tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62325010438860167122024-03-05T15:22:37.013-05:00Thoughts on WheelsHammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.comBlogger115125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-73514873292061084762020-05-23T06:02:00.000-04:002020-05-23T13:34:37.814-04:0011 years: this one goes out to...It's May 23 again, the day of my accident, a day that will always cause me to slow down and think. It's been eleven years since that pivotal day.<br />
<br />
I could not have predicted how my life would change. Nor could I have predicted the amazing people I have had the pleasure of meeting.<br />
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On this important day in my life, I want to talk about one person in particular. Someone who fills my color-blind eyes with love and vibrant hues that I did not fathom was possible.<br />
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That person is Zainab Alwan, who I am proud to call my wife.<br />
<br />
As many of you know, medical school was tough. I perhaps too eagerly started just a year after my accident and was not prepared. I surprisingly met Zainab during this troublesome time.<br />
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If I were to describe all the ways my life has changed over the past eleven years, I would write forever. I didn't choose the wheelchair life; I was put into this position without asking for it. I have heard people say that people like me with disabilities are inspirational or are heroes, but we are just ordinary people dealing with the circumstances in life that we have been given. We never asked for this and most of us would not wish this upon anyone.<br />
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What is astonishing, though, is how Zainab sacrificed so many things in her life and willingly decided to be by my side despite all the changes in her life that she has made and would have to continue to make.<br />
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Now that is commendable.<br />
<br />
That is what makes a hero.<br />
<br />
Because of my medical training, she has moved with me to three different states, putting her own career as an accomplished lawyer on the backburner.<br />
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As a formerly extremely active person who still loves the outdoors, I had to accept the fact that I could never play certain sports, go to certain parks or travel to certain places, or experience many of the things that I before took for granted. Things as simple as feeling the sand between by toes or running into oncoming waves on a beach are things that I can watch others do and if I close my eyes, I can picture myself doing, but that will never again be possible for me. Zainab, who is healthy and able-bodied and also loves those things, knowingly sacrificed doing them because she knows I would not be able to join her.<br />
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Over the past eleven years, one main thing that kept me focused was my goal of being the best physician that I could be. When I have any issues, she is the person I go to and she always gives me helpful feedback and advice to help me further excel.<br />
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When we go out (or rather when we used to go out before the pandemic), she does not only have to think about and manage herself, but also our son, Laith, and me. It's not uncommon for her to be on busy streets unloading Laith, Laith's stroller and bag, and then my wheelchair while making sure we are all safe. Flying is a whole ordeal in itself.<br />
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She is always speaking up for the rights of those with disabilities, even if I am shy and insist that things are not an issue for me. She wants things to be equal and all right for everyone.<br />
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Not only is she the most amazing person to me, she is the best and most selfless mother I have seen. From before our son, Laith, was born, she has been planning what to do so he can have the best, healthiest life possible. She survived a traumatic childbirth in which I nearly lost her, and I froze up, unknowingly reliving other traumatic events in my life and not knowing how to handle things. A few hours later, despite dangerously low hemoglobin levels and excruciating pain, she was somehow up and doing things on her own again, thinking only about her son and about me. That's Zainab.<br />
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Laith is now almost seventeen months old and I still am physically unable to pick him up out of his crib or lie him down, I cannot put him in his highchair to feed him, I cannot put him in and take him out of the bath tub to bathe him. I've seen her get by with little to no sleep for months while she took care of Laith on her own. She does all these things and so, so much more.<br />
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I of course know what it is like to be unwillingly thrust into a life that is completely different than anything one could imagine or prepare for, but I cannot imagine what it is like to see that life and knowingly choose to become a part of it, accepting all the difficulties with patience and a smile.<br />
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For that, I will be always be grateful for Zainab Alwan, the best human I know.<br />
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Love conquers all.<br />
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<br />Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-53320288399130159922017-05-23T09:53:00.000-04:002017-05-23T09:53:23.188-04:00Eight years later: back but not the sameI'm not sure what surprises me more: that it has been eight years since my accident or that it has been two years since I have written on here. Perhaps a little bit of both.<br />
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Sometimes when I am lost in my mind, I think to myself, "Do I even still know how to write?" I never thought of myself as a writer or someone unique. I just say what I am thinking--these crazy thoughts on wheels--without thinking much about how it will affect others or what they will think. Though I started this less than a year after my accident and before I started medical school to help myself, apparently it helped others, and they encouraged me to keep writing. So I did. Looking back, this has not just become a chronicle of my journey, but, perhaps more importantly, my growth.<br />
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If continuing to write touches or entertains just one person, it's worth it.<br />
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I'm currently a few years into residency as I specialize in physical medicine and rehabilitation (PM&R), also referred to as physiatry (note: Google Chrome's spellcheck still thinks that "physiatry" is not a real word). I love this specialty. There is nothing like helping a patient improve both physically and mentally and maximize their abilities and quality of life. I would not have known about it had it not been for my accident and my subsequent rehabilitation.<br />
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A year ago, I asked my father to look for and bring my reciprocating gait orthoses (RGO) leg braces the next time my parents visited my wife and me. I made the excuse that I wanted to just show the guys in the orthotics and prosthetics department. RGOs are basically leg braces extending from feet to abdomen that would allow me to stand and take a few really slow steps using upper body momentum with the aid of a walker or other assistive devices. They are supposed to be for someone who has, at minimum, more abdominal control and they work even better if the user has some movement in their hip flexors. I obtained them years ago and my private goal was to use them at my medical school graduation so I could walk and receive my degree like everyone else. When that did not happen, my goal was to use them when I got married. This time, I just wanted to practice using them because I thought it'd be cool to walk again.<br />
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And this is where my wife, Zainab, comes into the story. I am paralyzed from below the chest, not from below the waist, so I do not have any abdominal control or trunk stability. But I am stubborn, and that has helped me do a lot of things, so I figured I could do this, too. Alas, I was not. The few times I tried many years ago, it was incredibly hard for me to stand without the help of others and once I was standing, I was unable to bring my leg forward to take a step.. When Zainab saw them, she asked why I wanted to try them again.<br />
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She knows that I am not troubled or embarrassed with anything in regards to my disabilities. I admitted to her that I thought it would be awesome if I could secretly practice and then surprise everyone by being able to stand and move without the use of my wheelchair.<br />
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I continue to have dreams at night in which I am walking around and doing things like everyone else.<br />
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With the leg braces, I could easily fall. I could break many bones. I would have to miss work and I would not be able to go anywhere or do anything for a while. "Is it worth it?" my wife asked me. "Hammad, we do more things than a lot of able-bodied couples. We play tennis, we swim, we go on walks, we travel, we've been kayaking."<br />
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I put the braces back in storage.<br />
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It is not like me to want something more than what I already have. I have been given so much. There are many times I feel like I do not deserve everything with which I have been blessed.<br />
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There are so many things I will never experience. I live close to a few amazing parks but I cannot go hiking in them. When traveling, I cannot explore some areas or do some touristy things. I will never be able to ride a roller coaster again or know what it's like to hold my wife's hand while we stand barefoot in the sand on a beach. I cannot play soccer with my friends or go zip lining with my co-workers.<br />
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But there are other things.<br />
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Each day is a beautiful day. Things are not taken for granted. Anger and other negative feelings are not an issue.<br />
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Quality. Not quantity.<br />
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This accident eight years ago is the best thing that could have happened to me.Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-91390567180268915352015-08-31T17:19:00.000-04:002015-08-31T17:32:57.714-04:00Where love is.<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is something profoundly simple yet so touching I have noticed since embarking on my path to become a physician. I am regularly reminded and think about this subject. I have not posted anything in a long, long time. This is a topic about which I have wanted to write many times these past few years but never knew how to encompass something so big, so instead I'll just keep this short.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the movie <i>Love Actually</i>, the narrator in the beginning states that love is everywhere. To illustrate that point, he shows scenes from an airport. Family members, lovers, significant others and best friends are shown embracing each other after being away from each other or before leaving each other for some time. It is implied that the easiest and most visual representation of the love people have for each other is seen in airports.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I disagree.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;">We physicians have to maintain a certain emotional distance at times. If we do not, this profession may break us.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the superficial world of social media, advertisements and our ego, love is smiling. Love is happiness. It’s flawless jewelry, perfect outfits, beautiful Instagram photos, inside jokes, amazing meals, wonderful scents. It’s about showing your best. Love is hiding your flaws and being the best version of you that you can be.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;">As a former patient, then a medical student, and now as a physician, I continue to see how misleading and fleeting this is.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love is the woman in her 60’s who sits with her husband in the ICU every day. She reads the magazines and the Bible a thousand times. Though she gets frustrated sometimes when someone new does things differently, she greets every member of the hospital staff with a smile and thanks them when they leave. Her husband has not vocalized anything in a few weeks, but that doesn’t bother her. She has been with him for decades. She cannot imagine being anywhere else or living life without his presence. The beeping heart monitor and the gargling sounds he makes before she suctions him are the few remaining connections she still has with him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love is being able to leave whenever you want, but never doing so.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love is the mother whose son has just been in a devastating accident and doesn’t know how to live anymore. She wakes up at 5 AM, works a full day, and then drives to see her son every day despite living 45 minutes away and being scared to drive on the interstate. His life will never be the same and he needs to know that things will be okay.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love is supporting someone, even if neither of you know what’s next.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>(PS: thank you, Ummy)</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love is the husband in his 40’s whose wife has recently had a stroke. He is with her every day, sleeping on an uncomfortable couch in her hospital room. He accompanies her daily in therapy. He learns how to catheterize her to drain her bladder. Though he was never good at changing their own kids’ diapers or potty training them when they were young, he now learns how to help his wife to the bathroom and clean up her messes.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Love is smelling like vomit, urine and feces, but being perfectly okay with that.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;">A favorite band of mine, Death Cab for Cutie, has a song called “What Sarah Said” with the following lyrics:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>And it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to father time
As I stared at my shoes in the ICU that reeked of piss and 409
And I rationed my breaths as I said to myself that I'd already taken too much today
As each descending peak on the LCD took you a little farther away from me
Away from me
