Rest & Relaxation

I think that I had originally planned this day to prepare for me to go back to school. Now that today is here I have absolutely no idea how I am supposed to plan for anything...

How am I supposed to plan for all of the questions I will be asked? How am I to plan for missing two months of bills, watering plants, car washes, and groceries? Who would have known that I needed to plan on being so sad?

It is truly strange to be home. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my home, but I just feel like I forgot something along the way home. (And I don't mean my luggage, which I actually did lose too.) I have a certain sense of anxiety being home, partially because I don't really understand why I have it and partially because I know EXACTLY why I have it. I know that the sooner I jump back into my life the better off I will be. I know that I have spent the past two months of my life in a crucial arrangement. I know that I have learned my fair share.

This journey was a necessary struggle in many ways tied up in a neat little bow of happiness and discovery. I learned so much of my inner self. I whispered secret fears and were answered in hopes and dreams. I found confidence in myself and in mankind.

The time has come for me to return to the world that I have strategically cut out for me and use all of the adventures and wisdom I've gained in India. I owe so much to this experience and hope to really foster these feelings and emotions into a new way of life.

I will continue to learn and teach the world and chronicle along the way. I will always take with me Vandana's integrity, Dr. Ashish's smile, Lalan's laugh, Rita's warmth, Michael's understanding of it all, and Dr. Shroff's courage.

Thank you everyone for being there every step of the way with me. Many of you assume this is all over, but those of you who really know me know that it has all just begun. See you out there.

I Did Spend My Life On the Roof Last Night

...and it was definitely worth the two and a half flights of stairs.

I lay on the concrete in front of the world, being batted by its eyelashes and smiled by the moon. It was a great last night here to clear my head and let life move for me for once.

Heads or tails?

The world seems so much easier when viewed from a spectrum of 50/50. The prognosis that you suspect will give way to that perspective that you have created for this world.

I've been flipping a lot of coins in the past while bit (I stole the idea off Batman). There are so many unknowns in my life that want so many urgent answers... I had to bale. I couldn't keep up with my head asking me about my purpose or my wisdom or my journey.



I have been on quite a trek around myself and back again. In the past two months, I have spent grueling hours with my body. Is it or is it not moving? I have hiding inside my head sort of afraid to see who's out there to greet me. I've gathered a lot of metal calipers, and souvenirs, and henna, and friends. My brains is cycling in motion, it's 4:40 in the morning. I have so much to do before I leave...my room is a mess and my friends are still laughing down the hall.

My absence was due to my 2nd lumbar procedure. It was a quite a powerful one. I knew that I was in trouble the moment Dr. Ashish injected me and I A.) Felt it, and B.) Got a headache right away. I will spare you the details now only because I rolled a tails... Just know that I've been messed for days and am still even having a little trouble typing. However, we won't spend our time taking about the headache because that is a useless thing anyways. In the next 7 days is when I am supposed to feel changes; I would starts describing now but I haven't quite got my handle on the words.

I guess for now I am going to have to move slow and sure, realizing each beautiful moment for what it can really been envisioned. It may take some force to get me home from this magnificent land I've been wandering the world for ultimately myself. I am going to be sure to spend my last two nights full of excitement and energy...and maybe on the roof.

It's A Really Good Thing...

That I haven't had the chance to visit a school out here yet, and I don't think I will have time to. Otherwise, I am not sure I would come back to the States.

Every chance I get to interact and talk with kids here I take it. I love the obstacle: to try to give a bit of yourself to each child you lock eyes with. To give strength to the mud-soaked, pantless child who is motions to his mouth for food. To give peace to the child who, sadly, could sell any magazine to any bystander (no matter the language) like a true grown-up used car salesman. To give hope to the helpless babies that sit silent and naked in their teen-aged mother's arms, with no hope of ever leaving their shanty.

Today we found ourselves at Sarojini Nagar Market. This market is one of the largest in New Delhi and houses virtually everything, and almost everyone. Without even thinking, I struck up with a new best friend of mine, a 10-year old boy whose job was to carry parcels and bags for people who didn't want to carry their own-- a steal, at only 10 Rupees. At first, I didn't quite understand why he was carrying around an empty basket trying so eagerly to grab my bags from me. It didn't matter to me anyways. We exchanged names, which we both have forgotten already, as well as smirky smiles indicating that there was to be no harm in it anyways. This boy followed us throughout the market. He helped me get good deals on a few of my souvenirs. I tried to get him to play cricket. He kept pleading to carry my things. I gave him a few of my best high-5s.

At one point, I met up with another kiddo that couldn't have been more than 7 or 8. He was selling "black boards." These blackboards were probably made of outdoor trashbags that had been glued to a rod to make them roll up when not in use. This little boy was having little success with his business. Not really wanting to make that purchase for myself, I quickly noticed that the RD had been erased from the chalk advertisement for the BLACK BOA. I asked him for the chalk, but he couldn't find it. I tried to explain that the reason that no one was buying anything was because he had forgotten the R and the D. I am not sure he understood much other than the fact that I requested the chalk. After searching all 4 pants pockets, his shirt pocket, and even his sock the chalk magically appeared and I filled in the rest of the word for him. I was very happy to do it, and he would have been even happier had I bought the stinkin' trashbag blackboard.

