Yesterday, Gaga, aka Kitty Whitty, wrote me to provide this link. One of her comments struck me. She said the blog was like a Paul Suerken edition of "This Is Your Life." I like that.
Speaking of Suerk's life, he is settled into it for now at "Golden Living," Western Reserve. The hope is that he will one day qualify for 24 hour care at home on Hilltop Road. That will take time, but it is his goal, and it does give him hope.
Here's that link
20 December 2008
13 December 2008
A Visit From Andy Crago '67
Since Alumni Weekend in the fall of '83 when I shared cider and bread with Soapy Howard and Suerk in the Swank apartment and listened to the two of them discuss an entire generation of kids who'd come before me, I have been amazed at how Suerk has managed to know so many kids so well. Each of us remain a very real part of who he is, what he values and what gives him purpose in life. Andy Crago is one of those 'kids.' He flew from Orlando to Pittsburgh for a four and a half hour visit that he and Suerk will never forget. Here's Andy's letter about that visit.
Paul Suerken...A man of influence, a brilliant mind and an unwavering sense of humor. Against all odds, as a result of his paralyzing accident, Paul or "Suerkey" as I know him, retains all of these captivating attributes, as I had the good fortune to validate a few weeks ago in Pittsburgh, Pa.
Although Matt had pretty much prepared me for my visit, and I knew it was the right thing to do, I still prayed for the "right words" as I flew up from Orlando, having never chatted with a quadriplegic, let alone a paralyzed friend.
My fears of saying the wrong things dissolved as I entered Suerk's room in the Harmarville Rehab Center, when as I yelled Suerkey, he just as quickly and instinctively yelled "Andyy." I knew instantly that Paul's spirit was intact and this was the same guy I learned to love over 40 years ago as a young, impressionable teenager, living at an all male (at the time) prep school.
Upon exchanging opening pleasantries, I had the good fortune to have Suerk ask if I could get him a Wendy's Frosty. Seems this was what he wanted more than anything in the world, at this particular time. As we talked and I fed him his beloved Frosty (medium, chocolate), he didn't let my long winded stories keep him from constantly reminding me he was ready for another mouthful, by opening his mouth wide and looking directly at the Frosty. He savored every spoonful, as much as I enjoyed assisting him in fulfilling this important request.
For 4 and 1/2 hours we reminisced....each firing out names, nicknames, swear words we had mastered and experiences we shared. His mind is sharp, certainly sharper than mine. We laughed as we mutually remembered the good times at the 'burg.
Paul has accepted his fate...."stuff" happens, as he would say. If he had his druthers, would he want things to be the way they were before the accident...sure he would. Instead, he is focused on doing what he can and what he especially wants is to be able to get on the pc. I am certain that with the many options (gadgets) available to those in similar circumstances, Paul will be communicating with us once again.
As we said our farewells, Paul was preparing to be transferred the next day back to Western Reserve in Erie. I told Suerkey to take care, kissed him on his bald head and told him I loved him.
I will forever remember the twinkle in his eyes, his closed mouth smile (as I left) and what he meant to this impressionable 59 year old kid. "New Boys" together in 1965....friends for a lifetime.
Andy Crago
Class of 1967
Paul Suerken...A man of influence, a brilliant mind and an unwavering sense of humor. Against all odds, as a result of his paralyzing accident, Paul or "Suerkey" as I know him, retains all of these captivating attributes, as I had the good fortune to validate a few weeks ago in Pittsburgh, Pa.
Although Matt had pretty much prepared me for my visit, and I knew it was the right thing to do, I still prayed for the "right words" as I flew up from Orlando, having never chatted with a quadriplegic, let alone a paralyzed friend.
My fears of saying the wrong things dissolved as I entered Suerk's room in the Harmarville Rehab Center, when as I yelled Suerkey, he just as quickly and instinctively yelled "Andyy." I knew instantly that Paul's spirit was intact and this was the same guy I learned to love over 40 years ago as a young, impressionable teenager, living at an all male (at the time) prep school.
Upon exchanging opening pleasantries, I had the good fortune to have Suerk ask if I could get him a Wendy's Frosty. Seems this was what he wanted more than anything in the world, at this particular time. As we talked and I fed him his beloved Frosty (medium, chocolate), he didn't let my long winded stories keep him from constantly reminding me he was ready for another mouthful, by opening his mouth wide and looking directly at the Frosty. He savored every spoonful, as much as I enjoyed assisting him in fulfilling this important request.
For 4 and 1/2 hours we reminisced....each firing out names, nicknames, swear words we had mastered and experiences we shared. His mind is sharp, certainly sharper than mine. We laughed as we mutually remembered the good times at the 'burg.
Paul has accepted his fate...."stuff" happens, as he would say. If he had his druthers, would he want things to be the way they were before the accident...sure he would. Instead, he is focused on doing what he can and what he especially wants is to be able to get on the pc. I am certain that with the many options (gadgets) available to those in similar circumstances, Paul will be communicating with us once again.
As we said our farewells, Paul was preparing to be transferred the next day back to Western Reserve in Erie. I told Suerkey to take care, kissed him on his bald head and told him I loved him.
I will forever remember the twinkle in his eyes, his closed mouth smile (as I left) and what he meant to this impressionable 59 year old kid. "New Boys" together in 1965....friends for a lifetime.
Andy Crago
Class of 1967
05 December 2008
Address Change
Please note Suerk's new mailing address which will remain in the tab on the right column:
Western Reserve
Patient Paul Suerken
1521 West 54th Street
Erie, PA 16509
814.864.0671
Western Reserve
Patient Paul Suerken
1521 West 54th Street
Erie, PA 16509
814.864.0671
03 December 2008
From the Ritz to Motel 6
It appears that my lack of words regarding Suerk have people worried. Don't be worried. Suerk is great. The absence is about me. I was happy with Jackie Powell's note and thought it should stand for a while. But then I got caught up in preparing for a vacation. Then I got caught up in having a vacation. Now I'm caught up in not having a vacation. And within the next little while I plan on getting caught up in having another vacation -- just 18 days away.
Whether or not I keep this blog updated, I do keep in daily contact with Suerk. His time at Harmarville has been wonderful. While the physical therapy there has not undone his profound paralysis, the treatment there has been an unimaginably powerful therapy in all other ways. As one of Suerk's former students from the class of '67 put it to me yesterday, "Suerk is at the Ritz, about to return to Motel 6." Harmarville has been the Ritz -- every need met and "at his pleasure," as they say. It's the return to Motel 6 that you should know about.
Suerk is, like most of us would be, swept up in the red tide that is our Medicare/health-care system. He has a certain number of days allotted to him during which he qualifies for certain types of care. His rehab days are numbered. When they run out, he falls into a different category. This new category requires that he return to a nursing home until, MAYBE, he can find a way to qualify for 24 hour home care. So he is returning to Erie. We thought the return would be on or around 15 December. Yesterday we learned that insurance requires a more immediate transfer which will happen tomorrow. I will update this page with his new address when he has one.
Whether or not I keep this blog updated, I do keep in daily contact with Suerk. His time at Harmarville has been wonderful. While the physical therapy there has not undone his profound paralysis, the treatment there has been an unimaginably powerful therapy in all other ways. As one of Suerk's former students from the class of '67 put it to me yesterday, "Suerk is at the Ritz, about to return to Motel 6." Harmarville has been the Ritz -- every need met and "at his pleasure," as they say. It's the return to Motel 6 that you should know about.
Suerk is, like most of us would be, swept up in the red tide that is our Medicare/health-care system. He has a certain number of days allotted to him during which he qualifies for certain types of care. His rehab days are numbered. When they run out, he falls into a different category. This new category requires that he return to a nursing home until, MAYBE, he can find a way to qualify for 24 hour home care. So he is returning to Erie. We thought the return would be on or around 15 December. Yesterday we learned that insurance requires a more immediate transfer which will happen tomorrow. I will update this page with his new address when he has one.
08 November 2008
A Word From Jackie Powell
To Friends of Paul Suerken
From Jackie Powell
When Matt Simar told me that Paul is now in HealthSouth Harmarville Rehab in Pittsburgh, I was delighted because it is so near. Harmarville is just 5 miles away from where I now live (Longwood at Oakmont, a retirement home near the Oakmont Country Club - scene of last year's PGA golf tournament.) Harmarville is an outstanding faciility where Paul is getting the best of care and is glad to be there. It was hard to see him the first time for me since his accident - trapped in a body which lies or sits very still, a far cry from the Boston Marathon runner. But Paul, typically, is making the best of it. He is a realist about his condition, talks about it freely, and seems to have accepted things as they are and intends to remain as happy as he can. He is probably the favorite patient of aides, nurses and therapists who work with him as is clear from the way they speak with him when they come by - he is so appreciative of everything they do for him. While he has some difficulty talking because of shortness of breath, it has not dampened his spirits or enthusiasm. When I saw him first a few days ago, he beamed and said that I looked "wonderful", and I responded with a grin - "I wish I could say the same for you" at which we both had a good laugh. It was so good to hear that familiar laugh and see the smile and dancing eyes. Yes, Paul is there. He wants to hear any news, asks about various people, and we talk about so many differenct things. The campus there is beautiful, and a couple of days ago they took him outside for the first time in a wheelchair, which he enjoyed immensely as the day was warm and beautiful. I shall see him several times a week as long as he remains at Harmarville - it is a joy to me to reconnect with an old and dear friend. His friends mean so much to Paul.
