Stories we tell to one another
James was walking to his room with the tall walker when I arrived this afternoon. Nehal forgot to measure him for the robo-skeleton so hopefully, tomorrow she will complete that task and I will see James walk unaided but for the suit on Thursday or Friday!
Mt. Sinai scheduled a talk given by a former rehab patient that has run marathons in the ten years since his recovery. Bryan Steinhauer woke up from a three month coma to find himself unable to speak and with limbs frozen into strange positions. He was not really a candidate for acute rehab with the consensus thought being that he would spend the rest of his life in a nursing home. Bryan found his case championed by a advocate and he was given the opportunity to recover at Mt. Sinai. He was a young man about to graduate college when he was beaten severely in a bar brawl by a fellow student and suffered extensive trauma to his brain.
Bryan was very positive and his smile was impossible not to return. His recovery experience and youthful exuberance seemed so different, from my perspective, than James's situation but I could see James nodding and relating to him. Bryan spoke of his life before the brain injury as being one of effortless affluence. His life seemed to unfold quite easily, growing up in Park Slope and then, attending college upstate. His recovery was a humbling experience--it taught him compassion and he had the realization that life had a deeper meaning for him rather than simply the accumulation of wealth and the satisfaction of his immediate desires. His epiphanies from the recovery experience touched upon an understanding of making positive life choices as opposed to selfish motivation and finding meaning in one's relationship to self and the world.
I felt that James's brain injury would not lead to a similar type of discovery because he has already lived a life brimming with compassion for others and obtained deep meaning through his experiences as an artist, teacher, father, husband, and friend to others. James's illness has been humbling and challenging. I look forward to knowing what he will draw from it, in retrospect. I do not say this to belittle Bryan's amazing story of recovery and hope. James had his brain injury occur as a 53 year old man that was contemplating the second half of his life as an artist--he had already lived through the growing pains of self-identity and parsing out the meaning of life. It is difficult for me to even fathom what sort of meaning James will draw from his recovery process.
For me, James's illness has provided a push into compassion and opening up to others, trying to stop my constant flow of critical thinking and judgement and to accept love, friendship, and in particular, the kindness of James's community. I hope to have the opportunity to give it all back tenfold!
I was thinking the other day how James may become a story people may tell to one another, as in, I know this guy that was struck down out of nowhere with a brain infection. Like Bryan, his experience becomes another tale that people share with one another as an example of the chaos of life or that we should appreciate every moment we have because life is mercurial. Bryan continues to share his story as a means of helping others, of taking an experience that he could have felt bitter and revengeful about, and turning it into love for others struggling with similar doubts and fears faced through recovery.
This blog has been a story that I have shared out of my own feelings of helplessness and as a means of reaching out to all those that love and care for James--to give his story substance, to make it real and not another click of a device before turning to the next story.
We should never forget that Bryan and James are not stories but living people that have a direct connection to each and everyone one of you in ways that cannot be articulated.
I am thinking of every person on James's floor at Mt. Sinai--those patients that I have not met but lie silently in their beds or chairs as I pass their rooms walking down the hall, and the nurses, doctors, caregivers and staff of the hospital--each with their own story and humanity.
Love out to you all tonight.
Mt. Sinai scheduled a talk given by a former rehab patient that has run marathons in the ten years since his recovery. Bryan Steinhauer woke up from a three month coma to find himself unable to speak and with limbs frozen into strange positions. He was not really a candidate for acute rehab with the consensus thought being that he would spend the rest of his life in a nursing home. Bryan found his case championed by a advocate and he was given the opportunity to recover at Mt. Sinai. He was a young man about to graduate college when he was beaten severely in a bar brawl by a fellow student and suffered extensive trauma to his brain.
Bryan was very positive and his smile was impossible not to return. His recovery experience and youthful exuberance seemed so different, from my perspective, than James's situation but I could see James nodding and relating to him. Bryan spoke of his life before the brain injury as being one of effortless affluence. His life seemed to unfold quite easily, growing up in Park Slope and then, attending college upstate. His recovery was a humbling experience--it taught him compassion and he had the realization that life had a deeper meaning for him rather than simply the accumulation of wealth and the satisfaction of his immediate desires. His epiphanies from the recovery experience touched upon an understanding of making positive life choices as opposed to selfish motivation and finding meaning in one's relationship to self and the world.
I felt that James's brain injury would not lead to a similar type of discovery because he has already lived a life brimming with compassion for others and obtained deep meaning through his experiences as an artist, teacher, father, husband, and friend to others. James's illness has been humbling and challenging. I look forward to knowing what he will draw from it, in retrospect. I do not say this to belittle Bryan's amazing story of recovery and hope. James had his brain injury occur as a 53 year old man that was contemplating the second half of his life as an artist--he had already lived through the growing pains of self-identity and parsing out the meaning of life. It is difficult for me to even fathom what sort of meaning James will draw from his recovery process.
For me, James's illness has provided a push into compassion and opening up to others, trying to stop my constant flow of critical thinking and judgement and to accept love, friendship, and in particular, the kindness of James's community. I hope to have the opportunity to give it all back tenfold!
I was thinking the other day how James may become a story people may tell to one another, as in, I know this guy that was struck down out of nowhere with a brain infection. Like Bryan, his experience becomes another tale that people share with one another as an example of the chaos of life or that we should appreciate every moment we have because life is mercurial. Bryan continues to share his story as a means of helping others, of taking an experience that he could have felt bitter and revengeful about, and turning it into love for others struggling with similar doubts and fears faced through recovery.
This blog has been a story that I have shared out of my own feelings of helplessness and as a means of reaching out to all those that love and care for James--to give his story substance, to make it real and not another click of a device before turning to the next story.
We should never forget that Bryan and James are not stories but living people that have a direct connection to each and everyone one of you in ways that cannot be articulated.
I am thinking of every person on James's floor at Mt. Sinai--those patients that I have not met but lie silently in their beds or chairs as I pass their rooms walking down the hall, and the nurses, doctors, caregivers and staff of the hospital--each with their own story and humanity.
Love out to you all tonight.
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