There have been so many moments like this over the past two months. These moments have kept me feeling so alive and connected to others, though I am not really sure that is always reciprocated. I hope that I have at least touched one of the hundreds of babies and children that I have shared with and played with and winked with and laughed with. Deep down I know that I am helping myself more than anyone else, but that doesn't stop me from feeling good while doing it. And I don't think it should.

I Have To Put It In Writing...

In order to keep my word.

Today I promised Dr. Ashish that I will successfully keep up my blog (at least once a week) after I get back home.

You are my witness.

Gauging The Walker

My time here in Green Park is winding down, and apparently I am not the only one trying to fit everything to get the most out of my time here.

Today Vandana challenged me to stand with the walker rather than the parallel bars. I barely had the chance to utter how another patient just tried it for the first time and the why-can't-I whining when she softly smiles and says that it was going to be a surprise for me to try it.

Well, I am glad that I tried it... but I am not sure that it is my new favorite thing to do around here. I am excited, however, to have yet another mountain to climb (as if I needed one). Standing in my calipers surrounded by the comfort of steel that the parallel bars provide has become a safe haven for me without introduction. Having invited the loosely trusted younger brother of those bars over for a little stroll posed for quite an obstacle for me. I was no longer surrounded by what I had grown to know so well for walking, but rather I was now clinched on to two tiny pieces of flimsy metal with wheels on the base and nothing to catch my fall.

It was Vandana's intention not to have me walk with the walker but just to stand to gauge a new goal once my gait had improved. She explained to me that until this happens there is no reason to practice poor steps, which I entirely agree. So for probably the first time since I have been here, I obeyed delightfully and stood with white knuckles embracing the walker.

Although it wasn't long before Dr. Shroff could sniff out my fear and offer an additional challenge. Dr. Shroff is famous for the way that she can always slide in a more difficult task with the grace and beauty of snowfall. She invited me to walk a few steps with the walker while encased amongst the parallel bars. She figured that my fear would be fooled and that I would perform beyond the expectation. This is partly true. My fear of structural simplicity was eased, thanks to Dr. Shroff; however, my gait was still pretty wobbly. I really do benefit from both sides of the spectrum: being pushed to my limit by such a powerful force but also to have the rationality and wisdom to do only what I can do the right way. There is no need to practice foolishly.

Work hard and shoot for those things that are grueling and uncomfortable, but keep in mind that it rarely beneficial to step beyond the weight of your own 2 feet (particularly if those feet tend to have a mind of their own).

On a side note, I will be having my very last procedure tomorrow at Gautam Nagar. Dr. Ashish tells me that this is going to be quite an intense one in terms of the quantity of cells and the location of placement. I look forward to it, for every moment here has been a crucial stone in the path of healing and discovery. This particular stone, however, does not have internet access. Consider yourself forewarned.

Tick-Tock

Time heals all wounds. Time is of the essence. Time you enjoyed wasting is not wasted time. Time is money. Time stays long enough for anyone who will use it.

Although it is a concept that is completely inspired by man, meaning that it only exists because we pay attention to it, time has soaked through every facet of every life. I've never quite understood how so much effort is spent on something that is so translucent and intangible, something that cannot be dug up nor dished out nor hung to dry. But for some reason, time is everywhere... existing because we give it power and meaning. We give it thanks when it follows in our favor and we curse it and blame it when we are too weak to carry our own.

I, too, have been subject to the impenetrability of time. Some of my emotions are even dependent upon where time stands in circles of my own circumstances...

Closely arriving the annual reminder of my time spent on this earth, I sit here thinking quite remarkably about the weight that is placed upon time. I feel anxiety towards many things. Is it true that I am only 24 months shy of 30 years of age? Is it also true that I have a mere 8 days left here in Delhi? It couldn't possibly be true that I have spent almost 12 years in a wheelchair. Where has time gone and why didn't I noticed him as he slipped past me out the door? Sissy.

I can't believe that my time here is almost over. I am so settled in life here: the Hinglish, the head bobs, the paneer tikka, the rickshaws, even the cows. They all seem to be part of who I am, aside from the actual reason that I even came to this great stinky land in the first place.

As you may have guessed it, time has an amazing relationship with stem cells as well. There are jokes floating around about the anti-aging qualities of these little cells, but it is all (frighteningly) true. Stem cells have the power and the potential to effect time and cause little breaks in the natural course of things. This is exactly what I was searching for by coming. I am not looking for the new and fabulous stem cell face cream for my surfacing crow's feet, but I am, however, looking for a way to extend the quality of how I manage and utilize my time on this planet.

So far these little, tiny cells have flooded my system. They have given my lower extremities a much-welcomed bath of oxygen-rich blood that has caused my wounds to heal, my scars to mend, and my edema to cease. As far as I am concerned, I am playing a pretty stiff poker game with time and I am holding a full-house.

The intention that one has for time to play a role is the most crucial aspect of how time is utilized. In the eyes of the universe, these 2 months in India has been a drop of water in a whale's mouth. However for my fairly neglected body, these 2 months have been a lifetime of renewal.

And in the same respect, I feel like I have been here forever and a lifetime, all the while feeling like I haven't done a darn thing in this short adventure to somewhere. Here is where a lot of my anxiety is building. Currently I am making lists in my head of things I need to buy, places I need to explore, people I need to thank, and exercises I need to remember. In only a week's time!