From Jackie Powell
When Matt Simar told me that Paul is now in HealthSouth Harmarville Rehab in Pittsburgh, I was delighted because it is so near. Harmarville is just 5 miles away from where I now live (Longwood at Oakmont, a retirement home near the Oakmont Country Club - scene of last year's PGA golf tournament.) Harmarville is an outstanding faciility where Paul is getting the best of care and is glad to be there. It was hard to see him the first time for me since his accident - trapped in a body which lies or sits very still, a far cry from the Boston Marathon runner. But Paul, typically, is making the best of it. He is a realist about his condition, talks about it freely, and seems to have accepted things as they are and intends to remain as happy as he can. He is probably the favorite patient of aides, nurses and therapists who work with him as is clear from the way they speak with him when they come by - he is so appreciative of everything they do for him. While he has some difficulty talking because of shortness of breath, it has not dampened his spirits or enthusiasm. When I saw him first a few days ago, he beamed and said that I looked "wonderful", and I responded with a grin - "I wish I could say the same for you" at which we both had a good laugh. It was so good to hear that familiar laugh and see the smile and dancing eyes. Yes, Paul is there. He wants to hear any news, asks about various people, and we talk about so many differenct things. The campus there is beautiful, and a couple of days ago they took him outside for the first time in a wheelchair, which he enjoyed immensely as the day was warm and beautiful. I shall see him several times a week as long as he remains at Harmarville - it is a joy to me to reconnect with an old and dear friend. His friends mean so much to Paul.
06 November 2008
Suerk's Vote
Dear All,
Just so you know... we were able to get an absentee ballot for Paul so that he could vote!! So he did... and took his part in this historical election!
Joanna
Just so you know... we were able to get an absentee ballot for Paul so that he could vote!! So he did... and took his part in this historical election!
Joanna
05 November 2008
Mrs. Jones
From Morning Edition, November 5, 2008 · Along a rural highway in central Texas sits a small white house with some cows grazing out back and a wheelchair ramp leading to the front screen door. Inside that house lives Amanda Jones, 109, the daughter of a slave. No one in her family, least of all Jones, thought she would live long enough to vote for the man who is to become the first black president.
Jones is the living link between the time when black men were owned as property and the time when a black man has been elected president of the United States.
She wears a pink gown and sits in a worn recliner. Thick glasses magnify her rheumy eyes — eyes that have witnessed two world wars, a great depression, and the arrival of jazz, television and antibiotics. Born in 1899, Jones has lived through a half-century of institutional segregation and a second half-century of attempts to erase that legacy.
"The white is over everything," she says. "I never thought the colored would rise up" and accomplish this.
She thinks the election of President Barack Obama is "a blessing."
Family History Includes Hardship
Jones is a deeply religious woman. On the wall, next to pictures of her many grandchildren and great-grandchildren, is scripture from Joshua and framed sheet music from The Old Rugged Cross.
Her father was Emmanuel Alfred Roberts, who was emancipated in 1865 at the age of 12. He took the name of his last master, a farmer and rancher named Abe Roberts.
He eventually married Moriah Josephine Washington. They farmed on Alum Creek, east of Austin, and had 13 children. Amanda Jones is the sole survivor.
She remembers very little of what her father told her about slavery days.
"When he was a little boy, he herded [the master's] sheep," she says, and he protected them from mountain lions that then prowled the forests of central Texas.
She went on to marry C.L. Jones, who farmed and ran a small grocery in Bastrop County. She worked as a maid before raising 10 children of her own.
The first president Jones voted for was Franklin D. Roosevelt. Like all black citizens, she had to pay a poll tax to vote.
"We would pick cotton and save our money to pay taxes," she recalls.
The poll tax was finally abolished in Texas for all elections in 1966.
Setting A New Standard
Obama's election now gives the extended Jones family — and millions like it across the country — a new standard for their children.
Jones' daughter, Ruth Jones, is 73.
"And I told my youngest grandson, [who] is 10, 'You can be anything you want to be. You can even be president of the U.S.,'" Ruth Jones says. "He thought that was so funny. He really did. He said, 'I can be the president!' I said, "You sure can, but you really have to apply yourself.'"
The family is planning a large reunion at an Austin hotel when Amanda Jones turns 110 next month, under the nation's first black president-elect.
Jones is the living link between the time when black men were owned as property and the time when a black man has been elected president of the United States.
She wears a pink gown and sits in a worn recliner. Thick glasses magnify her rheumy eyes — eyes that have witnessed two world wars, a great depression, and the arrival of jazz, television and antibiotics. Born in 1899, Jones has lived through a half-century of institutional segregation and a second half-century of attempts to erase that legacy.
"The white is over everything," she says. "I never thought the colored would rise up" and accomplish this.
She thinks the election of President Barack Obama is "a blessing."
Family History Includes Hardship
Jones is a deeply religious woman. On the wall, next to pictures of her many grandchildren and great-grandchildren, is scripture from Joshua and framed sheet music from The Old Rugged Cross.
Her father was Emmanuel Alfred Roberts, who was emancipated in 1865 at the age of 12. He took the name of his last master, a farmer and rancher named Abe Roberts.
He eventually married Moriah Josephine Washington. They farmed on Alum Creek, east of Austin, and had 13 children. Amanda Jones is the sole survivor.
She remembers very little of what her father told her about slavery days.
"When he was a little boy, he herded [the master's] sheep," she says, and he protected them from mountain lions that then prowled the forests of central Texas.
She went on to marry C.L. Jones, who farmed and ran a small grocery in Bastrop County. She worked as a maid before raising 10 children of her own.
The first president Jones voted for was Franklin D. Roosevelt. Like all black citizens, she had to pay a poll tax to vote.
"We would pick cotton and save our money to pay taxes," she recalls.
The poll tax was finally abolished in Texas for all elections in 1966.
Setting A New Standard
Obama's election now gives the extended Jones family — and millions like it across the country — a new standard for their children.
Jones' daughter, Ruth Jones, is 73.
"And I told my youngest grandson, [who] is 10, 'You can be anything you want to be. You can even be president of the U.S.,'" Ruth Jones says. "He thought that was so funny. He really did. He said, 'I can be the president!' I said, "You sure can, but you really have to apply yourself.'"
The family is planning a large reunion at an Austin hotel when Amanda Jones turns 110 next month, under the nation's first black president-elect.
29 October 2008
Motion
The last word I have regarding my visit to Erie is about Suerk's motion, or lack of motion. The 'Q' word is not something we whisper. Suerk is a quadriplegic. Last Sunday in discussing the Penn State/Ohio State game, he said, "The wonderful thing about quadriplegia is that you can watch an entire ballgame without interruption." The comment was intended to provide a laugh. Never is he looking for pity – ever.
Motion. Suerk turns his head. He has some use of his arms in that the muscles down to the elbow work somewhat on command. Often the arms move without command. The throwing (left) arm tries to curl up toward his collarbone involuntarily. The writing/conducting arm behaves better, but it might not be as strong as the left. Often he requests to have someone move his arms and hands back to a more comfortable position because they tend to climb upward unintentionally. He has lots of feeling in the places in his arms and hands over which he has no control. He's not happy about that kind of feeling because it's like a burning. If you think holding his arm or hand will give him comfort, think again. He's learned how to throw you a look that says, "Lay off!" The feeling is like fire, but it is feeling. Maybe one day the sense of feeling/burning will become motion again. That is the hope.
It is with this limited movement and his entire mind that Suerk is thriving at the Harmarville Rehab facility in Pittsburgh. The news from there is nothing but extraordinarily positive. He is demonstrating a strength and sense of hope that he has not possessed since the fall in July. John Bush spent the day with him yesterday and found Suerk deeply engaged in his therapy with a concentration and enthusiasm that John Bush calls, "inspirational."
More Later.
Motion. Suerk turns his head. He has some use of his arms in that the muscles down to the elbow work somewhat on command. Often the arms move without command. The throwing (left) arm tries to curl up toward his collarbone involuntarily. The writing/conducting arm behaves better, but it might not be as strong as the left. Often he requests to have someone move his arms and hands back to a more comfortable position because they tend to climb upward unintentionally. He has lots of feeling in the places in his arms and hands over which he has no control. He's not happy about that kind of feeling because it's like a burning. If you think holding his arm or hand will give him comfort, think again. He's learned how to throw you a look that says, "Lay off!" The feeling is like fire, but it is feeling. Maybe one day the sense of feeling/burning will become motion again. That is the hope.
