"Father paralysed from neck down holds his girlfriend's hand... using his mind to power robotic arm"

In line with my last post, Sensation, watch the video at the end of this article:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-2047345/Father-paralysed-neck-holds-girlfriends-hand--using-mind-power-robotic-arm.html

Sensation

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

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

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

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

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

The warm summer sun.

The feeling of sand beneath our toes.

The touch of a loved one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See me

I sometimes have to shake myself back to reality.

Two years ago, when my scars were still fresh, I was pretty self conscious. I had become a new person, and I wasn’t sure if people would accept me. People who hadn’t seen me in a while were shocked.

One year ago, I was anxious to start medical school. I was unsure of how my classmates would treat me. I was scared about starting and eager to live on my own. I wanted to prove to people—especially the doubters, but perhaps even myself—that I could attend medical school and live alone.

These blog posts have shown how I have evolved, although they certainly do not paint the full picture at times. My more recent posts seem to show how I’m much more comfortable with who I am, with how things are, and with life in general.

The shake back to reality happens when I am doing the most random of things, like checking my mail. I will think to myself, “Man, Hammad: you’re not like other people; you’re different. You really are different.”

I have to remind myself that I’m not walking to check my mail or to my car; I’m rolling. I can’t quickly run out of places; I have to use the elevator. I can’t pace through the aisles of the library or in my room while trying to memorize facts; there isn’t enough room for that while in a wheelchair. I can’t see other people (peers, professors, patients, etc) eye-to-eye; I can only do that when they are sitting down.

Then I wonder: what do other people think when they see me?

I think my close friends hardly notice me as being different from anyone else now, but what do they think when they do notice? I feel like my classmates also stopped thinking I am different. Or maybe it’s just me: maybe I stopped thinking I am different so I just think they have. I mean, I know I’m different, but I don’t let it bother me. But what do they think?

Most importantly, what do people who meet me for the first time think? This is what I was always self conscious about.

People who are taller tend to get more respect. Just like animals in the wild, they tend to be seen as the alpha males who can more easily control a room, influence others, and dominate an argument. Now that I’m sitting in a chair all the time, it is as if I am as tall as a child. I’m sure this makes people inadvertently think they can overpower me. This should be frustrating, but there really isn’t much I can do.

If I’m half as tall, sometimes I think I have to work twice as hard to prove myself. And then sometimes I think I don’t have to prove myself.

I was again having a conversation the other day with a friend about “people with disabilities” versus “disabled people”. My speech therapist corrected me once when I said something about “disabled people” and she told me how I should say “people with disabilities” instead. Think about it.

People from countries outside the United States seem to have a harder time seeing past a handicap. Because for them, people back in the home country just stayed at home and did nothing once they had a debilitating accident or illness.

Although I see myself as a “person with a disability”, I know that people who see me for the first time, some parents, and perhaps some people who have known me for a while (but not comfortably) see me as a “disabled person”.

Everyone has a disability; mine’s just visible.

Balance

Remember when you were young and into Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and other things quasi-martial arts/ninja related, and you would draw yin-yangs randomly on things or wear them on necklaces just because you thought it looked cool? Well, I mean, at least that’s what the guys I knew and I did when we were kids.

The idea of two opposite forces in harmonious balance is an interesting one. I do not claim to know about Eastern philosophy (or any philosophy, for that matter) or what certain symbols/ideas exactly represent, but I do appreciate the idea of balance.

One thing that people have asked me is, “Why you? Of all people, why you?”

I have never dwelled on thoughts questioning, “Why me?” I have always believed that things happen for a reason. At times, it is beyond our feeble minds to grasp how this is possible. To me, this is related to the butterfly effect, where one small change results in significant differences at a later state.

Anyways, back to the idea of balance—

People are confused/amazed when I tell them that I was not alone in the vehicle at the time of my accident. In fact, I was in the passenger seat of our SUV with both my parents and both of my younger sisters in the car. The end result was that I was the only one who sustained significant injuries. I am the only one who continues to feel the effects.

But in the end, I would not have it any other way. By that I mean that I would prefer putting up with the injuries that I have than witnessing another family member, or other family members, deal with these injuries. I would rather have this happen to me than any of my friends. In fact—and I have said this since the beginning as I lay in my hospital bed—I would not wish the things I’ve been through on anyone, not even my worst enemy (if I had a worst enemy).

How can we know joy without experiencing pain? How can we feel true happiness without feeling true sadness?

If this had not happened to me, would it have happened to someone else and would that person be dealing with it daily, instead of me?

I honestly hope not.

I have not been posting as much lately because I am continuing to refine the way my brain and body work, and these days, I am in a state of peace.

In line with the ideas mentioned above (everything happens for a reason, the butterfly effect, etc.) I feel like everything I have been through since I was young and everyone I have ever met have prepared me to deal with my situations.

We all have our set of experiences and we all have our own set of obstacles to overcome. Some of us have it better; some of us have it worse. But who we are will allow us to handle them. That’s why we are dealt our hand. Do not pity the ones who have it hard; pity the ones who have it easy, for they lack mental fortitude and are unable to show a full understanding and appreciation of things.

