scorp67's journal

Thank you, ChefPB, for your interest in me. This journal entry is for you. I know that you visited my website so I apologize for the following quote, but I think if anyone else reads this journal entry they may not understand what it’s about if I do not begin with . . . well, the beginning. With that said, I now quote my website:

“I am a 35 year old quadriplegic. I've been paralyzed 15 years and I've been playing computer games for 20 years. My level of function is around c5-c7. My right arm is c5; I have some use of my biceps and shoulder. My left arm has considerably more function: wrist, biceps, and shoulder. I haven't any finger usage on either hand. As for the details that brought me to where I am today, after I broke my neck (car accident) I went to school for several years until I received my all mighty masters degree in literature -- a very useful degree, I might add (sarcasm?). I designed simple websites for a couple years, and I wrote a few short stories and a novella.”

At some point, I would be interested to read what you have to say about how your accident changed you.

Funny that you ask this question, ChefPB. In therapy I was told repeatedly that I had not changed, that I was the same person I was before I was crippled. But I believe they tell you this to comfort you, because it is not true—you have to change . . . if you do not, you die. You may not die in the literal sense, but pieces of you die, some slowly, some instantly. You must know from what you said concerning your blind girlfriend, ChefPB, that adaptation is crucial. I have found that those people who have been disabled since birth have an advantage over us that are disabled later in life: they have never known any other way except the way they are. (Of course, being disabled all of one’s life is also a curse for the very same reason.) When I broke my neck on that rainy night driving along a small Welsh road, I lost the life I had taken for granted. How did that change me? The most overwhelming change I have discovered is that I have come to realize change. I’ve actually grown a sense of foresight I never had. I see weeks and months ahead how my life is evolving and how I must prepare myself for it. I doubt this is the answer you might have wanted or expected, but I can phrase it no other way.

Sure, being crippled forces me to deal with frustration, anger, regret, self-pity, etc. on a daily basis (the very things we all deal with). I’ve had to change in order to manage these emotions. But do you want to know what I see in my mind whenever I must deal with something? An elevator full of children with cancer, their bald heads covered with stocking caps, their eyes shiny and bright but sunken in. Only five months after I broke my neck, our recreational therapist at the Seattle Veterans hospital took us to a football game. After the game I rode the elevator down with these children. None of them probably lived another year. It feels like an eternity since I saw those children (and it’s only been 15 years), but they left me with an impression: don’t take your life for granted, no matter how bad it gets. Their eyes glisten in my mind.

How difficult was it for you to accept the change? What was the process and/or what helped you accomplish the change?

I must be honest. I have not accepted my disability. I deal with it, but I have not accepted it. Maybe I should use the phrase: I have “come to terms” with my disability. The day I accept being crippled is the day I die inside. In my mind I am not crippled. I am me. Does that make sense? But there was a process to how I adapted to my current life; unfortunately, it’s a cliché. Time. It has taken time—success, failure, everything added together over a fifteen year period. Five years after my accident I was quite astonished. How had I made it five years? Another five years later, I asked the same thing. Now, after fifteen years of being in a wheelchair dealing with chronic neck pain, bladder infections, bowel problems, I don’t ask . . . I simply laugh. Because I see, all too clearly, their eyes glisten in my mind.

Thank you, ChefPB, for making me stroll down this path again. It’s good to be reminded. It's important to remember the thousands of people who suffer more than one's self: they are inspiration. I hope this answers your questions to some extent. But I also hope it leaves you with more questions, some of which maybe only you can answer. Be happy, friend.

I had to have my dog Sara (a mix of Chihuahua and dachshund) put to sleep (an appropriate term; she was 15 years old and so very tired) January 2 of this year. I wrote a story dedicated to her, an odd tale fashioned after the early 60s Twilight Zone episodes made famous by Rod Serling. I never knew how much my day revolved around that little dog, but in the last two years I had been forming a very rigid routine of catering to her. Anyway, I thought my catharsis was ended with the completion of the story. But that only brought to mind an old friend I had not written to in years: Martin. He had lost his cat, Roxanne, and made a song in her memmory. I decided to e-mail him. I found his address here on NAO. Now I await his reply. So much time has passed and I sincerely apologize for not continuing our correspondence. And that is why I am here.