were both a little oddly freaked out that young Hanleigh mentioned the name of a saint to me that she found unique, not knowing who he was or whom he protected.
I have a new favorite saint to pray to. And in times when I find myself agitated I will call on St. Adjutor. It’s good to know that whether we feel like we are drowning in life’s day-to-day challenges or have literally drowned, there is a saint watching over us!
Thanks to everyone for your prayers and support!
Scott
Hey, Scott:
Yes, that paradox of moving forward and taking the self, developed in the past, along. Each of our days contributes to who we are and I work to accept all of them and be grateful for them, even if they brought pain, because they all are a part of this very moment.
Your life wil evolve, no doubt, because you will not stay stuck. You exemplify gratitude, reality and hope.
Wonderful posting. So glad that you can express your true feelings. I think it probably helps you. Sounds like there is much good to be had in your new apartment.
God continues to bless you.
Love,
Cherry
Hey Buddy,
I read your entry today and have two things for you.
I am named after my Uncle Alex who was killed in Vietnam. I read the link and what you said about St. Adjutor. Him throwing his chains in the water to stop a whirlpool, the miracles even after he died. Funny that his saint’s day is April 30th. That is the day my uncle was killed in Vietnam.
Second thing. I know people will probably “keep wearing you out” about the ya know. But…remember. In life we have to be patient and understanding. Think of someone who is born with a terrible birthmark on their face (i have known more than 1) or some kind of subtle thing that is NOT noticeable, like this little girl my friend is a caregiver for. She thinks, talks, and seems 100% just like any other girl. But she cannot move her body normal, almost like someone with cerebral palsy, but not noticeable. She will try to run or do something impulsive like any other little girl but then totally wipes out, often hurting herself. My point is, people are people. We have to forgive people who live “without compassion”. Forgive them and teach it to them. Because in life, sometimes the greatest people are “made”. You will “make” so many people better.
Remember, how people act is their karma. How you ‘react’…that is yours.
http://giverny.org/vernon/stadjgb.htm
Here’s a link for those who’d like to learn more about your saint.
Dear Scott,
I first heard of your existance from your Dad at St. Joseph’s 7:00AM daily Mass.
He was trying to be strong but cried as he petitioned God to protect his son Scott, who was just in a swimming accident …they were not sure if he would live. We all lifted you up in prayer.
Since then you have been in my daily prayers.
Last May 28th ( my husbands and my 44th Anniv) I received the news that I had stage 4 pancreatic cancer.
I chose not to undergo any treatment.
It has been 10 months of almost pain-free living and I have no explanation for why I am still here. I am a faith filled woman and I know we are in exile here on earth and the Divine in me wants to go home…the mother in me wants to be here with my husband, children, grandgirls and friends.
Dear friend…my soul was sincere when I asked God if it were possible that I would freely give my full and fruitful life inplace of your youth and your yearning for life.
God is God and in loving Him I can only offer Him my plea.
I have been trying to live the Latin words that Fr. Kevin shared at the beginning of the year ..”Hodie”..TODAY.
For TODAY I was fighting lonliness ( even though I am surrounding by many loved ones ). For TODAY I chose to look at the miracle of the day and for TODAY I can offer you my spirit of love and ask God’s blessing upon you.
For TODAY I offer up in God’s name…a man I never met…his name is Scott.
I certainly did not intend for this to be about me but as you have shared your life you has touched many souls…and mine was only one.
I thank you for sharing your inner most thoughts, disappointments, dreams, hopes and day-to-day life.
Dolores
I can understand the frustration of finally being in the situation you hoped for- in an environment that seemed”normal”, yet being so frustrated because the new normal is so different. Move on you will- because that’s who you are. We, too, must stop dwelling on the past and be excited with you for the future and all that you will do with it.
My continued love and prayers. How was your first Board Meeting?
Aunt Marilou
This post was moving in so many ways (as always). I’ll put a line in to St Adjutor for the tsunami victims and their families as well as you this week. Also, glad your new home is filled with so much love and support for you. One of my favorite movies is Under the Tuscan Sun. It has some great undercurrents about appreciating what life gives you. (Fair warning, it is a chick flick if you decide to watch it). One of my favorite quotes from it came to mind while reading your post. Diane Lane says it as a vo as she is moving in to a new home, and exploring it’s quirks and delights and it says, “Go slowly through the house. Be polite, introduce yourself, so it can introduce itself to you.” Enjoy getting to know your new home, personally. umm…and go Wildcats.
Dear Scott, I understand the mixed feelings of coming home.
It was 2 years ago in this month that Dave came home from 4 months of rehab.
The excitement and hecticness of getting ready things in order leaves little time to prepare for some of the changes and “contraptions.”
It seemed like the things we thought would be the easiest were the most difficult and the hardest were the easiest.
A severe health set back a few months later was sobering and a bigger change than breaking a neck.
We still try to make the best of each day.
I don’t worry about that happening to you because you are younger and in good shape.
I was very moved by the story of the Saint. Life has many quirks doesn’t it?
My husband fell from an apple tree and broke his neck. The perfect home for us turned out to be on Appletree Lane.
If you find the Saint for tree fallers let me know!
Keep writing Scott. We wish you well.