Amongst the vending machines and year-old magazines in a place where we only say goodbye
It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds
But I knew that you were a truth I would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all
And I looked around at all the eyes on the ground as the TV entertained itself
'Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room
Just nervous pacers bracing for bad news
And then the nurse comes round and everyone will lift their heads
But I'm thinking of what Sarah said that "Love is watching someone die"</i>
So who's going to watch you die?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6666669845581px; line-height: 20.2399997711182px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> contend that love is best seen in hospitals. Though the medical profession is known to be one of science, facts and physiological processes, it is also one of pure love. I see it and feel it every day. It keeps me grounded and keeps my heart soft.</span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ctu0uYL5jlo" width="420"></iframe>Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-82747794441812393922015-01-12T12:30:00.000-05:002015-01-12T12:30:07.007-05:00Still Journeying<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Sometimes, we wake up and it’s “just another day”. Our life is stagnant, it seems. We get ready, we go to work or to school, do what we need to do, try not to screw up, and come home. In order to break the monotony, we whip out our phones and get on Facebook. Or Instagram. Or Twitter. Certainly, other people are living their lives in a more interesting way. We are here, they are there. We are doing this, they are doing that. We have this, they have that. We are stuck.</div>
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Many times, once we get to a certain “set point” and are comfortable with our lives, we believe we are who we are and don’t see ourselves changing. Sure, we are in a different place from when we started, but now it seems like every day is exactly the same.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Admittedly, these may have been my sentiments.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Many people over the past several months have asked why I have not written anything in so long. Many people—including myself—thought that I may have stopped writing permanently.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I can give the usual excuses of being too busy or that I just discuss things I think about with those close to me, and I would not be lying. But it’s more than that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We do not notice our changes until later. Nor do we notice our growth until later. But each day is an opportunity for growth. I have grown a lot over the years since I started writing. This is clearly evident.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I thought that because I was comfortable with whom I am, with this relatively new life, that I had stopped growing. I have been grossly mistaken.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Each day, I am given the opportunity to affect people. I can choose to stay stuck in my own world, be encompassed in my own life’s worries and the next thing I have to do, or I can take a look at the broader picture. I can choose to stay the same, or I can choose to change. I can live each day as if it was the exact same as yesterday, or I can make a difference. I can wake up each morning and groan that I have to go to work early every morning, or I can be thankful that I have woken up so I can have the privilege to try to help and heal my patients, speak to my loved ones, reconnect with old friends, and bring my passion each day to do my best while doing what I love.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
I have made my decisions.<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/dqXmaFPn604" width="420"></iframe>Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-55231992589327719012014-08-14T13:08:00.003-04:002014-08-14T13:08:52.768-04:00A patient's goal<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Sometimes we get so caught up in our lives that we forget
about the little things. I remember writing on here once about how a research
subject of mine who also uses a wheelchair said to me once, “It’s the little
things that you miss the most.” I whole-heartedly agree.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When I couldn’t swallow and had to eat pureed food and
drink thickened liquids, I yearned to eat a nice slice of pizza. After about a
month and a half, I was finally able to do that <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2010/07/birthday-2009-my-most-memorable.html">on
my birthday</a>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Whenever I see patients who cannot swallow, my heart goes
out to them. The taste of both simple and complex foods is something that is
not really appreciated by us until we cannot do so. A lot of people I know
cannot go a day, let alone a few hours, without eating. Self-control in terms
of more sensible/healthy choices versus unhealthy options is also becoming
rare. Food is the drug we take advantage of and abuse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
During my first month as a “real doctor”, I worked in the
spinal cord injury unit at the VA hospital. I developed a good relationship
with my patients there. There was one patient in particular with whom I would
just sit by and talk with for a long time. He was on a ventilator and could not
speak, so he would mouth his words out to me. It would take a long time for him
to tell me things, but we made it work. A feeding tube had been placed so he did
not eat. I did not ask him the last time it was that he ate or drank something
but he told me how he really misses eating and misses the taste of the food we
all indulge in, like burgers and pizza. He had a lower cervical level spinal
cord injury, which meant he was paralyzed from neck down and had the ability to
use his arms but not his fingers. He was in the hospital being treated for a
large pressure ulcer on his backside. Every day I saw him, he was in the same
position lying in bed and watching TV. He always had a smile on his face and he
always greeted everyone warmly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He told me something that again made me thankful for
everything. This patient’s goal and what he wanted most? To go outside and feel
the sun on his face. He told me that he had only been outside four times very
briefly since November 2013.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I love the feeling of the warm sun after being inside an
air conditioned room all day. I cannot imagine going months without seeing the
sun or feeling and breathing in the air outside.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
As busy as I am, I made time to see this patient and talk
with him. My heart was touched and I was reminded again of how far I have come,
how blessed I am and how grateful I should be for everything, especially the
little things that may not seem important to some people.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I promised my patient that once he is strong enough and
his wound heals up enough, I will take him outside. He promised me that once he
gets out of the hospital, he will buy me a cheeseburger. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Perfect.<o:p></o:p></div>
Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-90498325348653983582014-07-16T11:42:00.001-04:002014-07-16T11:42:26.719-04:00Five years<div class="s3">
I know it’s been a while. My life has been very busy yet also filled with a whole lot of beautiful, blissful nothingness. I guess you could say I have taken a leave of absence from writing and I will on another day touch upon why that is so. </div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
So far, 2014 has been pretty good to me.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
I thankfully matched into great residency programs. I am doing one year of internal medicine at the Medical College of Georgia in Augusta and then I will be specializing in physical medicine and rehabilitation (PM&R) at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. I also graduated and earned my medical degree this past May. I am now a real doctor.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
People turn to me for help. For the most part, I am no longer seen as an invalid. For the most part, I am respected now. I have the privilege of seeing people when they are most vulnerable. I have the ability to help and to heal.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
The things for which I worked so hard my whole life, especially these past five years, have finally come to fruition. I struggled so much these past five years.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
My friend’s father suffered a hemorrhagic stroke the other night and is still unconscious. It reminds me of my traumatic brain injury that also resulted in a significant brain bleed. I was in a comatose state for about two weeks. My doctors at first did not think I would survive. After I survived the most critical time period, my family and friends were told that I may suffer significant mental deficits. I am forever grateful that I made it through better than what was expected.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
When I wasn’t able to lift my right arm, I worked hard to get it stronger and stronger. I could not transfer onto things by myself but I worked at it just so I could move out of my family’s home and live by myself and attend medical school. That was my dream and I had to hold on to it. It was one of the very few things I still had left.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
I didn’t want a van. I wanted a car. I didn’t want a big power wheelchair. I wanted a small, manual wheelchair. I wanted to be as “normal” as I could be.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
When I had to see a neuropsychologist and speech therapist every week and they told me that I was not mentally the same and that I had to adapt, I ignored them. This was my chance. I had been given a second lease on life. Who knows how much longer I would have. So many things had been taken from me. I had to use whatever I still had left. If not for myself, then for everyone else I have come across who are in much worse conditions than I am or ever have been.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
I would have to be the best I could be.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
It has been five years.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
That’s half a decade.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
That’s half of the age of my youngest sister.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
Things could have been totally different. Some say that things should have been totally different. I may be an outlier.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
But I refuse to live life with the societal restraints of simple terms such as “handicapped” or “disabled” that people use when they themselves have not come to term with their disadvantages.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
I do not remember what it was like to walk. I do not remember what it was like to stand. I do not remember the feeling of sand between my toes while on the beach. I do not remember running, jumping, playing or lifting.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
But these things do not bother me. I have learned that life is not something onto which we can hold. It is not supposed to be perfect. The future cannot be feared. These past five years have shown me that.</div>
<div class="s3">
<br /></div>
<div class="s3">
And now, looking back, I would not want my life to be any other way.</div>
Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-44789141810537443302014-07-09T20:45:00.001-04:002014-07-09T20:47:37.291-04:00My speech at the BHS Baccalaureate Ceremony, 05/18/2014I know it has been an incredibly long time (five months!) since my last blog post. Once this blog became more popular and started to hit a few thousand views each month from people all over the world, I started writing less and less. I will write something and post something up this week or early next week and update everyone with where I have been and what has been going on in my life. In the meantime, here is the talk I gave at the Brookwood High School Baccalaureate Ceremony this past May. I graduated from Brookwood High School in 2005 and was asked to speak at this ceremony.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/PnGwTrY5SE8" width="420"></iframe>Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-874301880341910632014-02-27T19:15:00.000-05:002014-02-27T19:15:53.049-05:00A recent exchange<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
An interesting exchange happened between a physician and
me earlier this week. I had seen him before but did not know his name, so I
decided to say hi and introduce myself. After we greeted each other, the
conversation went something like this:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m here for a few weeks doing
a rotation,” I tell him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What year are you in? Third
year?” he asks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Fourth year.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So you already applied for
residency? What are your top places that you want to go to?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I tell him my top three choices
and expect him to congratulate me for getting those interviews or to tell me
good luck or something like that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He quickly responds, “Oh, okay. You
had your accident when you were coming back home from Augusta, right?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I did not expect that. I smile a
little. “Yes,” I respond.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So, you cannot walk at all? Can
you move your legs at all?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“No….” I am not sure where this
conversation is going.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So, is there any hope for you
to walk again?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, I have been this way for
almost five years and I have not gotten anything back. But it’s okay.” I give
him a big smile.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well,
I’m sure there is something out there, like something that stimulates the
nerves to move the legs and allows you to walk again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Yeah,
I’m sure there is. Alright, I have to go see a patient right now. It was good
seeing you,” I say to him and then go away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
How did that conversation make you feel?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There are a few things wrong with that exchange. I hope
you noticed them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I did not really know the guy. I recognized his face, but
that is all. After we greeted each other, he asked and I told him about the
prestigious places I interviewed at to complete my medical training and specialization.