I am not really sure how time has such control over the way we act and react, and better yet how we understand our emotions. It is silly really... all that we have is time, yet time isn't really more substantial than the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus. For something that I have such difficulty with understanding, it sure does run my life pretty well.

I just hope that no matter what, the time that I have lost will remain with me forever in thought; whereas the time that is waiting for me is full of wonder and mystery and hope for the greatness of things that still remains unrealized by my mind at this point.

If Only My Eyes Were A Camera...

Independence Day is a huge affair in India. We began our festivities by launching the nation's flag via a pulley system onto the rooftop.


From there, we gathered back inside complete with Dr. Shroff, Dr. Ashish and their family members to laugh and cheer with one another over some live entertainment, lunch, and refreshments. It was great to not only spend time with the other patients, but to also be able to spend time with the staff. It brought about such closeness to meet the families behind the lovely faces that greet you everyday. It is hard to imagine at times that India isn't home.

Dr. Shroff's mother shares a birthday with India (as well as Kanako!) We celebrated with chocolate cake for both, and when Kanako wasn't able to accept the song in person Sarah and I did what any noble friend would do and announced the upcoming anniversaries of our own births. The whole lot sang for Sarah and me while Dr. Shroff oversaw a proper cutting of the cake and blowing of the candles.

It only partial worked. Sarah and I still managed to ham it up pretty well and get cake everywhere.


The day danced on with balloon games with children, traditional Hindi hip gyrations, and any attempt to get the sisters and the ward boys in on the fun. I really hope that they had at least a spoonful of the fun that I had today.







Later on, after most of the sugar had been consumed and the majority of balloons had been suffocated a few of us headed out to India Gate... the most popular spot for people and kites on Independence Day. India Gate sort of looks like the Parisian L'Arc de Triomphe, which I love dearly. It was quite a sight today, however. People from all over were there to celebrate and try to sell you cheap souvenirs. Little did we know, that we were to quickly become the main attraction for the event.


I had never been looked upon so much in my entire life. We wheelers drew in such a crowd as we rolled amongst the mob. Without much effort, we learned that it was best to keep moving, for if we didn't we would have at least 30 people around us within a moment's notice. Michael was the most desired of the 3 wheelers (myself and Gavin didn't hold a candle to that hunk-a-flame). We were asked to pose for pictures and to hold babies and to save the world, probably. For some odd reason, it was sort of enjoyable... I guess because the whole event was absolutely comical.

What a day. Happy Independence, India.

A Goal For The Future, A Future For The Goal

Currently, I am living in this cyclical state of wanting to create goals for myself but also not really wanting to put too much investment into the unknown future. This cyclical state is actually more like a tornado because it is definitely not getting me anywhere and definitely not helping.

Allow me to explain:

Generally speaking, goals are a great thing. As an athlete and a coach it is crucial for one to have set goals in mind in order to have something to strive for and to understand the intention you have for practice and competition. In life, goals are what usually separate the meek and weak from the truly successful ones, the "go getters" of society. Living life without ambition for something better is sort of like surrendering to the idea that you have no purpose. Realizing my own goals and pursuing them to the fullest is the only way to keep in true check with myself... Why am I here? What can I do in this world? Who do I aspire to be like? These questions can never be appropriately answered, but they really shouldn't be engaged without a fight.

Call me a fatalist, call me what you will, but it has always been really hard for me to make decisions based on promotion of the future. I imagine that this school of thought started after my accident, leaving me feeling as though ANYTHING could happen at ANY TIME. You can't plan for it, you can't change it, so you might as well not be bothered with it. Now I spend my days living in the present, "The Precious Present", if you will. It is far more comfortable and intelligent for me to think only about what I can do now to change or correct my current state. I can't help or know what is going to happen down the road, but I am responsible for what is happening now. So be it.

Now here is where it gets tricky. Having a desire to set goals for myself to engage in worthwhile activities and moments, yet all the while not really initiating future thought is nearly impossible. I do realize that in coming to India for this stem cell treatment that I was looking at my future, but I was looking at it through an opaque lens at best. I know that I want to lead a long and healthy life with few complications: that is my goal. Right now, I am having trouble maintaining such a fuzzy goal with so many others seeing it crystal clear for me. Duh Ryan, the goal is to walk. But is it? Does that truly have to be the end -all-be-all solution for what I am after?

In coming to India, I was actually quite nervous that my goals would change. That I would get asphyxiated with the idea of walking and would then transfer my life into thinking that I wouldn't be living a proper life without walking. This goal is very beautifully true for most people here and I can't help but feel a little offended. Am I not whole if I am not walking? Could I not be just as good from down here? At first I thought this feeling came from fear. I thought that if I had the goal to walk that I would not be able to live up to it and feel rejected forever. That is, with relief, not the case at all.

Surrendering to the idea that perhaps I am a little concerned for my future has not been any easier to swallow. I consciously remind myself throughout the hours of the day, that: if this was it could I be happy with that? But now, I am currently putting my entire life on hold to pursue a desire to extend myself beyond my current state of contentment. Wow, that is a lot of pressure. Luckily, I have found this experience thus far to be full up of reflection, learning, playing, and faith. I have found friends in a place where I didn't know I would need them. I have found love in the eyes of strangers. I have found an uncharted land full of beauty and wonder if you would only let it be so. I have found a piece of myself that I never knew I was missing.

