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christopher reeves came to speak at my school. (the following may not be exact, but the best i can do with my notes and memory)
packed house. capacity plus standing. ppl came 2, 3 hrs early to get seats. we waited, waited, waited. finally, at 5:30, he was wheeled in to a thunderous wave of applause. which went on and on...and became a standing ovation...the applause got louder and louder, and a chill slid down my spine.
brief intro from assistant dean, then the dean, that no one listened to.
then, christopher reeves began to speak. in a weak, strange voice that didn't sound like superman at all. something was different, wrong. his mouth was exaggerating the movements for each word. between words, he took odd, guppy-like swallows.
"it's ironic, that i am in a room full of doctors and medical students. because my family didn't like doctors at all. my dad set broken bones himself, and took care of his kids himself. i had asthma as a kid, but everyone told me that it was psychosomatic. yeah, it might be, or it might not be, but all i knew was that i couldn't breathe."
the crowd laughed in a release of tension. everyone came here already on an emotional edge, to cry or feel pity, but he let everyone know that HE is ok, with that anecdote.
as the laughter died down, i was able to see him with more clarity. his back was ramrod straight, his arms perfectly on the armrests, his feet flat. it was right, but too perfect. he looked like the stuffed dummy that i had made in elementary school, his limbs purposefully arranged, more than a man. there was no pose, no weight to that body. his chest was covered by a black cloth, the outlines of a huge contraption, something like a bulletproof-vest, visible underneath. to keep his diaphragm and heart going, perhaps? his head moved ever so slightly as he spoke, while his body was absolutely still. i was reminded of those cheesy conan-o'brien skits, where the head is floating above a different body. this head did not seem to belong to this body.
"...in '95, i was in an equestrian competition when i had my accident. i fell straight on my head, like a pile-driver, decimating C1 (cervical spinal bone right under skull). a hangman's fracture. my head was detached from the spinal column."
he spoke so calmly, so matter-of-factly, while everyone held their breaths, imagining the terrible scene.
"...i didn't breathe for 3 minutes, and would have died if the accident hadn't been announced over the PA system, if an anesthesiologist hadn't been at the competition to hear the announcement, and breathe for me until EMS came, where i was intubated. it was a miracle, to be saved in such a way. my doctor-"
a shrill cell phone rings. heads swivel at the offendor, more outraged than they would have been in class, lecture, synagogue, or church. the instant tension is palpable.
"...yes, that must be him now."
laughter
"tell him i'll call him back later."
more laughter
"it would good, wouldn't it, to tell your doctor that you will call HIM back later."
again, laughter ripples, freely. not out of politeness. reeves is genuinely funny
"my neurosurgeon, Dr. *******, could have followed protocol, stabilize me, patched me back up and send me home. but he didn't. he operated with my future in mind, and tried to save as much as he could. he found tracts in the bloody mass of bone and tissue. he put a platinum plate in to stabilize my head and neck. it took 10 guys to move me to the operating table, to minimize the damage. every step was taken to minimize the damage. the operation was 8 hrs.
years later, my doctor saw me, and asked me if i wanted the plate taken out. no, no, it's fine where it is, i told him. especially for the potholes in NY.
the hippocratic oath says: first, do no harm. but that doctor went above and beyond that. he was bold and daring for my sake.
don't tell your patients the limit. don't tell them you have 5 months left to live. give them something to shoot for. i was suicidal immediately after the accident. i was a mess to myself. i was a mess to my family and my friends. a burden.
but my doctor gave me hope. when everyone was telling me that i would not be able to move at all below my head, my doctor told me, 'let's try to work at this, to shrug your shoulders. and after that, let's go for your deltoids.' he gave me something to shoot for, to strive for."
i listened to him, in horror and awe. without realizing it, i shifted my weight, moving my legs. my arms flexed, my hands clenched. i could not imagine life without such movement.
i had to leave. i ducked down, grabbed my bag, and quietly left.