One would expect to receive a response with comments or questions related to what
I had just said. Instead, the immediate next questions were about my disability
and if there was any hope for me. I get asked why I am in a wheelchair nearly
every day and I do not mind it at all. But I was not sure what that topic had
to do with me completing medical school and starting a medical residency
program.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This was a reminder.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was a reminder to me that despite everything, some
people will look at me and still only see my disability. I have and will always
strive to be the best I can be in order to overcome this mentality, but it
persists. The things I have accomplished and hope to accomplish do not mean
much to a lot of people. They will always see my wheelchair before they see me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Everything in my life may be going great but, for some, I
will always be imperfect because of what they see when they look at me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
As I mentioned in <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2014/02/everyone-has-disability-moving-forward.html">my
last talk</a>, I am still looked down upon and pitied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I will never be considered whole.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Another thing wrong with that conversation is what the physician
said to me afterwards about how he is sure there will be some technological or
medical breakthrough in the future that will help me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Please do not get me wrong; I would give up my life
savings and my salary for the next 10 years to walk and be able-bodied again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But I do not need to be consoled. Well, at least not for
the wrong reasons. The hidden, unconscious feelings that some have when saying
those types of things to me is pity, gratitude that it is me and not them in
this situation, and also bewilderment that life can go on despite these
obstacles. All of these thoughts and feelings express a deep seated belief that
the lives of others are better than mine and, essentially, that other people
are better than me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This is not an issue of pride for me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
People think that life would surely end if the ability to
walk or to be “normal” was permanently taken away at such a young age. Life will always be imperfect. Life will be
different and, obviously, there is clearly something wrong with being
different.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The people closest to me and I would like to be
appreciated for the things I have done and for who I am. Instead of giving off
positive vibes, the feelings and vibes given off my others are often negative.
That is what I am trying to express right now. The seemingly innocent pity when
people say these things carries with it an implication that there is something
wrong with me as a person and that I will never be complete. Yes, my life and
the lives of those close to me may be a little different, but we are happy. I
live an amazing life that is full of love. I am at peace and I am content. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
These are feelings that people strive for and work
towards their whole lives without attaining.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I of course know that people will always see my
wheelchair when they look at me. That is obvious. I just hope that one day,
people will measure my worth by my character and accomplishments, and not judge me by what they see as my imperfections.<o:p></o:p></div>
Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-62941530864008975602014-02-12T21:19:00.000-05:002014-02-12T21:22:07.505-05:00Everyone has a Disability - Moving Forward<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I know I have not written anything in a very long time. In addition to traveling for interviews, I have been working hard in hospitals/clinics and also relaxing a lot. I have written plenty of notes and thoughts on scraps of paper over the past several months, but no formal blog posts. I am enjoying each day and if I am not required to spend a lot of time in front of a computer, I will not do so and that means I may not do much formal writing. My free time is spent being with friends or reading books. Now that I am done traveling and interviewing, I hope to get back to writing, too.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I gave a talk entitled "Everyone has a Disability - Moving Forward" at the annual U Beyond event at the Atlanta Symphony Hall in late January. My talk was recorded but I realize that some of you would prefer to read the transcript instead. I will post the video, too, once I find the link. I am providing the transcript below.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
---</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I want everyone here to take a moment to think back and
reflect upon what their first impressions were as I was introduced and as I
came onto this stage.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
I always wonder what people think about when they first meet me. A lot of
times, I can see it in their eyes or hear it in their tone of voice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
And as you get to know me more, these thoughts evolve.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
I am speaking to a pretty diverse audience here today. I know what some of you
may be thinking. For some, it may be admiration. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I know others may be thinking, “Aw, look at this guy. I
feel sorry for those close to him. I feel sorry for his parents.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
Quite frankly, I do not feel sorry for my parents. I do not feel sorry for
myself. And hopefully, by the end of this, you won’t either.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
I’m not sure how many of you are familiar with my story, so I’ll go through it
briefly. About 5 years ago, I was just like any one of you in their early 20’s.
I was having fun, loving life, and I didn’t have a care in the world. Just like
every young person, I thought I was invincible. I had tons of opportunities
available to me in life that were still open for me to accomplish. Then, one fateful
afternoon, everything was taken from me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
I woke up in the hospital a few weeks after a devastating car accident and at
first was not aware of the extent of my injuries. “Everything is fine.
Everything is normal. There is no way this is happening to me,” I thought.
Because let’s be honest: who here ever does imagine or expect their life
to change more drastically than they could ever even think?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
Over the next few weeks, I learned more and more about my injuries. I had
suffered a T3 complete spinal cord injury, a traumatic brain injury, and a C5
brachial plexus injury. But I was hopeful. Just like people would always tell
me, I also told myself that I would be fine. I would recover 100% and be back
to the way I used to be. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Other times, when I was alone in my hospital room with
nothing but my thoughts, a little voice in my head would whisper, “Is this it,
Hammad? This is my life? What am I to do now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Lying in bed, I knew I had a choice to make: to let
this rule me or for me to rule it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
So, I pushed through. Thankfully, I have the most wonderful family, friends and
physicians. There was a lot that I had to overcome. Needless to say, things
have not been easy for me. My life had changed completely. I did not know what
to expect.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There were many things that I had to overcome. I knew
what I wanted to do. I knew that somehow, things would work out. Though I was
optimistic, I did my best to remain a realist. So, I spent 3 months as an
inpatient at the Shepherd Center in Atlanta. After that, I spend several months
in and out of outpatient rehab.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I wanted so badly to get up and walk again. I wanted to
be that person. Almost everyone I know told me I was going to be that person
and that I would walk again. We all believed it. “You don’t know how many
people out there are praying for you,” people would tell me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
How could I ever accept anything less than walking? How
could I ever accept and live my life in a wheelchair? How could I accept
defeat? Was that a true defeat? If I did not accomplish what I wanted, would I
be a failure? Would others look at me and think I am a failure because I was
not healed? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Most importantly, would I consider myself a failure?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I’ve never been one to accept failure or defeat. So, a
year after my accident, I moved out of my parents‘ home into a new apartment
and started medical school.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Still, things were not easy. Not only was I having to
face the challenges of medical school, which is enough for anyone to get
through, I was also trying to learn how to live on my own, live with my
disability, and be the best I could be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There were some times when I was so distraught and so
frustrated. I would just lie in bed and think about how different my life would
be if this had never happened to me or if I was back to “normal” again. I did not expect life to be this way and I
definitely did not expect medical school to be this way. Becoming a doctor was
my dream. But I didn’t want to become a doctor with a disability.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I knew I had to move forward. I knew I had to accept
things.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If someone were to ask me what my greatest accomplishment
was, what do you think my answer would be? Getting into medical school? No.
Surviving and going through medical school? No. Surviving the accident? No.
Surviving months and months of physical therapy to get my body strong enough
for me to live on my own? No.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sometimes our greatest battles are not ones that people
can outwardly see.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My biggest accomplishment was my acceptance.<o:p></o:p></div>
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No, I was not accepting defeat. Just because I was not
healed and back to the way everyone expected does not mean that I’m a quitter,
or a failure, or that I just settle for less than the best.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Finally accepting things meant that I was able to not
only <i>acknowledge</i> my disability, but
also to life with it, <i>grow</i> with it,
and flourish with it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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You see, we all have something that is holding us back
from reaching our true potential; from truly growing and flourishing, in all
aspects of life. We may or may not have acknowledged them yet. But really, I
suggest all of you to take some time alone, get away from technology and
everything else for a night or perhaps for a long time, and truly reflect. I
know I am speaking to a pretty diverse audience here who are from various
backgrounds. So, what is holding you back? For some, it may be anger. For
others, it may be jealousy. It may be our ego.<o:p></o:p></div>
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You see, we have to realize that our time on this earth
limited, therefore it does not matter if life has to be lived with a visible
handicap like mine or any other, but we also have to realize that we are <i>all</i> struggling. We <i>all</i> experience pain. And we all have our insecurities and our ego.