Thank you India, thank you craziness, thank you stem cells, thank you unknown, thank you friendship, thank you goals, and thank you future.

P.S. Today is India's Independence Day to be celebrated with no Physio and a dance party downstairs. More on that later.

And Then There Were Two?

Today was quite a trip. I think that my character is continually being tested at any open avenue that could possibly be accessed.

Not only did we bid farewell to Erin this morning, we almost bid double-farewell to Kanako as well. Poor Kanako, her beautiful puppy, Payshia, is not doing well without her. She has Addison's Disease and has been on a downward spiral ever since Kanako left. It is probably mostly due to Kanako's nurturing soul that Payshia is missing and feeling like one sick pup.

We all spent the entire day on the computer taking turns looking for flights, talking with airline associates on the phone, and reassuring the whole of India that Payshia was going to be okay.

Sarah and I hugged Kanako goodbye at about 8 o'clock this evening with a very hopeful flight itinerary. I guess it wasn't hopeful enough. By the time she made it to the airport, the airline employees professed that it was too late. So over the phone lines we schemed, determined and ready to get Kanako on a dang flight...until I found one! I hope!

I am sitting here alone in my Green Park Hospital room only for the third time since I arrived. I am waiting to hear that Kanako is safely on her overpriced way home. Watch out Beijing, Kanako may be in town! I will keep you all updated with her travels in the meantime.

As for me, as it is always sad to see friends go, I feel a bit lighter knowing that Kanako can be reunited with Payshia and begin nursing her back to health. I feel so much more comfortable knowing that both of their stresses should be relieved soon. I also feel a healthy sense of solitude that I haven't had much time or space to endure while in India. I am sure in about 20 minutes I will be missing my friends and want so badly to have the fake-foldout, ugly blue couch occupied; along with shoes and bags laid out like ornaments on a Christmas tree. But for now, I will sit on my halfway made bed and watch some Olympic Badminton because that is really all India is interested in anyways. Maybe so am I.

"Pandora's Box"

Dr. Ashish-o and I are on the same wavelength. I think that we have both been wracking our brains trying to figure out how to reach that spot of broken vascularity in my trunk in attempt to bring back the oxygen that portion of my spine needs.

Now I am no surgeon and I am no spinal cord expert... everything I know I know from personal experience, but I still understand the need for my new baby stem cells to find that one broken link to reset everything in my trunk. So yesterday Dr. Ashish did exactly what I would have done, if that matters at all.

I was taken, once again, into the Operation Theatre by OP and his gang of techs, one of the sisters, and greeted by a smiling Dr. Ashish. Dr. Ashish's smile is so big that you can even see it through his surgical mask and feel it from the hallway. Right away they got me into position, lying on my side in a small scrunched up ball with only inches between my forehead and knees. I was given an epidural injection of cells, below my site of injury (probably about belly button level on my back). This injection was very much like one that I had received at the beginning of my stay; however, it came with a very interesting surprise...

For the first time during a procedure, when punctured near my spine I have never so much as bled even a drop. This time, Dr. Ashish was quite pleased to find that my back bled so much that they need to clean up after it was all done. My first instinct was to be grossed out by it, until I looked up to see how elated Dr. Ashish was at this new reaction. The sole fact that my lower half is becoming more vascular is wonderful, but even more wonderful is the fact that it is exactly what my out-of-order trunk needs.

I spent 5 hours lying flat with bricks to invert me, then another half hour on my side, only to get up rather quickly to jump in the taxi waiting downstairs to whisk us back to Green Park. There was barely a moment to get my IV canula removed, let alone enjoy the cup of tea that Sarah and Kanako had waiting for me.

This procedure was pretty exciting for me because it was the first one that I felt like was truly specialized for my case. I have been told several times by several sources that my situation is very different than any other that has rolled through the door before, as if I am shocked about that.

I will have one more procedure before I leave and return back to the real world. This will be yet another dreaded lumbar puncture, since I performed so well at it before. From my understanding it will happen next week with the exact day and time remaining to-be-determined, as if I am shocked about that either.

I Had The Time Of My Life

Erin left for home this morning. Henceforward, I will truly miss my gelato buddy, the professional photographer of our daily lives, and the most even-keeled of the lot of us.

After a wonderful goodbye dinner, we headed to a local discotheque where we easily found our way to the karaoke machine. We delightfully serenaded each other with our best renditions of "I Will Survive", "Take It Easy", and "I'll Be Watching You." But Erin and I brought down the house with a special duet of "I Had The Time of My Life" from the original Dirty Dancing Soundtrack. It was irresistible, lasting remnants include a sore throat and a slight regret for agreeing to be the boy voice.

Erin is a wonderful friend for putting her life on hold to be in India with me. Her compassionate nature and willingness to let everything go for all of us will, sadly, not be able to be replaced in these last weeks of my stay.

I want to thank Erin for being such a crucial part of this journey for me. This has been far much more than I could have ever imagined. Without these beautiful friends of mine, I would have never made it this far alone. In short, Erin wins the gold for putting up with my endless shenanigans.

We will miss Erin. India will miss Erin.

