Reeve Foundation Paralysis Community

Today, four years ago on December 8, 2005, was the last day of life as I knew it. The remembering of that day has surfaced over the last week more significantly than in the previous three years. Interesting to note.

I have found myself wondering if I appreciated that rather ordinary day, the fourth of five days of orientation for a new professional venture. Did I relish my ability to sit comfortably on the edge of the hotel room bed watching an early morning worship program with my roommate as I telephoned my youngest daughter before she left for school?

Did I appreciate being able to use both hands fully as I took notes that day and my ability to walk wherever I chose without consideration for accessibility? I wonder why the woman seated to my right used a cane to steady her tentative gait? I was curious then, but did not ask as I probably would now.

I remember that final walk across the parking lot with my roommate, discussing which car to drive to the restaurant for supper. Mine was closer and it was a little cool outside, so we chose to take my jeep.

Minutes later, I was praying for a miracle to spare us from the crash and, thank goodness, my passenger was spared and able to go home to her family the next day. I was not so fortunate. I could not move my legs.

That was the beginning of this "after the accident" journey that is still in progress...a limbo land of unpredictable tomorrows. I know I took a lot for granted before being hurt. I just hope I was appreciative of the blessings that came so easily.

I'm blaming this brief trip into the past on our recent snow. Snow is rare in the South and the quiet wonder that comes with it triggers a multitude of good memories from life in the Midwest. No surprise that I should trip over this stumbling block as my mind became quiet enough to recall...

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"We do not know the true value of our moments until they have undergone the test of memory." -Georges Duhamel, The Heart's Domain

"If you can look back on your life with contentment, you have one of man's most precious gifts -- a selective memory." -Jim Fiebig

My husband and I had wondered about this same concept just last night; did we truly appreciate our life prior to his accident.  We came to the conclusion that we did not and wondered why.  Finally we decided that we didn’t because we thought we had a lifetime to do it.

 

Thinking of you on this difficult day.

---

Trish

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...it's learning to dance in the rain."

Thanks, Trish.

I know I did appreciate much of my life. The seemingly "little" things are what I took for granted. Today is really not a difficult day for me, just an anniversary date noted and inspected a little closer than before. As crazy as it sounds, this loss was just another one for me.

Hope you guys have a peaceful day. It's raining continuously here, so my dog and I are taking advantage of the dreariness and being lazy for a day.

December 20th will be the 30th anniversary of my accident. I wasn't supposed to live this long.

I have no idea what that day will be like for me. My daughters are coming here because they want to do something with me, so we finally decided we would go to a neighborhood diner for brunch. That same diner we have all been to hundreds of times. We just want to do something, but we don't know what. I guess just to come together and acknowledge that moment when everything changed. And, hopefully, to acknowledge what we have now.

For the first 15 or 20 years, I used to remember when I was walking or dancing or making love and I would feel great pain and loss. But in a way, it felt good -- kind of like being loyal that old life. As the years moved on, the time I spent re-morning my losses became more brief -- down to hours. But now, I can't remember that stuff I did 30 years ago. Well, I can remember this stuff, but I can't remember what it felt like. I guess that's sad, but maybe not. I'll keep you posted on that.

And by the way, being human, I certainly did not appreciate what I had before I lost it. None of us do. Paul Simon said: "the way we look to a distant constellation that's dying in the corner of the sky..." we cannot know the value of life of mobility of sensation of love until the candle flickers.

My friends, we have had that education. But can we hold on to what we've learned? Do we appreciate what we have today, this minute? This ability to read, to experience emotions while we do, the fact that we have the wherewithal to love and to hate and to laugh and cry -- the ability to live our lives perhaps even more fully than those who are walking around sleeping.

I have to stop now I spent too much time on my soapbox and I'm getting a little lightheaded.

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Dan Gottlieb Ph.D.
www.DrDanGottlieb.com
"wisdom of Sam: observations on life from an uncommon child"
trailer:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_V4QrekU1Wk

Dan,

 

Will you let us know how your day turns out?  As my husband and I are approaching our next wedding anniversary, it will be 9 years pre-SCI and 8 years post SCI.  I keep wondering how I am going to feel when the scale tips the other way; when more years of our marriage than not have been consumed by his SCI.  For some reason, it is a very scary thought to me.  Good thing I have a couple years to get used to the idea.

 

Hope your day will also bring you some happy reflections with your daughters.

