All Ears

Since I have landed back on US soil, I have spent many minutes trying to pretend that it is really easy to pick up right where I left off. However, pretty much everyone knows that I have never been very good at pretending...

Although I have jumped right back into a busy schedule of teaching and grading and coaching and cleaning and laundry, all the while trying to maintain being a good family member and friend, I have (somehow) been able to drive up to Boulder twice this week for my exercise therapy.

Both Dave and Quint, my trainers and slave drivers at the SCI Recovery Project, have verbally admitted to a few "WOW!"s during the two 2-hour sessions this week. They have both remarked on my increased core stability and hip control. Naturally, I was eager to show them my baby crawl, and immediately they made me travel three times the length that I had previously done in India. With a lot of grunting, sweating, and the occasion loss of balance I was able to take it one knee at a time down the length of three mats.

I am very intuned with my body right now. It tells me that it needs to stretch and be moved. It needs to feel loved and taken care of. I feel extremely encouraged right now and have been swimming and cycling and yoga-posing in every spare moment that I can find. It's hard, but I know that it is very worth my while.

At school, I was welcomed back with cellphone and iPod-bearing open arms from both my swimmers and my students. It was a really meaningful experience for me to be able to share my story with each of these kiddos. On Friday, I made a special effort to remind kids about the quality and care of a life, being it the day before the Snowball Dance (the very dance that I found my life drastically change a whopping 12 years prior). It is really important to me, almost my duty, to remind these young adults that the decsions they make not only affects themselves, but trickles down its way to everyone that has ever come in contact with them. Making good decisions not only paves the way for not having to create regrets, but it also ensures that you are trying to keep pain and terror away from the people you love, and most of all... yourself.

This is always a bittersweet time for me. I really do feel like I have a message to fly across the world and back, calling out to any alert ears that cross my path. I just only hope that there is understanding and recognition within ear's shot...

Fund-Raiser Reminder

The gals are gearing up for an amazing talent show. I can't wait to be privy to such entertainment and the enormous amount of talent and heart that these performers possess!

If you don't recall, the event will be held the evening of February 28th (my grandmother's birthday!) at 7:30 in the evening. The program will be centrally located in DTC, at the Double Tree Hotel. There will be desserts provided to get at your sweet-tooth during the performances. Performances include, but are certainly not limited to, dancing, singing, instrument playing, magic, and more.

If you are interested in attending, the tickets will be $30 in advance or at the door. To guarantee tickets, please email your request to Julia, Michelle, and Cara at:

performingwithapurpose@gmail.com

Thanks a bunch, and I really hope to see you all there!

Before You Learn How To Walk, You Must Learn How To...

Anil

Meet Anil:

He's been quite the constant facet to my shopping woes here in Delhi. His enormous smile and laughter has been a relief to me as I try desperately to find everyone the perfect gift.

I met Anil my first week here. He is a terrific salesman. He suckered me into buying a long, carefully bead-strung necklace. He picked out a perfect one for me with a spectrum of oranges and splashes of green. Only after a long conversation about school and life as a kiddo here, did I melt and give in to his smile. I paid the kid 20 Rs for him to choose a necklace for me, just after making it perfectly clear that I not only didn't require a necklace but I was doing it just because I liked him.

Anil is thirteen years old. I am not sure if he goes to school or not. He says that he does, but I am uncertain how he fits a school day in with his very lucrative traveling necklace shop. Even though he is small (he told me so himself), Anil has a great spirit and attracts pretty much all of the Western suckers like myself. He probably does pretty well for himself and his family with that grin of his... at least I can hope.

The creative genes of the family, so I am told, is his older sister. She is responsible for combining the colors and textures of the glass pieces to finally give rise to the stellar merchandise sold on the streets of Janpath.

One of the last times that I was strolling up and down the market, Anil spotted me, his "friend," and asked if I remembered his name. He promptly shook my hand. Right away it was down to business-- for this is all Anil really knows. Even though he considers to be fond of me, in our interactions he cannot help but try to sucker me out of 20 more rupees. When I explained to him that I didn't have any money, which was partially true-- I had just spent the last of my small change and was only left with a 500 bill-- he, without a flinch, picked up the brightest, most shiny of all the long beads and chucked it across the sidewalk to me. He simply stated, "Okay, this free."