It is with this limited movement and his entire mind that Suerk is thriving at the Harmarville Rehab facility in Pittsburgh. The news from there is nothing but extraordinarily positive. He is demonstrating a strength and sense of hope that he has not possessed since the fall in July. John Bush spent the day with him yesterday and found Suerk deeply engaged in his therapy with a concentration and enthusiasm that John Bush calls, "inspirational."
More Later.
21 October 2008
A Note From Joanna Bush
I know what you mean about feeding Suerk, and it feeling quite uncomfortable at first... and the "rhythm" you fall into...'
But the thing that amazes me is Suerk's constant gentlemanly demeanor. The "please" before every bite... and the humor about the food!
Suerk has had a hard time dealing with the move, but he is forging ahead, and the transfer is set for 10AM on Tuesday, Oct. 21. Dave McChesney and I will be accompanying him on the trip. When we get there, I will try to find out how we can all communicate with him.
Keep him in your prayers, because the next two weeks I am sure will be especially hard.... new people, new routines, and very few friends at his bedside. I know that I will only be able to get there once a week... and some of his friends cannot even make the trip. It is about 2 and a half hours from Erie... so a trip there, time with Paul, and a trip back will take a good 6 hours... not easy to do when you have family demands of your own.
Stay in touch.
But the thing that amazes me is Suerk's constant gentlemanly demeanor. The "please" before every bite... and the humor about the food!
Suerk has had a hard time dealing with the move, but he is forging ahead, and the transfer is set for 10AM on Tuesday, Oct. 21. Dave McChesney and I will be accompanying him on the trip. When we get there, I will try to find out how we can all communicate with him.
Keep him in your prayers, because the next two weeks I am sure will be especially hard.... new people, new routines, and very few friends at his bedside. I know that I will only be able to get there once a week... and some of his friends cannot even make the trip. It is about 2 and a half hours from Erie... so a trip there, time with Paul, and a trip back will take a good 6 hours... not easy to do when you have family demands of your own.
Stay in touch.
20 October 2008
Pittsburgh Rehab
Suerk has decided to embrace the idea of attending a rehab facility that specializes in spinal injuries. Tomorrow an ambulance will take him from Erie to Pittsburgh. Joanna Bush and Dave McChesney will accompany him and get him settled in.
Here is the new contact information.
HealthSouth Harmarville Rehabilitation Hospital
320 Guys Run Road
Pittsburgh, PA 15238
(412) 828-1300
Harmarville closely guards their client's security. A password is required for all correspondences -- including phone contacts. Email your request for a password to:
forpaulsuerken@gmail.com
Here is the new contact information.
HealthSouth Harmarville Rehabilitation Hospital
320 Guys Run Road
Pittsburgh, PA 15238
(412) 828-1300
Harmarville closely guards their client's security. A password is required for all correspondences -- including phone contacts. Email your request for a password to:
forpaulsuerken@gmail.com
15 October 2008
Elephant Scabs
If you’re fortunate enough to visit Suerk during mealtime, you’ll find that you will be the one he chooses to have feed him. I was taken aback. I have been through a lot and I have seen a lot, but somehow the act of feeding my teacher gave me a strange chill. That chill vanished quickly, though, and the rhythm of the feeding became comforting in a way. “Meat, please. Juice, please. Peas, please. Juice, please.” Eventually, you learn the order of things and can anticipate him before he needs to make the request. And the rhythm is punctuated with humor and laughs. I never did share the food with him, and no one would want to given the contorted facial expressions he displays upon tasting most of what he eats. One afternoon when I lifted the cover off the platter, Suerk took a look at the veal and conjured the voice of Doc Prevost. “Oh, Jesus! Elephant scabs again!” But he ate the scabs and most everything else served him. And that’s how that went.
11 October 2008
Pat, I’d Like to Buy a Vowel
It’s time to write about my visit with Suerk last week, but there’s so much to say. I don’t know quite where to begin. To start, it’s important to say that Suerk is doing very well. His spirits are high. Therapy is going well. His loyal friends continue to visit him daily. He’s engaged in the baseball season, politics and current events. Cleo and Gigi have a new home and this has brought him a large measure of peace. There is one issue he faces which brings with it a bit of anxiety, and that is whether he wants to transfer to a more specialized rehab facility in Pittsburgh while his insurance still covers the tremendous cost. The admission staff from that facility will be visiting him soon to make their case. There are two issues which will make the decision difficult for him. He does not want to leave Erie, even for a short duration. And he has serious doubts whether a specialized rehab facility can help ‘rehab’ his 70 year old, mostly paralyzed body. He is open-minded, though, and he wants to hear the experts make their case before he makes his decision.
Western Reserve
During our conversation yesterday Suerk said to me,
So Suerk and his roommate are torturing one another with their TV selections. While there are two TVs in the room (about six feet apart separated by a curtain) Wayne’s remote controls both sets. Often, when Olberman or Matthews are ranting particularly exquisitely, or when I was there, smack in the middle of the Biden/Palin debate, Wayne will change both sets to something like Spike TV. You can imagine Suerk’s frustration and the expletives the frustration demands. He takes it in stride, though, along with everything else that has befallen him.
This leads me to the place – Western Reserve. In one way, it’s the nicest nursing home I have ever visited in that there is no smell -- none. Much more importantly, the staff is extremely attentive day and night. Suerk has a device mounted to his bed he calls his blowpop. When he raises his head and places his lips on the blowpop and blows, the nurse responds immediately. And as you can see from Nurse Nancy’s comment, the staff is loving and compassionate. Suerk is the only ‘quad’ in the whole place. The nursing staff is well aware of his unique story and their compassion shows. So he’s in a good place, for now. We can only hope and trust that he will make the best decision for himself regarding the specialty rehab in Pittsburgh. The decision is his.
There is more to come. For now, know that Paul Suerken is well. He continues to be deeply moved by the wonderful wishes and messages coming his way. His hope is that, eventually, he will have a way to express his love and thanks in return.
More on my visit later.
Western Reserve
During our conversation yesterday Suerk said to me,
Hold on a minute, Matt. Wayne! WAYNE!!! Yes, Wayne, would you mind turning that TV down? WAAAAYNE!!!!! Yes, thank you. Please turn that TV down. (MY GOD!) Okay, Matt. My God! I never thought I would be on a first name basis with Pat and Vanna! I didn't even know what the in the hell the 'Wheel' was, and now I find myself buying vowels!
So Suerk and his roommate are torturing one another with their TV selections. While there are two TVs in the room (about six feet apart separated by a curtain) Wayne’s remote controls both sets. Often, when Olberman or Matthews are ranting particularly exquisitely, or when I was there, smack in the middle of the Biden/Palin debate, Wayne will change both sets to something like Spike TV. You can imagine Suerk’s frustration and the expletives the frustration demands. He takes it in stride, though, along with everything else that has befallen him.
This leads me to the place – Western Reserve. In one way, it’s the nicest nursing home I have ever visited in that there is no smell -- none. Much more importantly, the staff is extremely attentive day and night. Suerk has a device mounted to his bed he calls his blowpop. When he raises his head and places his lips on the blowpop and blows, the nurse responds immediately. And as you can see from Nurse Nancy’s comment, the staff is loving and compassionate. Suerk is the only ‘quad’ in the whole place. The nursing staff is well aware of his unique story and their compassion shows. So he’s in a good place, for now. We can only hope and trust that he will make the best decision for himself regarding the specialty rehab in Pittsburgh. The decision is his.
There is more to come. For now, know that Paul Suerken is well. He continues to be deeply moved by the wonderful wishes and messages coming his way. His hope is that, eventually, he will have a way to express his love and thanks in return.
More on my visit later.
09 October 2008
A Word From Suerk's Nurse Nancy
Suerk's nurse, Nancy, posted this comment under the posting, "Inform Your Physicians Immediately!" Her words belong in the main section of the blog.
I would like to say as one of the nurses that is taking care of Paul, he is the vision of strength and endurance. I care about all my resident's, however, I was drawn to Paul. He always has a smile and is one of the classiest gentlemen I have ever met. He greets you with a smile and always has a kind word. He is truely an inspiration. I am at a disadvantage now because I am no longer working at that facility and I will dearly miss him. I will keep up with the website to track his progress. LOVE YOU PAUL! Always keep hope!
I would like to say as one of the nurses that is taking care of Paul, he is the vision of strength and endurance. I care about all my resident's, however, I was drawn to Paul. He always has a smile and is one of the classiest gentlemen I have ever met. He greets you with a smile and always has a kind word. He is truely an inspiration. I am at a disadvantage now because I am no longer working at that facility and I will dearly miss him. I will keep up with the website to track his progress. LOVE YOU PAUL! Always keep hope!
04 October 2008
Cleo & Gigi
Friday, October 3: A Word From Suerk
As some of you may know, I love Boston terriers and ever since my first one, Wahoo (named by Kevin McCormack ’91 in honor of my affection for the Cleveland Indians), I have been hooked on the breed.