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Trish

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...it's learning to dance in the rain."

every anniversary has been different for me as I am sure has been the case for you. Sometimes painful, sometimes wistful, sometimes I don't notice. Sometimes I spend the day feeling afloat as though nothing is real. And sometimes I feel more connected more in love with everyone and everything I love. I am sure someday will be one or all of the above.
In "letters to Sam" I quoted the famous poet Rumi. One of my favorite poems is called "guesthouse" in which he says that this business of being human is like a guesthouse. every day brings a new emotion, a joy, a depression, and anger, a flash of insight.
He says to welcome them all as you would visitors to a guesthouse.
He concludes by saying" be grateful for whoever comes because each has been sent as a guide from beyond."
I am looking forward to Sunday

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Dan Gottlieb Ph.D.
www.DrDanGottlieb.com
"wisdom of Sam: observations on life from an uncommon child"
trailer:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_V4QrekU1Wk

I like Rumi's analogy. Life without expectation, embracing what shows up. ;-)

Today is the 30th anniversary. This hour is very close to the moment of my accident. Several things come together this year that make this day quite emotional for me. As you know, I was recently quite ill and took that as an opportunity to re-examine my life. This is something I do often, but this time it feels more compelling, more urgent as there is something about 30 years...
as a result, I have decided to stop writing for the Philadelphia Inquirer. That article will be posted in tomorrow's paper.
In the article I said that I used to hate my body for what it did to me and continued to do. Then for a long time I ignored it. I weight shifted, took my pills, drank all of my fluids and let my nurse do what she needed to do, but by and large my body was just "a thing".
Now, over the last decade, I have come to realize how hard my body has been working these last 30 years in order to afford me the life I have. Now I feel so grateful for my body and treat it with tender loving care. Everything I do for my body comes with a silent "thank you" knowing that one day my body will just be too tired to carry me any further.
And speaking of thank you's, for the last few days I have been spending a lot of time thinking about those first few weeks. At the same time, my radio show on Monday will be about the resilience of the human spirit, so I have been reading a lot of literature about resilience, which talks a great deal about the value of support systems.
All of a sudden it occurred to me that my in-laws at the time took charge of my care and insisted I be transferred to Jefferson Hospital Philadelphia where they have a spinal cord center. They insisted I get the best care with the sharpest doctors. They insisted that everything that could be done for me would be. For the whole these 30 years, I know what they did for me. But what I didn't realize was that because of their insistence, at the deepest levels they changed my vision of what he could mean to be a quadriplegic. More important, what it could mean to be Dan Gottlieb going forward. Their early activity played a major role in my having the life I have. They passed away about 10 years ago and I never got a chance to thank them because I never realized fully what they did.
So I have taken this lesson to make sure that never happens again. That's what today means. I am going to make sure I thank everyone I am grateful for. Make sure they know what they mean to me. Same with people I love. So starting today, I want to do my best to make sure I never have to say the words: "I wish I had told them how I felt earlier."
In that theme, I want you to know that I am grateful to you for your trust and openness, for your genuine care and concern around my illness.
And I want to thank Rob and the rest of my friends at the Reeve foundation for inviting me to be part of this wonderful network.
Today is my anniversary. Happy anniversary.

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Dan Gottlieb Ph.D.
www.DrDanGottlieb.com
"wisdom of Sam: observations on life from an uncommon child"
trailer:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_V4QrekU1Wk

Dan,

I wonder if these periodic reflections are a common phenomenon associated with trauma?   The first Christmas after my accident, I was so grateful to be alive, out of inpatient rehab, and back in my home community.  It was overwhelming to consider even how to thank the multitudes of people who kept me alive, supported me and my family during that time period, took care of everything from my finances to providing a place for my youngest daughter to live for six months, finding and setting up an apartment for me to come home to, and so on.  I cannot begin, even now, four years later, to make certain those contributors know how much their compassion and care means to me. 

 

I have made a conscious effort to thank as many people as I can as the journey of the past four years has progressed.  For each person I thank, there are two or three more that come to mind that I would like to express my gratitude for but I have no way of contacting.  It seems like a never-ending, daunting challenge that I keep chunking away at one person at a time!

 

Yesterday, I watched the remake of Hitchcock's mystery thriller from 1954, "Rear Window".  In the 1998 remake, Christopher Reeve plays the role of the disabled architect.  He inserts current information into the movie regarding the cure, the high cost of being disabled, his exercise program to ensure readiness when the cure is discovered, and most interestingly, to me, the common human reactions to the process of acceptance of the reality of being disabled.  If you have not seen this movie, it is worth the time. 

 

Reeve portrayed accurately seeing his new, accessible loft for the first time and sitting at his window, wistfully watching the lives of others go on as though nothing had happened.  As Reeve thanks his ex-wife for all that she has done to oversee the accessibility modifications of his home, I remember thinking how easy it was for him to thank one person in contrast to the masses involved in my situation.

 

Best wishes to you, Dan, as you transition from your role as a columnist for the Inquirer.  I am certain that they will miss your expertise.  Your sorting out and prioritization are welcome "how to" examples for me to observe.  It is a positive affirmation of the necessity of constant re-engineering one's life to fit changing circumstances. Good for you that you are able to make decisions that fit your life as it is.  Thanks for sharing your wisdom and Happy Anniversary!        