We are not special or all that different from each other.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, after I was able to accept that I had a physical
handicap that is visible to the world, I realized I had it easy. Yes, you heard
that correctly. I am thankful. I have life <i>much
easier</i> compared to many of you. The rest of you have to hide your handicaps
and your insecurities, hide your anger, hide your fears, hide the things in
your past that you have done that still haunt you to this day. I do not have to
do it. I am an open book.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I still had my mind, and that was the greatest gift. But,
most importantly, I had been given time. I had not died in that accident. I had
been a second lease on life. A few
things had been taken away from me. I cannot do many things that I have always
wanted to do. But with everything taken away, I have been able to truly
appreciate everything I <i>do</i> have. And
with all these things I have remaining, and with the life that I have ahead of
me, I knew that I could be <i>the best that
I could be</i>. I know my limitations. These are simply physical. But
everything else in my life has no limitation. I have the power to change and
the power to be better. And so do all of you.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I want to end this talk by an email I received from a
close friend of mine about 5 months after my injury:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
--<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Salaam,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know my words kinda suck when I try to encourage you sometimes. I do hope you'll forgive me because I realize nothing I say can hold any weight since I haven't gone through what you've gone through, and I really can't relate as well as I would like to. I just want to say that I'm happy you're alive. You may not be right now, but just think if you would have been ready to meet your Creator on that day. […] Don't forget that no matter how alone you may feel, everyone's thoughts and prayers and hopes are with you. They are looking to you, hoping that at least you'll be happy in any condition, that you'll be their hometown hero, showing resilience in the face of enormous hardship. You can serve as a reminder to everyone that their hardships are nothing in comparison and if you are able to overcome your own, then they can also overcome their own with faith and perseverance. I don't know if that sounds like a huge burden or if it sounds encouraging to you, but I'm just hoping I can help you understand that you have indeed gained a very valuable gift, however disguised it might seem. […]</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Khair, I honestly don't want to sound like I'm preaching. It's not like you don't already know all of this stuff. I'm just hoping the reminder would encourage you that at least there's one person beyond your family who believes in you (and rest assured there are hundreds more people who care just as much as I do, if not more). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, I actually rode on Greyhound when I came back to Atlanta for Eid, and I met this woman who was a writer on the way there. I asked her to read one of her poems for me, and she read the following piece. I liked it so much, I gave her $20 for a printed copy, even though she only asked for $2. I bought it for you. She said you may not be ready for the poem because it took her father over two years before he came to peace with his paralysis, but I figure I would go ahead and let you read it at least. I've typed it exactly as she printed it on a piece of fancy paper:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My Father's Legacy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In honor of my father</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ollie Christmas</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oct. 3, 1930 - </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was a heinous bullet to the spine,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That caused my father enormous grief,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thought he could no longer play the ladies' man,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From his anguish there was no relief.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At first he thought he would kill himself</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For he could no longer see his worth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thought of everything short of selling his soul</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For another chance to walk this earth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When those feelings finally subsided</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But he still couldn't function as before;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He was forced to dig deep down inside</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To come up with something more.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And his legacy, had he not lost his legs</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I cannot say what it would have been.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the man that rose from that mess of a test</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is to many, a wonderful friend.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Through the years he's been there for his children</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Always doing whatever he could</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Taught us resourcefulness beyond belief;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gave us a basic grasp on good.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometimes I wonder, 'Did he call the thing</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That happened so long ago?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That took what he thought was his manhood</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yet allowed greater manhood to show.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I say, "Thank you" to my Daddy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the strength he mustered in his soul</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As the whole man who was half-a-man</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Became the half-a-man who's whole.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(c) Revised Copyright 2007, Andikaa Delphine Peterson-Hill, Divine Celestial Design Publications</span></div>
Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-61792999377490583232014-01-12T21:14:00.000-05:002014-01-12T21:14:58.916-05:00Just say it<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It has been a while since I have written anything on
here. There are several reasons for that and I may eventually explain them. One
of them simply is because I have been doing a lot of traveling and interviewing
these past several months. I am also speaking at an event at the end of next
week and am not even sure what I want to say. I guess I should explain why I am
like that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I do not think of things ahead of time. I do not prepare
for interviews. Similarly, I do not have multiple drafts or blog posts or
anything else I write. Many times, I do not feel like reading over what I just
wrote, which may explain typos or other errors I may have. Just like my blog
posts, I wrote my personal statement for residency in one sitting and then submitted
it. I knew I could do it. I like it that way.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Why? How is this possible? <o:p></o:p></div>
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Because I speak from the heart. More importantly I am not
afraid to show my vulnerabilities.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I feel like preparing things ahead of time or having
multiple drafts of something will prevent me from revealing the truth. I do not
want to second guess myself. If I say something, it is because I feel it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Because of this, I do not get nervous when I have to
speak publicly. I do not get nervous before interviews, no matter how
important they may be.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I do not understand why people get nervous. If they are
afraid of the consequences, perhaps of a certain interview or speech they have
to give, they need not be. They are who they are; nothing more, nothing less. If the interviewer does not like you for who
you are, you are probably not a good fit there anyway. If one is worried about
being judged by others, such as an audience, I must ask: who are these people to judge you? How do
they have a right to make judgments about anyone? They, too, have hopes, have
fears and have loves. If the roles were switched, would they have the same concerns?<o:p></o:p></div>
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By fully expressing yourself a lot of times, you are not really
showing you are unique. You are showing that you are more similar than they had
thought and that they, too, have a secret life just like you.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Do not impress. Do not try to be anything more (or less)
than what you are. I have found that by being purely honest and exposing my
vulnerabilities—no matter how odd or weak I think I may seem at times—I am able
to relate with others and they are able to relate to me. We spend too much time
and effort trying to make us seem stronger and more impressive than we really
are. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I do believe that this will help me in my future
profession as a physician and that having this outlook may help others in their
profession, but it should not stop with just our careers. With everything we
do, see or talk about in life, we need to realize how connected we are to each
other.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This is real. Life is real. We either live without
regrets or we watch as it passes us by.</div>
Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-68086486652271015632013-11-26T21:21:00.003-05:002013-11-26T21:50:39.966-05:00Acceptance: the final stage<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This post is long overdue. I have wanted to write this for quite a long time, as can be seen by how long ago I wrote Stages <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2012/10/stages.html">Part 1</a>, <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2012/12/stages-part-2-anger.html">Part 2</a> and <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2013/10/stages-part-3-finally.html">Part 3</a>. I did not know where to start so I avoided it or told myself I would write when I had time to relax. I still do not know where to start or what to say and I have a few other things I really need to do, but I shall write. I do almost all my writing in one sitting and when I speak, I almost never have things prepared. That ensures that everything I write and speak about comes from the heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Acceptance</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Acceptance is the last stage in Kübler Ross’s model of the stages of grief that one goes through in dealing with something tragic or traumatic.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There were many times when I thought I had accepted things. I was okay. I was not angry. I didn’t curse the heavens. I was not bitter. If you have kept up with my blog from the beginning, you will see that that is true. I have been put in difficult circumstances but it is in these circumstances that I carry on with my life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It is in these circumstances that I have found peace.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It is in these circumstances that I have found purpose.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Acceptance of my disability was not as straightforward as I thought it would be. First, I had to accept my own mortality.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I almost died. That phrase gets thrown around a lot by many people, but in my case, I really was just a few inches or a few breaths away from leaving this life. I am not sure what impression I would have left upon this earth if I had passed away four and a half years ago.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As many of you know, I moved out of my family’s home to my own apartment in a different city and <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2010/08/all-eyez-on-me-tupac.html">started medical school</a> one year after my accident. “I am ready,” I thought. I was hit with reality once classes started.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I had to adapt to living on my own. Life was different. Things took longer for me to do. I could not relive many of the memories I had made in Athens. Needless to say, medical school classes were a lot tougher than I had imagined.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“You cannot compare yourself to others,” a friend said to me after I told him how I was having a hard time. “You are different than all of them. In addition to overcoming the challenges and rigors of medical school classes, you also have a lot more to deal with. You had a significant injury and became completely paralyzed just a year ago. That alone is more than enough. That alone is more than most people can deal with.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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That consoled me a bit. I am not one to back down from a challenge and I knew this would be difficult. But just like I was blindsided by this injury, I was blindsided with what to expect. I carried on with my life by moving out and starting medical school as soon as I could not only for myself, but for everyone else. I knew I could do what I wanted to do. As I have said before, <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2011/07/character-flaw.html">I am stubborn</a>. But others did not believe that I could do what I wanted to do. This is not to say that other people did not support me in my endeavors. They just did not expect much of me. I knew, however, that in order for me to be considered an equal to the general population once again, their expectations of me would be much higher and that I would forever have to prove myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
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All through my first year of medical school, I worked hard. I pushed through any all obstacles. There were times when I fell onto the floor with no one to help me. There were times when I was depressed. There were times when I was frustrated with everything.<o:p></o:p></div>
