Sue Vincent's Blog: Echoes of Life - Posts Tagged "recovery"
Refuse to Lose
I have just witnessed a miracle. And no, that is not a melodramatic statement. Simply true. I just watched my son walk again. Unsupported. For the first time in three and a half years. Five steps.
Yes it has already made the papers. Of course he had been on the phone jubilant the first time, the other day. That alone had me in tears. But today I saw, with my own eyes, through tears I couldn’t have stopped if I’d tried, as my son took five steps away from me.
This, we have always been told, is impossible. And when the impossible occurs I think we can safely call it a miracle. Especially when it brings with it such emotion. Such beauty. Such joy.
I don’t suppose it was wise driving home with tears streaming. They are probably not doing the keyboard much good either. The dog is already quite soggy.
For those who do not know his story, my son was stabbed through the brain in an unprovoked attack in 2009. The screwdriver was rammed through his skull, creating a depressed fracture with shards of bone lodged in the brain, causing extensive brain damage, dangerously elevated intracranial pressures and massive subarachnoid haemorrhage. He was in a coma with a GCS of 4 when he was found and, through brain surgery and other traumas, remained that way for a very long time. He had been expected to die.
He woke, weeks later, paralysed down the right side, unable to speak, coordinate any movement, swallow or see. The damage was so severe we were warned to expect little of his mind, language or personality to remain. Yet I had said from the start that he had always been so stubborn that if he survived and woke at all, Nick would be back. He has proved me right.
His motto was always ‘refuse to lose’. A year after the attack he adopted a variant of that and had it tattooed on his arm ‘Possum ergo facit’, I can, therefore I do.
It has not been an easy journey, nor is it over. There is a very long way to go before Nick could be said to be recovered. His sight, clarity of speech and coordination, balance and…well, I can no longer say inability to walk… We have employed everything from common sense to parcel tape and every shade of ingenuity and unorthodox approach that we can and he had worked relentlessly for his recovery.
His mind and his intellect are clear as a bell, though there are a few invisible issues, he handles them extraordinarily well. He has developed a wisdom far beyond his years in many things. He realised some time ago that he would not now change a thing as he has gone from a successful and ambitious young man to being a happy one who appreciates living.
After he had hugged me while I wept all over him, we stood in his garden talking today. He said that after all the biological and mathematical odds against any one of us being born, it was simply a matter of respect for life to do our best with it. He has a point. We spoke of the power of the imagination and how we create a reality in our minds that is mirrored in the world if we allow it to be and work for it. We spoke of the will and the determination to succeed, to hope and to believe in the impossible and to achieve it with all we are, against all odds and predictions. Against all logic. We spoke of having faith in the impossible being possible. His face lit with passion as he spoke of these things with great eloquence and I wished I could record it for you to hear, for it came from the heart.
Then my son spoke of his dreams, if he can now learn to walk. The places he wants to see and the things he wants to do. All the things he never thought he would be able to do since the attack. The things he could have done, perhaps, before but did not think to spare the time or the joy to do.
“You’ll get postcards from everywhere,” he said, “telling you about all the things I’ve done… not all of them sane.” The lunacy must be genetic, as my only response to that, through the mist of tears, was, “Good!”
He has refused to lose… and today I saw the most beautiful thing I have seen since the day I watched him take his first breath for the second time in his life. I saw my son walk.
Be glad with me.
Yes it has already made the papers. Of course he had been on the phone jubilant the first time, the other day. That alone had me in tears. But today I saw, with my own eyes, through tears I couldn’t have stopped if I’d tried, as my son took five steps away from me.
This, we have always been told, is impossible. And when the impossible occurs I think we can safely call it a miracle. Especially when it brings with it such emotion. Such beauty. Such joy.
I don’t suppose it was wise driving home with tears streaming. They are probably not doing the keyboard much good either. The dog is already quite soggy.
