You Rock...I Roll

[Pony]

i'm going to post excerpts from my book, You Rock...I Roll, periodically.

Undoubtedly, the toughest obstacle for me came at age 21 when I crashed my car into a tree. The accident left me paralyzed from the chest down. Like a structure collapsing into a pile of debris, this single moment has impacted every moment that has followed. In the beginning it left me to question my freedom, self-identity, and the essence of who I am. It tore down everything. My beautiful, athletic body could not move, not even to dress or get out of bed. My arms were limited in range of motion, and my hands were seemingly disconnected from my mind- no sensation, no voluntary movement. I lost the precious abilities to play guitar, piano and basketball. On top of that, I was lost in my own mind- fear, confusion, anger, self-pity and longing for my old self. Everything I ever knew changed in a flash.

You Rock…I Roll tells the story of my awkward beginnings into my 2nd life, as I call it since getting paralyzed; self-discovery of my identity and the struggles that only a quadriplegic can know. From my love affair with music to my personal story of love and sex post injury, it’s all here. It’s my sincere hope that you will take away lessons from my stories, using them throughout your personal journey.

You Rock...I Roll

[Pony]

Today, the stories of people being in chairs have become a disturbing and desensitized illusion. The media tries to sell stories of heroism and super humans of every disabled person. But don’t fool yourself; we’re as susceptible to the same low points as anyone. Beating the odds is only a small portion of who I am as a person. I’m a musician, and I’m a writer above everything. I’m a man that goes through ups and downs just like everybody else. I just happen to be in a chair. In this story, I will attempt to demystify the stereotypes of my situation and bring the reader into the grey and undiscussed areas of my life, hoping that I can teach and entertain along the way.

Something I remember from an interview with the legendary comedy filmmaker, Woody Allen, “Most of life is luck,” he spoke of his success. And I have to say, most of that is true. Some things are beyond our control; it’s what we do with our circumstances that matters. Growing up with a lot of stress, and little guidelines on how to conduct my life, was out of my control to some degree. The severity of my injury. The country I was born. I believe in steering your life, or making your own luck, but there is still a hefty portion of our lives that are up for grabs. All we can do is keep climbing, overcome the challenges and keep our heads up with dignity. This book is my hope. It’s my journey. It’s my ship- buscando la paz.

[Pony]

Throughout this evening at the bowling alley though, we all drank and drank and drank in the name of camaraderie. But what I think I failed to realize is that drinking isn’t always an act of camaraderie. It’s equally about isolation. The senses are deadened and the surrounding environment seems to fade away. And at the end of the night, each person is left to deal with the consequences of their actions all alone. It’s something that I wasn’t fully aware of at the time, or maybe, it was just something that I didn’t care too much about. But as I drank that night at the bowling alley, the night slowly drifted from my conscious grasp and into the recesses of my mind. With each sip, the bitter taste of my drinks turned sweet, allowing the liquor to slide down my throat with no resistance. I was in over my head.

By the end of the night, my mind and my body were working as two separate entities with no coherent communication between the two. Stupidly, I made the worst decision of my life, a decision that I pay for every day, a decision that I don’t even remember. I decided that I was sober enough to drive home, so I hopped into my purple Chevy Vega. Now, I don’t remember driving home, but I have heard all of the details so many times that I can now picture them in my head, like a grainy horror movie flickering with no sound. As the story goes, I was involved in a one-man accident, crashing my Vega into a tree on the short ride home. Not wearing a seatbelt, I was catapulted into the windshield headfirst, which ended up breaking my left arm, fracturing my right ankle, and leaving me with deep and serious wounds to my head, thigh, and arms. But the worst of all the injuries came when I initially crashed headfirst and jammed my neck, causing two of my vertebra to dislocate and leaving my spinal cord damaged beyond repair. I was paralyzed in that fraction of a second.

[tom60313]

Thank you for sharing these excerpts!

[Pony]

Fortunately, in those early days, I kept myself afloat with the hope that I could overcome all of this. I still believed that I would walk out of that nightmare on my own two feet. If I would have known that my fate would be something far different than that, I’m not sure how far I would have fallen mentally and spiritually. I’m not sure if I could’ve made it.