Following Procedures When Screwing Around

Tomorrow we had some big plans to celebrate Erin's last day in Smelly Delhi... We were to venture off to Old Delhi, the more northern, crowded, dirty, yet painfully authentic part of this giant city. There are many famous sites, including the Red Fort, the fairly famous Jama Masjid Mosque, and a market called Chandi Chowk (not for the faint at heart, so I am told).

However, in the spirit of all things Indian, I just found out that I am to have a procedure tomorrow at the Gautam Nagar Hospital. This procedure is a "simple" one-day procedure, or at least that is the last word I heard on it. From my knowledge, this procedure is going to be quite similar to the very first one that I had, only this time in a different area of my spine. (Last time it was down at the absolute base of my spinal column). If I had to guess, I would say that Dr. Ashish, the guru visionary of stem cell procedure, would inject somewhere near my T5 injury-- the injury that I sustained due to a stroke shortly after my initial spinal cord injury of L1/2. I think that he is bound and determined to direct cells towards that missing link of vascularity that is keeping all the lights out on that block of vertebrae.

Right now, the real goal in terms of getting back lost function would be to increase the blood supply to the area between T5 and L1 were it was suffocated and lost. It is amazing because it really would only take one new cell to complete the circuit to send the blood rushing back in. Once this happens, the entire area--both motor and sensory--should be completely restored. We are all placing bets on this you see because both Dr. Shroff and Dr. Ashish state that it will happen quite suddenly and without any regard for my surprise. Maybe it will happen here. Maybe it will happen while I am swimming. Maybe it will happen in my sleep. Maybe it will happen a year from now. Maybe it will happen in the middle of a thunderstorm. Maybe it will happen on a slow boat to China. Maybe it will happen.

For now, I work on the things that are present and controllable, like shopping... and eating... and laughing... and exercise... and screwing around.

Meeting In Drops of Water

Everybody needs a support system to be able to keep a steady, forward motion in their lives. This support generally comes from the people that are closest to them and reverberates outward just like drops of water will on the surface of the many resting drops that had already before.

Just to be able to take this leap to India and to be strong enough to test my will everyday could have only been successful through the help of the hundreds of people in my life. I have so many people that are carrying me through this experience that I feel that I am already walking on my own.

The remarkable thing, however, is that I relished in all of you people in my life as I headed over oceans to reach this place... but I never in a million years thought that I would gain even more people in my life to help along the way. I suppose it is true that friends will always find you, and that result of a single drop of water can leave quite a lasting result if you let it.

Receiving daily emails and phone calls and blog comments have been absolutely crucial to my progress, but so has the real-time development of friendships and those new memories. I never realized just how much I would need love here as well.

I owe so much to all of the other patients (like Michael) at the hospital, to be able to communicate the few words that you can string together to actually attempt to make sense of this crazy ride, is so important. Sometimes you can't help but to feel all alone in terms of emotion, until you go down the hall and knock on the door of a friend that is feeling the most similar of fears and hopes as well.

There is also something really to be said about the staff here. If I were to try to name them all I would just end up with an entire list of the crew here at Green Park and Gautam Nagar, and with a lot of spelling mistakes. I owe it to the doctors, the physiotherapists, the sisters, the ward boys, the receptionists, to everyone that continues to smile when I may not want to.

Vandana has been especially formative in my development here. She pushes me to a level of progressive discomfort. She is honest, but never brash. She is the most reliable person I think I have ever met. She will tell it as she sees it, and is always willing to listen to my silly suggestions. She has grown to love us gals, even though she fought it hard at first. We make each other laugh everyday as she helps me across the parallel bars and stretches the most unstretchable of bodies (I suppose minds too, at times). I actually know that she has no clue about the impact she is leaving inside of me.


I feel that I am gaining so much out of this experience aside from what I had originally set my sights on. As my body is reconnecting from the inside out, my mind and newest loved ones are connecting from the outside in.

Olympic Fever Is Not a Threat In Delhi

All of us here have been talking about the Olympics long before it even started. Indians as a whole don't really seem to have much of an eye on the event, nor do they really seem to have excitement for sport in general if it doesn't involve the word "cricket."

I have been noticing for weeks now the vast difference between athleticism here as compared to that in the US. Back home there is a strong sense for sport and competition in a rainbow of realms, being able to see people exercising virtually everywhere in every facet. In Colorado, especially, there is almost a new sport for every day of the month. It is sort of a fad really, with over-sized and overstocked stores supplying the latest in hi-tech gear to foster all of your tragically competitive needs as well as guaranteeing you at least look the part.

Virtually every day we travel to Siri Fort Sports Complex to go swimming. This complex is rather extravagant in that it features, not only an Olympic-sized pool for swimming, but also a range of other sports as well: golf, shooting, basketball, tennis, yoga, etc. This facility, however, as comprehensive as it is, still smells like Delhi and has many typical Indian rules. The elite few who are fortunate enough to gain membership here come to workout quite regularly. I can only speak for those in the pool, but swimming in India means something entirely different than it does in the States. All that I can say is it is no wonder that there are only 4 Indian swimmers competing in this year's Olympics.

So with that said, I suppose that I am not that surprised about the lack of enthusiasm here about the Olympics. Most of the people I have talked to don't plan on viewing at all, or ask what events they offer.

