Things Fall Apart

Every few months, things seem to be fall apart.

It starts off with me not doing well in school. Then it starts affecting my social life. Then other more physical things start getting affected.

Every time this happens, I think one thing: this wouldn’t be happening if things were different for me.

I would be doing a lot better in med school if the accident never happened. The brain injury I suffered really may or may not actually be affecting me in a neurological sense, but the doubt instilled in me by the people around me because of it certainly has. Am I really dumber? I feel dumber. I know I could be doing better.

Simple things take longer for me to do, and I can’t help but think I could save a lot of time or go to places easier if I wasn’t in a chair. So, my education and social life has certainly suffered. With one aspect suffering, the other probably responded by also suffering, thus creating a vicious cycle.

My health is not exactly great right now and I know I should get it checked out because it could be something serious. But right now I have more important priorities that deserve my time, I think. If it’s not serious, I’ll regret ever wasting my time, so I just ignore it.

A friend is annoyed at me because I’m too friendly, I guess. A few people I was good friends with were in town this past weekend, but didn’t feel obligated to let me know or try and see me. I think they felt like they were friends with the old Hammad anways.

Now that things are troubling my mind, other things come up that serve to remind me that I’m different. The backrest on my wheelchair is broken in one spot, so I sometimes have to spend extra time fixing it when I am getting out of the car. The handle I use to transfer in and out of the car is also breaking, so I’m taking extra time now while getting in and out of the car by a different method. This is while I hope and pray that my arms/balance don’t give out or my legs don’t spasm mid-transfer and I end up with my butt hitting the parking lot floor. One anti-tip bar that prevents my chair from falling backwards (especially useful when my backpack is heavy) is loose and could easily break off at an inopportune time, which would cause me to bust my head if I ever tip back.

All these things just make me think about what things were like before and if I can recreate them now.

I know I’m not dumb. Well… I think I’m not dumb. So why do I keep making stupid mistakes? I stop and think about how I did things before so I can go back to being the person who was smarter, better, stronger. Maybe I can go back. Maybe I can excel at things again. Maybe people will see me for who I really am.

“I’m actually surprised you got this far,” someone important said to me. Sweet.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. I’m supposed to be studying for a huge final exam I have on Friday. I can’t focus so I decided to try and clear my mind.

I know I’m not supposed to think about “if” statements. “If this had not happened… maybe I’d be doing better.” “If this had not happened... maybe people would like me better.” “If this had not happened… I wouldn’t be trying to figure out this or that situation." Those statements will drive a man crazy so I’ve done my best to avoid those thoughts.

But it’s hard not to think them sometimes, like when things seem to be falling apart.

“You can plan a pretty picnic but you can’t predict the weather.” – Outkast

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I wrote the things above earlier when I was really frustrated. Since then, I have reevaluated things and realized that it doesn’t make sense to think those kinds of things. It doesn’t help anyone. There is nothing to do but to learn from these obstacles and keep on going. Find something new.

Alfred Pennyworth: “Took quite a fall, didn't we, Master Bruce?”
Thomas Wayne: “And why do we fall, Bruce? So we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

"Sometimes even to live is an act of courage"

That’s a photo of one of the tiles on a hallway wall in the Shepherd Center.

Passersby may not pay attention to this tiny tile amongst the many other hand-painted ones. In addition, most people who see it will just smile at the nice grinning sun and just think for a brief moment that the quote must mean something profound since it is by the Roman philosopher Seneca. They will never think twice about it or why it was written on the tile.

When it seems like there is nothing to live for, when living each day brings deep pain of all kinds, then living becomes an act of courage.

When I think about about my fellow patients with me at the Shepherd Center, I think of the bravest people I know. We were expected to move on with our lives—nay, start a new life—after everything we have ever known changed. We did not ask for this, and complaining or whining about it would get us nowhere.

In medical school, one of the patient cases that we focused on one week was an individual with major depression. The patient felt like she “shouldn’t wake up in the mornings”, which paralleled her other signs of major depression.

“Wow,” I thought to myself, “I remember not wanting to wake up in the mornings either.” I remember going to sleep every night thinking and praying that this was all a dream and that I would wake up in the morning in my bedroom and everything would be normal. And then every morning, I would wake up disappointed. It didn’t help that we had to wake up early every weekday morning for therapy; to work hard just to do simple things that a two-year-old could do with ease.

I was very tired in the mornings. Physically tired because my body was sore and in pain and I never seemed to be able to get enough sleep anymore. Mentally tired because everything was so incredibly draining in this new life that was worse than death. There’s a song I used to listen to when working out when I wanted to get focused, and I occasionally listened to that in the mornings to get me going.

In the beginning, my chest brace hurt. My neck brace hurt. My neck staples hurt. The nerves in my right arm hurt. Speaking and swallowing were difficult.

After a while, I started wishing and praying every night that I would go to sleep and never wake up. Then, in the mornings, I would wake up disappointed that I had woken up to another day.

My relationships with friends would never be the same. The way people looked at me would never be the same. I could not participate in the same activities or go to certain places anymore. Simple tasks would become a huge obstacle. Everything would take longer for me.

But we found a way to start anew; to build from bottom up. What other choice did we have?

Our bodies fought for us to stay alive when we should have left this earth. We had to fight ourselves to stay alive each day when we sometimes wished our bodies would have just let us go.

Sometimes, living each day takes strength beyond measure. I applaud my fellow hospital-mates and hope they are all doing well and are happy.

Be quiet, Amber.

As Amber notices me pull my wallet out of the little pouch under my wheelchair:

Amber - "That's kind of like your purse!"