Random appreciation

One thing that means a lot to me that people don't realize is when they ride in the elevator with me when everyone else is taking the stairs. It gets lonely in there and I always wish I could join everyone in using the stairwell instead of the elevator. So it's good to have someone who chooses not to join the rest of the group and leave me by myself--even if it's just out of laziness from not wanting to use the stairs. Stupid, I know, but it's true. Thank you, friends and classmates.

Clearing my mind

I started to apologize for the scant amount of blog posts for the past month or two, but I deleted it. I don’t feel like I need to apologize.

It’s been great. I’ve been clearing my mind.

If you kept up with my blog posts from the past school year and when I finished up first year, you may have noticed that I had a lot on my mind. I carried a big load on my shoulders: a load consisting of stress, insecurities, and feelings of potential failure—in all senses of the word. After our final exam on the last day of school, those feelings did not stop.

I remember when our class had a specialty roundtable one evening. Physicians participating in different specialties in the community sat with us and answered questions. Somehow the topic of relaxation came up, and one physician advised that if given a certain amount of vacation time per year, one should take vacations of at least two weeks off, not one week. The first week will be spent unwinding, and then the second week can be enjoyed.

When I was finally free of responsibility for a few months, it took me about a week to de-tense.

I decided in May that my plan for the summer was just self-development and recovery. I was going to read a lot, exercise a lot, re-learn guitar, and get a lot of sleep.

My ADHD got the best of me as I started a few books but put each of them down after about forty pages. The guitar stayed in its case in my closet. I got a decent amount of sleep when I wasn’t staying up late watching movies or chatting with friends. I exercised a lot but burned out and took a couple of weeks off before school started up again.

But it was all great. I feel like a new person.

Sometimes it surprises me at how little people think—not about certain things, but anything, even about nothing.

This world is a noisy place. Our minds are noisy places. Don’t you wish there was a mute button for both the world and for our minds?

As I quoted in my blog post “Mad Cow”: “In the midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside of you.” – Deepak Chopra

For most of us, our first impulse when we get in a car, especially if we are going on a long drive, is to turn on the music. I admit, I’m the same way. But I continue to grow more and more fond of turning off the music, silencing my cell phone, and rolling the windows down. Then it’s just me, myself, and I in the car. Quiet.

Sometimes I think about things deeply. Everyone thinks about things, but this isn’t forced thinking or the thinking one does under pressure or in crisis.

And then sometimes, I enjoy just not thinking, maintaining a state of “no mind”. This is a meditative state that is practiced in people of almost all cultures and faiths. It's essentially about not worrying about the past, about what has happened, about the future, about what will happen—it’s about concerning oneself only with the present moment.

Because of this, I sometimes find myself forgetting about my current state of affairs. It’s not until I see people rushing somewhere or talking about playing sports that I remember that I am in a wheelchair. Maybe it’s because I have gotten used to who I am, physically and mentally.

As anyone can imagine, coming to terms with a physical disability is not an easy task. Certain people never grow accustomed, and they may end up committing suicide. Because my currents tasks require me to use my intellect, coming to terms with how differently I am now mentally has been harder for me over the past year. But I think I am getting there.

I still do think about the past and about the future, so don’t hold me accountable for any future thoughts, but I must say that I am much more at peace.

It’ll be alright.

Character flaw

“He’s stubborn,” the faculty member told my mother and aunt, “real stubborn. But his stubbornness is what got him through this.”

My khala (that’s an Urdu term for mom’s sister) was visiting so I took her, my mom, and sisters to Athens with me one day to show them around. We stopped by my medical college and met with a few of my professors and deans from this past year.

My khala was telling them how the rest of my extended family in Pakistan is always concerned about my well-being and how I am getting by and doing things, such as attending medical school. She said it was good that she came and saw things for herself so could reassure everyone back in the motherland that I was doing well.

One faculty member at my school told my mother and khala how I’m really stubborn, how they’ve had to fight against my stubbornness, and how she thinks I’m coming around now. “But his stubbornness is what got him through this,” she also noted.

Before I started medical school, my mom said she was going to quit working for a little while and live with me. But I was stubborn. I refused. I wouldn’t let my parents ever bring it up. Then the next phase was that they wanted a nurse to live with me. Again, I refused. Next, they wanted me to live with a roommate who would be willing to help me if I ever needed it. I turned it down again. This whole process went on for a few months. Finally, I settled upon allowing my parents to visit for a few hours on Sundays to help me clean up my place. I wanted to live on my own without anyone’s help, and I made sure I got what I wanted. I’ve had my share of obstacles—I’ve fallen onto the floor a few times and had to muscle my way back onto my chair or sofa, I recently got a second degree burn on my leg from a mistake in the kitchen, etc—but it’s been an invaluable experience and I’m glad I was stubborn.

I tend to also resist help from friends, fellow students, and faculty members. This just made me get stronger—physically, mentally, and emotionally. There were times when I felt like I shouldn’t be doing this, when I felt like I should have taken another year off to recover—physically, mentally, and emotionally. But I had started it, so I was going to finish it.

I have just a little over a week left before we start classes again and there will be no break until who-knows-when. This year brings its own set of challenges: mandatory patient exams which I still cannot perform properly due to physical/structural limitations, harder material, visits to the hospitals a few times a week for our clinical skills class, and the most important standardized exam we will take in our medical careers (after the MCAT, of course). But I’m stubborn. It’ll help.