*******
i know that there are many people like this. perhaps some with worse conditions. and some will cry that christopher reeves is merely a man, one amongst many. that he is getting better treatment just because he was a movie star, because he was superman. that's probably all true. but he's in front of me now, and all i can think is how much this man is suffering. how he is fighting. how he is living.
there's so hurt in this world. so much suffering. so many wounds. i know that. but i can't be paralyzed, contemplating the magnitude of what needs to be done. i can only look into the eyes of the people in front of me, patient or friend, in medical or spiritual need, and pray that God uses me.
yakob at 1:45 AM
-----------------
packed house. capacity plus standing. ppl came 2, 3 hrs early to get seats. we waited, waited, waited. finally, at 5:30, he was wheeled in to a thunderous wave of applause. which went on and on...and became a standing ovation...the applause got louder and louder, and a chill slid down my spine.
brief intro from assistant dean, then the dean, that no one listened to.
then, christopher reeves began to speak. in a weak, strange voice that didn't sound like superman at all. something was different, wrong. his mouth was exaggerating the movements for each word. between words, he took odd, guppy-like swallows.
"it's ironic, that i am in a room full of doctors and medical students. because my family didn't like doctors at all. my dad set broken bones himself, and took care of his kids himself. i had asthma as a kid, but everyone told me that it was psychosomatic. yeah, it might be, or it might not be, but all i knew was that i couldn't breathe."
the crowd laughed in a release of tension. everyone came here already on an emotional edge, to cry or feel pity, but he let everyone know that HE is ok, with that anecdote.
as the laughter died down, i was able to see him with more clarity. his back was ramrod straight, his arms perfectly on the armrests, his feet flat. it was right, but too perfect. he looked like the stuffed dummy that i had made in elementary school, his limbs purposefully arranged, more than a man. there was no pose, no weight to that body. his chest was covered by a black cloth, the outlines of a huge contraption, something like a bulletproof-vest, visible underneath. to keep his diaphragm and heart going, perhaps? his head moved ever so slightly as he spoke, while his body was absolutely still. i was reminded of those cheesy conan-o'brien skits, where the head is floating above a different body. this head did not seem to belong to this body.
"...in '95, i was in an equestrian competition when i had my accident. i fell straight on my head, like a pile-driver, decimating C1 (cervical spinal bone right under skull). a hangman's fracture. my head was detached from the spinal column."
he spoke so calmly, so matter-of-factly, while everyone held their breaths, imagining the terrible scene.
"...i didn't breathe for 3 minutes, and would have died if the accident hadn't been announced over the PA system, if an anesthesiologist hadn't been at the competition to hear the announcement, and breathe for me until EMS came, where i was intubated. it was a miracle, to be saved in such a way. my doctor-"
a shrill cell phone rings. heads swivel at the offendor, more outraged than they would have been in class, lecture, synagogue, or church. the instant tension is palpable.
"...yes, that must be him now."
laughter
"tell him i'll call him back later."
more laughter
"it would good, wouldn't it, to tell your doctor that you will call HIM back later."
again, laughter ripples, freely. not out of politeness. reeves is genuinely funny
"my neurosurgeon, Dr. *******, could have followed protocol, stabilize me, patched me back up and send me home. but he didn't. he operated with my future in mind, and tried to save as much as he could. he found tracts in the bloody mass of bone and tissue. he put a platinum plate in to stabilize my head and neck. it took 10 guys to move me to the operating table, to minimize the damage. every step was taken to minimize the damage. the operation was 8 hrs.
years later, my doctor saw me, and asked me if i wanted the plate taken out. no, no, it's fine where it is, i told him. especially for the potholes in NY.
the hippocratic oath says: first, do no harm. but that doctor went above and beyond that. he was bold and daring for my sake.
don't tell your patients the limit. don't tell them you have 5 months left to live. give them something to shoot for. i was suicidal immediately after the accident. i was a mess to myself. i was a mess to my family and my friends. a burden.
but my doctor gave me hope. when everyone was telling me that i would not be able to move at all below my head, my doctor told me, 'let's try to work at this, to shrug your shoulders. and after that, let's go for your deltoids.' he gave me something to shoot for, to strive for."
i listened to him, in horror and awe. without realizing it, i shifted my weight, moving my legs. my arms flexed, my hands clenched. i could not imagine life without such movement.
i had to leave. i ducked down, grabbed my bag, and quietly left.
*******
i know that there are many people like this. perhaps some with worse conditions. and some will cry that christopher reeves is merely a man, one amongst many. that he is getting better treatment just because he was a movie star, because he was superman. that's probably all true. but he's in front of me now, and all i can think is how much this man is suffering. how he is fighting. how he is living.
there's so hurt in this world. so much suffering. so many wounds. i know that. but i can't be paralyzed, contemplating the magnitude of what needs to be done. i can only look into the eyes of the people in front of me, patient or friend, in medical or spiritual need, and pray that God uses me.
yakob at 1:45 AM