I am not really sure of Anil's actual intention of this gift; perhaps he assumed that I was lying and would get the stinking 20 rupees if he forced the necklace on me-- whatever the case, a gift is a gift? No?

Immediately I began fumbling through my bag until I came up with the only thing of substance, apart from the tens of receipts, silly Indian sunglasses, sunscreen, and used chapstick: a notebook. This notebook, about the size of a checkbook, was given to me as a very special Christmas gift just before I left the States. It was made of wonderful handmade papers and sported the image of a Hindu god inlayed with glued-on jewels and creamy paints. Without much thought, I tossed the notebook in Anil's direction. He caught it and gave me two big eyebrow raises.

Continuing the stroll down the market, Anil called to me to exclaim that he didn't have the notebook. In a very sly stance, he pulled up the side of his shirt, exposing the hidden notebook, gave a little satisfied chuckled, and said that his sister was going to love it.

Last night, I made a special trip to Janpath to get my new little friend what he has really been searching for, a Pepsi and a bag of chips. It was probably the best 40 rupees I have ever spent!

Souvenirs

It's rather important when focusing on life to put only emphasis on the things that are happening along with you. Right now, it's hard. There are a myriad of things that are upcoming that fill my mind, sprinkled in with a variety of photographic snapshots and memories of a month away in a life less ordinary. These are my souvenirs.

Really, when it all comes down to it, the souvenirs that you collect during life help to capture the memories of the things worth remembering. Souvenirs of sights and smells and colors and music. If you are ever in need of traveling back to a time when things were as before, a souvenir will help take you there. These souvenirs of life are useful to keep in your pocket when you are having trouble at looking at the present.

Presently, I somewhat struggle, as I did only a few short months ago, to find the realism in these two extremely apparent lives that I try desperately to live equally. There is no sensation of coexistence among them, however. Soon enough, I will be back with the life that I know so well, a life that I have successfully created for myself with a little help from the universe. I have a wonderful home and job and friends and family. I am eager to find those all waiting for me. However, there is a life that I have been piecing together here in India, sort of intentionally... sort of willingly... sort of nervously. As far as I know, my life is filled to the brim with meaning and beauty, but the brew here in India is something more exotic than I have ever known. Is there a way for these two realities to live together? I am not sure.

So until I can put that addition together to quantify the mathematics of it, I will sit here to focus on my breath and the sunlight and the never-steady pulse in my vessels. Truly, it's all I have. Worrying about the narrowed combination of a life to navigate to and a life to leave behind is unnecessary, to say the least.

In the meantime, between the pages of this novel, I will spend my moments with the smiles of haggard sales-children, brilliant flowers on the roadside, antiqued jewelry hung out in the alleyway to buy, and a steamed momo or two. I truly realize that there is no sense in worrying about my journey: where it is going, when it may end, what it may make me.

Tomorrow I will endure the last of this round of procedures. I am not sure what it will entail, but I am eager to get one more snowstorm of cells before I enter the true snowstorms awaiting for me in Colorado.

With that said, I am off to Janpath Market for perhaps a scarf, a wooden Ganesha sculpture, or a shiny brass singing bowl. Whatever the case, I am continuing to move forward with only so much as an appreciation of everything before right now and everything else to come. Because, truly, what else matters?

The Pulse Of Things

Well I am finally back "home" in Green Park after a somewhat remarkably easy, double procedure. Of course I was going into this one with little faith in the ease of things, but was pleasantly surprised when the actually punctures came and went, headache-free and ready to rise.

After the initial insertion of the catheter in my spinal column, Dr. Ashish and his crew moved upwards from the L4-5 catheter site to a more anxiety-ridden T4 level-- a level at which I have complete sensation of all matters. Dr. Ashish promptly numbed the area, ironically using more shots, although that seemed to help some. I didn't feel near the pain nor the fright with this puncture as the last.

Dr. Ashish's precision is a thing to admire. He takes his time to locate specific markers that run, virtually impossibly detectable to you and me, until he hits the right spot. He may do this several times throughout the procedure, looking for what he only knows. After the injection into T4, he moved a bit lower to an area near T9 (where I have no feeling). I was eager to feel his poking move further downwards, and so was my pulse.