The 4 of us crowded on my bed to watch the Opening Ceremonies the other night and hooted and hollered for India as well as all of the countries who had less than a proper team's worth of athletes... we did this out of great pride for sport and fun, as well as for the commentary on uniforms the athletes displayed as they marched through in their country's honor.

(I learned from that experience that I will probably need to enroll in a World Geography course about once every 6 months when I get home.)

We are all trying with great desperation to bring the Olympic Fever to Delhi, perhaps it has a long incubation period though. Every day for the next 3 weeks we will continue to hoot and holler for swimming and cycling and gymnastics and football and basketball and perhaps boxing and--I suppose--archery (these being the sports most widely shown here).

Thank you DD Sports for being the only channel in Delhi to broadcast the whole thing and for consciously taking a monetary dive to do so for the sake of sport!!

When It Rains

Yesterday began and ended with dreary, drizzling rain. Our morning swim wasn't effected much, other than it being a little bit slippery and more expensive (rickshaw drivers hike up the price when you are sopping wet and pathetic). As we headed out of the sports complex in a drippy attempt to hail a rickshaw to take us back home for Physio, Michael uttered the comment that it was going to be a long day... I had no idea he meant for me as well!

The rain has never been a good source for stalling my vision, so shortly after lunch I headed out with Erin to the market to get some pants made. We stopped at a small shop that I had had a pair of pants copied the week earlier. I warned Erin of the hassle that might await us, seeing as no one in the shop speaks much English, and the small detail that I think that the tailor doesn't think that I ever paid. This turned out to be more of a problem that I had anticipated... poor naive me.

The entire shop is the size of an apartment bathroom in New York City. All 4 walls covered floor to ceiling in folds of fabrics. Reds, blues, greens, yellows, teals, violets, flower patterns, polka dots, argyle, and more flowers. The shop had neglected inviting in visitors that may exceed a size thicker than a toothpick, so a lot of rearranging of furniture had to be made just to get my chair in the door. I was slowly greeted by the aged (yet semi-warm) owner of the store, his agile and nimble caddies of fabrics, and the crotchety tailor. Sounds like the 3 men in the tub, no?

I immediately began my prepared explanation of the pants I desired and how they needed to be cut and stitched. As soon as words started coming from my mouth so did my universal language of charades. Stopping myself after only a few gestures, I noticed that the tailor was not really receiving my attempt at the scissor portion of Rock, Paper, Scissors. I asked the old man at the front desk if he was okay because I had already wearily determined that he was the only one who could understand parts of my Hinglish. The old man said, "He say you no pay him last time." Was he serious? Was this just what these guys do to make a couple more bucks? It'd be okay to pay him another 8 dollar equivalent for the pants, they were really cheap... but it was principle, right?

Trying desperately to explain how I know that I paid, I think that my quiet game of charades became a little hostile. I told both men that I paid each of them separately and I remember that specifically, one for fabric and one for the stitching. There was going to be no convincing this guy. I even questioned him about my returning to the store and how it would be foolish if I had stiffed him before. Nope, nothing... not even the Hindi head-nod.

Finally I just had to leave. It was a good thing that Erin was with me. She not only helped to hold back my tears; but also to act as the scaffolding for my head, just barely managing to keep it on straight long enough to know when it was time to go.

Everything turned out for the best, minus the whole knowing-that-someone-thinks-you're-a-crook type thing. Erin and I found another shop that turned out to be cheaper, less accusatory, a fair more English savvy, and faster in turn-around.

And today I awoke to sunshine, knowing that there is always a silver lining... no matter how much it rains, how hard, or for how long. You just have to stick with your guns, your goals, and your friends to help pass the time until those stinkin' nimbus clouds pass by your troposphere above.

A Step In Time

Forwards, backwards, and side-stepping are simply becoming all in a day's work here at the Green Park Hospital. I routinely practice each of these twice a day. I can confidently say that with every step there has been improvement. Sometimes not always outwardly... Vandana will point out any bad steps faster than I can recollect them. However, with each step there is increasing awareness of motion, intention, and faith.

Prior to my departure at tour's end, I will be receiving 2 more procedures. From my knowledge, straight from the mouth of Dr. Ashish himself, I will be enduring another lumbar puncture and a "surprise" that necessitates the "opening of Pandora's Box." Now I am not usually too fond of surprises... but I am intrigued beyond belief, feeling a bit flattered too for some reason.

Days come and go faster than drag-racing rickshaws, as our gang has grown an expertise in passing the day away with no more than a blink of an eyelid. We spend the majority of our time deciding our next gastronomic adventure I would say, sadly and content simultaneously at the same moment. We are, however, becoming more cognizant of the passing time as the days seep into August. Erin leaves in less than a week! This is why we have dedicated the remainder of her stay to those sights and photo-ops of her choice... although it is more of an effort to be obliging due to the vast quantity of opinions and hungry stomachs and aching feet and overheated foreheads amongst us. Hopefully we will be able to check all of her wishes off the list before we bid adieu. Simply put, we've got a lot of work to do! Stay on task!

And if you are wondering... I take Physio with me EVERYWHERE: Stretching toes at a coffee shop over a nice vegan shake, reverse butt lunges in bed just before we shut out the lights, thinking of pushing my leg into the rusty bottom of our rickshaw as I transfer in, racing Michael in anything and everything that enters my mind, flexing quads and hammies just like a real-live muscle man, and every motion and sensation in between. 