All of us have had the experience of having our lives pulled from our grasp against our will without warning. That's true whether we are disabled, caring for her living with one. And whenever something is pulled from our grasp, it's a trauma. And every instinct is to get back to what we had yesterday. One psychoanalyst once said that "grief is the rope Burns that are left behind when what we have clutched so tightly is pulled from our grasp." We all know the grief, the anger and shock and the fear that goes with the realization that we will never get yesterday back no matter how we clutch.
And many of us, once we give up that hope, discover something else is happening. Sure we suffer, but many begin to look at the world through a different lens, just like yours. A lens that is able to care for the larger world and feel more connected to it.

That's what happens when things are pulled from our grasp. But the benefits come from letting go of things we thought we could not live without. Personally, letting go of things voluntarily is a lot more difficult. Letting go of this column has really forced me to take a look at how tightly I clutch on to today's life and how much anxiety is associated with releasing my grasp. Just like the early days after the accident.

So here we are, we humans, whether we like our lives or not, we tend to hold on to them because the predictability that tomorrow will look pretty much like today gives us a sense of security. Or, the illusion of security.

Not so easy being human. Sometimes I think that's why we have animals as they remind us of what sanity could look like!

I let go of her column, a friend of mine is letting go of a belief system that the only way she could be happy would be if the world around her changed.

What are you holding on to that might be keeping you stuck?

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Dan Gottlieb Ph.D.
www.DrDanGottlieb.com
"wisdom of Sam: observations on life from an uncommon child"
trailer:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_V4QrekU1Wk

i can so appreciate what you just said. my accident happend in july of 08 the word is unbeliveable of such a lifestlye of what i,m living to what i had. i relate to everything you stated. we surley did not know what we had and how to appreciate the easy normal fuctions are bodies was and could easily do. oh do i miss the days how about you? i became what they say is a T12 wow ,what a label, i have a hart and soul of the hiker and outdoorsmans that i really am ,and was.

The first 15 years I miss those days terribly and each year a little less. In those few years after my accident, I protected myself from pain by not wanting things I could not have. So I thought about walking, wrestling with my children, playing golf and making love. Yes I missed them, I didn't want them because wanting meant pain.

After all these years, I have all but forgotten what it feels like to do all those things so it has really become a nonissue for me. As a matter of fact, a dear friend of mine recently asked me what I wanted in life. I told her that at my stage of life, I didn't want much, if anything. "What I really want" I said "was to not want."

I believed that, still do. But a couple of weeks ago I was on a five day meditation retreat. This took place right after the 30th anniversary of my accident, and just before the anniversaries of both of my parents deaths. And I had other things going on in my life that caused my defenses to be down and my heart to be more open.
Anyway, one of the exercises on that retreat was to answer the question: "what does your heart long for?" But not just to answer that question one time, but to have that question repeated and answered for a full 10 minutes! When this happened, everything inside opened up and I said I long for all of the things I mentioned earlier. I long to be able to clean the dishes after a friend makes dinner. And, crying, I said I longed to live.

There is a great difference between desire and longing. Desire is louder and more aggressive. Desire doesn't take time to feel or reflect, it just wants what it wants. And sometimes when the desire is great, we don't care about the consequences
.
Longing is different, it is quieter. It is the hearts way of expressing sadness are wistfulness. I think that how we live with our longings can really determine how peaceful we are with our lives.

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Dan Gottlieb Ph.D.
www.DrDanGottlieb.com
"wisdom of Sam: observations on life from an uncommon child"
trailer:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_V4QrekU1Wk

These posts are hitting home for me today. No anniversary date or mega event. Checked my email this morning and read about a retreat I would love to attend but know it is not possible now, so I moved on, finished reading my emails, sent a few e-cards for birthdays, thinking of you, and get well soon, and so on.

Some time later, between setting up my medications for the next two weeks and playing a computer game, the tears started. It has been four years since my accident, when will this nonsense stop! Then I read your post.

I know what the trigger was and I'm having a not so comfortable day today physically. After reading your response, Dan, I gather that my mind believes that enough time has passed for me to get over feeling sad sometimes and is ready to move on, but my heart hit a bump in the road today.

So, today is a day to go with my heart, knowing that tomorrow will bring a new day.
Thanks, again for your well timed comments

I hope you go with your heart every day. At least listen to it with honor and respect -- even love.
A Sufi once said: "to experience it is to live, to explain is to lie." Certainly the first part is true -- life really is about what we experience. It is the ego that tells us what we should experience and how we should feel about it and when all of this should happen. Silly ego, wise heart.

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Dan Gottlieb Ph.D.
www.DrDanGottlieb.com
"wisdom of Sam: observations on life from an uncommon child"
trailer:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_V4QrekU1Wk