Here is where something quite strange to me occurred. As the needle was placed into my back, no awareness of the injection from my skin was noticed, until that needle hit my spinal cord. ZZZAAAPPPPP! I have never felt anything like this before and my body jolted in reaction. Had I been electrocuted? What is going on here?! My immediate reaction, of course, was more to the tune of, "I am sorry!" Dr. Ashish with slight excitement exclaims, "You felt that?" Naturally, to Dr. Ashish pain is always pleasant. But nonetheless, I felt it, I felt it like a jolt of 1000 volts entering straight into my spinal cord with no external indication from my integumentary system. Thanks a lot skin.

After the last injections were placed and the catheter flooded the outer layer of my spine, Dr. Ashish explained to me that the jolt that I felt at T9 shouldn't have happened. This makes perfect sense, as for all intents and purposes the spinal cord at that area should be dead. But dead, it was not. There is a lot of life there. I felt it screaming and sending its electrical signals like fireworks in celebration.

From then on it was a lot of rest, sleep, Yahtzee, South Park (sadly), and floods of stem cells.

It wasn't until this morning's injection that my body decided to let me know that there was really something happening. It is a normal parasympathetic response that the body reacts to with the influx of millions of stem cells at a time. As the cells glide into the perceived area, the pulse rate in anyone's body would surely decline. This is a good sign that Dr. Ashish notes that the cells are actually surging through to their destination.

This morning I received a double dosage so that I could make it back to Green Park by dinner. Sounds good to me. My body, however, was not quite ready for this. Almost immediately my pulse rate shot down to 50 beats per minute. I took note of Dr. Ashish's note of this as well. He slowed the progression of cells until my pulse made its way back to 60 or so. Dr. Ashish's goal is to get those cells right at my level of injury, T5, which just so happens to be the same place in which your heart is innervated. Lucky me.

By the end of the injection my pulse was down to about 45. With a little but if scare tactics for using additional medication to bring the pulse up, a little pinching in vulnerable arm areas by Graham, and a little leg massaging from Dr. Shroff, my pulse resurfaced to healthier zones until the frightening and pinching and massaging couldn't keep up. They ended up giving me an injection to release the contraction of my blood vessels to allow more blood to flow through. It worked within moments and all circulation was restored. Each doc spent some more time entertaining me and comforting me until one-by-one they exited to check on their other grateful patients.

Everyone feels fairly confident that I will really benefit from all of these new feelings. My body has never been so attuned to the pokes and prods and I suspect that is a good sign. Tomorrow my routine will return to normal and I should be able to start sensing those slight changes that have to potential to change everything.

PHYSIO

2 Be Or Not 2 Be

I am scheduled-- as scheduled as things are here-- for a procedure starting this Wednesday, we think. Actually, two procedures... yes, I am so lucky to get the 2-For-1 Deal here at NuTech MediWorld!!

Both procedures are familiar to me, seeing as I had both at least once during my first stay in the summer. One being the 3-day procedure where they will be inserting a catheter into my spinal column to be able to feed a slow flow of cells, twice daily, to nourish my entire body virtually one cell at a time. The second procedure is the dreaded lumbar puncture, in which this case Dr. Ashish assures me it is far less traumatic an experience since they have been using smaller needles. I will always believe Dr. Ashish.. so with my breath held at tightly pursed lips I am ready to go.

This also means, however, that I will be unable to communicate via computer for the next several days, but solace is always a good start for rejuvenation and healing... so don't worry too much.

I am a little worried, though, about the potential outcomes, or rather the opposite. Dr. Ashish and many other patients have sold me on the notion that putting these two procedures together offers the optimal benefits... but what if my optimal benefits are optimally lacking? It is a hard teeter-totter of emotion that I always reside: I want to do well for myself, but,even more willingly, I want to do well for others.

I want to have people proud of me. I want to stand out in the crowd for my accomplishments, and something like this procedure falls right in suit with those thoughts. I want to be able to come out of this as a stellar example of how well treatments like these work, and I can hope (for all of us) that my body will take kindly to those foreign cells that they are to meet in only a matter of days.

I suppose that I put a lot of pressure on myself for wanting to please others, I have always been that way. Many times, actually more like thousands of times I have been told that being that way is not good for anybody-- and to more than an extent, I agree. But apparently not enough to change my ways entirely.