Me - "No. It's just a little bag where I keep my wallet and gum and other stuff in because it's hard to reach in my pockets while I'm sitting down sometimes."

Amber - "Yeah, it's a purse."

Thanks, baby Amber, for making me feel like a girl.

Sometimes I like people I don’t know better than the people I do know

“Sometimes I like people I don’t know better than the people I do know.”

A friend said that to me the other day. I laughed and told her that she was weird, so she gave me an example of a woman who gave her a stack of bus tickets for free because she got them at work and thought my friend seemed like a nice person.

That got me thinking later on about the things people do for others.

There have been many times when people that I do not know offer to help me with things. Just the other day, I was wheeling myself in the rain from the parking lot to my apartment. A couple was walking out from my building. The young woman saw me and rushed towards me. I didn’t even notice it. She quickly came up beside me and held her umbrella over me and walked with me to my apartment so I wouldn’t get wet.

And there were so many times, in the months after my accident and even to this day, that people I hardly knew really made a lasting impression on me. I have received kind words and sometimes guidance via visits, phone calls, e-mails, and messages. I now consider some of these people “angels” or “saints” for me. Those who frequently visited me in the hospital are included. If anyone from my class is reading this, there are some of you who I have the utmost respect for and you may be unaware of it. It may just due to something you said to me or did for me that you do not even remember.

Why does it mean more to us when these people do things for us?

Because we do not expect it. Perhaps we expect too much from the people we know. We want them—sometimes need them—to do things for us. They were there for us in happy times. Shouldn’t they be here us when we need them? We certainly like to think so.

Also, we do not know the flaws of a stranger. Our impression of them is not clouded by the previous things they have said or done. We only know the benevolent action.

Can we not continue to appreciate our friends and those close to us as if each action is being done with purity? The question, “Can you get this for me please? I’d appreciate it,” becomes the statement, “Get that for me,” after a while with those with whom we are close. We seem to lose our gratitude towards them.

But perhaps that’s the sign that people really are close to us. We understand that certain things are not a burden for them. It took me a long time to be able to ask for help from people—even from my close friends. After my accident, I noticed my closest friends becoming frustrated with me when I asked things politely or thanked them for an action. They should know that although I do not thank them often for the things they do, even the smallest things are appreciated by me. I love you all.

And what makes strangers want to do things for us? What do they get out of it? They may not see us again. We can never repay them.

Perhaps that’s it: the purity of intention. Doesn’t it feel great to help someone pick up some papers they dropped, or offer them your seat when they seem tired, or do any other miniscule action? The smile they may or may not give us in return is more than anything tangible we could ever receive.

When everything seems to be falling down around us, instead of hoping someone does something to help us, why not do something for someone else? I know I feel a lot better when I do this.

Mama's Boy

It’s the little things that are missed. I’m sure people can relate to that.

Example: the little things about someone, like the strange things they do, or the way your friend can make you laugh at the stupidest things.

Another example: the little things about a place, like the smells or the way the sun peaks through the trees, accentuating certain things.

One of the memories I have that I miss is cramming hard and sleeping later during the week, hanging out Friday night, waking up late Saturday morning, going to Mama’s Boy for brunch, and then going for a walk in the park out behind the restaurant.

I go to school down the street from there now but I’ve haven’t been since I graduated from undergrad.

That’s a sweet memory, though. Mama’s Boy has a little parking out front so when it gets busy—as it usually does on weekends for brunch—you have to park out back. I remember a bridge. Is it something you have to cross to get to the park or is it overhead? Am I even thinking about the right place?

Some of my favorite memories have been in parks: going to a park near a friend’s place and wading through the river; mountain biking with my friend on the trails in another park; going to Stone Mountain Park with some friends and having trouble grilling up hotdogs (I was told that happened the day before my accident? It seems like decades ago).

Now that parks and the things I did aren’t accessible for me anymore, I miss them. I think it's the peace that they bring me. The grass, the tress, the sun--I love being wrapped by these things. I want to lay out in the grass and take in these things.

I always get nostalgic around exam time when I am trapped inside studying.

Just like we should enjoy the time we spend with people because they may not be here soon, we should enjoy the places we spend time in. Maybe it’s not the places that are significant. Perhaps it’s the people we were with and the memories that were made at that particular time and place. After all, it’s not where you are or what you do; it’s who you’re with that really matters.

Random thought 1/7/11, 11:30 PM

Sometimes, I scratch that place on my thighs right above my knees. I remember I used to randomly scratch it for some reason because it would itch slightly. Now, I think I can still feel it every so often, so I give myself the comfort of scratching it.

A new perspective on perspectives

I thought about writing more on this topic, then thought against it. Now I keep thinking about it so I am writing about it so I can focus on other things.

Come on. We may think our lives suck sometimes. Or in some cases, we may think that life itself sucks and there is no point to it. What gives us the right to be better off than others? My, that's a very selfless thought, one may say.

One simple way to turn thoughts around of our own life sucking is by seeing those that are less privileged in order to gain some perspective.

But everyone knows that. We’re just ignorant and stuck in our own privileged world and enjoy complaining about little things like our parents being too stern or when we don’t get what we want. We choose to turn away from realizing the pain and hardships of others.

Okay, instead of thinking about the negatives that others have, I propose that we think of things in a different way: these so-called unprivileged—those living in poverty, those who are sick or disabled, those who have lost family members, those who are politically oppressed, those who are physically or mentally incapable of doing things, those who have lost most of their family members—what keeps them wanting to live then? They don’t have what we have. Why do they fight every single day to breathe, to get that one drop of water, to wake up in the mornings?

Think about it.