OutdoorX4
Adventurist
For those who don't know, our Marketing Director, Stan Wright, had a major back injury earlier in the year and after months of trying to get cleared for surgery, he FINALLY had surgery about two weeks ago.
Written below is a note he wrote from his hospital bed after a full day of physical therapy. This is only being posted because many of us sometimes forget how fortunate we are, regardless of where we are physically or financially, for the things we have each day. So, read the note below (if you have time), and go out and seize the day.
Maneuvering a wheelchair is pretty similar to rowing a driftboat on a river. Of course, I'm not casting a fly rod down the halls of the hospital, so there's that one big missing piece, but the mechanics of the movements are the same. I almost like the challenge of learning how to use it.
Yesterday was a great day. It was a great day mentally for me as I come to terms and accept that I'm down, but I'm not out. My wife was here for one of my fit classes in the gym and if felt good to have her see this place and introduce her to some of the patients, staff and nurses. It made me feel like a real person, like I have a life outside of these hospital walls. A friend of ours from Longmont came by to visit which was great because she has her own PT and massage clinic in Boulder and really understands what they're doing to me here when they challenge me to walk or stand. Yesterday was the first day that I felt comfortable with being here.
Of course I'd rather be home. Who wouldn't, right? You'd think everyone would, but that's not the case. In every situation and scenario in life, the social dynamic of grouping people together is the same. Imagine taking everyone here and putting them in a big bucket and dumping them out on a conveyor belt. That conveyor belt only has a few holes in it. Those holes are only big enough to fit one person through at a time. Getting through the hole gets you off the belt and on with your life. It's easy for me to see who's fighting to get through the holes. They scratch and claw their way to an open hole, even if it's just with one good hand. Whatever it takes to get to a hole, you fight for it with everything you have. If you want it.
There's the opposite spectrum too. The ones that just lay on the belt going round and round and round. Maybe luck bounces them towards a hole, but they're not fighting to make it there. It's easier to just lay on the belt and feel sorry. To feel like someone else put you on the belt and you'll just wait for someone else to come take you off or push you into one of those holes.
The United States Marine Corps gave me so much more than something to do for 4 years of my life. It gave me an education, a career, a purpose and the unmistakable desire to fight until you've given everything you have, and then when you've given everything and you're totally spent, you give just a little more. It's that just a little more that makes all the difference in the world. My Marine Corps days are long behind me. I'm probably 30 pounds heavier than I was in 1994, I know I'm slower, not as physically strong, not nearly as disciplined or even physically able to do the things I did back then, but the esprit de corps remains the same. The motivation, dedication, commitment, desire and pride all burn just as deep as they did 20 years ago. I'll never lose that. I can see it in the blood they take from me every other day. I know they can't see it as it flows out of my arm and into their vials, but I can.
I've found my place here now. The feeling out period of being the new kid at school is over. I met a new nurse this morning and she said "I hear you're not going to be with us for very long", and it felt fantastic. It made me feel like my scratching and clawing towards one of those holes was being noticed. I only wish I could take a few people with me. The ones who are fighting so hard, but their body just won't let them get there. It matters not though, because they're scratching for a hole, and eventually they'll fall through.
Falling through the hole means something different to each one of us. Everyone's success is their own and they'll go as far as they decide is right.
I walked yesterday. Not like I stood up from my chair like Willy Wonka and danced in the halls. But with a walker and a spotter. Slow and uncoordinated. This facility is at the forefront of research and breakthroughs in helping patients with spinal cord and traumatic brain injuries. It's the patients feedback that helps further the research and develop new techniques in physical and occupational therapy. Craig Hospital is the big leagues of those professions and the knowledge gained here is used all over the world. Some of the testing is as basic as can be. As soon as I told them I had feeling in my right leg, the studies and testing started. They took my sock off and tested my ability to tell where my big toe was. They would move it up and down quickly, then stop and ask me was it up or down. I answered correctly each time. Then they put me on the mat (it's actually a giant table that can be raised/lowered) down on all fours, like a cat. They asked me to slowly go into a raised kneeling postion, and when I came up, I fell over. I couldn't hold myself up. So we tried again, this time my PT put her hands on my hips. Not holding me, but just barely touching me, and I raised all the way up in the high kneeling position. As soon as she took her hands away, my hips buckled and I fell. Not buckled like I crumpled to the floor, but like if you were trying to balance on a wire or slack line and you get that shaky back and forth motion before you fall off. I have no sense of where my body is from my hips to my knees. At least not yet, but today is a new day and from 11-12 Colorado time, I'll be trying to relearn the art of walking.
With all of that good, comes some bad. I passed out trying to stand up during the PT session. So, I'm back on monitored transfers. That means I have to have a nurse or a spotter with me to transfer in or out of my wheelchair. Toilet, shower, bed, anything. I'm on blood thinners and anti-clotting meds, so a fall with another head smack could be life threatening. It's a minor inconvenience, but one of the nurses put it into perspective by saying that I'm working hard to get out of here and the traumatic brain injury unit is only one floor above mine. A slip and fall, or if I passed out during a transfer could potentially put me on that floor with a whole new set of problems. Perspective is a powerful thing. Besides, who doesn't want to shower with a nurse?
I'm kidding of course, I love my wife more than words could ever say. I tell her every single day how much she means to me. I know that life gets in the way of life sometimes. What I mean is that we get so busy with our every day lives .... Kids, school, work, sports ..... That we forget to just be happy to be alive and together.