So, I suppose it all comes down to me worrying about a procedure-- not because of any potential danger on my body-- but instead because of any remote possibility of my body not doing the best for me and everyone else around me. Silly, I know. Deep down I know that my body will do all that it can.

From here I know that I can speak to my body a little more clearly than in the past, and this time I know that it is ready to heal and ready to grow. Little cells, enter in and take a seat... you'll be here for awhile (if I have anything to say about it).

To everyone sitting back home waiting and reading my daily ponderings: this one's for me-- okay, sort of.

And We Finally Made It To Old Delhi...

It's beautiful and magical and full of electricity (quite literally) and I can tell why it is called OLD Delhi, comparatively speaking.

A Step In Time

Yesterday, for the first time since I have been using calipers and weak hip muscles to fling my legs in specific mimicry of something familiar, I felt a sense of release.

It felt as if I was, some how, not fighting with the obstacles of not being able to move my lower extremities the way that the rest of you do. I wasn't really pushing against those years of neglect on restricted muscles and tendons, and the pressure on my shoulders from acting as both the scaffolding and the foundation of my body had eased a breath or two.

From the first time, I felt like I could concentrate on the movement of those externally, eternally flexed legs that gave me posture and allowed me height. In the past, the movements have all been forced, to say the least. Not only was my upper body completely responsible for holding the rest of me upright, but it was also in charge of the actual steps that followed.

I am not sure if it is just that I am getting stronger and that my stamina is increasing, but it feels a lot lighter and a lot less forced as of now. I take less effort in standing and positioning so that I can use that strength to propel my body forwards, backwards, or sideways based on Chavi's careful instructions.

My gait has increased from 3 rounds on the first day to about 6 rounds. Perhaps the secret lies in gaining more confidence in the overall approach and execution of this maneuvering. Uncertain of the cause for things, I will continue to sweat and strive for increasing steps and controlled motions. I will take it one step at a time, for now!

Take A Queue From The New Year

In a pseudo-honor of our New Year's back in the States, Graham and I decided to go to the "All-American Diner" for an omlette and some pancakes. In fact, as I was sipping my masala tea and dipping my pancakes into the maple syrup I glanced down at the time, 12:09 a.m back in Denver and said a silent "happy New Year" to all of you half a day away.

This diner, situated within the India Habitat Centre had the whole diner theme down to a science... complete with ruby red booths, Beatles memorabilia, and chocolate malts with bendy straws. After our stomachs were satisfied, we headed out of the Centre only to step out into a surprise of the longest queue I have ever witnessed, especially in India.

Now one thing that the Indians do not do well is stand in lines. I had to learn this the hard way the last trip as I was virtually trampled to buy a movie ticket or to buy some crackers at the local provision (grocery) store. You learn rather directly that you push your way to the position of whatever counter you need to be at. There is no hostilitity in this moment; however, it is just how things are done here. So in seeing a line, not to mention a line that stretched beyond my own vision was something I had to explore.

Graham and I walked down the street, with great intent and silence, alongside this line of eternal people for what must have been half of an hour. We walked through main stretchways, down alleyways, next to several shantys, all the while taking in every step of it.

It was rare to see one of those in line with shoes on, almost everyone was barefoot. There was some chatter, especially once we were in view, but for the most part it felt so serene. I felt the sense of importance and dedication that this line stood for. Men, women, and some children held freshly-cut flowers, mostly brilliant orange marigolds. Some flowers were captured in plastic bags, others were placed, more strategically, in homemade woven baskets. This appeared to be some sort of offering. This whole experience was obviously spiritual.
It was spiritual to me.

Eventually, we arrived at what everyone was waiting for. The people began to disappear in this temple that was covered mostly by tarped awnings and strung marigolds. The essence of this place was magically and exuded color and warmth. There were the politest of beggers outside that would limp to the side to allow me through. Graham and I only spent a few minutes here because we, of course, were terribly out of place and sought to offer no disrespect.

We then grabbed an auto-rickshaw to make it halfway around the city and back again before nightfall. Throughout those journeys came more queues to other temples of worship. We even were privy to a celebration and parade in the honor of Ganesha, the god of protection, and one of my favorites.

All in all, a quite successful start to a new year. There are many great things yet to take place this year, so I've been told...