Since I am not able to give Cleo and Gigi the love and care that they need and deserve, I have been hoping to find a dog lover who will give them the joy and companionship they have shared with me.
Ken Felix, my veterinarian, found such a person, and the following three pictures will provide a glimpse into why I am so gratified.
Thanks to Donna Achille, who is now their new 'mother,' my heart is at ease and my dogs have every reason to rejoice.
The first picture shows Gigi, the younger of my two Bostons, making her first contact with Donna. You can see how 'upset' she seems to be after three-and-a-half seconds. The second picture depicts Cleo, the shy and diffident one, not being sure if she should be in the picture.
If you can’t understand the outcome of all of this, as shown in the third picture, then you are dumber than the 9th Graders I taught for 31 years!
Love,
Suerk
PS Really, I learned more from my 9th graders than they learned from me.
As some of you may know, I love Boston terriers and ever since my first one, Wahoo (named by Kevin McCormack ’91 in honor of my affection for the Cleveland Indians), I have been hooked on the breed.
Since I am not able to give Cleo and Gigi the love and care that they need and deserve, I have been hoping to find a dog lover who will give them the joy and companionship they have shared with me.
Ken Felix, my veterinarian, found such a person, and the following three pictures will provide a glimpse into why I am so gratified.
Thanks to Donna Achille, who is now their new 'mother,' my heart is at ease and my dogs have every reason to rejoice.
The first picture shows Gigi, the younger of my two Bostons, making her first contact with Donna. You can see how 'upset' she seems to be after three-and-a-half seconds. The second picture depicts Cleo, the shy and diffident one, not being sure if she should be in the picture.
If you can’t understand the outcome of all of this, as shown in the third picture, then you are dumber than the 9th Graders I taught for 31 years!
Love,
Suerk
PS Really, I learned more from my 9th graders than they learned from me.
01 October 2008
Dona Nobis Pacem
When I heard this story on the way to young Charlton Schaner’s soccer game last Saturday, I pulled over to listen. If you have ten minutes, you take a listen. Click the link below, then under the story title, “Revisiting Bernstein’s Immodest ‘Mass,’” click the box that says, 'Listen Now.'
This story awakens a million connections between Suerk and me. It is my inclination to present my pages long list, but I will resist. Enjoy the story and whatever connection with Paul it awakens in you. He would like that.
I’m on my way to Erie today.
Matt
A Link to NPR's Story on Bernstein's "Mass"
This story awakens a million connections between Suerk and me. It is my inclination to present my pages long list, but I will resist. Enjoy the story and whatever connection with Paul it awakens in you. He would like that.
I’m on my way to Erie today.
Matt
A Link to NPR's Story on Bernstein's "Mass"
24 September 2008
The Bald Representative
When I left Paul last evening (on the phone), he was gearing up for Matthews and Olberman and wondering if the Republican candidate for the Presidency might not choose to debate his opponent this week, what with current events placing extraordinary demands on his time and all. Paul remains engaged.
It has been since the end of May when we shared a weekend in Mercersburg. Our next visit is scheduled for 1-5 October in Erie. During that visit I will work on transferring the wall of photos and memories from his home on Hilltop Road to his room at Western Reserve. If you have a snapshot you think Paul should have, send it to the Western Reserve address (see the right column). We will work on including them in his collection.
One of the many things that strikes me as I gather mail for Paul is the myriad ways in which he impacted so very many people. The long term relationships he built and kept through decades are the obvious ones to turn to for example. But it is the poignant, brief and chance encounters he had with so many, encounters that seem indelible in the minds of so many, that I find instructive and heartening. A recurring theme in many of these letters is this. "It was long ago and you may not remember, but here are some memories I want to share to show you how well I remember and value you." Trust me, Paul remembers. His power of collection and recollection is astonishing.
Here is one letter Todd Jamison sent Paul with permission to post here:
Dear Mr. Suerken,
Geez, after all these years, being “all grown up”, in my fifties and all, and I still feel the need to call you Mr. Suerken, vs. Paul. Purely out of respect sir. And while I was never in one of your classes, you still managed to teach me, and the student body at large. I have fond memories that I thought worth sharing.
My first real exposure to you was as a freshman, and my feeble attempt at making the Glee Club. I believe my record stands – as far as I know I am still the only student in Mercersburg history to get kicked off the Glee Club. For the uninitiated, you didn’t really have to sing all that well to make the Glee Club. You could be so so. And if you were rather bad, Mr. Suerken would simply ‘hide’ you by surrounding you with good (and louder) singers. However, if you were soooo bad that you threw-off those good singers, well, that wouldn’t do. And you made the right call. I was bad. Heck, I’m still terrible.
On the other end of my four years, you were our victim for Senior Day. After years of futile efforts by the graduating class to disrupt a day of classes (one year all the forks and knives were stuck in the central lawn, another all the chairs and desks were taken out of Irvine) the class of ’73 creatively kidnapped a teacher and stole away from campus for a day. The class of ’75 was not so creative, but we liked the idea. We took you with us to see the Eagles. Linda Ronstadt was signing with them at the time. I remember you sitting in the front seat and proclaiming to have ‘tunnel vision’, always looking only forward. A real trooper putting up with those shenanigans.
Then there was your endless support for the various team sports. I ran cross country. And many, many times you could be found along the course cheering us on, encouraging us to push harder. Some of us needed that pushing: Too often I asked myself what the heck I was doing out there, running 3.1 miles until I felt sick.
But my most vivid memory was during a student body meeting hosted by STUACT. The goal of the presenters/committee was to inform everyone what STUACT was, what they did. At one point an African-American student stood up asked why there weren’t any black representatives on the committee. Students called out “that’s what this meeting is for”. Another called out “no, that’s not the reason.” After several uncomfortable moments, a certain teacher stood up and barked out, “I want to know why there aren’t any bald representatives on the committee!” You brought the roof down. And, with a simple, bold statement, you made the correct point. Well done. Thank you for the lesson.
You are a true ambassador for Mercersburg’s faculty, and greater community. I for one am wealthier for having crossed your path. Thanks so much.
Todd Jamison
Mercersburg Class of ‘75
It has been since the end of May when we shared a weekend in Mercersburg. Our next visit is scheduled for 1-5 October in Erie. During that visit I will work on transferring the wall of photos and memories from his home on Hilltop Road to his room at Western Reserve. If you have a snapshot you think Paul should have, send it to the Western Reserve address (see the right column). We will work on including them in his collection.
One of the many things that strikes me as I gather mail for Paul is the myriad ways in which he impacted so very many people. The long term relationships he built and kept through decades are the obvious ones to turn to for example. But it is the poignant, brief and chance encounters he had with so many, encounters that seem indelible in the minds of so many, that I find instructive and heartening. A recurring theme in many of these letters is this. "It was long ago and you may not remember, but here are some memories I want to share to show you how well I remember and value you." Trust me, Paul remembers. His power of collection and recollection is astonishing.
Here is one letter Todd Jamison sent Paul with permission to post here:
Dear Mr. Suerken,
Geez, after all these years, being “all grown up”, in my fifties and all, and I still feel the need to call you Mr. Suerken, vs. Paul. Purely out of respect sir. And while I was never in one of your classes, you still managed to teach me, and the student body at large. I have fond memories that I thought worth sharing.
My first real exposure to you was as a freshman, and my feeble attempt at making the Glee Club. I believe my record stands – as far as I know I am still the only student in Mercersburg history to get kicked off the Glee Club. For the uninitiated, you didn’t really have to sing all that well to make the Glee Club. You could be so so. And if you were rather bad, Mr. Suerken would simply ‘hide’ you by surrounding you with good (and louder) singers. However, if you were soooo bad that you threw-off those good singers, well, that wouldn’t do. And you made the right call. I was bad. Heck, I’m still terrible.
On the other end of my four years, you were our victim for Senior Day. After years of futile efforts by the graduating class to disrupt a day of classes (one year all the forks and knives were stuck in the central lawn, another all the chairs and desks were taken out of Irvine) the class of ’73 creatively kidnapped a teacher and stole away from campus for a day. The class of ’75 was not so creative, but we liked the idea. We took you with us to see the Eagles. Linda Ronstadt was signing with them at the time. I remember you sitting in the front seat and proclaiming to have ‘tunnel vision’, always looking only forward. A real trooper putting up with those shenanigans.
Then there was your endless support for the various team sports. I ran cross country. And many, many times you could be found along the course cheering us on, encouraging us to push harder. Some of us needed that pushing: Too often I asked myself what the heck I was doing out there, running 3.1 miles until I felt sick.
But my most vivid memory was during a student body meeting hosted by STUACT. The goal of the presenters/committee was to inform everyone what STUACT was, what they did. At one point an African-American student stood up asked why there weren’t any black representatives on the committee. Students called out “that’s what this meeting is for”. Another called out “no, that’s not the reason.” After several uncomfortable moments, a certain teacher stood up and barked out, “I want to know why there aren’t any bald representatives on the committee!” You brought the roof down. And, with a simple, bold statement, you made the correct point. Well done. Thank you for the lesson.