Do something this weekend. Something that you've been wanting to do but haven't had the time. Make time. Even if it's something small. What if you lost that opportunity and could never get it back?
Written below is a note he wrote from his hospital bed after a full day of physical therapy. This is only being posted because many of us sometimes forget how fortunate we are, regardless of where we are physically or financially, for the things we have each day. So, read the note below (if you have time), and go out and seize the day.
Maneuvering a wheelchair is pretty similar to rowing a driftboat on a river. Of course, I'm not casting a fly rod down the halls of the hospital, so there's that one big missing piece, but the mechanics of the movements are the same. I almost like the challenge of learning how to use it.
Yesterday was a great day. It was a great day mentally for me as I come to terms and accept that I'm down, but I'm not out. My wife was here for one of my fit classes in the gym and if felt good to have her see this place and introduce her to some of the patients, staff and nurses. It made me feel like a real person, like I have a life outside of these hospital walls. A friend of ours from Longmont came by to visit which was great because she has her own PT and massage clinic in Boulder and really understands what they're doing to me here when they challenge me to walk or stand. Yesterday was the first day that I felt comfortable with being here.
Of course I'd rather be home. Who wouldn't, right? You'd think everyone would, but that's not the case. In every situation and scenario in life, the social dynamic of grouping people together is the same. Imagine taking everyone here and putting them in a big bucket and dumping them out on a conveyor belt. That conveyor belt only has a few holes in it. Those holes are only big enough to fit one person through at a time. Getting through the hole gets you off the belt and on with your life. It's easy for me to see who's fighting to get through the holes. They scratch and claw their way to an open hole, even if it's just with one good hand. Whatever it takes to get to a hole, you fight for it with everything you have. If you want it.
There's the opposite spectrum too. The ones that just lay on the belt going round and round and round. Maybe luck bounces them towards a hole, but they're not fighting to make it there. It's easier to just lay on the belt and feel sorry. To feel like someone else put you on the belt and you'll just wait for someone else to come take you off or push you into one of those holes.
The United States Marine Corps gave me so much more than something to do for 4 years of my life. It gave me an education, a career, a purpose and the unmistakable desire to fight until you've given everything you have, and then when you've given everything and you're totally spent, you give just a little more. It's that just a little more that makes all the difference in the world. My Marine Corps days are long behind me. I'm probably 30 pounds heavier than I was in 1994, I know I'm slower, not as physically strong, not nearly as disciplined or even physically able to do the things I did back then, but the esprit de corps remains the same. The motivation, dedication, commitment, desire and pride all burn just as deep as they did 20 years ago. I'll never lose that. I can see it in the blood they take from me every other day. I know they can't see it as it flows out of my arm and into their vials, but I can.
I've found my place here now. The feeling out period of being the new kid at school is over. I met a new nurse this morning and she said "I hear you're not going to be with us for very long", and it felt fantastic. It made me feel like my scratching and clawing towards one of those holes was being noticed. I only wish I could take a few people with me. The ones who are fighting so hard, but their body just won't let them get there. It matters not though, because they're scratching for a hole, and eventually they'll fall through.
Falling through the hole means something different to each one of us. Everyone's success is their own and they'll go as far as they decide is right.
I walked yesterday. Not like I stood up from my chair like Willy Wonka and danced in the halls. But with a walker and a spotter. Slow and uncoordinated. This facility is at the forefront of research and breakthroughs in helping patients with spinal cord and traumatic brain injuries. It's the patients feedback that helps further the research and develop new techniques in physical and occupational therapy. Craig Hospital is the big leagues of those professions and the knowledge gained here is used all over the world. Some of the testing is as basic as can be. As soon as I told them I had feeling in my right leg, the studies and testing started. They took my sock off and tested my ability to tell where my big toe was. They would move it up and down quickly, then stop and ask me was it up or down. I answered correctly each time. Then they put me on the mat (it's actually a giant table that can be raised/lowered) down on all fours, like a cat. They asked me to slowly go into a raised kneeling postion, and when I came up, I fell over. I couldn't hold myself up. So we tried again, this time my PT put her hands on my hips. Not holding me, but just barely touching me, and I raised all the way up in the high kneeling position. As soon as she took her hands away, my hips buckled and I fell. Not buckled like I crumpled to the floor, but like if you were trying to balance on a wire or slack line and you get that shaky back and forth motion before you fall off. I have no sense of where my body is from my hips to my knees. At least not yet, but today is a new day and from 11-12 Colorado time, I'll be trying to relearn the art of walking.
With all of that good, comes some bad. I passed out trying to stand up during the PT session. So, I'm back on monitored transfers. That means I have to have a nurse or a spotter with me to transfer in or out of my wheelchair. Toilet, shower, bed, anything. I'm on blood thinners and anti-clotting meds, so a fall with another head smack could be life threatening. It's a minor inconvenience, but one of the nurses put it into perspective by saying that I'm working hard to get out of here and the traumatic brain injury unit is only one floor above mine. A slip and fall, or if I passed out during a transfer could potentially put me on that floor with a whole new set of problems. Perspective is a powerful thing. Besides, who doesn't want to shower with a nurse?
I'm kidding of course, I love my wife more than words could ever say. I tell her every single day how much she means to me. I know that life gets in the way of life sometimes. What I mean is that we get so busy with our every day lives .... Kids, school, work, sports ..... That we forget to just be happy to be alive and together.
Do something this weekend. Something that you've been wanting to do but haven't had the time. Make time. Even if it's something small. What if you lost that opportunity and could never get it back?