I can only trust that this will be the way to those lil' stem cells' hearts... cookies and ice cream are simply just not cutting it.

The Indescribables

It's so hard to try to describe the indescribable. Those feelings that have never been given a name because so few of the world's population have actually encountered them. Most of these feelings have been emotional, as well as you might imagine... but some, however, are not. Here is an attempted list of feelings as noted by my legs (transcribed by me):
--Tingling that is localized to one area that doesn't go away when stretched or manipulated
--Radiating tingling like a wave of energy transmitting upwards or downwards
--Deep pressure sort of reminiscent of having to pee, but not necessary in the placement of one's bladder
--Heaviness that extends the length of entire extremities
--Pretend warmth that makes me second guess wearing pants or turning the fan on low (which is the newest of the bunch)

Having all of these new feelings that I have never been exposed to before, as well as being tongue-tied for a proper description can leave me feeling fairly hopeless that they will ever be put to great use... but I will rest easy knowing that these feelings exist, that they are out there, whether they be easy to share or not. Just because I cannot put verbal recognition on them doesn't mean that they are any less worthy of praise. In fact, they may be more.

I am proud to feel all of those indescribables. It is like I hold a portion of the universe's secret inside of me, never fully willing to surface. Shhhh! Some things are just better left unsaid, or so says someone famous. I bet that guy never really had those feelings or else he wouldn't have come up with some catchy quote to describe it all.

For lack of words, just trust me.

Simply Preparing For Another Day

"You are defying the odds!" Says Dr. Ashish the morning after my lumbar procedure. "Because of this, you may be punished though..."

Punished meaning that because it went so smoothly, being the most invasive and impacting procedure of them all, that I will probably have to do it all again-- and soon at that.

The whole process began with me having to fast in the morning and afternoon, intaking nothing except for liquids: soy milk, cranberry tea sent from London (thanks Katie!), and some masala garam chai from the hospital. The reasoning behind the fast was not because it was a true surgery where they had to make sure that there was no digestion occurring, it was simply to reduce the likelihood of the dreaded vomit.

After being escorted to Gautam Nagar Hospital in high-style, courtesy of Dr. Shroff's own SUV, we all arrived and settled in our new room, room 202. Promptly we partook in our fav Knock-Rummy game and then soon enough it was time for me to change into my gown, become grossly intimate with the dreaded IV, and jump on the gurney to head downstairs to the Operation Theatre.

I was pretty excited to get down there only for the fact that the prior day I had told Dr. Ashish that I had a surprise waiting for him, which I did indeed. In the nature of all-things-Ryan, I had asked Kanako to put letter tattoos on my back to acknowledge Dr. Ashish and greet him just before shoving a needle in my spine. He loved it! In fact I could tell a few snapshots were taken of my tattooed back before being scrubbed up with iodine. Later Dr. Ashish told me that he emailed the photos out to a bunch of people. Apparently that was a first...who knew?!

The procedure was quick and not like the rest. Generally during a procedure Dr. Ashish will ask me several times over the course of only a few minutes about what changes I am feeling. My typical response is heaviness, pressure, and tingling... usually in that order. Immediately I sort of thought that my nervous system was on strike because I wasn't feeling any of these typical sensations as the needle went in. I told him that it felt very different, almost like all my muscles were contracting. I admitted to him that I felt none of the usual heaviness nor the pressure. I was sort of ashamed saying this until I was hit with a, "Good! It should feel different. Not very many people notice that." Phew. So I guess I can continue to trust those little misfiring neurons after all.

After the injection, Dr. Ashish and his crew rotated the bed up and down and left and right and up-right and up-left and down-right and down-left. I felt like I should pay him for the amusement ride I had just been on, but he left too soon, as did I to be whisked back up to room 202. There I was met by my friends, my friends who will all be great mothers, I just am glad that it won't be for me. Even before I was lifted back onto my bed we had Sarah readjusting my legs to guarantee and good stretch, Kanako stabilizing my head and neck because we were told not to move it, and Erin supervising the hospital crew making sure that IV wasn't pulled and that everything fell back into place. I looked up towards the ceiling, though the ceiling wasn't even in view... my dear friends were hovering over me, awaiting some sort of response.

I think I told them aggravatingly that I was glad that they weren't really my mothers. But on some level, each of them plays a piece of that role too, perhaps why I love them all so much.

5 hours with my body completely flat, inverted, and straight; followed by the rest of the evening rotating side to side, but still inverted and flat. No bending, no games, no eye wandering, no fun.

Surviving the first 5 hours is the major challenge and I feel that I completed that with great success. Over the past decade or so I have practiced many moments of patience and tolerance, being in and out of hospitals spending weeks at a time on flat bed rest. I try to use these qualities, as well as other qualities that I have built upon over the years in circumstances that may call for something a little more substantial or mind-bending or critical. I suppose that every experience that you have in life simply just prepares you for another. What do I supposes this current experience is prepping me for? Who knows.

Nighttime came and went with only a slight glitch in the system. Somehow I ripped out the IV in my hand during my slumber. I swear I was asleep and didn't do it cognitively, but I am not really sure that anyone believes that one.