As I lay in the hospital during those first two weeks, things became even worse. I was forced to battle off a severe case of pneumonia that could’ve killed me. The illness was so bad that it caused sores to develop in my throat, making eating and breathing extremely difficult. With each swallow, I could feel the wounds opening up like budding, infected flowers. For many, the pneumonia would’ve been the final straw. It would have killed them. But not for me. Somehow, through it all, I kept some glimmer of hope and strength alive.

I remember a song coming on my small radio beside my bed. It was a Kansas track off their new album. I’d always loved this band since first hearing them as I worked as a pizza maker in high school. The song, Hold On, seemed to speak to me in this dangerous moment. The lyric was Look in the mirror and tell me just what you see/what have the years of your life taught you to be?/innocence dying in so many ways/things that you dream of are lost/lost in the haze. Hold on, baby, hold on/‘cause you’re closer than you think/and you’re standing on the brink/hold on, baby, hold on/‘cause there’s something on the way/your tomorrow’s not the same as today.

There had never been a more timely song. And I did hold on to that lyric each day.

[Pony]

New excerpt...

Each day, I worked on that hallway as nurses and other quads watched me go. Sometimes I pushed another chair in front of me for added resistance. I could tell some thought I was crazy, that I was doing all of this work for nothing, a worthless cause. Only, it wasn’t for nothing. I knew that my body could only recover so far, but inside, I could feel myself growing stronger every day. Pushing that damn chair gave me a way to fight back. Soon, I had moved out of the hospital hallway and began searching for new challenges. I tried hills and inclines, and I tried going out for long periods of time so I could build endurance. I was now a toddler in my new life, and I was learning to live all over again.
Despite some of these early successes, and my inherent belief that I was tough enough to make it through life, I’d be lying if I said that I was always upbeat and looking on the bright side. I admit to having moments of screaming at myself- and God. I admit to feeling envy towards those that could walk. As a quadriplegic, it’s tough to overcome these thoughts. And frankly, some people never do. Being in a community of quads, I saw a great deal of people sink into despair, becoming angry and even suicidal. In fact, one didn’t make it, and he decided to end his life with a gun. And you know what? I refuse to blame those people. They looked inside, and they just couldn’t handle the great struggles of being a quad. That’s an individual’s right. It was just too much for that guy. I sure toyed with the idea on many occasions, too.

[Pony]

Excerpt...

We started seeing each other frequently, and for the most part, it was good times. There was the time we attended the Don Henley concert in St. Petersburg. We wanted to go with another couple (Steve and Mary), who also wanted to go. However, there was one glitch, my wheelchair section ticket only allowed one other person to accompany me. Under these rules, we wouldn’t be able to sit with our friends. So, before buying tickets I asked Shyanne with a smile, “What if there were two people in wheelchairs?” Immediately, Shyanne started laughing and offered to grab a wheelchair from work. I told her she could be my crippled retarded girlfriend, and Steve and Mary could be our attendants. It was a crazy scheme, and Shyanne laughed the whole way into the concert in her wheelchair, but it worked. We all sat together.

Shyanne was so good to me, and we eventually developed a fun sexual relationship, including a reliable vibrator I bought for her. And of course, we utilized my oral capabilities as often as we could.

We had a strong love and respect for each other, too. We were talking one night about that first night we met in the bar. Shyanne told me she had her hand on my leg as we yelled over the loud music, not realizing I couldn’t feel it. We both laughed at that. I forgot exactly why we broke up, but it wasn’t anything to do with my disability. We just drifted away, or something. Then I heard she moved away and married a military man.

[Pony]

(excerpt from You Rock...I Roll)
They hooked me up to IVs that dispensed antibiotics into my veins, but it didn’t seem to be working. I had a very high temperature and wasn’t breathing very well. As a last ditch effort, the team of doctors decided to put a tube down into my lungs via my nostril and suck the infection out. It’s the craziest feeling, like choking on a vacuum cleaner pulling and sucking on your lungs. I felt like I might die from that alone.

Afterwards, I lay in recovery with my heart beating out of my chest, but no strength to even talk. My sweet mother beside my bed crying, I remember. She has always been by my side.

The next day I started getting a little bit better. I was sitting up in my hospital bed asleep when I felt something touch my lips. I opened my eyes and saw this pretty nurse smiling. It was her fingertip that had touched me. She said something sweet to me, then left the room. I swear her touch was an important part of my healing. I couldn’t stop thinking about that touch. I wanted the hell out of that hospital bed. I wanted to feel a girl’s touch again, and I wasn’t ready to leave this earth yet.