You are a true ambassador for Mercersburg’s faculty, and greater community. I for one am wealthier for having crossed your path. Thanks so much.
Todd Jamison
Mercersburg Class of ‘75
19 September 2008
Amen and אָמֵן.
There’s been an entry stirring in my head for five days now, but I’ve hesitated to post it.
On Sunday the 14th, Paul and I had one of the most interesting and best conversations we’ve had in 25 years. I wanted to hang up the phone, pass out his number to all his friends and post the news to the blog that he is stronger than ever. But I’m learning to try to sit on what I know for a bit, because often what I know becomes what I thought I knew. This time, though, my instinct to post the news to the blog would have been just fine. Paul has had, in my opinion, his best week since the fall on July 8th. He has found his power.
Accepting the fact that extracting his arms from the covers will require a visit from the nurse's station, that clearing his throat in order to converse will probably require suction – these are realities that can bring with them gloom and frustration. He is learning to adjust his mind, to accept his “life as a quadriplegic,” as he says. And here is a small piece of the puzzle which is providing him with some of his strength. As he says himself, “We become so ego-centric in our lives, so self-centric. These are things I must learn to release from my life in order to ‘move on.’” So, incredible as it may seem, Paul is learning to ‘move on,’ without really moving much at all.
Throughout this ordeal, Paul has been surrounded by a small group of devoted friends, all of whom I have mentioned before. Most recently, though, he has been profoundly moved by the strong and unfailing devotion of Rabbi John Bush, who he calls his “Rock of Gibraltar,” and Joanna Bush, who he calls quite simply, “my saint.” If you feel any sense of frustration in that you cannot be with Paul through this ordeal, you can rest in the notion that there are people like John and Joanna Bush who are with him.
Amen and אָמֵן.
On Sunday the 14th, Paul and I had one of the most interesting and best conversations we’ve had in 25 years. I wanted to hang up the phone, pass out his number to all his friends and post the news to the blog that he is stronger than ever. But I’m learning to try to sit on what I know for a bit, because often what I know becomes what I thought I knew. This time, though, my instinct to post the news to the blog would have been just fine. Paul has had, in my opinion, his best week since the fall on July 8th. He has found his power.
Accepting the fact that extracting his arms from the covers will require a visit from the nurse's station, that clearing his throat in order to converse will probably require suction – these are realities that can bring with them gloom and frustration. He is learning to adjust his mind, to accept his “life as a quadriplegic,” as he says. And here is a small piece of the puzzle which is providing him with some of his strength. As he says himself, “We become so ego-centric in our lives, so self-centric. These are things I must learn to release from my life in order to ‘move on.’” So, incredible as it may seem, Paul is learning to ‘move on,’ without really moving much at all.
Throughout this ordeal, Paul has been surrounded by a small group of devoted friends, all of whom I have mentioned before. Most recently, though, he has been profoundly moved by the strong and unfailing devotion of Rabbi John Bush, who he calls his “Rock of Gibraltar,” and Joanna Bush, who he calls quite simply, “my saint.” If you feel any sense of frustration in that you cannot be with Paul through this ordeal, you can rest in the notion that there are people like John and Joanna Bush who are with him.
Amen and אָמֵן.
11 September 2008
Until Then. . .
Since the fall and subsequent surgery on 8/9 July, Paul has worn a collar to stabilize his upper spine. The neurosurgeon who performed the surgery allowed its removal on Monday. The new motion will bring with it muscle ache, but Paul seems more perturbed when you ask him how his neck is feeling than he does by the muscle ache. At that appointment on Monday, the neurosurgeon told Paul that he might find gradual signs of improvement in feeling and motion over the next two years, or so. With that hope in mind, Paul continues his two sessions of physical therapy each day, and he says the sessions are the most challenging yet.
It seems unfair to mention my phone conversations with Paul when so many who care about him are longing to connect. That longing through messages and letters is palpable, if not explicit. What you should know is that Paul’s social worker is working on it. As it is, Paul has to have staff or visitors hold the phone. His breathing continues to be shallow, so conversations are work for him. Lately, his spirits don’t lend themselves to phone chat. Lighting the spark that encourages him to talk can be difficult. Often, the spark does not happen. When it does, it might be the result of a beautiful letter read to him, the news of a particularly good Indians game (last nights rout over the Orioles will give him glee), or hearing that Keith Olberman and Chris Matthews may have been demoted. (That last one really got his goat.) Part of Paul’s therapy and something that seems to give him hope is the reconnecting with the people he loves. So he will begin to reconnect when he can. Until then. . .
It seems unfair to mention my phone conversations with Paul when so many who care about him are longing to connect. That longing through messages and letters is palpable, if not explicit. What you should know is that Paul’s social worker is working on it. As it is, Paul has to have staff or visitors hold the phone. His breathing continues to be shallow, so conversations are work for him. Lately, his spirits don’t lend themselves to phone chat. Lighting the spark that encourages him to talk can be difficult. Often, the spark does not happen. When it does, it might be the result of a beautiful letter read to him, the news of a particularly good Indians game (last nights rout over the Orioles will give him glee), or hearing that Keith Olberman and Chris Matthews may have been demoted. (That last one really got his goat.) Part of Paul’s therapy and something that seems to give him hope is the reconnecting with the people he loves. So he will begin to reconnect when he can. Until then. . .
09 September 2008
08 September 2008
"Hey, Mateo, It's Suerk."
Sunday, 7 September
Stephen and I walked the dogs this morning. Our weekend walks are usually quiet and contemplative. Today's was no exception. I spent much of the walk working in my head how to describe Paul’s recent depression in this web log. He is depressed, but the essence of what makes Paul Suerken a uniquely wonderful force is still there. During that walk, my cell phone rang. I had leashes in my hands, so I ignored the phone and forgot about the ring until long after we had returned home. When I listened to the messages, this is what I heard:
“Hey Mateo, it’s Suerk. A little bit after 10am on Sunday morning. I’d like to talk to you today, of course. But I have, really, one important thing to say, and that’s this: You are blessed – blessed, blessed – with Stephen Boyd in your life. And that’s what I want to say. And we’ll talk soon. Thank you. Bye.”
And so he is depressed, of course. But he is spending his days contemplating and rejoicing in the relationships and the life that gave him, and still give him, so much life.
Stephen and I walked the dogs this morning. Our weekend walks are usually quiet and contemplative. Today's was no exception. I spent much of the walk working in my head how to describe Paul’s recent depression in this web log. He is depressed, but the essence of what makes Paul Suerken a uniquely wonderful force is still there. During that walk, my cell phone rang. I had leashes in my hands, so I ignored the phone and forgot about the ring until long after we had returned home. When I listened to the messages, this is what I heard:
“Hey Mateo, it’s Suerk. A little bit after 10am on Sunday morning. I’d like to talk to you today, of course. But I have, really, one important thing to say, and that’s this: You are blessed – blessed, blessed – with Stephen Boyd in your life. And that’s what I want to say. And we’ll talk soon. Thank you. Bye.”
And so he is depressed, of course. But he is spending his days contemplating and rejoicing in the relationships and the life that gave him, and still give him, so much life.
07 September 2008
Joyce & Yeats
Today, John Chapman emailed me requesting I post two poems on the blog. Not long after that, I spoke with Paul and asked him if he was aware of John's request. He was not aware and he asked me to read the poems aloud to him. Paul was delighted with both of John's selections, he asked me to alert Edward Hallowell (a former colleague and close friend of 40 years), and then he urged me to post both poems. Paul would urge you to spend time with these two poems. Read them when you can. Read them again, and maybe then again.
Strings in the earth and air
Make music sweet;
Strings by the river where
The willows meet.
There's music along the river
For Love wanders there,
Pale flowers on his mantle,
Dark leaves on his hair.
All softly playing,
With head to the music bent,
And fingers straying
Upon an instrument.
James Joyce
Adam's Curse
We sat together at one summer's end,
That beautiful mild woman, your close friend,
And you and I, and talked of poetry.
I said, 'A line will take us hours maybe;
Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought,
Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
Better go down upon your marrow-bones
And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones
Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather;
For to articulate sweet sounds together
Is to work harder than all these, and yet
Be thought an idler by the noisy set
Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen
The martyrs call the world.'
. . . . . . . . . And thereupon
That beautiful mild woman for whose sake
There's many a one shall find out all heartache
On finding that her voice is sweet and low
Replied, 'To be born woman is to know-
Although they do not talk of it at school-
That we must labour to be beautiful.'
I said, 'It's certain there is no fine thing
Since Adam's fall but needs much labouring.
There have been lovers who thought love should be
So much compounded of high courtesy
That they would sigh and quote with learned looks
Precedents out of beautiful old books;
Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.'
We sat grown quiet at the name of love;
We saw the last embers of daylight die,
And in the trembling blue-green of the sky
A moon, worn as if it had been a shell
Washed by time's waters as they rose and fell
About the stars and broke in days and years.
