"THE AGGREGATE EXPERIENCE" 07-23-10

EXTRA!
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LATE EDITION
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"THE AGGREGATE EXPERIENCE"

07-23-10

REVELATION

ACT ONE



Exactly two weeks ago I breached the 100 lb. mark. The significance of the amount of weight loss cannot be overstated, however, it’s not so much the physical number which is the hallmark of the achievement or that it was accomplished while restricted to a chair while paralyzed. Rather it’s the impact on my recovery where its relevance and import become critically apparent. The weight loss probably accelerated my recovery by at least a year if not more. And yet, beyond its relevance there’s a deeper more profound theme driving this story that as of yet has alluded me.

I am at a point in my recovery where standing is not an idealized option. Standing, and for that matter, walking, has been long overdue and a major source of frustration and concern: without fanfare or formal acknowledgment a temporary condition can quickly lose the very essence behind its underlying optimism; the condition becomes permanent.

I am happy to say that, although still frustrated and annoyed at the amount of time my recovery has taken, I can exclaim at the top of my lungs with arms spread wide and from the bow of any fantasy ship, seaworthy or not: I AM RECOVERING!! I AM KING OF THE WORLD! (Sorry Leo). My heart is pounding as I write these words because there were times I felt I would only say them in a dream. (Lay on your back for seven months unable to move and tell me your thoughts.)

To be sure, my joy and revelry are tempered by prudence and control. There is no question the road to functional recovery is by no means over. Chances are I may never fully recover, but as I tell my therapists, “I don’t need to run a marathon.”

As a result of my paralysis my right side is markedly weaker than the left. One of the effects is my left knee can’t bear much weight for extended time periods causing it to quickly fatigue and finally collapse. The video clip of my first “walk” taken on June 28, shows problems with the knee. (Check out my blog: Yancy's Guillain Barre) (Eskimos have seven different definitions for snow: here there are seven different definitions for walking). Since June 28, I have walked three additional times with each successive performance exhibiting greater strength, longer distance and a welcomed assurance of stride.

Clearly, the level and timing of my recovery would not have occurred but for the loss of weight. Given the absolute and near complete degeneration of most of my muscle mass throughout my body, any thought of successful recovery had to incorporate a significant restructuring of my diet and a persistent commitment to an exhaustive exercise regime with the unwavering aim at reducing my payload. That may sound funny but it can’t be more simply stated. With gravity my worst enemy, all weight unnecessary to function had to be removed. Lying in bed unable to move a muscle provided an exceedingly clear picture of the least best option.

You have to understand, my recovery attempt could not be half ass: a half ass attempt would only generate a half ass result. In the face of fleeting time I could not play this on the margin, I could not wait for things to happen, I could not live with myself if I thought my recovery was within my control which was not fully exhausted and exploited. All chips had to be played. There was no 80/20 policy available here. Everything that made me YANCY had to be called upon. To be sure, my stay here, which has been a constant battle with the administration, has been a test of my soul and of who I am as a man.

It’s interesting, as I am writing this piece, I just realized the primal force behind my drive to recover. The weight loss and fierce workout commitment are merely the resultant effect of a larger issue: my fear of failure.

Fear is the unknown variable fueling my hellish push towards recovery. Yeah, everyone can say I’m motivated, but motivation is only the end product of something deeper, a base emotion wired during man’s struggle to survive as a species. When pitted against a thundering pachyderm fear sent man in the opposite direction to survive and hunt another day. Likewise, when faced with effective death, fear sent me in the only direction plausible; recovery or die trying! It’s that simple. All I needed to do was develop the formula for my recovery.

Fear is a component of my emotion base I recognized when I was quite young and have strongly embraced and used throughout my life. I have never walked away from fear. When manipulated and controlled fear can incite a spirit laid dormant by complaisance and laziness to overcome obstacles thought out of reach. The key is to understand that fear elicits a physical reaction similar to the reaction experienced when excited; increased heart rate and adrenaline spike, among other generalized changes in body chemistry. I then go through the process of relabeling fear with excitement. Excitement begins to take root as the challenge becomes clear: how do I succeed against the odds? In this matter the adversary is paralysis and the stated charge is to gain control of my body to the extent it is physically possible. When complaisance or acceptance of the status quo gains footing fear (usually guised as guilt) begins anew forcing still greater action.

Over the last seven months fear has motivated me to wake up every morning with one directive in mind, recovery: to lose weight and to get stronger. The system seems to have worked at least from a third party perspective. Everyone tells me that I’ve come a long way, although I see it differently. I have a long way to go. I cannot let complaisance take over. I am still very much afraid. I don’t know if I’ll ever lose that fear, I don’t know if I ever want to lose that fear.

WEIGHT LOSS

I have broken the 200 pound mark, coming in at 199 lbs. for a total loss of 104 lbs. I need to lose 24 lbs. to reach 175 lbs. at that point I’ll decide whether to go lower.

DEPARTURE DATE

My goal is to discharge myself at the end of August.

A new odyssey will begin.

Remember, it could be worse.