For those who do not know his story, my son was stabbed through the brain in an unprovoked attack in 2009. The screwdriver was rammed through his skull, creating a depressed fracture with shards of bone lodged in the brain, causing extensive brain damage, dangerously elevated intracranial pressures and massive subarachnoid haemorrhage. He was in a coma with a GCS of 4 when he was found and, through brain surgery and other traumas, remained that way for a very long time. He had been expected to die.
He woke, weeks later, paralysed down the right side, unable to speak, coordinate any movement, swallow or see. The damage was so severe we were warned to expect little of his mind, language or personality to remain. Yet I had said from the start that he had always been so stubborn that if he survived and woke at all, Nick would be back. He has proved me right.
His motto was always ‘refuse to lose’. A year after the attack he adopted a variant of that and had it tattooed on his arm ‘Possum ergo facit’, I can, therefore I do.
It has not been an easy journey, nor is it over. There is a very long way to go before Nick could be said to be recovered. His sight, clarity of speech and coordination, balance and…well, I can no longer say inability to walk… We have employed everything from common sense to parcel tape and every shade of ingenuity and unorthodox approach that we can and he had worked relentlessly for his recovery.
His mind and his intellect are clear as a bell, though there are a few invisible issues, he handles them extraordinarily well. He has developed a wisdom far beyond his years in many things. He realised some time ago that he would not now change a thing as he has gone from a successful and ambitious young man to being a happy one who appreciates living.
After he had hugged me while I wept all over him, we stood in his garden talking today. He said that after all the biological and mathematical odds against any one of us being born, it was simply a matter of respect for life to do our best with it. He has a point. We spoke of the power of the imagination and how we create a reality in our minds that is mirrored in the world if we allow it to be and work for it. We spoke of the will and the determination to succeed, to hope and to believe in the impossible and to achieve it with all we are, against all odds and predictions. Against all logic. We spoke of having faith in the impossible being possible. His face lit with passion as he spoke of these things with great eloquence and I wished I could record it for you to hear, for it came from the heart.
Then my son spoke of his dreams, if he can now learn to walk. The places he wants to see and the things he wants to do. All the things he never thought he would be able to do since the attack. The things he could have done, perhaps, before but did not think to spare the time or the joy to do.
“You’ll get postcards from everywhere,” he said, “telling you about all the things I’ve done… not all of them sane.” The lunacy must be genetic, as my only response to that, through the mist of tears, was, “Good!”
He has refused to lose… and today I saw the most beautiful thing I have seen since the day I watched him take his first breath for the second time in his life. I saw my son walk.
Be glad with me.
Possum ergo facit - I can therefore I do
Today, as I watched my son walk a few steps unsupported down the hallway of the home in which he lives independently, preparing to walk his bride to be down the aisle in a few months’ time, I was struck by an inspiration... not difficult when you are watching a miracle walking.
I asked him to write an article for the blog. He agreed. I merely cut and paste.
Some who follow this blog will already know that on July 4th 2009 my son was left for dead in an alley, a screwdriver rammed through his skull and deep into his brain. He was not expected to survive, and when, remarkably, he did not die, the prognosis held no hope given the extent of the brain damage.
His decision making capacity, intellect, behaviour, language centres and memory were the areas that took the direct damage. Secondary damage hit him physically as well. He woke paralysed down his right side top to toe, unable at that point to speak, move or swallow. His co-ordination and balance were non-existent and he could not even sit up straight propped on pillows. Hi face had dropped, his eyes were crossed, his sight was impaired and we were told at one point that hopes of any kind of recovery were unrealistic.
Let me introduce you to my son, Nick Verron………………
Hello.
I've never written anything like these so apologies if I gabble. My Mum seems to think that people might want to hear what I have to say so here goes…
Where to start? My goal is to help even just one person with these ramblings. I guess the first thing I'd say is even when facing a real life nightmare is to do so with a smile. Experience has shown me that when you think things can't get any worse, the next day those problems could seem trivial. I've teetered on the edge of a pit of despair many a time. A smile has kept me from falling. When life does knock you down (normally for me due to my arch nemesis gravity) climb back up. It is very easy at this point to focus on what you've lost.
