Your lips are chaffed and the cosmic diamond tans your forehead.  Through sweat stained eyelids the solar winds and glare rip across the windswept sand revealing nothing.  Nothing but the Sun’s gilded eternity upon miles and miles of the horizon.  You can’t escape the light it is there even when your eyes are shut.  Spinning around like a whirling dervish you keep turning and there’s still nothing but the that bright blue sky above.  Stumbling you reach through a haze and find your footsteps.  It is only them that gives you a sense of direction.  Did you arrive at Mars?Is the sand behind you red and blue because you traveled inter-galactically.  No — something tells you you’re still on this planet.

In the distance a pool or puddle of dark water shines deeper and brighter than the sky above.  Your eyes iced by salt remain slits and tear up as you strain to see.  Could it be?  Is it?  Is it just an illusion of blue water you wish to see.  A roar of the sandstorms is in the distance, droning like blood rushing through your ears.  Is it just a mirage? Your eyes tell you that there are ponds and trees and pomegranates and puddles in the distance.  Puddles of water.  The path in front of you is still long and arduous but you continue charging forward.

After a timeless distance you realize that plot was nothing but a reflection of the sky.  But was it? Just beyond your perceived puddle– light refractions un-shadow a crisp land. A land Lush and as colorful as the Garden of Eden and as sensuous as a red rose lain on naked flesh. You’ve not given up yet and you tell yourself to keep on placing 1 foot in front of the other — your land — your place–your puddle is within reach.

The grating sound of metal against sand and pavement melt with red and yellow strobing lights — this synesthesia wakes you abruptly.  Looking up snowflakes melt and run down your partition window.  Another snowfall — another dream — 1 of those dreams that so real that it feels ‘more real’ than real life (on the complete opposite side of the scale of sureal).

In the depths of winter and in the depths of night you contemplate your desires and living symbols of your dreams. You don’t need a psychoanalysis to interpret this one.  It couldn’t be spelled out any clearly.  Was that video that you watched before the shade of night a mirage? A signpost of water in your proverbial desert. Maybe you needed a mirage there all along to keep going.  Maybe without the Mirage you would not have continued?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMbnkVw-tf4

Could it be that the dark of puddle was a reflection of the divine, the seduction of your mind, that word that we call hope? and you know — it doesn’t matter what you want to call it and go back to sleep comfortably for once and continue the goal of reaching that soul quenching water springing freely from that oasis.  

You still have the distance to tread but you know it is now beyond faith–its ‘realer or anti-phantasmagoric’ than ever. 

It has been very emotional to write this and it took me longer than I expected to finish.
chillin’ at the Hot Springs 01

In the spring of 2002 I moved into an apartment on Plum Island, MA. A funky barrier island exhibiting miles of orange-tinted sands, a few pubs and shops, a large bird estuary, plentiful fishing grounds, some beach breaks and colorfully lucid sunrise/sunsets. (I took the footprints picture above, ironically, one month before…) I had just finished my degree from University of New Hampshire and felt fortunate to live very close to the ocean while I searched for a full-time job around Boston.

In the meantime, I had just begun working on a few freelance Web design projects to help pay for expenses. I’d recently learned how to design and develop web sites from Boston University and managed my time between working on a few web sites, looking for jobs and enjoying the sunny days that the island had to offer.

Being a pretty easy-going guy, I quickly befriended local surfers, fishermen, artists, and shopkeepers. I was elated and stoked to be able to split my time between working inside on my computer, listening to the oceans waves crash, and being able to spend my lunches and evenings checking the surf, watching and paddling with the seals and sea gulls.

I found the island to be a great place to soul search and I had many barefoot strolls along the shore, moonlit nights and beachside fires. I enjoyed playing on my hand drum to the rhythm of the crashing waves, having a shindig or two, sunbathing with my girlfriend and skateboarding around all the salty and weathered shacks and mansions. The first week of August had come and with it came my enthusiasm for job interviews, warm days, and an approaching hurricane season (as a New England surfer, kind of like Christmas. Gifts arriving in the form of a clean and glassy set of waves after a nor’easter.)