I had a thought for no one's but your ears:
That you were beautiful, and that I strove
To love you in the old high way of love;
That it had all seemed happy, and yet we'd grown
As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.
Yeats
Poetry today. An update tomorrow.
Strings in the earth and air
Make music sweet;
Strings by the river where
The willows meet.
There's music along the river
For Love wanders there,
Pale flowers on his mantle,
Dark leaves on his hair.
All softly playing,
With head to the music bent,
And fingers straying
Upon an instrument.
James Joyce
Adam's Curse
We sat together at one summer's end,
That beautiful mild woman, your close friend,
And you and I, and talked of poetry.
I said, 'A line will take us hours maybe;
Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought,
Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
Better go down upon your marrow-bones
And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones
Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather;
For to articulate sweet sounds together
Is to work harder than all these, and yet
Be thought an idler by the noisy set
Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen
The martyrs call the world.'
. . . . . . . . . And thereupon
That beautiful mild woman for whose sake
There's many a one shall find out all heartache
On finding that her voice is sweet and low
Replied, 'To be born woman is to know-
Although they do not talk of it at school-
That we must labour to be beautiful.'
I said, 'It's certain there is no fine thing
Since Adam's fall but needs much labouring.
There have been lovers who thought love should be
So much compounded of high courtesy
That they would sigh and quote with learned looks
Precedents out of beautiful old books;
Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.'
We sat grown quiet at the name of love;
We saw the last embers of daylight die,
And in the trembling blue-green of the sky
A moon, worn as if it had been a shell
Washed by time's waters as they rose and fell
About the stars and broke in days and years.
I had a thought for no one's but your ears:
That you were beautiful, and that I strove
To love you in the old high way of love;
That it had all seemed happy, and yet we'd grown
As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.
Yeats
Poetry today. An update tomorrow.
04 September 2008
"It's Not About You"
I know from your mail that I have somehow managed to give the impression that I am with Paul in Erie. I live in Atlanta and have not been in Paul's physical presence since a wonderful weekend in late May when we came together in Mercersburg for my father's retirement tributes after Dad's serving 20 years as the school's Athletic Director. Suerk and I did what we do best that short weekend. We met new friends and reconnected with old ones. We reminisced, told jokes, shared wonderful meals and we laughed throughtout those oh-so-very-few days.
Lately, when Paul's mood sours, he barks out a new phrase which I think is 'perfectly Suerk.' He says when prevoked, "It's not about you." I can hear it. A visitor making small talk will say, "Jane told me to pick up pork chops from the Wegmans tonight, but I don't like pork chops." Paul's response, "It's not about you!" The pulmonologist enters the room when it's time for an evaluation and says, "Mr. Suerken, I need to check your vitals and listen to your lungs." Paul says, "I am visiting with my friend. Come back later." The doc, "I am your doctor and I have other patients to see, Mr. Suerken." Suerk's reply, "It's not about you." Imagine how many times he can utilize that phrase in just one day!
Recently, I needed to update the blog and awoke before the crack of dawn, wondered why I couldn't sleep, sipped coffee and answered my own question. The answer, "I am beside myself because of Paul's condition. . ." I wrote about my thoughts and posted them on the blog. The posting sat on the blog for a few days before I removed most of it. Since then, I have been chastised by some of you for removing it. I have my reasons for removing it. Now I have my reasons for putting it back, thanks to you. Just know this: I don't want this blog to be about me or my attempt at writing anything more than what I can simply express. My goal is to provide a conduit for all of us who want to share what we will with Paul. Thank you for helping me with that. It's not about me.
Matt
Lately, when Paul's mood sours, he barks out a new phrase which I think is 'perfectly Suerk.' He says when prevoked, "It's not about you." I can hear it. A visitor making small talk will say, "Jane told me to pick up pork chops from the Wegmans tonight, but I don't like pork chops." Paul's response, "It's not about you!" The pulmonologist enters the room when it's time for an evaluation and says, "Mr. Suerken, I need to check your vitals and listen to your lungs." Paul says, "I am visiting with my friend. Come back later." The doc, "I am your doctor and I have other patients to see, Mr. Suerken." Suerk's reply, "It's not about you." Imagine how many times he can utilize that phrase in just one day!
Recently, I needed to update the blog and awoke before the crack of dawn, wondered why I couldn't sleep, sipped coffee and answered my own question. The answer, "I am beside myself because of Paul's condition. . ." I wrote about my thoughts and posted them on the blog. The posting sat on the blog for a few days before I removed most of it. Since then, I have been chastised by some of you for removing it. I have my reasons for removing it. Now I have my reasons for putting it back, thanks to you. Just know this: I don't want this blog to be about me or my attempt at writing anything more than what I can simply express. My goal is to provide a conduit for all of us who want to share what we will with Paul. Thank you for helping me with that. It's not about me.
Matt
03 September 2008
What's In A Name?
Harper & Suerken Carter
"I named my son Suerken after Paul, but also after his mother, Alice, who was like a grandmother (and great friend) to me while I was growing up."
Ken Carter (Mercersburg '81)
"I named my son Suerken after Paul, but also after his mother, Alice, who was like a grandmother (and great friend) to me while I was growing up."
Ken Carter (Mercersburg '81)
30 August 2008
"My Life as a Quadriplegic"
It's 5am and I've given up on sleeping. I get up, descend the stairs and begin to make the coffee. Out loud I hear myself saying, "What-in-the-hell are you doing up at 5am on a holiday weekend, with nothing more to do than paint the guest room?" No answer. So here I am, now 5:30, sipping coffee, reading Hendrick Hertzberg's first line, "The week before the week before this week's scheduled gathering. . ." in the new New Yorker Paul Suerken has provided me for 20+ years as a Christmas gift, listening to Krips conducting a 1974 ensemble of Mozart's Don Giovani overture on the Arts channel, within eyeshot of the clock hanging on the wall I bought from Clockman with Paul in God knows what year. . . And now I know why I am awake. We were able to choose our influences at Mercersburg. I chose mine. And now he's slung up in a bed in Erie and there's nothing I can do about it. I am beside myself.
And now for a little bit of an update:
Suerk will check out of St. Vincent on Tuesday, 2 September, and move to a nursing home. This change of venue brings with it existential issues – "What will become of my beloved Bostons, Cleo and Gigi? Will I ever be able to return to the home on Hilltop Road? How will I fund the new care? Do I want to live?" Some of these questions can be answered. The dogs are moving to Atlanta. Some questions cannot. In addressing these issues, Paul is often using the phrase, "My life as a quadriplegic." People do ask me, "Does Paul want to live this way?" Were you to ask me before this accident if Paul would want to live, this way, I would have said, "ABSOLUTELY, NO WAY." But I would have been wrong. The things that gave Paul life before the accident – friendships, music, words, humor, irony. . . still give him life. So he wants to live and he will, as long his body lets him. Until then, know that the letters and love do give Paul one more reason to look forward to a new day.
When we have a new physical address, you will know.
This is the first entry in the blog that I read to Paul before posting, requesting permission. Permission was granted.
And now for a little bit of an update:
Suerk will check out of St. Vincent on Tuesday, 2 September, and move to a nursing home. This change of venue brings with it existential issues – "What will become of my beloved Bostons, Cleo and Gigi? Will I ever be able to return to the home on Hilltop Road? How will I fund the new care? Do I want to live?" Some of these questions can be answered. The dogs are moving to Atlanta. Some questions cannot. In addressing these issues, Paul is often using the phrase, "My life as a quadriplegic." People do ask me, "Does Paul want to live this way?" Were you to ask me before this accident if Paul would want to live, this way, I would have said, "ABSOLUTELY, NO WAY." But I would have been wrong. The things that gave Paul life before the accident – friendships, music, words, humor, irony. . . still give him life. So he wants to live and he will, as long his body lets him. Until then, know that the letters and love do give Paul one more reason to look forward to a new day.
When we have a new physical address, you will know.
This is the first entry in the blog that I read to Paul before posting, requesting permission. Permission was granted.
28 August 2008
"And Trying to Remember, Like Jabberwocky. . ."
We share this letter with Becky Peace's permission.
Paul Suerken!
Mercersburg sent your email address. I have been searching for the opportunity to tell you these things for some time, and today is a good day.
Every time I hear the Simon and Garfunkel song "America" on the radio, I remember listening to that song with you in Boone a long, long time ago! I remember feeling ferocious angst, frustration and disconnection -- surely I thought at the time -- it was more than anyone ever had to bear. You responded with such compassion to all of the erratic and irrational symptoms of my youth. I have never forgotten.
And... those books I read in your tenth grade English class are truly part of my architecture now -- distilling essence of character from Hemmingway's terse portrayal of Nick Adams and Jake, looking for green light at the end of Gatsby's harbor for hope and possibility, trying to overcome the inertia that froze Prufrock from eating that _+(*! peach... the Heart of Darkness focus of attention on the rivets of the boat as waters get murkier and situations more treacherous... And trying to just remember, like Jabberwocky that life really is the joy of just being what we make it to be.
