My answer to whether there was a reason for my injury is, "definately maybe."
The very moment I stopped moving, lucidly conscious after seeing a brief orange flash, I knew I was paralyzed. I wasn't even going fast on my skis, when my bindings released and I tried to somersault rather than face plant.. I must have hit my head on the way over. Couldn't have been much, but it was just enough. A ski patrolman that had seen my fall called over to me casually, "hey, you ok?," not expecting much. "No. I can't move," I answered and I could see the expression on his face turn to concern that became more intense after he came over and started making calls on his radio. I can remember everything that happened after that in sparkling clarity: beng moved onto a backboard with a huge neck brace, the sled ride down the mountain, the wait in the infirmary staring up into the ceiling lights as everyone in the room spoke in whispers, being loaded into the ambulance where they drugged me with something that launched me into La-La land as they cut off all my clothes. And before I went out all the way, it occurred to me how fortunate I was that this didn't happen when I totaled my mother's station-wagon by driving too fast when I was 16. The car was almost unrecognizable, but I was unscathed. That night while laying outside the operating room waiting to have my vertebre put back into some semblance of order, a group of my friends came in to see how I was doing. One of them said, "this is your car accident finally catching up with you." I told him how I'd had the same thought during the ambulance ride. The next day, they had me sitting up as they fitted me for my halo. They drilled four holes, then screwed the supports into my skull. The squeek of a screw going into bone in your head makes a memorable resonating sound. They arranged four poles vertically from the sheepskin-lined harness that went over my shoulders and put a metal ring --the halo-- around them. Then as it slid down and went "ker-chunk!" into place, I immediately had a vivid deja vu. I had been here before. It didn't occur to me until later where that lost memory had welled-up from. When I was born, I came out with my head turned to the left. Apparently, I'd spent some significant time in my mom's womb with my head turned that way, because there was no turning it right. The muscles and whatnot were too short on that side, so my head remained turned that way. Eventually, the back of my head flattened a bit in the spot where it rested in my crib, carriage, whatever. I was about a year-and-a-half old when they finally operated on it. They basically cut all the muscles on that side, then secured my free-moving head and neck with something very much like a halo. The big difference with that one was it was removable. I had to wear that thing for years and from all reports, I hated it. I have only one memory of it: Hiding it behind a pile of clothes in the very back of my bedroom closet. And now I'd unearthed another memory: What it felt like going on. You should understand, I am not a superstitious guy. I have always questioned religion, believing in science, though I would nonetheless call myself spiritual. Where I get a lot less certain is when it comes to the question of whether "sh*t happens" or there's no such thing as coincidence, and there's a reason for everything, a plan, a destiny. My gut says there is no plan, despite any evidence to the contrary. So, what does that leave? I believe in free will. I believe I have choice and I'm responsible for everything that happens to me. I do not believe that what happens was meant to happen, because that would mean I had no choice. But I do think there's a reason my quadriplegia happened, and I think its my responsibility to discover it ...just as I believe there's a reason for anyone's existence. Its our purpose to find our purpose, and thereby find peace and happiness. Life is good. Then again, I also agree with Tod E. Santee's observation: "If I believed all the news stories I've seen about others with disabilities and those about me, too, I must eventually determine it happened *primarily* so I could be an "inspiration" to others. (Uhg!)." Though, hopefully that's not all I'm good for. bob quinn C5/C6 9 years post now 54 years old ________________________________ From: bob quinn <[email protected]> To: [email protected] Sent: Saturday, March 21, 2009 4:01:15 PM Subject: [QUAD-L] Why Were You Injured? Do you believe there was a reason? Was it for some greater purpose? Your destiny? If so, do you know what it is (yet)?