On August 10, 2002 I woke up at dawn to catch some chest-high, low tide, long-boarding waves, and I was looking forward to seeing The Allman Brothers Band play later that afternoon. After three hours in the water I was beat. I fueled up with a large breakfast, and went back to the shore to read and to waste a few hours before the concert. It was high tide and after chatting with the lifeguards a little, I walked out into the water and dove into a waist high wave to cool. When I entered that wave, I entered a world that I never would envisioned existed.

Immediately after my hands had entered the swell, a strong undertow kicked my legs from underneath me and my head bumped into a rouge sand bar. A million feelings ran through my body like bolt of lightning and suddenly everything was quiet, like turning the television off on a dark, cold and lonely night. I instantaneously had no feeling or movement below my neck and all I could think was just to hold my breath. After a few body-rolls in the relentless waves I was met by a few hands that lifted me to shore. The lifeguards, who I had just spoken with a few minutes before, then harnessed to me to a stretcher and kept me conscious and breathing. Minutes later, I was med-vacced to Boston Medical Center in critical condition.

After a series of tests I was told I had fractured the fourth cervical vertebrae which had impinged and bruised my spinal cord; resulting in a high level incomplete quadriplegia. My close family was pulled into a room by a psychiatric nurse and told that I may not survive and if I did I would be unable walk and live independently.

For the next month, I fought for my life -I was completely on life support for breathing, eating, and drinking. At one point, I had 14 plastic tubes administering an assortment of fluids, pain medications, antibiotics, steroids, oxygen, and nutrition. The reality of my future had not set in; with a collapsed lung and pneumonia I was living breath to breath. The only communication I had was through others reading my lips.

After my 104 temperature was stabilized around 100�. I was flown via Learjet to Craig hospital (a catastrophic care hospital outside of Denver, Colorado). My third time in the Rocky Mountains, this time was not for recreation my prior visits I’d spent time hiking, camping and skiing. The next two months I battled to get off the ventilator, overcome various infections, and vaguely try to comprehend what a spinal cord injury was. My whole life I had never even spoken to anyone in a wheelchair and I was completely clueless about my injury. I didn’t even know the difference between a quadriplegic (no normally functioning arms or legs) and paraplegic (no legs)-I just knew you didn’t want to be either one.

With no movement other than a shrug I was originally given a sip and puff power wheelchair. I spent most my time in the hospital sleeping, talking to others in my situation, listening to music, praying for some nerve regeneration and working to operate an electric wheelchair with my minimal arm strength. I was soon told that I had to fly home to Boston because my health insurance would no longer pay for any additional hospital stay. Without catastrophic coverage, my financial situation became dire and I was sent home with an old donated wheelchair and heaps of hospital
bills .

Arriving home I was met by the warmest and coldest of hearts. Like a hurricane my injury has swept into so many areas of my life devastating many relationships, my family and my finances and identity. I spent months in bed, and slowly with the help of my dedicated occupational therapist and family’s unconditional love I decided to focus my efforts on my physical body with the hopes of improving my quality-of-life. I began to set the goals of feeding myself, relearning how to use the computer, turning a page of a novel and operating an electric wheelchair with minimal arm strength.

I’d fallen very far, but I was also caught by a deep net of support, positive energy and love. The compassion and generosity of the local community, my family and friends was and continues to amaze me. I have received an endless river of prayer cards, tasty cookies, thoughtful letters and many generous donations helped to keep my heart, body and finances afloat. All of the love and hard work that I received from people has greatly helped me reach a better quality of life, and to afford quality medications, and cutting edge rehabilitative equipment which has ultimately improved my bone density, blood circulation, muscle mass and quality medical care-but most importantly has helped reduce the amount of chronic nerve and spastic pain that I manage daily.