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One Friday night, after receiving a harsh score on an exam, I found myself dead tired but unable to sleep. “What am I doing?” I asked myself. “I should not even be alive. I am living on borrowed time.” In my frustration, I came to an interesting realization: <i>I was not happy</i>. I mean, I was outwardly happy as far as people could tell, but I was not living a life of peace and fulfilment. I spent every day studying. I spent most nights either studying or worrying about classes. I was not spending time with my friends or enjoying life. I could have died. I can die any day. <i>All of us</i> can die any day. So I asked myself, “Suppose I was told that I would only live for a few more months or a few more years. Is this how I would want to live life?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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That question, with all the thoughts and musings that came along with it, was a big turning point in my life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I thought a lot about death. I saw a lot of sickness and death in the hospitals.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I accepted my mortality.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Next, I had to accept my life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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To be honest, I am not sure when or how that happened. As I said earlier in this post, I thought I had accepted things from the beginning. It was not until much later that I realized that that was not the case, though I knew from the beginning that I was different and that things would always be different for me. After I accepted my own mortality and the fragility of all of our lives, things seem to just fall into place.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In the summer between my first and second year of medical school, I underwent a sort of “enlightenment,” so to speak. I took a break from studying and the fast pace, goal-directed life of which we seem to all be a part. I spent a lot of time by myself in my apartment. I read for pleasure. I watched movies. I listened and I learned. Everywhere around me, there were things I had never noticed. In each moment, in each movement, in each breath, I was there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As John Steinbeck wrote in <i>The Winter of Discontent</i>, “I wonder how many people I’ve looked at all my life and never seen.” From then on, I made sure to truly “see” everyone.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I moved on to my third year post-injury and my second year in medical school as a different person. My eyes were finally open.<o:p></o:p></div>
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During my second and third year of medical school, I found immense joy in everything that I did. I really loved being in medical school and doing everything that I was doing, especially interacting with patients. Learning things had a purpose for me. I could use everything I had learned to help someone else.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I overcame my insecurities and overcame my fear. I moved past thinking of myself as different from everyone else and knew in heart that I was the same as everyone else.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am not sure how it happened, but it happened. How did I know I had accepted things?<o:p></o:p></div>
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I knew I was in a better place when I finally realized that I was genuinely happy and at peace with what I was doing and what I intended to do. I intended to take care of others. I had already affected and helped others in many ways over these past few years, but this realization was different.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When I accepted my life, I accepted one thing: in everything I do, I will do my best to ease the suffering of others and I want each and every person I come in contact with to be <i>better</i> than me. I want them to progress and to be healed. I myself am paralyzed and have to live in a wheelchair but nothing would make me happier than to see others at peace with themselves. I would gladly volunteer to take the suffering of others upon myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I can now say that I have not only accepted by disability, I am <i>thankful</i> for my disability.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“'The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” – Mark Twain<o:p></o:p></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/VGiI-MuTWf0" width="420"></iframe>Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-67934981559303466902013-10-02T22:21:00.001-04:002013-10-02T22:34:02.651-04:00Stages, part 3 (finally!)I have been itching to write for quite some time now. A brief recap of what I have been doing: after completing the USMLE (United States Medical Licensing Exam) Step 2 in late August, I spent this past September doing an elective rotation at the Shepherd Center—the same place where I spent about three months as an inpatient after my accident in the summer of 2009. Being there brought back a lot of memories about which I could write plenty, but right now I want to write about something that I have intended to write about since I wrote “<a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2012/10/stages.html" target="_blank">Stages</a>” and “<a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2012/12/stages-part-2-anger.html" target="_blank">Stages, part 2: Anger</a>” months ago.<br />
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As I said in the post “Stages”, the Kübler-Ross model’s five stages of grief are <i>denial</i>, <i>anger</i>, <i>bargaining</i>, <i>depression </i>and <i>acceptance</i>. I wrote about stage one, denial, and stage two, anger, already in the two posts linked above. Tonight, I will write about the next few stages.<br />
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“If I could at least get something—<i>anything</i>—back, I will be thrilled. Please, God, give me something back,” I thought to myself and bargained with God more than once. I imagined what I would do and how I would tell people once I had recovered. I wanted to take a photo of myself standing and giving high fives to my two best friends who also spent their summer of 2009 with me in the hospital. I would make that photo my Facebook profile picture. Maybe I would not be able to walk perfectly and I would have to use a cane. I would buy myself the coolest looking cane. I would have the coolest stories to tell people while looking wise and holding my cane.<br />
<br />
“Man, this is going to make the best personal statement,” a friend said to me as I lay in my hospital bed. He, too, believed that I would be out of the hospital soon and running again.<br />
<br />
In the bargaining stage, people usually bargain with a higher power. I certainly did. I prayed and vowed that if I was healed, I would forever be in God’s debt. I would be a changed man and I would always be righteous. Little did I know at that time, this is what everyone goes through.<br />
<br />
I thought I was doing everything right. I was 100% confident that everything would be okay. I would be completely healed. I did not think anymore that I would wake up one morning and suddenly be completely and miraculously healed, but I did think that I would one day discover that I could move a toe or feel the warm water running over my legs in the shower. <br />
<br />
Throughout this time, though, I never allowed myself to truly be outwardly and noticeably sad. There were some difficult times through which I had to go during the over the course of the first year after my accident. <i>If I was 100% healed, if I could walk again, then none of this would be happening. Everything would be okay and everything would be so much easier. I would get what I wanted and would not have to struggle.</i><br />
<br />
But, as the Lebanese writer Khalil Gibran said, “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2011/05/two-years-scars-remind-me-that-past-is.html" target="_blank">seared with scars</a>.”<br />
<br />
My family and friends were always looking to me for strength, instead of the opposite way around. So, rather than going through the typical fourth stage of grief, depression, I kept a smiling face. This does not mean I did not feel pain. As I wrote <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2011/05/bulletproof.html" target="_blank">here</a>, I did. But you could never tell.<br />
<br />
As I was telling a close friend of mine and as many of you may have read if you have kept up with my blog since the beginning, my first year in medical school was a struggle. In addition to dealing with the rigors of a new medical college campus with a surprisingly more difficult curriculum than the main campus, I also had to deal with coming to terms with my disability and adapting to living alone once again. Coming to terms with a something as big in one's life as a crippling disability is something that usually takes people many years. It was my choice to start medical school only one year after my injury. I did not want to waste more time and I did not want people to see me as more “disabled” than the disability I had already made me seem. So I carried on. Life was not stopping.<br />
<br />
There came a time during my first year of medical school when I was struck with a strange yet honest realization. I spent most of my time studying. Even as <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2011/02/things-fall-apart.html" target="_blank">things fell apart</a>, things were not slowing down. I was not having fun. There was no time for fun. I realized that in all honesty and as morbid as this may seem, I could die soon. We all could.<br />
<br />
So I asked myself, “If I knew I had one week to live, what would I be doing? Is this how I would want to spend it?”<br />
<br />
I kept a smiling face. I looked at the bright side of things. I moved forward. <br />
<br />
This is what I set out to do.<br />
<br />
There are too many times we get locked in the third or fourth stage of grief, bargaining and depression. For some, this is a hole from which some never rise.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="236.25" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/O19WNZHwjpY" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
A turning point in my life came in the summer between my first and second year of medical school, the summer of 2011.<br />
<br />
This post is getting fairly lengthy and I have not even concluded it properly yet. It is also time for me to go to sleep. For now, I will end it right here. I actually wanted to write about the fifth and last stage, acceptance, and I promise to do that very soon since I am eager to continue this. In the meantime, I provided many links above through which you can read and refresh your memory until then. And as a preview for the upcoming post and to see what place I was in at that time of change in the summer of 2011, here are two, more refreshing posts: “<a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2011/08/clearing-my-mind.html" target="_blank">Clearing my mind</a>” from August 2011 and “<a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2011/09/balance.html" target="_blank">Balance</a>” from September 2011.<br />
<br />
I’ll leave you with a quote by one of my favorite writers, Chuck Palahniuk, that I actually made into an image and used as a wallpaper for my phone for the first year or two after my accident to give me strength: “It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.”<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="236.25" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/BwmtHqhbs9c" width="420"></iframe><br />Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-76915654389157334572013-09-15T19:23:00.000-04:002013-09-15T19:23:22.454-04:00Amazing commercialIgnore the fact that this is a beer commercial and just focus on the message. It's beautiful.<br />
<br />
<iframe width="448" height="252" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Au8Y98Rgxbk" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-80265015425265088822013-08-03T12:48:00.001-04:002013-08-03T12:48:26.793-04:00Always remember thisAs physicians and, more importantly, as humans, the message in this video is something we need to always keep in mind:<br />
<br />
<iframe width="448" height="252" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/cDDWvj_q-o8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-78660158315840920912013-07-17T21:26:00.003-04:002013-07-17T23:03:05.656-04:00The common bond that we all share<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
[Note: I started this ten days ago on July 7 and just finished it today. That's why it starts off the way it does.]<br />
<br />
I’m going to just write something quick since I have to
get some things done tonight and get adequate sleep before going to the
hospital tomorrow morning for my rotation in the intensive care unit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Today, July 7, is my birthday. Birthdays are almost never big or special for
me. I usually end up just relaxing by
myself. The only really festive birthday that I will
truly never forget was my <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2010/07/birthday-2009-my-most-memorable.html">birthday
in the hospital in 2009</a>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A friend surprised me today with a few gifts on my
birthday. Because we had only recently
met, she did not know the full story and details of what happened the day of my
accident, the immediate aftermath or the following two weeks I spent in the
intensive care unit. After about five or
ten minutes of me talking, my friend was in tears.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The things I explained to her were told to me many times
by my family and friends since I do not remember anything from that time. The sights and sounds that were described to
me seemed to mimic the things I witnessed while in the “doctor” point of view
in the intensive care unit last week.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
One of my patients last week was in a coma. The first thing I noticed as I entered the
room was the smell of sterile chemicals on a backdrop of the slight smell of
human wastes. It all smelled too
familiar. This previously healthy, very
young patient was not responding to light touch or loud voices but would react
to painful stimuli. She had been
unresponsive for several days. I was
able to speak with her very concerned mother and brother. The patient’s brother was very protective of
his sister and told his mother a few times that he wanted to go through his
sister’s phone, in case she had been speaking to someone who may have given her
illicit drugs that could have caused her current state. At one point, I saw her brother whisper
something to her and kiss her on the forehead.