I awoke with only a slight headache, akin to a spell of dehydration or a bout of insomnia. This headache lasted the entirety of the day, but it was tolerable and didn't stop me from returning to the GN Hospital later in the evening to bring Michael and his girlfriend dinner, nor did it stop me from rolling through some sort of species feces in the dark of the night. My money is on that of human origin... gross.

But all is well here in Green Park now. The pigeons are squawking. The patients are moaning. The digestive cookies are flowing. The horns are honking. Home Sweet Home.

A Recipe For Disaster

I love to travel. I would endlessly search the world for nothing in particular if somebody's Uncle Sam would allow it. From everywhere that I have journeyed, gives me an appreciation for the quality of awareness about handicapped access. (Kanako refers to it as being "Ryan-able".) I have come to find that Delhi, in all it's glory, neglects that quality just as well as the next guy.

Loads of stairs. Break-your-back-again, bumpy coblestone. Narrow doorways that send me away without even a preview. Unpaved roadways, or better yet-- unmaintained roadways. Ruthless automobiles. Ruthless animals. Ruthless people.

All of these things though do, however, make for an adventure like no other. Certified and guaranteed. I have always had an adventurous spirit, and if I had it my way I would be climbing mountains, walking on tightropes, and ultimately defying gravity at any chance I could get. But, such is life to yearn to do the things that your very being will not allow.

Instead, what is there to do but make an adventure of your own. Here's the recipe:

- 1 cup of Uninhibited Thought
- 3 T of Ignorance
- 1 t of Clumsiness
- A dash of A Fatalist's Perspective
Combine the above ingredients together until a frothy mixture has taken away rational awareness of the surroundings.
Don't forget to double the recipe to share with friends!

We have been dying to see "The Dark Knight" for weeks now but it has always been sold out. One thing that you should know about Indians, is that they looooove their cinema. The way that it works is that when you purchase your ticket you are automatically assigned to a seat. Yesterday we all decided that once and for all we were going to make this happen-- I actually think that it became more of a concept to conquer, rather than actually dying to see this flick. Purchasing tickets only one day in advance left us little seat options, so we (6 of us) were designated to the second row. Perfect, right? At the movies back home the stairs usually go up, so we'd be okay... but this is India!

The movie theater is located in our favorite mall so it appeared to be a piece of cake, except for the fact that none of us had ever actually seen the movie theater. It's a good thing that we got there early. Once appropriately following the arrows directing us the the theater entrance I (and I assume Michael) immediately noticed the 7 stairs upward that lead to the ticket taker who was positioned strategically in front of a sign that boasted about the handicapped accommodations. It even had my favorite blue and white stiff wheelchair man to tell me that it was going to be okay. And okay it was. By now, practically all of India are pros at getting me up and down stairs. No problem, until we approach the actual auditorium and the 20-something stairs to get in there too. Just another adventure for Ryan when I won't take the liberty of finding out the stinkin' stair situation beforehand myself.

Aside from that I do feel quite successful in my independence here. Yesterday Michael and I went out to the market, just the two of us (in each other's chairs on top of that). I could tell that Sarah was trying to be a thinker by verbally contemplating as I rolled out the door, "Are you going to be able to do the stairs?"

"I'll be fine."

The market covers about 4 blocks along a fairly busy road. To navigate the sidewalk you must be fully equipped to go up and down stairs as well as push up 80-degree angled ramps that appear to have aged poorly, and no where near in the sense of a good wine or cheese would. With the help of one another, a few circus tricks, and several innocent bystanders we made it to one of my favorite eateries, The Evergreen Sweet Shop. I kindly gestured to the doorman with the bushy and curly cigar version of a mustache and within seconds we were carried in like merchandise and directed to a table. Phew.

I am not sure that the sticky sweet lime soda was worth the trip, but the act of the trip most certainly was. I need to remind myself to be alive and uncomfortable, vulnerable even, at times. This is the only true way of digging down into your character, like eyelash kissing your soul. So many people fear the jarring of un-welcomed emotions that they steer clear of them and always take the high road, the paved road.

I suppose that even optional accessibility can sometimes be optimal assess-ability at times.

Forwards & Backwards

For some reason my right leg does much better with the forward motion, and my left excels at the backwards gait. The objective of this walk is to push my feet straight through the floor without lifting or hiking. Baby steps are welcomed over giant's pounds. My posture is still the largest issue, so right now there is absolutely no way I can stand up any straighter on my own... but it is getting better every day. The whole feat is getting better every day.

Manic Monday

Monday I will be having yet another procedure at Gautam Nagar. This procedure is the lumbar puncture, where from the sounds of it, I will be having stem cells injected directly into my spinal cord at a very large quantity over the course of one day.

I've been given a lot of advice from the other patients who have already previously received this procedure. For the most part I am told NOT to move my head or neck at all for the entire time... no matter what I do. This portion of the procedure is going to be quite challenging for me considering I can barely sit in the same position in my chair for a forever-feeling 5 minutes, let alone lie (inverted again) completely flat with no adjustments whatsoever from my cervical region. The problem is that, as the cells are injected into my spine, they will travel around, presumably throughout the cerebral spinal fluid looking for a new home. If there is a change in pressure, say from me rotating my head around, that can result in a fairly damaging headache with a side order of nausea-- or so I have been told.

I am not really nervous about the procedure nor the side effects. I am, however, looking forward to another chance at bombarding my innards with potent cells that are capable of transforming life.