Friday, August 04, 2006
My Afternoon at GF Strong
Yesterday I promised myself that I would go see my buddy Dan who is currently at the Vancouver General Hospital's Rehab Clinic - GF Strong. He is recovering from GBS Syndrome, a neuroskeletalmuscular disease that took over his body all of a sudden one day a few months ago. With no warning signs, with no obvious cause, Dan just fell down one day when he started sprinting for the bus he was going to miss. He just fell down. It feels so random to me. I am sure it feels random to Dan, too.
Anyway, I was nervous and even though I am the daughter of a nurse, I really don't like hospitals. I wasn't sure what state I would find Dan in, but I went. Dan The Swing Out Man. One of my favorite Lindy partners in Vancouver. I had to see him. And I saw him. It was still Dan - much skinnier and in a wheelchair - but it was Dan's spirit, Dan's smile, Dan's way of looking at the world. We sat, we caught up, he showed me around GF Strong. It was good. I told him about my rock climbing experience the day before. I felt proud to know that, in honour of what is happening to Dan, I pushed myself to climb that rock face. It became very obvious to me, as I walked around that hospital filled with wheelchairs, that the only difference between the people in there and myself, was one bad day. We are all one bad left turn in heavy traffic or one bad extreme sport mishap or one bad fall while we run for a bus - one bad day away from GF Strong. It became very obvious to me that if we, who are healthy and strong, allow fear to stop us from enjoying every inch of our bodies capabilities, then we insult our good fortune. We ignore our blessing.
Another moment stuck out there. I had just gotten into the elevator when two guys my age-ish entered the elevator with me, both in wheelchairs. I immediately deducted that these guys were athletes - I mean the wheelchairs didn't change the Jock Energy that exuded them - and I couldn't help but notice that these guys were hot. 'Hot' is such a juvenille word, I know, but that word fit these guys...cocky, young, snowboarder types. So, they get in the elevator with me and I can tell that they are doing the young, cocky guy thing by checking me out -- and, suddenly, I wanted to burst into tears. Which was disgusting because I am pretty sure pity was the last last last thing they would want from anybody. And I am not even sure if it was pity I was feeling or just the overwhelm of my own discomfort or my anger at not understanding WHY these things happen or my saddness that when I walked out of GF Strong later that day I would have no one to go home to, to hold and to protect.
It was a loaded hour for me and by the time I got to my car I didn't know WHAT I was feeling.
This morning, I sorta just want to go home, curl up in my mother's lap and have her stroke my hair and make it all seem less cruel. This morning I want to regress. Being an adult is all together too hard.
Dan,
if you are reading this, and I think you are...you are an inspiration. You have taken what life has handed you and, instead of falling into worlds of despair and questioning, you are simply doing what has to be done. You are getter better, you are getting stronger and you are going to beat this thing. In a year or so, we are going to Lindyhop again and maybe even go to Squamish and climb some rock. I love you and it is by no accident that you are in my life.
Oh, and brick red is a great color to paint your kitchen.:)
To read more about Dan's journey battling GBS visit his blog Lead With Your Body.
Anyway, I was nervous and even though I am the daughter of a nurse, I really don't like hospitals. I wasn't sure what state I would find Dan in, but I went. Dan The Swing Out Man. One of my favorite Lindy partners in Vancouver. I had to see him. And I saw him. It was still Dan - much skinnier and in a wheelchair - but it was Dan's spirit, Dan's smile, Dan's way of looking at the world. We sat, we caught up, he showed me around GF Strong. It was good. I told him about my rock climbing experience the day before. I felt proud to know that, in honour of what is happening to Dan, I pushed myself to climb that rock face. It became very obvious to me, as I walked around that hospital filled with wheelchairs, that the only difference between the people in there and myself, was one bad day. We are all one bad left turn in heavy traffic or one bad extreme sport mishap or one bad fall while we run for a bus - one bad day away from GF Strong. It became very obvious to me that if we, who are healthy and strong, allow fear to stop us from enjoying every inch of our bodies capabilities, then we insult our good fortune. We ignore our blessing.
Another moment stuck out there. I had just gotten into the elevator when two guys my age-ish entered the elevator with me, both in wheelchairs. I immediately deducted that these guys were athletes - I mean the wheelchairs didn't change the Jock Energy that exuded them - and I couldn't help but notice that these guys were hot. 'Hot' is such a juvenille word, I know, but that word fit these guys...cocky, young, snowboarder types. So, they get in the elevator with me and I can tell that they are doing the young, cocky guy thing by checking me out -- and, suddenly, I wanted to burst into tears. Which was disgusting because I am pretty sure pity was the last last last thing they would want from anybody. And I am not even sure if it was pity I was feeling or just the overwhelm of my own discomfort or my anger at not understanding WHY these things happen or my saddness that when I walked out of GF Strong later that day I would have no one to go home to, to hold and to protect.
It was a loaded hour for me and by the time I got to my car I didn't know WHAT I was feeling.
This morning, I sorta just want to go home, curl up in my mother's lap and have her stroke my hair and make it all seem less cruel. This morning I want to regress. Being an adult is all together too hard.
Dan,
if you are reading this, and I think you are...you are an inspiration. You have taken what life has handed you and, instead of falling into worlds of despair and questioning, you are simply doing what has to be done. You are getter better, you are getting stronger and you are going to beat this thing. In a year or so, we are going to Lindyhop again and maybe even go to Squamish and climb some rock. I love you and it is by no accident that you are in my life.
Oh, and brick red is a great color to paint your kitchen.:)
To read more about Dan's journey battling GBS visit his blog Lead With Your Body.
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