The next day, the patient was able to open her eyes slightly and nod her
head. The following day, I was thrilled
to see that she was sitting up and speaking, though her insight on her
condition was a bit cloudy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The experiences in the intensive care unit last week
combined with my birthday and my telling to my friend about my experience as a
patient all really made me once again appreciate the fragility of life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The patient who was in the coma had been previously
healthy. I, too, had been previously
healthy. We both had family and friends
that love us and were very concerned.
Both of us had been in a very uncertain condition. We both also appeared and smelled in an
embarrassing way that we wish no one else could have seen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
These days, I see patients who are on the brink of
death. Just a few days ago, I was in the
room while a patient took his last breath.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Death is a subject about which I have a thought a
considerable amount this past year.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It is also a subject that we do not really discuss. But I said in my last post that I would
continue to be honest and that is what I am doing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Have we become desensitized to death?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When I’m in the hospitals, I regularly hear people talk
about a patient passing away. It is
usually just an acknowledgement of the person’s passing and then the
conversation changes to something else.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Why don’t the newscasters cry when they talk about people
who die? At least they could be decent enough to put just a tear in their eyes.” - Jack Johnson, “The News”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This inattention to the gravity of death is surprising to
me. I understand how regularly seeing and
hearing about people passing away may make us insensitive to it and we do not
let it affect us. But we must not allow
this make us numb.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I am not sure how many of you watched my <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2013/04/my-talk-at-mist-41313-patience-in.html" target="_blank">last talk at MIST</a> but in there I
discuss the pride that we all have. We
all seem to consider ourselves invincible.
Illnesses cannot fall upon us because, quite frankly, those things are
for “sick people”. They are for “the
other people”. Death comes to these “other
people”. We cannot imagine ourselves
lying in bed with multiple tubes and wires connected to our body. We cannot imagine that the doughnuts and ice
cream we love to eat may give us diabetes and that if we are still reckless and
do not manage that, our kidneys may fail, we may go blind or our feet may
eventually have to be amputated.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We cannot imagine ourselves waking up in a hospital bed
and being completely paralyzed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
No, those things cannot happen to <i>us</i>. Those are simply
academic things that we learn about in medical school or that we see in movies
or read about in books. There is a
dramatic finish and the person lives on in the memories of others<i>. Those
types of things do not happen to people like me</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I would explain this more but I feel like this page from <i>The Death of Ivan Ilych </i>by the 19<sup>th</sup>
century Russian author Leo Tolstoy expresses this exceptionally well:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXx3fzenLwNcmen0qRUZu63_IWCDzt-W0cEwgnU7yH7Iez82SmznRFyIIS-sQ4uQFVBKKBoz4lxGlArtPAOGtNnas2bA-SCCOhIPw4wg7NUCf40kzXoP60De2mBdSSCYQc62r8X8TYoRQ/s1600/page+from+The+Death+of+Ivan+Ilych.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXx3fzenLwNcmen0qRUZu63_IWCDzt-W0cEwgnU7yH7Iez82SmznRFyIIS-sQ4uQFVBKKBoz4lxGlArtPAOGtNnas2bA-SCCOhIPw4wg7NUCf40kzXoP60De2mBdSSCYQc62r8X8TYoRQ/s320/page+from+The+Death+of+Ivan+Ilych.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Death is something that is inevitable. That is no surprise. But then why does it surprise us? Why do we shy away from this topic?</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When we die, that’s it.
We are done. There is no reset
button. There are no second chances. A mere few years later, who we are and what we have done are completely forgotten.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Most of us never really think about this—and I mean <i>really</i> think about this. What are we doing <i>right now</i>? What does this exact
moment mean to us?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
You will never be as young as you were when I started
this post.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The finality of our life is perhaps why it takes some
people a few days before they can actually accept and properly grieve the loss
of a loved one. <i>That person is gone. They are
never coming back. I have so many
memories of that person. I can remember
everything so vividly. I remember the
sound of their voice and the smell of their clothing. I remember how they were so happy and
surprised that one time. I remember how
sad they were another time. If only I
had another day to spend with that person, I would let them know how much they
mean to me and how much I will miss them.
I never really let them know before and now it is too late</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We should not live our life in regret.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
As I have said before: love before it's too late. <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2012/08/love-before-you-lose.html" target="_blank">Love before you lose</a>.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The 6th century BCE Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu wrote in his work <i>Tao Te Ching</i> in regards to a soldier going to war: "His enemies are not demons,<span style="font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-bidi-font-family: "MS Gothic";"> </span>but human beings like
himself. He
doesn't wish them personal harm. Nor does he rejoice in victory. How
could he rejoice in victory and delight in the slaughter of men?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He enters a battle gravely, with sorrow and with great
compassion, as if he were attending a funeral."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Media sources today are all disappointing. We can only blame ourselves for that. What happens when we hear about a school
shooting or an attack when innocent people lost their lives, like in the recent
Boston Marathon bombing? The news
sources focus on the killers. Their
photos are everywhere and the killers become household names. Bluntly put, we glorify the killers. We immortalize them. This produces even more killers from psychologically
disturbed and immature people who also seek their own version of glory. And that is all we, as a society, talk about,
too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We do not focus on those who died. We buy into the sensationalism and hysteria
that is created and, in short, we let the killers and terrorists win as they
become notorious and they cause us to live in fear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The people who died become a number. People, both locally and internationally, who die from diseases or attacks are <i>not even given a second thought</i> when we hear or read about them in the news.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We lose our humanity.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Each and every person we meet is just like us. Every person around the world who dies is
like us. They, too, were once a child
with joys, fears, insecurities and flaws.
They, too, knew friendship and betrayal.
They, too, knew love and heartbreak.
We all experience seemingly endless joy.
We all cry. Our problems are not
bigger than the problems of others. Our
pain is not any more special or significant than the pain of others. It does not matter if we are rich or poor, atheist or Christian, educated or uneducated, a model citizen or a criminal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We all want a second chance. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We all wish we had more time.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Do not lose your humanity. The next time you hear about someone—<i>anyone</i>—who is sick or dying, realize that that
may have been us. That person, or that
group of people, lived, laughed, loved, feared, cried and experienced all the
feelings we experience.<o:p></o:p></div>
Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-28519539469955410392013-06-30T19:14:00.000-04:002013-06-30T19:23:29.053-04:00Article in London LinkI have been meaning to write another post but in the meantime, <a href="http://issuu.com/londonlink/docs/llinkv3i4_web" target="_blank">here is a little reading material</a>! I am featured in the summer 2013 issue of London Link magazine. If it looks familiar, it's because it is the same interview that was on the Muslim Heroes web site.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvMI4jVRzvKCnIkL3gtNjP-U9KuRy-NX4Hij2tWaBmHsixxyyCPmS5RwDKyIyL5VBMsOZyUSneAsylptxxcfvJfGnsuh2wGyOl7uxOD7_E6PBjCz4zIxtaH2cCB4Kc3TaTgW3tjAuIrr8/s1008/me+in+London+Link+magazine+-+summer+2013.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvMI4jVRzvKCnIkL3gtNjP-U9KuRy-NX4Hij2tWaBmHsixxyyCPmS5RwDKyIyL5VBMsOZyUSneAsylptxxcfvJfGnsuh2wGyOl7uxOD7_E6PBjCz4zIxtaH2cCB4Kc3TaTgW3tjAuIrr8/s320/me+in+London+Link+magazine+-+summer+2013.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The article can be read at: http://issuu.com/londonlink/docs/llinkv3i4_web</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-78313108245104482352013-06-23T12:59:00.001-04:002013-06-23T12:59:50.564-04:00My talk at TEDxGeorgiaTechI know I told you all a long time ago that I would post this video of me speaking TEDxGeorgiaTech this past November. I just found out a few days ago that it has been edited and published.<br />
<br />
I must forewarn you again: I randomly received a phone call asking if I was interested in talking just a few days before the event. I was very busy that week in the neonatal ICU and had to come up with and memorize about fifteen minutes worth of material in a very short time. So please excuse any mistakes!<br />
<br />
I must say, though, that because I had only a short amount of time to think of what to say, I spoke from the heart. The experience was quite cathartic<br />
<br />
Thank you for watching.<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="267.75" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/HOsSKV8YK3Y" width="448"></iframe>Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-57037136432588079232013-06-05T20:37:00.000-04:002013-06-05T23:24:32.027-04:00Four years later<i>This is the blog post that I wrote after returning to my apartment from a long day in surgery on May 23, 2013. This post seemed jumbled because I was extremely tired when I wrote it. I could have written for about ten pages if I had not stopped myself. That is why I stopped writing this and quickly posted up <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2013/05/today.html" target="_blank">this Facebook status</a> instead. I am posting this now because I do not want it to become another piece that I write but never actually post.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i> <i>---</i><br />
<i><br />
</i> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.imgur.com/gh46HsK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="http://i.imgur.com/gh46HsK.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><i><br />