[happyface2013]

Come on Tony, get to the shagging part!

[Pony]

As requested, Mr Happyface...hope you're happy! lol

After attending a concert at a local nightclub, where we engaged in hot kissing over drinks and very loud rock music, things got even hotter in my van. We both were pretty buzzed from rum drinks, and heavy-petting seemed like the right thing to do.

Back at my apartment we made out some more, then she helped me get in bed. Soon, she jumped in with me, kissing and offering her hard nipples to my mouth. Of course, I wanted her pussy, telling her as we kissed. Isabel must’ve wanted the same because she immediately worked her way up to her knees, letting me kiss her tummy. Then lower, until she was up over my mouth, holding each side of my head in her hands. I looked up along her smooth tummy between her breasts to those grey eyes looking down at me, and man, I felt close to heaven.

Maybe it was the power of alcohol. We didn’t talk about it as she flew out the next day, and I think we only had a few phone conversations after that. It was weird to get that intimate and not really have much emotional investment. I didn’t like it. Left me feeling cold, or unimportant. The sex was great, but with no heart involved you’re missing half the experience.

[happyface2013]

That's more like it!

[Pony]

(I included some of my song lyrics in book)

Kings and Queens

They watched you run away
From all the one’s that you should’ve loved
And with a single slap push finally came to shove
And you’ve lost all your innocence now
And there’s no turning back
You’re as hard as the streets you walk
It’s your life, in fact

She cries like a little girl
When she’s all alone
She tries to hide her fears
While she dries her tears
Screaming ‘why are we here?’
As she reaches for the phone
Her hand turns to stone
Just a girl that needs a home
This dance leaves her alone
She’s a queen in my eyes

Soon the pain will elude you
All our time is so short here
Still your life has a value
We can’t ignore your stare

He cries like a little boy
When he’s all alone
He tries to hide his fears
While he holds back his tears
Always asking me ‘why in the hell am I here?’
And the rain starts to fall down
As he wanders through this town
Catching rides and stealing crowns
In his eyes he wins the fight

He’s a king in my eyes

And you will soon move on
To another place and time
Where no one can hurt you
In this state of mind
In this state of mind

[Pony]

It had only been a few days since my doctor confirmed my suspicion that I would never walk again.  From the moment he uttered the words, “No Tony, this is permanent!,” it was a different world.  Up until then I really thought my paralysis was temporary.  They had told me once the bruising went down on my spinal cord I would regain my sensation and movement, or at least that’s what I thought they said.  Maybe I just heard what I wanted, or maybe they wanted to wait until I had recovered more before hitting me with this cold, hard news.

It had been a month since the car wreck that almost killed me, and I was just as paralyzed as that first night.  

Now it was clear to me. This was forever. It scared me to think how all this would play out. I mean my hands didn’t work, no sensation from collar bone down, couldn’t move myself whatsoever. If everything stayed like this, I couldn’t imagine having a life outside a nursing home at 21. A nurse told me I’d drive again, and that gave me some hope of normalcy, but at this point it seemed unlikely.

I was laying there alone in the dark of my hospital room one night, flat of my back, staring at the ceiling. What had I done to myself? What had I done to deserve this life sentence? How will I live in society? Will girls ever find me attractive again? A million questions ran through my mind. The impact was hitting me like nothing I’d ever felt. This was surreal.

[Pony]

excerpt...

I’d like to think of myself as a prideful person, having accomplished a lot since my injury that paralyzed me. Still, I push this wheelchair, banging and scraping my hands and forearms constantly. In fact, my hands stay dirty and wounded, but it’s ok. In my mind, it’s part of the price I pay for my independence and retaining my pride.

While I gain freedom by pushing, I also lose freedom by the speed and ease to do things, especially tasks that require finger movement. You see, there are fine functions that require more fingers use than I have. The more a function needs finger dexterity; the more difficult it is, or in some cases completely impossible. I can look deceiving as I push my chair, type on keyboard fairly fast with a pen in one hand, text with one knuckle pretty quickly, grab my cell phone from a holster on my chair, etc. At first glance, my hands can look normal, but there are functions that I simply can’t do without hand-strength or working fingers, or sensation. You learn to give up on fights that you can’t win, but never lose your pride.

[faith]

love... just love