If you ever want to get a dose of humility, and a reminder of just how incredibly lucky we are to have bodies that operate under the power of our will, take the time to visit Sci Fit or any other spinal cord rehab center near you.

I'm humbled every time we go to therapy as I have the privilege of watching all the other SCI (spinal cord injury) patients during their workouts.  I see the same faces each week...all putting an incredible amount of effort into their workouts, desperately trying to get their bodies to move and behave as they used to before each one of them suffered an unimaginable, catastrophic accident.  

Based on my observations, most of the clients are young and athletic.  Although there are some females in the program, most of the clients are male. Some fell victim doing something they enjoyed or doing best: snow boarding, body surfing, climbing, swimming, diving, cheer-leading, or riding bicycles, motorcycles, and ATV s.  Others are victims of car accidents (one by a drunk driver), slipping on ice, gun violence, or slip-n-slide mishaps. A few suffered a stroke, have cerebral palsy, or suffer from some form of spinal cord malady. Others were injured on the job...faulty cherry pickers collapsing, or having ones legs cut off by machinery in the workplace. 

Some come to therapy in electric wheelchairs, some in manual chairs; some with walkers, others with canes. Some can operate their chair on their own, others with the the help of an assistant or family member.

Some come in mobility vans, others in cars, and I've even seen one client drive his electric wheelchair several miles across town to get to therapy.

Some live close-within miles of Sci Fit, others several hours away. Some even have two residences-one near Rehab, and their permanent residence which may be as far away as Redding or Fresno.

Most have the majority of their movements in their arms. Others (as is the case with my husband) have the majority of their movements in their legs. Some have movements in all four limbs, some only two, and some none at all.

Some are driven to therapy with their assistant or hired caregiver; others with a friend, spouse, parent,child, or other family member. Some even have the ability to drive themselves with cars that have been refitted with adaptive devices. There are a few who's only accompanying companion is their dog.

Some patients come two days a week, most three, some four. Some come for one hour, most two, some three, and rarely four.

Most patients are young-usually in their twenties.  The oldest is around 70, and the youngest is a young boy with cerebral palsy who comes to rehab after school. 

Yet even with all the variation and differences among the clients, there is one common thread...these patients and their family members are committed.  They are committed to recovery, they are committed to regaining muscle movement, and are committed to returning to the activities that they so love and miss.  They are committed to some level of normalcy in a world that is often lonely, and that which has been stripped of movement, convenience, spontaneity, and fitting-in.

The effort I have seen put forth by these patients is out of this world.  If everyone invested the same amount of time and dedication into their work-outs as the patients at Sci Fit, we would all look like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Yet these patients are lucky if, with all the time they put into their rehabilitation, amounts to anything more than feeling a new tingle in their leg. Recovery is painfully slow, and time put in never equates to the gain going out. 

I only get to see these folks for a few short moments before or after their sessions, but one thing I've noticed over and over are the smiles and warmth that glows from their faces when I speak to them.  It is genuine.  I get more satisfaction talking with them than I do most people.  They could have a lot to complain about, but they don't.  They are grateful for the time allotted to them, and for the time you spend getting to know who they are and what they are all about.  They are kind, gentile, and they have taught me a lot about the human spirit. They make me happy!

I feel blessed to be a part of the SCI community.  They are my peeps, and I hope and pray that each one of them will achieve the goals that they have set up for themselves.  They absolutely deserve it.

My last thoughts...if you ever see someone in a wheelchair....be kind to them, smile at them, reach out and get to know them.  Assist them when they need you, talk to them when you have questions (and not the person standing next to them), and pray for them.  They are all human beings, they have feelings, goals, desires and they all deserve to be treated with respect.  They have been dealt a lousy hand of cards, but I hope and believe that in their lifetime they will be standing tall and running like the wind!!


XXOO
Denise

  















As the sun hits the window, I'm stirred awake.
 I want to sleep a tad more, but there's none to take. 

 I tiptoe past his bed, he's as still as can be. 
I only need a few minutes to concentrate on me. 

 Most days those moments may be a minute or two, 
I take what I can get before I start my to-dos.

 I sip my coffee, and pet the pup.
 He clears his throat, he's waking up.

 I'm greeted with a smile, and "I Love You, Swede!" 
"Thank You for being my partner, and fulfilling my needs."