</i> <br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">That day has come again.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Before I start, I should let you know that I did not sleep last night. I say this because I ask for you to please not judge my writing. I was up studying last night later than I had planned to be and when I went to bed, I could not fall asleep, even though I was extremely fatigued. I slept less than two hours on Monday night and about four hours on Tuesday night. I knew the reason why I had not slept much those nights, but what about last night? I gave up on trying to fall asleep and I got out of bed around 3:30 AM this morning and was at the hospital to round on patients before 6 AM. I got back to my apartment around 8 PM.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">“Oh, man, look at that date,” I thought to myself last night. “Tomorrow is going to be just like any other day, just like it always is. I wonder if anyone will even remember.” I mean, only two or three people even remember my birthday without having to be reminded by Facebook, but that’s understandable. No one would remember this day.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">As my head today was swimming in a sea of surgical procedures, anatomy landmarks and the “heavy head” feeling that often accompanies lack of sleep, it hit me. It has been four years since I was crushed under the roof my family’s SUV and my life as I knew it changed. My next thought was, “Why haven’t I written anything lately?” I used to write relatively frequently, even when I was busy. I reminded myself how I am really mentally fatigued these days whenever I return to my apartment. I also noted how I have not had really strong opinions, thoughts or emotions on anything in particular so I haven’t really had anything to write about. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Then I realized something else: my subconscious mind has prevented me from writing anything new on here. This blog is read by more people that I ever could have imagined and, though that makes me very humbled and surprised, it also set a mental barrier. I think maybe when I realized that many people were actually paying attention to the things I wrote, I became self-conscious. One of the things that I adhere to and that some readers have commented on and admire is that I am honest—sometimes brutally honest. I share my inner struggles and inner feelings. I do so for cathartic purposes and because though our situations may be different, many people I already knew and those I have met because of my writings are able to relate to what I say. I try to be honest and say the things that people do not usually mention for fear of being vulnerable or judged.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I realized today that I have not been writing as frequently because I do not want to seem like a “tortured soul”. That was foolish of me. Anyone can see the type of person I am by talking to me and though I sometimes think about things that people do not mention, that does not make me abnormal.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I shall return to being honest.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Four years. On the surface, noting things on a particular date and observing the length of time that has surpassed seems like a futile practice. This day isn’t as profound as one would expect it to be. Thinking back, I can see how different each year has been. On the one year anniversary of my accident, I was still living at home in Snellville. I had not moved into my apartment in Athens. In fact, I was still bargaining with my family to allow me to live by myself there without roommates or assistance. I remember I had already made plans to do something with friends that day. I was consciously trying to act completely normal that day, as if it was just like any other day, not for myself but for those close to me. I did that every day and never allowed myself to be any other way.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I recall when it had been about six months after my accident and I was at the Shepherd Center for outpatient physical therapy. There was one person there who had been paralyzed for four years and then somehow he was able to move his legs, so he was able to qualify again for physical therapy and was relearning how to walk. Another girl had been paralyzed for seven years, first from neck down until the ability to move her arms progressively returned to her. She said a few weeks ago, her mom was helping her shave her legs when she shouted, “Ouch!” The razor had cut the skin on the girl’s leg and, for the first time in seven years, she had felt it. I remember telling my family and friends this at the time and we all said or thought, “Wow, four years? Seven years? That is <i>so long</i>. They must be extremely patient. How did they even survive for that long? What did they do? How did they cope?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I didn’t expect to feel anything today. Instead, although I was busy, I had the opportunity to be with my thoughts and reflect—something I have not done in a while.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I have spent a significant amount of time in this “new” body. I have relearned how to move around and perform my activities of daily living. As hard as it was, I also relearned how to learn and organize my thoughts. That is what the people who do not see me every day or have just read my blog may have noticed. My classmates and the faculty members at my school have noticed something else I have had to regain: confidence. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">This is my last week on a general surgery rotation. It has been very tough for me. I spend my nights trying to memorize anatomy and then I spend the following day in the operating room getting asked increasingly difficult questions by the surgeon and getting embarrassed in front of the surgery team. I am also consistently reminded of how different I am by the way I have to scrub myself in for surgeries and be positioned with the help of an assistant in front of the patient’s body in order to see and help with the surgeries. It was not a problem before and I didn’t think it was going to be a problem until I saw the surgeon growing impatient with me. I almost wanted to apologize for my disabilities.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Sometimes I wonder how people would act and treat me if I was able to always stand and interact with them at eye level instead of having to look up at people.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Four years is a long time. As I say each year, I did not think I would have made it this far.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">My old self and abilities are just vague memories now.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">For a long time after my accident in May 2009, whenever I would dream at night, I would be completely able-bodied and walking or running in my dreams. I remember lying in my apartment in Athens about a year and a half or two years after my accident and having my first dream where I was in a wheelchair.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I woke up really sad. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">It’s strange. Whenever I do dream now, it’s usually about me being a wheelchair, but also being able to walk normally. I am not sure why I even have a wheelchair in the dream or how I know I have a disability in the dream because I am clearly able to ambulate on my own two feet. I remember in one dream, I saw one of my hospital mates and told him how I just keep the wheelchair because my legs sometimes get too tired of walking. In my latest dream a few weeks, another hospital mate, Chase T., and I were walking around and joking about things.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Hopefully one day, that dream will come true.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">Still, to this day, people ask me if I’ve noticed any changes. “Still the same?” they ask.<br />
<br />
I smile back. “Yes, still the same.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">That is usually followed by a brief look of pity on their face. Then they force a smile and try to say something encouraging like, “It’s okay! We don’t know what the future holds. Stay strong!”<br />
<br />
I smile once again and nod my head in agreement.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">I do not pity me. Yes, it has been a long time and of course I do wish things were different. There is not much that I wouldn’t give up to be completely healed and “normal” again.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">But after a long time of being this way, I have learned to look past it.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">As I move forward, I only wish that others learn to look past this, too.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
---<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><i>I ended this blog post quickly. But I ended it with a take-home point. I knew I had too much to say and too many things I wanted to write about since it has been too long since I have done so. I will write about all the other things in my head as soon as I can. <br />
<br />
And because I've said that I usually have a song that I can associate with each of my blog posts, here is this post's song:</i><br />
<i><br />
</i></div><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Iugr-yPgQgQ" width="420"></iframe>Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-47687836692173362142013-05-23T22:48:00.003-04:002013-05-23T22:58:34.100-04:00Today.I didn't sleep last night and after I got back to my apartment a few hours ago, I wrote a blog post because I had much on my mind. It looked too long and I am not sure if I was making sense since I am so tired. So, I got on Facebook and quickly typed up something and posted the following as my Facebook status. The blog post that I wrote a few hours ago, however, will probably be posted a few days from now when I have slept more than a total of six hours in the past four days and my head can actually think clear. This is the Facebook status I just posted up, since I know many readers of this blog are not my friends on Facebook:<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">Today, May 23, 2013, I can officially say that it has been four full years since that fateful tree crushed me under the roof of my family's SUV and turned my life, and the lives of those closest to me, upside-down.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">The accident caused me to lose a lot of things, some easily visible and some not. But what I have gained since that time cannot be acquired with ease. There have been times when I have been scared. There have been times when I did not think I could be in any worse pain. There have been times when I have felt completely alone. There have been times when I have felt that everything in my life was crashing down on me and that there was nothing left to salvage.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">From the severed nerves and killed brain cells--things that are still humanly impossible to regrow--I have grown. I have gained much insight. I have met many people and have had the surprising privilege of both affecting and being affected by others. I have learned more about myself and the human condition in these past four years than what it seems like others ever do in their lifetime. I could never have acquired the perspective I have in any other way. For everything I have lost, I have gained something new.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">And now, four years later, I am thankful.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">Four years later, I am here. I am now.</span>Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-58839668548833001182013-04-29T20:33:00.000-04:002013-04-29T20:41:40.729-04:00For my beloved readers<br />
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I haven’t written anything in quite some time, so in
usual fashion, I will first provide an update on my life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My third year of medical school is winding down now. I am
currently on my very last clinical rotation of the year—surgery. After this, I
will officially be in my last year of medical school. It surprises me how fast
time flies. I started this blog just a few short months before I started
medical school. That was over three
years ago.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I was speaking to a faculty member the other day and the
topic of my blog came up. I also recently saw that this blog has hit over
50,000 views (about 52,000 now to be exact) from people all over the world. So,
with that, I’ll answer some questions that people have asked me and that you
may also be thinking:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>How did you start
this blog?</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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This blog all started about seven months after my
accident in May of 2009 and just a few months before I started medical school
in August 2010. A friend of mine was going to start a web site and he asked me
if I wanted to be a writer for it. “Ugh. I’m a horrible writer. But I’m not
doing anything right now at home before I start school. So I might as well do
it. It’ll help stimulate my brain and get me to think and write so I can be
better ready for med school. I’m not sure what kind of stuff I will write
about, though, or if anyone will even read it,” I thought to myself and said to
my friend. That’s when I wrote my first blog post, “<a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-7-month-anniversary-written-12-23-09.html">My
7 month anniversary</a>”. I had a friend from another state review it and help
me edit it. I knew my writing was horrible. The web site for which I wrote that
post never really took off, so I ended up deciding that I would start my own
blog and use it to write about random thoughts that came to me. My first entry was
something I quickly typed up late one night, “<a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2010/02/jeans-say-what.html">Jeans…say
what?</a>”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Why do you keep
writing?</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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After almost every blog post, I think to myself, “I’m all
out of things to write about. That was my last post.” But I somehow find
something else about which to write. After I posted that very first post on my
blog, I got positive feedback from some friends. They wanted me to keep writing
and they wanted me to keep posting the links on Facebook so they could know