To give you insight into what I'm about to say (probably not very well) I recommend reading “The Flipside” by Adam J Jackson, a truly motivational book I was urged to read by a good friend who was on the next ward from me following a car crash. She is now walking, working and looking at moving in with her boyfriend to their own place after a very shaky prognosis. My point being that she knows what she's talking about. Anyway, I digress. You WERE warned about the rambling!
It is very easy to focus on what you've lost. I could say that I lost a highly paid job which I excelled in, a nice flat, nice car and was able bodied. Instead, I focus on what I've gained. This ordeal has completely realigned my priorities in life. Before I took everything for granted, so what I had I didn't appreciate. They say "you don't know what you've got until it's gone". How true that is. I kick myself for wasting the things that I had. So I urge you, go out for a walk and breathe in the air outside, appreciate the fact that you can. My ramblings will still be here when you get back, but tomorrow you may not physically be able to. Like my tattoo says, “possum ergo facit", Latin for "I can therefore I do". Please heed these words, I learned them the hard way.
This brings me onto my next piece of advice. Don't live in the past. You learn from your mistakes. I believe life to be comprised of lots of lessons, each one when learned enabling you to pass a slightly harder one. I think that everything in my life had been enabling me to tackle the current lesson which started 4th July 2009. I'm hoping I'm near graduation… Hindsight's shown me that these lessons at the time I would've done ANYTHING to escape, but realised later they're responsible for who I am today.
I found another recent shift in my priorities for recently I found love. If you'd have asked me a year ago my number one priority I'd have said learning to walk. Now that had been knocked off its pedestal by my Faith. Brave Faith has come to another country to study, battling bipolar on a daily basis. I guess that's something we have in common - we were both told we were attempting something impossible but did it anyway. Not many people would understand this, but I'm actually thankful for everything that's happened since the attack. Amongst other things, it's allowed me to meet Faith. More importantly it's allowed me, by having to overcome private daily trials, to better understand problems she faces and how brilliant and strong she is to have got this far.
I must say that to appreciate how good some things in my life are, I've had to experience things at the opposite end of the scale to contrast them to. As Faith said (probably more eloquently) “you only see stars in the sky when it's dark enough".
One thing that put my mind at rest I will share. I was so scared every day waking up thinking "is this as far as it is possible for me to recover?” Well I read that the brain doesn't stop learning unless you stop teaching it! I read that an old man lost 98% of his brain function in a stroke but went back to teaching! People can regain mobility 20 years after being paralysed! I found this out from a book on neuroplasticity called “The Brain That Changes Itself” by Norman Doidge. This was recommended to me by a guy called Andrew Parr, a professional hypnotherapist who decided to help me merely out of the goodness of his heart. Anyone with / who knows / is interested in neurological problems should definitely read this. It completely changed the way I think about brains.
Why was it instilled in me that there was no hope of further recovery? I was discharged from physiotherapy in 2010 because "there was nothing more they could do for me". Since that point I have made solid progress. Because I believed in myself. Oh, and countless hours of hard work. I do not think that I'm the only one with the determination needed to get this far. I do however think that if it were not for a fiery little Yorkshire hobbit, the medical profession would've sapped it from me (and worryingly probably have from many before me!) as for whatever reason they quash hope? What worries me more is people who have yet to be robbed of their determination! After all, isn't hope one of Man's strongest qualities? Contrary to what they'd have you believe, no matter how dire things may look, you can live, not just exist.
I asked him to write an article for the blog. He agreed. I merely cut and paste.
Some who follow this blog will already know that on July 4th 2009 my son was left for dead in an alley, a screwdriver rammed through his skull and deep into his brain. He was not expected to survive, and when, remarkably, he did not die, the prognosis held no hope given the extent of the brain damage.
His decision making capacity, intellect, behaviour, language centres and memory were the areas that took the direct damage. Secondary damage hit him physically as well. He woke paralysed down his right side top to toe, unable at that point to speak, move or swallow. His co-ordination and balance were non-existent and he could not even sit up straight propped on pillows. Hi face had dropped, his eyes were crossed, his sight was impaired and we were told at one point that hopes of any kind of recovery were unrealistic.