 His shoulders ache, his eyes sting and burn.
 I gently wipe them with a tissue, I don't want them to hurt. 

We allot three hours to get ready for our day.
We choose to do it together, we wouldn't have it any other way.

Most days by noon we are off to Sci-Fit.
 It's part of our routine, because he'll never quit.

It takes approximately an hour to get to Rehab.
We pack in a lot of talking, it's never a drag. 

The therapists encourage him to give it his all, 
and over the past year, they've helped him stand tall.

 It's never easy, but he lets down his guard.
 They stretch him to his limits, they push him real hard.

 After each session we drive through McDonald's and get our Frappe's
 It's something we look forward to, cuz it makes us happe'!

 Due to commuter traffic, the drive home takes much longer.
 Yet it's the time we have fun, and are silly...it's made our marriage stronger. 

We spend our evenings watching TV and getting real snug,
and when the kids sign off for bed we still give them a kiss and a hug.
 
 I wrap up the day's chores with a ritual of getting Vaughn comfortable in bed.
 It takes four pillows including the one for his head.

 I push our beds together at the end of the night.
 I kiss his sweet head and thank him for fighting the fight. 

 Although we have our challenges as most people do, 
I tell him before the lights go off, "I only want to be with You." 
~Denise Stephens

  One Sunday afternoon, on October 28th, 2012, Jenelle and I were visiting with Vaughn while he was at Santa Clara Valley Medical Center-his third leg of his three month hospital stay.  It had been two-and-a-half months since his accident and at this point he had some movement in his legs, but no movements in his arms or hands.  When I say no movements---I mean no movements.  The last time I saw his arms move was when he was in the ocean just before his accident.  

So, all was peaceful and quiet on this particular Sunday in October.  Jenelle was snuggled up next to Vaughn on his bed and together they were watching a football game on TV.  I sat next to them, catching up on some emails on my computer. We were not expecting any visitors, but out of the blue someone appeared at the doorway and started tapping lightly on the door frame.  I turned around and saw a familiar face---one I hadn't seen in many years...  It was my Dad’s cousin, Jack.  I guess that would make him my second cousin or cousin once removed?  I’m not too sure about the proper family tree lingo, but needless to say, he is my relative and a person who is very close to my parents. I was quite surprised to see him, not only because I wasn't expecting him, but because I usually only see Jack every other year when the family-on my father's side-holds their biennial family reunion.

The impression I have of Jack, and one that is validated by the many tales my parents relay about him, is that he is both very positive, and very spiritual.  He writes a weekly column called “The Challenge," is a minister, and is very involved with the church and its teachings.  He has a very soft and inviting nature, and whether you are religious or not, you would feel very warm and welcome by his presence.

 So there he stood at the end of Vaughn’s bed.  I said to Vaughn and Jenelle, “You remember Jack, my Dad’s cousin?” Jenelle politely smiled, but I figured she probably didn't remember him because she didn't see him all that much.  Vaughn had a look on his face as if he was searching somewhere in his brain for a memory of Jack, and I could tell by his facial expressions that he remembered, but I wasn't sure to what degree.  Yet, their familiarity with Jack really didn't seem to matter, because Jack interacted with us in such a way that was both comforting and peaceful.  He relayed to us that he was just at Home Depot and when he went to pull out his wallet to pay for his items, he found a piece of paper that said: Vaughn, Valley Medical Center.  It was a reminder note.

  My parents had told Jack of Vaughn's plight, and Jack wanted to visit Vaughn, and pray for him.  My Mom told me that he was going to visit at some point, I just didn't know when.  I also wasn't sure how receptive Vaughn would be about such a visit.   Although I grew up Catholic and in a family where Sunday mass was a given, Vaughn on the other hand had no formal religion in his life. He had always talked about wanting a signal or a sign from above. Although his heart was open, he in general seemed uncertain.

  As Jack spoke, I could see that Vaughn felt comfortable and at ease.  My concern about his receptivity, quickly dissipated, and we were left to simply enjoy Jack's visit. After about 15 minutes Jack asked if he could say a prayer.  Vaughn agreed.  Jack reached out and grabbed Vaughn's motionless hand, and asked that we all unite and join hands in prayer.  He spoke with a quiet softness, and in his prayer, he asked for God to heal Vaughn in both mind and body---from his head all the way down to his fingers and toes. He asked for peace and comfort. The prayer was short and sweet, and when he was done, we hugged and said our goodbyes. 
 
