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commodorifiedAs Blair is in Alaska settling in to train for the Iditarod, so here's an older one I thought was really well-done:
I am a 26-year-old man, and last summer I dove off a tree stump into a river, hit the bottom, and broke my back. After surgery, three weeks of intensive care, and lots of therapy, I have some function in my legs, but it seems like I will use a wheelchair for the rest of my life. My girlfriend of two years has been by my side the whole time. We are also very lucky to be financially secure, with support from my family. All this year, I felt like my job was to concentrate on the next step with physical therapy, and that helped me focus on the future. But my life is starting to be routine again, and I have to figure out what that even means anymore. I have always considered my identity to be an outdoorsman. I was an Eagle Scout and majored in environmental education. But now when I go outside—there is a wheelchair-accessible trail in my town—I feel like I don’t belong there and that people feel sorry for me instead of seeing the skills and experiences I have. How do I stop feeling trapped inside?
To answer this question, I reached out to outdoorsy disabled folks I admire, and one woman’s advice was so thoughtful and wise that I wanted to let her share it here herself. Julia Haynie is a health care administrator for a clinic in Fairbanks, Alaska, and has used a wheelchair since her mid-thirties due to limited mobility from a congenital, degenerative spinal condition. She grew up in Oregon but has embraced life up north for the last five years.
( The one thing I’ll add to Julia’s advice, below, is that it sounds like you’ve always been a leader and an educator, and now those skills are more valuable than ever )
Here’s Julia.
( I want to tell you the truth that I wish someone had told me when I was lying in a hospital bed, or first awkwardly wheeling into the rehab facility: there are going to be times that suck! I know you know this, but you’re not alone. )
(Mods, may we have a Tough Love tag?)
I am a 26-year-old man, and last summer I dove off a tree stump into a river, hit the bottom, and broke my back. After surgery, three weeks of intensive care, and lots of therapy, I have some function in my legs, but it seems like I will use a wheelchair for the rest of my life. My girlfriend of two years has been by my side the whole time. We are also very lucky to be financially secure, with support from my family. All this year, I felt like my job was to concentrate on the next step with physical therapy, and that helped me focus on the future. But my life is starting to be routine again, and I have to figure out what that even means anymore. I have always considered my identity to be an outdoorsman. I was an Eagle Scout and majored in environmental education. But now when I go outside—there is a wheelchair-accessible trail in my town—I feel like I don’t belong there and that people feel sorry for me instead of seeing the skills and experiences I have. How do I stop feeling trapped inside?
To answer this question, I reached out to outdoorsy disabled folks I admire, and one woman’s advice was so thoughtful and wise that I wanted to let her share it here herself. Julia Haynie is a health care administrator for a clinic in Fairbanks, Alaska, and has used a wheelchair since her mid-thirties due to limited mobility from a congenital, degenerative spinal condition. She grew up in Oregon but has embraced life up north for the last five years.
( The one thing I’ll add to Julia’s advice, below, is that it sounds like you’ve always been a leader and an educator, and now those skills are more valuable than ever )
Here’s Julia.
( I want to tell you the truth that I wish someone had told me when I was lying in a hospital bed, or first awkwardly wheeling into the rehab facility: there are going to be times that suck! I know you know this, but you’re not alone. )
(Mods, may we have a Tough Love tag?)