I have come to realize that these things are not inconsequential and none of these lessons were ordinary. You were an extraordinary teacher and you gave a sense of legitimacy to a 15 year old when she felt unsure about where and how her feet should go in the world. And I have been remiss for not telling you how profoundly you influenced me in my life. I should thank you every day.
But I will settle for today.
Thank you for teaching me to marvel at the magic of words and much more.
Enjoy this day, my dear friend.
Fondly always!
Rebecca (Becky) Peace (class of '75)
Paul Suerken!
Mercersburg sent your email address. I have been searching for the opportunity to tell you these things for some time, and today is a good day.
Every time I hear the Simon and Garfunkel song "America" on the radio, I remember listening to that song with you in Boone a long, long time ago! I remember feeling ferocious angst, frustration and disconnection -- surely I thought at the time -- it was more than anyone ever had to bear. You responded with such compassion to all of the erratic and irrational symptoms of my youth. I have never forgotten.
And... those books I read in your tenth grade English class are truly part of my architecture now -- distilling essence of character from Hemmingway's terse portrayal of Nick Adams and Jake, looking for green light at the end of Gatsby's harbor for hope and possibility, trying to overcome the inertia that froze Prufrock from eating that _+(*! peach... the Heart of Darkness focus of attention on the rivets of the boat as waters get murkier and situations more treacherous... And trying to just remember, like Jabberwocky that life really is the joy of just being what we make it to be.
I have come to realize that these things are not inconsequential and none of these lessons were ordinary. You were an extraordinary teacher and you gave a sense of legitimacy to a 15 year old when she felt unsure about where and how her feet should go in the world. And I have been remiss for not telling you how profoundly you influenced me in my life. I should thank you every day.
But I will settle for today.
Thank you for teaching me to marvel at the magic of words and much more.
Enjoy this day, my dear friend.
Fondly always!
Rebecca (Becky) Peace (class of '75)
27 August 2008
Suerk at Mark and Blythe Webber's Wedding ----- 18 August 2007
We are due for an update. That will come soon. For now, here is the last of three photos from Blythe and Mark Weber's wedding a year ago.
19 August 2008
Progress
An update on Paul’s condition has been overdue. When I asked him last week to help me with a word or two to characterize things, he said, “Be innocuous. Tell them I’m having a good day.” I chose to say nothing and to think instead about telling the story about asparagus on the holidays.
Paul does seem to be making progress. The paralysis has not changed. The injury at c’s 4, 5 and 6 seems determined to hold its grip. This means "no movement below the elbows,” as Paul puts it, but that is not entirely true. The therapists at St. Vincent are working with Paul to help him to learn to use his arms, hands following, via the control he has in his shoulders and elbows. Paul seems encouraged that he is making progress in therapy and his attitude is positive.
The paralysis does not simply impact Paul’s limbs. It also limits the use of the diaphragm, which means Paul’s great lung capacity is not in full use. His breath is relatively shallow. He does not cough. This is why pneumonia was and is a threat, and why Paul’s respiratory therapists are some of his best friends. He has at least three breathing treatments a day – usually more.
What can I say about Paul's mood(s)? Paul has always had them. Imagine the depths to which he travels. But the resilience of spirit and the strength of Paul’s character are astonishing. He is still all there, and for that I have no words. When I asked him yesterday how he was going to spend the rest of the day, Paul said, “Johnny is coming over with the Sunday Times. He’s going to read me Maureen Dowd and Frank Rich, AND WE ARE GOING TO GET AS MAD AS HELL!”
More later. For now, Please know the letters pouring in through forpaulsuerken@gmail.com are reaching him – printed, delivered and read as they come in. Snail mail can be sent, for now, to: St. Vincent, 232 West 25th Street, Erie, PA 16544. Expect an address change in mid September.
Cheers.
Paul does seem to be making progress. The paralysis has not changed. The injury at c’s 4, 5 and 6 seems determined to hold its grip. This means "no movement below the elbows,” as Paul puts it, but that is not entirely true. The therapists at St. Vincent are working with Paul to help him to learn to use his arms, hands following, via the control he has in his shoulders and elbows. Paul seems encouraged that he is making progress in therapy and his attitude is positive.
The paralysis does not simply impact Paul’s limbs. It also limits the use of the diaphragm, which means Paul’s great lung capacity is not in full use. His breath is relatively shallow. He does not cough. This is why pneumonia was and is a threat, and why Paul’s respiratory therapists are some of his best friends. He has at least three breathing treatments a day – usually more.
What can I say about Paul's mood(s)? Paul has always had them. Imagine the depths to which he travels. But the resilience of spirit and the strength of Paul’s character are astonishing. He is still all there, and for that I have no words. When I asked him yesterday how he was going to spend the rest of the day, Paul said, “Johnny is coming over with the Sunday Times. He’s going to read me Maureen Dowd and Frank Rich, AND WE ARE GOING TO GET AS MAD AS HELL!”
More later. For now, Please know the letters pouring in through forpaulsuerken@gmail.com are reaching him – printed, delivered and read as they come in. Snail mail can be sent, for now, to: St. Vincent, 232 West 25th Street, Erie, PA 16544. Expect an address change in mid September.
Cheers.
17 August 2008
13 August 2008
A Letter From Andrew Wentzel
Paul is happy to be back in a rehab facility -- this time at St. Vincent in Erie. He is in the care of many caring professionals, one of whom has been his primary physician for many years and was also a former student of Paul's at Mercersburg. Without significant developments to share, we thought we might post a letter sent to Paul from an old friend. We post this letter after requesting and receiving Mr. Wentzel's permission. Here is that letter:
Dear Paul,
Yesterday, yes that is absolutely the truth, yesterday I was taking stock of all of the gifts that I have been given in my life. Why? Well, there was a tragic shooting in our town, Knoxville, TN this past week. It was a senseless act against people whose beliefs differed from the shooter's views. Among those who took action to offer a hand of support to the youth of that community was my son, Forrest, who is 16. I could not have been more proud of him.
In many ways he is what he is because of the influence of the people in my life. When I was 16, at Mercersburg, and you turned 30, you were the force which shaped me and propelled me to my life's passion and journey in music. And, just yesterday I was thinking about that. I was thinking about you and all of the times I had told people that you were one of the two or three people who had the most profound impact on my choice to make music my life. I was thinking about that and I was wondering if I had ever made sure that you had heard that message from me. We both left Mercersburg and our paths rarely crossed again but in a very real way I felt that you have walked with me every step of my journey from performing all over the world to, now, primarily teaching students and helping them gain the tools to realize their
dreams.
The news of your fall and all of the challenges you have faced since leaves me wanting for words. I try to compare it to your mo-ped accident on Corfu but this seems to be providing a stiffer challenge. I hear the brave, determined words in your message from the hospital and know that whatever the battle is that you confront you will have the grace and the joy of spirit to take it on and make the choice that will bring light into your life. The fact that you are surrounded by dear friends who care for you without question tells me that you have continued to live your life in the way that so influenced me during our years together.
Please know that you will be always in my thoughts and that if there is anything that I can do for you from my haven in Knoxville, Tennessee all you and your friends have to do is call or write.
With gratitude to you for all you have given me through the past 44 years,
Your cymbal player,
Andy Wentzel
(Winkle)
Dear Paul,
Yesterday, yes that is absolutely the truth, yesterday I was taking stock of all of the gifts that I have been given in my life. Why? Well, there was a tragic shooting in our town, Knoxville, TN this past week. It was a senseless act against people whose beliefs differed from the shooter's views. Among those who took action to offer a hand of support to the youth of that community was my son, Forrest, who is 16. I could not have been more proud of him.
In many ways he is what he is because of the influence of the people in my life. When I was 16, at Mercersburg, and you turned 30, you were the force which shaped me and propelled me to my life's passion and journey in music. And, just yesterday I was thinking about that. I was thinking about you and all of the times I had told people that you were one of the two or three people who had the most profound impact on my choice to make music my life. I was thinking about that and I was wondering if I had ever made sure that you had heard that message from me. We both left Mercersburg and our paths rarely crossed again but in a very real way I felt that you have walked with me every step of my journey from performing all over the world to, now, primarily teaching students and helping them gain the tools to realize their
dreams.
The news of your fall and all of the challenges you have faced since leaves me wanting for words. I try to compare it to your mo-ped accident on Corfu but this seems to be providing a stiffer challenge. I hear the brave, determined words in your message from the hospital and know that whatever the battle is that you confront you will have the grace and the joy of spirit to take it on and make the choice that will bring light into your life. The fact that you are surrounded by dear friends who care for you without question tells me that you have continued to live your life in the way that so influenced me during our years together.
Please know that you will be always in my thoughts and that if there is anything that I can do for you from my haven in Knoxville, Tennessee all you and your friends have to do is call or write.