  When he walked away, I felt lifted.  He was able to somehow, with his softness, leave a lasting impression. I was happy he came, but what about Vaughn? How did he feel? Did he feel uncomfortable? As it turns out, and to my relief, Vaughn enjoyed Jack's visit as well and he was grateful that someone took the time to visit with him and share some warm thoughts.
 
  Jack went on his way,and we got back to what we were doing...I went back to typing and Jenelle and Vaughn got back to watching TV.  But what came next, I will never forget. It was by far the most tear-provoking thing that has happened since the accident.

  Jenelle, as you will recall, was laying next to Vaughn with her head on his chest. One or two minutes after Jack left, she poked her head up and said, "Daddy, did you just move your thumb?"  Vaughn looked down at his hand and said, "I don't know." I looked up, pulled up my glasses and watched Vaughn move his thumb back and forth for the first time. He repeated this movement over and over.

My eyes welled up with tears, for in my mind it was a miracle.  I wasn't sure if Vaughn would ever get movement back in his arms and hands, and there it happened before my eyes.  I couldn't believe what I just witnessed. I embraced him and started to cry.  I was so happy because it gave me hope that anything was possible.  A new door had opened...a door of hope for Vaughn's recovery instead of a door shut with resignation and defeat.

 After I settled down from all the celebration, it dawned on me that Jack has just left a few minutes earlier.  I thought back to his prayer and how he asked for Vaughn to be healed "...down to the end of his fingers and toes." Did he have anything to do with Vaughn's movement? My Mom always told me stories about Jack and how he had the reputation for being a healer. Did he do it again? Was he that powerful? Is he for real? It still gives me chills thinking back to that moment.

  We will never know why Vaughn's thumb movement happened only a few minutes after Jack left. Was it coincidence? Was it the work of God? Was it the result of one man's powerful prayer? Or was it going to happen anyways at that moment in time with the natural progression of recovery. I just don't know and it's okay that it stays in my memory as a special moment in so many ways. We felt a new-found hope and we will always feel that Jack's visit was a gift to us that we will never forget. 

This blog is dedicated this week to Jack, who last week sadly and unexpectedly lost his beautiful wife, Joanne. They were married for 44 years. Both Vaughn and I would like to extend our love and prayer back to Jack and his daughter Jackie, and hope that they will find peace and solace moving forward. God Bless you both and your family.

XXOO
Denise

For more information about Jack and Joann McCall:
http://www.act-ministries.org/bio.html
http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/mercurynews/obituary.aspx?pid=172034049

Today marks the 2nd anniversary of my husband's accident. 

 A year ago, I dreaded the mark of the first anniversary.  I knew my mind would be overwhelmed with painful thoughts of a day I wish had never happened. I would re-live each hour, and all the horror that struck each member of my family, and most especially my husband.  I was more worried about the expectations regarding recovery from a spinal cord injury and concerned that we were at the end of the time-frame for improvements that were set by physicians and that which was printed in medical text books. 

 Yet, August 6th, 2013 came and went. We shed our tears, and got through the day.  I was glad I didn't have to worry about that day anymore.  It was done, over-with, and the pressure was off.  My husband was still with us, I still had my family, and the world didn't come crashing down.

So here we are, another year gone past.  What's different about this year is that I'm not caught up in the worry of the anniversary, but instead am celebrating the fact that we got through another year in-tact. We've had our challenges, but this past year was better than the year before, and hopefully this next year will be even better.

In honor of this day, I  want to raise my glass and give a toast to my husband for all he has endured these past two years.  You would be brought to tears if you only knew what it is like for him on a daily basis.  The aches and pains, the loneliness, the frustration, the sadness, the disappointment, the struggle, the missing out...it lives inside him, but you would never know it, because he puts on his warrior face each and every day, and fights through.  I admire his strength, courage, endurance, and above all the love he shares with me and the kids.

While "Happy Anniversary" would not be fitting, this 2nd year anniversary is to be recognized for all the victories, large or small. So here's to you Swede.  May you keep fighting the fight, and find peace and happiness in all that you do. I LOVE YOU!!