In addition to my physical battle, I also began and continue to fight an emotional struggle. Pain and trauma directly lead to depression (when you not feeling well. It is hard to put a smile on your face). My social and family life were completely torn apart, I couldn’t go to anyone’s home, most restaurants, pubs and shops. (Driving an electric wheel wheelchair anywhere is like driving a tractor) And when I did go out navigation was not easy. . The days I am feeling better Id try to go out to concerts and restaurants, but I quickly realize how people have a hard time seeing me in a wheelchair, I noticed all sorts of social stigma. Young children pointed fingers at me or hide behind their mother’s skirts, adults and some friends staying far away from me-or staring blatantly in shock.

For 23 years, I had mainly been an extrovert and now I was physically confined to being an introvert. All the activities that I enjoyed the most like skiing, surfing, driving, hiking and mountain biking were no longer available to me. I know some people that are injured get back into high adrenaline sports. But I need to remain as safe as possible and within reach of *quality* medical care. Nonetheless, an ongoing battle of depression began (can you blame me).

In the midst of this storm, I slowly began to seek out spiritual connections, holistic alternatives and philosophies. Anyway that I could facilitate nerve regeneration, any additional muscle strength or function- I wanted to pursue. I’ve tried to continue to engage in a rigorous exercise regimen, acupuncture, various mind-body exercises, low laser therapy, self hypnosis, meditation, electrical stimulation of legs and arms, healing blankets, prayer circle energy, massage, recovery yoga, visualization exercises, music and magnetic therapy, crystal and chakra balancing, and aqua therapy. Many of these holistic alternatives and regimens have definitely helped to strengthen my mind and body and are a powerful force but they can only do so much.

I’ve also have been fortunate to listen to two equally strong spirits and martyrs, His Holiness the Dalai Lama and the late Christopher Reeve. These leaders share the similar attributes, speak with compassion, project strong will under adversity and use the power of positive energy to engage their listeners and followers. In both speeches, the audiences were silent, connected and listened intently. I left the venues feeling empowered from their voices and aura; these sages equally projected the feelings of hope and strength.

After two and a half years, powered by the strong devotion of my family helping me day in and day out through the rocky crags of this journey I have been able to achieve the small goals of feeding myself again, pushing a regular wheelchair with power assisted wheels and working on the computer again. Having been a traveler, a seeker of knowledge, a daydream dreamer -the Internet became a place where I could travel alone and see different places and meet different people.

Slowly, I became able to work on the computer again and began to relearn how to design and develop a web site. And so� I started up this web site originally as a digital home that I could use to remain in touch with friends and family, write freely, share photographs and thoughts, and one of my newfound hobbies; watercolor painting.

A talented local writer and journalist was also kind enough to interview me and eloquently depict my plight to achieve independence. Somehow that interview made across the country and into the hands of a member and messenger of the CareCure Community (an online support and research oriented group for spinal cord injuries and other neurological afflictions). Through the power of the Internet, I began to make friends internationally, learn about better ways to take care of myself and understand more about my injury. Strange how a computer, a box into the wall helped me feel connected with the outside world and not feel so alone in my daily struggles, doldrums and anxieties.

This community is the hub of international research and scientific breakthroughs for paralysis and other neurological afflictions. After hours of absorbing the latest information online, my confidence and understanding of the steps needed to cure for paralysis was clarified and I wanted to be able to expedite the process in any way I could. It is known that the “cure”( a tough definition-but basically being able to blend into a crowd without anyone knowing that I or others had endured a spinal cord injury) is an not a “if” but a matter of a “when”. And so I pray and meditate daily with the hope that America will help support the paralyzed to walk again.

I often dream of the day that I will be able to stand and hug my own mother, take a hike with my brother, have a toast with my father after a winning sports game, play catch with my dog and more importantly and simply wake up and get myself out of bed. I dream that I will once again travel, wander through lupine meadows, and leave my footprints in the sand.