Sensation

I’m not sure how many know the extent of my paralysis, because I don’t go around telling everyone and complaining about it. I’m as grateful as I can be for everything I have.

I came across something the other day that made me once again count my blessings:
“Body Suit May Help Quadriplegics Walk, Use Hands and Sense Textures”

http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/235604.php

Forget about movement for a few minutes. If that is impaired in a person, we can see that and maybe even be empathetic.

What if you couldn’t feel? How often do we take the sense of touch for granted?

The warm summer sun.

The feeling of sand beneath our toes.

The touch of a loved one.

The warmth of a fireplace over cold fingers after playing in the snow.

The rush of cool water when we jump into a swimming pool.

The warmth and comfort of someone when we receive a hug.

I met a girl when I was in therapy who had been fully quadriplegic. She had to control her chair using her mouth. Over the span of seven years, she slowly regained movement and sensation of her arms. Her mother was helping her shave her legs once when this girl yelled, “Ouch!” The razor had nicked her leg and the girl had felt it. She had actually felt it. She and her mom were thrilled.

I read somewhere the joy one person felt when he was finally able to feel water. “It has to be really cold for me to feel it, but I can still feel it,” he said. Can you imagine how amazing that must feel?

I remember asking a few friends the hypothetical question: if you could only have one thing in your limbs, movement or sensation, what would you choose?

If you lose some sensation, maybe you become desensitized to other things, literally and figuratively speaking.

You may sometimes hear about those who are troubled doing things because they just want to feel—something, anything—to know that they are alive and still human. Maybe that’s what we’re all doing.

Imagine what not being able to feel would do to you.