when I post anything new. I was really flattered. And I kept writing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I get so surprised when I find out people read my blog. I
remember when I got so excited when I found out I could check the viewer
statistics on my blog and that over one hundred people from the United States
(mostly Georgia) and Canada had read it. I couldn’t believe it. Why would
anyone be interested in what I had to say?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>The essential
question, “Why write?”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Over the years, I have heard from people that my blog has
helped me in one way or another. They thank me. But in return, I thank them
more. I am unable to express my gratitude to these people.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I write about personal things. I lay my heart out for the
world to see. Because this is me. When people first meet me, I am aware that
all they see is my wheelchair; all they see are my disabilities. So I write to
show that there is more than that to me. I write to show people that we should
not judge others by how they look or by their “disabilities”.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I write to show that we are all the same.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Writing has helped me develop as a person. I was talking
about this with the faculty member I spoke to last week. One can go through
this blog from my earliest posts to my newest ones and see just how much I have
changed. Writing has made me evolve. The positive feedback and encouragement I
receive from others has really allowed me to grow. I have learned so much about
other people and about myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I just hope other people have learned as much about
themselves, too.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Who reads this
besides me?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Over the years, the number of viewers of this blog has
grown. I remember when I hit one thousand viewers. I remember when I saw that
there seemed to be more people in Canada reading this blog aside from the four
people I knew there. I remember when I saw that people in Europe had come
across my blog.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Now, I receive about 2,000 to 3,000 views every month. I
started posting links to my new posts on Facebook so my friends could read
them. It is possible that the number of viewers spread from there. When people
who were not my close friends or people I haven’t talked to in many years (eg,
friends from high school) tell me they read my blog, I am still surprised,
flattered and humbled.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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This blog has given me the privilege to from great
friendships with people all over the United States and the world. In addition,
this has caused me to be interviewed by various publications, including local
news sources (like the Gwinnett Daily post and university magazines) and
international news sources (like the magazine <i>emel</i> or on other web sites). I have even been asked to speak at multiple
events, including TEDxGeorgiaTech. I cannot be more thankful. I hope to one day
meet all of these people.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Why don’t you write
a book?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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This question has been asked to me many times. To be
honest, I don’t think I’m that good of a writer. So I am flattered when people
suggest that. I’m just a regular guy writing about the things that happen to me
and that go through that my head. In addition, time is a very limiting factor.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I often think about things to write as I go about my day
but I usually don’t end up writing about them. When I write, I usually just get
on my laptop and type up everything at once. Often, I do not look over my posts
before posting them. I rarely ever revise or edit them. This keeps everything
in the raw. It makes everything come straight from my heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Will you keep
writing?</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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As I said earlier in this post, I have thought since I
started this blog back in 2010 that every post would be my last post. Somehow,
I find more things about which to write. So as long as I have the time and as
long as people still enjoy reading about this crazy guy, I will keep writing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Just please forgive me for writing so seldom this past
year or two. Medical school and medical rotations are keeping me busy. But, if everything
goes as planned, I should have just a few more months and a few more exams left
of the “hard stuff” and then hopefully next year should be more relaxing as I
finish off medical school and finally earn my medical degree. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic5V7ZC7dGU4uOi50Xl-rcQztW08FrBaJo2OpqkTjvD6dOy4aMVJZCvWIoxc4GgfiNXqsT6PtCXlmB5xNPQ3s_ADsC-mwAd8HmGEp0HAodyGeyGuSpB_o288IxDXU9q_kmupJN5l_iXN8/s1600/self+pic+April+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic5V7ZC7dGU4uOi50Xl-rcQztW08FrBaJo2OpqkTjvD6dOy4aMVJZCvWIoxc4GgfiNXqsT6PtCXlmB5xNPQ3s_ADsC-mwAd8HmGEp0HAodyGeyGuSpB_o288IxDXU9q_kmupJN5l_iXN8/s320/self+pic+April+2013.jpg" width="303" /></a><b><i>If any of you would like to do so, you may ask any more questions you have in the comments and I will do my best to reply as quickly as I can.</i></b></div>
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<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Once again, I would like to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for reading. Thank you for the encouragement. Thank you for being a part of my journey.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-32807166853850895092013-04-23T19:48:00.000-04:002013-04-23T20:03:26.933-04:00My talk at MIST Atlanta, 4/13/13, "Patience In Practice"The theme for this year's MIST (Muslim Interscholastic Tournament) was patience. MIST is a regional/national event in which high school students compete in various competitions (eg, oratory, debate, math, basketball, etc) and listen to different talks when they are not competing. University students and people in various occupations are the judges and volunteers. I was asked to speak again at this year's Atlanta event. This time, though, I thought of what to say at the last minute and made the mistake of writing everything down--in the same way I write my blog posts--instead of just speaking spontaneously. So be forewarned and please excuse my mumbling!<br />
<br />
I recorded it because a friend asked me to do so and I am posting it here in case anyone else is curious and because I haven't written anything in a while.<br />
<br />
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Bs7fGosqGT4" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-29345331503269403102013-04-11T23:32:00.003-04:002013-04-11T23:32:35.294-04:00Featured in a Muslim Heroes exclusive interviewBefore you click this link and read the interview, I just want to say that I typed up these responses late one night and submitted them without looking them over. Therefore, I apologize for any grammatical errors or if it is written poorly. Thank you for reading, dear friends.<br /><br /><a href="http://muslimheroes.org/2013/04/12/mh-exclusive-hammad-aslam/" target="_blank">MH Exclusive: Hammad Aslam</a>Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-10974669741865164812013-03-12T17:53:00.000-04:002013-03-12T17:53:12.704-04:00Take a Seat - Make a Friend?Here is a fun and interesting video that ties in something I mentioned in my last blog post, <a href="http://mindofhammad.blogspot.com/2013/02/flaws.html" target="_blank">Flaws</a>. It's also just something that will put a smile on your face. Enjoy!<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="252" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/HfHV4-N2LxQ?list=PLzvRx_johoA8PC6S5k5S2SszRQOR8oSEa" width="448"></iframe>Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-25182947374039996052013-02-26T21:39:00.000-05:002013-02-26T22:04:34.664-05:00Flaws<br />
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</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I haven’t written any blog posts in a while because, to
be honest, I am just content. There isn’t
much that bothers me, saddens me or angers me. I haven’t been in a writing
mood much lately because I find myself using any extra time outside of studying
or my duties in the hospital for pleasure reading, relaxing, working out and
sleeping more—things I enjoy. The drive
to/from Athens from/to Atlanta is a great one for putting the windows down and
playing some music. Various thoughts
inadvertently come through my head during these long drives.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I was discussing flaws with a friend of mine some time
ago and there is something about that topic that I can say with
conviction: I love flaws. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Flaws make a person more real. Actually, most of these “flaws” are just
things that we consider different. How
are any of us to judge what is considered a flaw and what is not? For example, is the fact that I'm in a wheelchair a flaw?</div>
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<br /></div>
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I meet and have met a lot of people. I have spoken to them and sometimes listened
to their stories. And sometimes I am
surprised; it really surprises me the way some people—a lot of people—think.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It seems like a lot of people are obsessed with trying to
live a perfect life, raise perfect children, become the perfect student/professional/husband/wife
and expect their plans to unfold as perfectly as possible.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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But we are not perfect.
Life isn’t perfect. Things rarely
unfold as expected. <o:p></o:p></div>
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We do things that our family and friends don’t know
about. We do things other elders or
religious folks would look down upon.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We make mistakes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Sometimes, we are the mistakes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And that’s okay.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We all have a collection of life experiences. Sometimes when I see people striving towards
being perfect to the point that they judge or look down upon others, I somewhat
have pity on them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It baffles me sometimes when I think how close-minded
some people are, even by most of those who do not consider themselves
close-minded at all. I encourage everyone
to try meeting new people regularly, especially those completely different from
us and who “our parents told us to stay away from”. But do not limit it to just “meeting” these
people. Almost everyone has contact with
new people all the time. People should
take this one step further and <i>learn</i>
about the person. Learn about their
experiences, their views, their “flaws”.
Listen to their stories.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In the same manner, I also somewhat have to shake my head
when I speak with those who have never truly left their small circle. They may attend college or have jobs but they
still live in the same locale that they always have, they have not left their
security and safety nets, they still have the same “type” of friends that they
always have had and some even have lived at home with their families most of
their lives.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I write to express myself. I write to think things through.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Another big part of why I write is to show people that
though I may be different, others can relate.
My experiences may be unique but so are others’.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When I meet people who have lived in a metaphorical “box”—and
there are <i>many</i> like this—I am not very
impressed, no matter how intelligent or pious they may seem to others. Who do I admire more? Those who have experimented, who have messed
up, who know the disturbances life can bring to people, who have tried and
failed—and kept going, despite all of this, and have changed their
circumstances so that they are in a different place, figuratively and possibly
even literally speaking.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Move out. Move
away. Explore.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Widen your circle of compassion. It’s okay to fall.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Hammadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11931979843615336545noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232501043886016712.post-77019860108641825022013-02-06T20:12:00.000-05:002013-02-06T20:12:12.031-05:00UGA PreMed MagazineWoohoo! I'm on the cover of the <i>UGA PreMed</i> magazine, a magazine for pre-medical students at the University of Georgia. Check it out and read the article:<br /><br />
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