Looking Up

Hello readers. I am marking 38 years of living with a spinal cord injury today. I like to acknowledge the day with a couple special things and this year I want to do that by doing my first video blog.  So this is the 38^th anniversary that I was in a motor vehicle accident, paralyzing me from my chest down. I have used a wheelchair ever since.  I was six years old. 

While my body changed drastically at the time of the accident, what changed more were the expectations, or rather the lack of expectations, that others had for me.   It was not expected that I would finish school, go to University, do any sports, get a job, find love, or raise a family.

My Dad had a bigger imagination than this though.  He would often tell me that I could do anything, and he tried to help me believe that that the possibilities in life were as vast and infinite as the big, open, prairie sky.  He was a sky watcher, my dad, who, from time to time, would call me from his farm to ask me if the sunset was as lovely here as it was there and if I had to name that colour, what would it be?  As a child, I often sat with him on our doorstep, watching the northern lights, lightning storms, or following the constellations.  Unlike the map of the stars, though, both my parents had no script on how to navigate me through this life.  They just believed in trying, and trusting that those possibilities were out there for me. 

My Dad died 4 years ago. I have tried to carry on this optimistic attitude and a few months after 

his passing, I had an opportunity to participate in a fundraiser called the Drop Zone that supports Camp Easter Seal and Easter Seal programs in Saskatchewan.

All I needed to do was rappel off of a high building (in Saskatoon that is the Carleton

Tower on 4^th avenue) with the support of some ropes and carabiners.

When I asked people for pledges and explained what I would be doing, that I would be wheeling off the roof and descending down Carelton Tower to raise money for Easter Seals, they would always ask (with alarm):  have you ever done anything like this before?!  And I would always answer,  “There has to be a first time.”  And besides, I thought, how hard could it be?

Meanwhile, I was given a lot of advice: Focus on something in front of you.  Close your eyes.  Don’t, whatever you do, don’t close your eyes.  Have a shot of scotch before you descend.  Have a shot of whisky when you hit the ground.  It’s okay if you throw up.  Don’t do it.  My friend Julian said, I will pledge you $70 to NOT do this.  And most of all, over and over, I heard, Don’t look down.  Don’t look down. 

The day of the Drop Zone, was exactly 4 months since Dad had left me, I parked any lingering anxiety I had and I got on my gear. I gave the DJ down on the ground my Paul Simon song to play and told him exactly what to say as I descended and that if he called me “special,” even just once, I would come over and punch him in the nose when I landed.

I took several deep breaths, and took the elevator to the 22^nd floor, then with help, climbed the flight of 16 steps to the roof.  And what I saw when I got there was the most spectacular view of my fair city. I looked my new friends on the climbing crew in the eye.  And I told them I trusted them.  And I did. They ushered me over to the edge.  Then they slowly, painstakingly, and very literally, pushed me over the edge.

At first, I was hanging on my side, with my head bumping against the building.  I needed to use my strength to right myself and start the descent.  After I did that, for just a second, I heard my advice givers:  Don’t look down.  Don’t look down.  Don’t look down.

  

So I didn’t look down. 

Instead, I looked…up. 

I looked up into that big bright blue sky and felt my Dad’s strength through my gloves that held the carabineer.  I looked up and felt the possibilities, saw the sun, and lived the moment, and listened (and sang out loud, if you must know) to my chosen song as I descended, the Obvious Child by Paul Simon. 

I chose the Obvious Child for obvious reasons.  (“Some people say the sky is just the sky and I say, Why deny the obvious child?”)  I chose it for the obvious children, and all persons with disabilities should NOT be denied the opportunities to live big, full, happy lives.

With the trust that he somehow was with me on my descent, I stopped singing sometimes and talked to my Dad as I rappelled down.  He never once denied me, his daughter, his child, the opportunities I deserved to live a big, full, happy life, and when I couldn’t believe this for myself, when I started to look down, he would help me look up again.

As the only completely wheelchair accessible camp facility in Saskatchewan, Camp Easter Seal is dedicated to providing a fun and barrier free experience to all campers. Campers go swimming and boating, horseback riding, and have cook-outs and picnics, all the same kinds of camp experiences that a lot of kids have…and that all kids should have the chance to have.

My friend, Colleen Courtney is going to rappel down McCallum Hill Tower II in downtown Regina on August 23 this year. Colleen has been a champion for people with disabilities for many years, she has built a career out of helping people with disabilities look up, plus she is a fine human being. If you have it in your heart to offer her a pledge you can go to her personal fundraising page at: http://my.e2rm.com/PersonalPage.aspx?registrationID=2183099&langPref=en-CA

If you did, it would mean a lot to me, but more importantly, it would mean a whole summer’s worth of memories for some kids. 

wishing you the beauty of looking up,

hk