Let me introduce you to my son, Nick Verron………………
Hello.
I've never written anything like these so apologies if I gabble. My Mum seems to think that people might want to hear what I have to say so here goes…
Where to start? My goal is to help even just one person with these ramblings. I guess the first thing I'd say is even when facing a real life nightmare is to do so with a smile. Experience has shown me that when you think things can't get any worse, the next day those problems could seem trivial. I've teetered on the edge of a pit of despair many a time. A smile has kept me from falling. When life does knock you down (normally for me due to my arch nemesis gravity) climb back up. It is very easy at this point to focus on what you've lost.
To give you insight into what I'm about to say (probably not very well) I recommend reading “The Flipside” by Adam J Jackson, a truly motivational book I was urged to read by a good friend who was on the next ward from me following a car crash. She is now walking, working and looking at moving in with her boyfriend to their own place after a very shaky prognosis. My point being that she knows what she's talking about. Anyway, I digress. You WERE warned about the rambling!
It is very easy to focus on what you've lost. I could say that I lost a highly paid job which I excelled in, a nice flat, nice car and was able bodied. Instead, I focus on what I've gained. This ordeal has completely realigned my priorities in life. Before I took everything for granted, so what I had I didn't appreciate. They say "you don't know what you've got until it's gone". How true that is. I kick myself for wasting the things that I had. So I urge you, go out for a walk and breathe in the air outside, appreciate the fact that you can. My ramblings will still be here when you get back, but tomorrow you may not physically be able to. Like my tattoo says, “possum ergo facit", Latin for "I can therefore I do". Please heed these words, I learned them the hard way.
This brings me onto my next piece of advice. Don't live in the past. You learn from your mistakes. I believe life to be comprised of lots of lessons, each one when learned enabling you to pass a slightly harder one. I think that everything in my life had been enabling me to tackle the current lesson which started 4th July 2009. I'm hoping I'm near graduation… Hindsight's shown me that these lessons at the time I would've done ANYTHING to escape, but realised later they're responsible for who I am today.
I found another recent shift in my priorities for recently I found love. If you'd have asked me a year ago my number one priority I'd have said learning to walk. Now that had been knocked off its pedestal by my Faith. Brave Faith has come to another country to study, battling bipolar on a daily basis. I guess that's something we have in common - we were both told we were attempting something impossible but did it anyway. Not many people would understand this, but I'm actually thankful for everything that's happened since the attack. Amongst other things, it's allowed me to meet Faith. More importantly it's allowed me, by having to overcome private daily trials, to better understand problems she faces and how brilliant and strong she is to have got this far.
I must say that to appreciate how good some things in my life are, I've had to experience things at the opposite end of the scale to contrast them to. As Faith said (probably more eloquently) “you only see stars in the sky when it's dark enough".
One thing that put my mind at rest I will share. I was so scared every day waking up thinking "is this as far as it is possible for me to recover?” Well I read that the brain doesn't stop learning unless you stop teaching it! I read that an old man lost 98% of his brain function in a stroke but went back to teaching! People can regain mobility 20 years after being paralysed! I found this out from a book on neuroplasticity called “The Brain That Changes Itself” by Norman Doidge. This was recommended to me by a guy called Andrew Parr, a professional hypnotherapist who decided to help me merely out of the goodness of his heart. Anyone with / who knows / is interested in neurological problems should definitely read this. It completely changed the way I think about brains.
Why was it instilled in me that there was no hope of further recovery? I was discharged from physiotherapy in 2010 because "there was nothing more they could do for me". Since that point I have made solid progress. Because I believed in myself. Oh, and countless hours of hard work. I do not think that I'm the only one with the determination needed to get this far. I do however think that if it were not for a fiery little Yorkshire hobbit, the medical profession would've sapped it from me (and worryingly probably have from many before me!) as for whatever reason they quash hope? What worries me more is people who have yet to be robbed of their determination! After all, isn't hope one of Man's strongest qualities? Contrary to what they'd have you believe, no matter how dire things may look, you can live, not just exist.