With gratitude to you for all you have given me through the past 44 years,
Your cymbal player,
Andy Wentzel
(Winkle)
10 August 2008
Looking Out on a Beautiful Day
It is the one of the most awkward of things to ask someone in Paul's condition, "How are you doing today?" But you do ask. And when you do, as I did yesterday, he says, "I am looking out on a day about as beautiful as we get in Erie." So in a very real way, Paul is doing well.
One of Paul's dear friends shared this poem recently. Read it and take from it what you will. Paul would like that. He would also ask that once read, you would read it again and maybe then again.
Ithaka
As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon — don't be afraid of them:
you'll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon — you won't encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbors you're seeing for the first time:
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind —
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.
But don't hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you're old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you've gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won't have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.
Constantine P. Cavafy
One of Paul's dear friends shared this poem recently. Read it and take from it what you will. Paul would like that. He would also ask that once read, you would read it again and maybe then again.
Ithaka
As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon — don't be afraid of them:
you'll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon — you won't encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbors you're seeing for the first time:
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind —
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.
But don't hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you're old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you've gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won't have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.
Constantine P. Cavafy
08 August 2008
A Change of Venue
Paul has a new address – St. Vincent Health System, Erie, PA.
We all thought Paul was going to be readmitted to the rehabilitation facility, Health South. It was decided, however, that the rehab unit within St. Vincent would be a better place. When we asked him how the transfer went, he said, “Well, it was very smoothly executed, and here I am.” Today’s activities will include “going to the gym to crunch,” as he says. We will know more soon. For now, Paul wants the message to get out that he is grateful for the “ongoing amount of affection and love.” As one of Paul's friends quotes from the film Elizabethtown, "This new chapter in Suerk's life brings with it a 'hurricane of love.'" Amen.
Please share this weblog address with Paul's friends. Letters, photos, mp3's and more can be directed to: forpaulsuerken@gmail.com
Note the Mercersburg Octet button near the top of the page. A click on the 'play button' will launch recordings of the Octet's De Animals, and then Sassafras.
We all thought Paul was going to be readmitted to the rehabilitation facility, Health South. It was decided, however, that the rehab unit within St. Vincent would be a better place. When we asked him how the transfer went, he said, “Well, it was very smoothly executed, and here I am.” Today’s activities will include “going to the gym to crunch,” as he says. We will know more soon. For now, Paul wants the message to get out that he is grateful for the “ongoing amount of affection and love.” As one of Paul's friends quotes from the film Elizabethtown, "This new chapter in Suerk's life brings with it a 'hurricane of love.'" Amen.
Please share this weblog address with Paul's friends. Letters, photos, mp3's and more can be directed to: forpaulsuerken@gmail.com
Note the Mercersburg Octet button near the top of the page. A click on the 'play button' will launch recordings of the Octet's De Animals, and then Sassafras.
05 August 2008
Even the Mercersburg Inn!
There may be some positive news to report. Paul's condition seems to have stabilized enough for a return to the rehab facility, Health South. This may happen as early as Wednesday if all goes well. In the meantime, he is gaining strength and his spirits have been buoyed by all the love and good wishes shared through the many correspondences you have sent him.
It might be right, occasionally, to share some of the correspondences friends are sending Paul. We will do it, of course, only with permission. Here, in part, is a letter sent from Paul's dear friend, Edward, a former Mercersburg teacher:
Dear Paul,
I suppose I should be grateful to this technology for enabling me to communicate, but for some reason it only increases my frustration. It seems, somehow, to mock my desire to tell you what is most in my heart. It is this: you are an important part of my life; I have always considered it gilt-edged proof that I was a good person because a man like Paul Suerken liked me; your friendship has sustained and strengthened me for as long as I have known you---and I'll wager you have heard that said over and over again by each of your friends.
I'd give anything to be sitting with you at a table at the White Barn Inn...or the Barnard Inn...or even the Mercersburg Inn! Then, after the Chateau Lafite and over a glass of Chateau Y'quem, I'd really be able to tell you how much you have meant to me these forty years. I and all your friends need you more than you can ever really know, so you must persevere and get back to the rehabilitation program and back to progress.
Love,
Edward
It might be right, occasionally, to share some of the correspondences friends are sending Paul. We will do it, of course, only with permission. Here, in part, is a letter sent from Paul's dear friend, Edward, a former Mercersburg teacher:
Dear Paul,
I suppose I should be grateful to this technology for enabling me to communicate, but for some reason it only increases my frustration. It seems, somehow, to mock my desire to tell you what is most in my heart. It is this: you are an important part of my life; I have always considered it gilt-edged proof that I was a good person because a man like Paul Suerken liked me; your friendship has sustained and strengthened me for as long as I have known you---and I'll wager you have heard that said over and over again by each of your friends.
I'd give anything to be sitting with you at a table at the White Barn Inn...or the Barnard Inn...or even the Mercersburg Inn! Then, after the Chateau Lafite and over a glass of Chateau Y'quem, I'd really be able to tell you how much you have meant to me these forty years. I and all your friends need you more than you can ever really know, so you must persevere and get back to the rehabilitation program and back to progress.
Love,
Edward
04 August 2008
Photographs, Memories and Contemplation
Paul remains in a good place. He is comfortable. Many have asked if Paul 'feels' trapped because of the paralysis. His response is, "I cannot feel trapped because I cannot feel." He still jokes. He still laughs, though in a whisper. John Chapman remains by Paul's side, devoted as ever. It is safe to say that Paul is thinking less about his beloved Indians, this presidential election and the concerts he is missing at Chautauqua. He is thinking much more about the outpouring of love and memories his friends are sending him. Paul has a whole lot to say to all of those concerned. We will do our best to convey his thoughts in his own words in the coming days. For now, though, let’s share memories, laughs and music.
This little web log (blog) is a place to share for now. Send wishes, pictures, music and more to: forpaulsuerken@gmail.com, or ‘click’ “comment” after the entry you read.
This little web log (blog) is a place to share for now. Send wishes, pictures, music and more to: forpaulsuerken@gmail.com, or ‘click’ “comment” after the entry you read.
03 August 2008
Spread the Word
On 14 July, Paul was admitted to a rehab facility in Erie called Health South where he started therapy. For two weeks he seemed to have a strong determination to reach out to loved ones, to enthusiastically engage in his therapy regimen and to come to grips with the magnitude of his spinal injury – the major outcome of which seems to be that he may not regain significant feeling our use below the elbows. He did all this with the help of a most cherished loved one, John Chapman, who has been by his side tirelessly since the day after the accident. Along with John Chapman, David McChesney who Paul mentioned in his letter, Tom Weber who many know as another devoted, long-time friend and neighbor, and Rabbi John Busch have kept up their frequent visits and remain a valuable cheering section.
On the weekend of 25 July Paul began to experience respiratory difficulties related to the fact that his paralysis inhibits full use of his diaphragm. This has lead to congestion in the lungs and the beginnings of what his doctors fear may become a battle with pneumonia. On Monday, 28 July, Paul was readmitted to Hamot Hospital in Erie where he remains on an array of antibiotics and in good care. He is still receiving a few visitors and his spirits remain high, but it has become very difficult and fatiguing for him to communicate for long. He is resting comfortably, but for now he is mostly resting when he is not being transported around the hospital for x-rays and other tests.
Suerk has spent his 70 years on the earth cultivating relationships with a vast network of family and friends. Consider this letter from this email address, forpaulsuerken@gmail.com, an attempt to reach as many people in his network as possible. Many people will be missed, so please help us by forwarding this note to anyone you think may be interested in knowing his situation. Respond to this email address and your words will be read to him. Respond with a note you want broadcast to his larger network and we will consider doing that. Respond with email addresses of others you think should be on the list and we will add them to the next update. We will do our best at keeping informed anyone who is interested.
On the weekend of 25 July Paul began to experience respiratory difficulties related to the fact that his paralysis inhibits full use of his diaphragm. This has lead to congestion in the lungs and the beginnings of what his doctors fear may become a battle with pneumonia. On Monday, 28 July, Paul was readmitted to Hamot Hospital in Erie where he remains on an array of antibiotics and in good care. He is still receiving a few visitors and his spirits remain high, but it has become very difficult and fatiguing for him to communicate for long. He is resting comfortably, but for now he is mostly resting when he is not being transported around the hospital for x-rays and other tests.
Suerk has spent his 70 years on the earth cultivating relationships with a vast network of family and friends. Consider this letter from this email address, forpaulsuerken@gmail.com, an attempt to reach as many people in his network as possible. Many people will be missed, so please help us by forwarding this note to anyone you think may be interested in knowing his situation. Respond to this email address and your words will be read to him. Respond with a note you want broadcast to his larger network and we will consider doing that. Respond with email addresses of others you think should be on the list and we will add them to the next update. We will do our best at keeping informed anyone who is interested.
13 July 2008
Paul's Letter to Loved Ones -- 13 July 2008
Dear Friends,
I have not been in touch with you for several days, because of a very weird and not-very-pleasant experience I have had. On Tuesday evening (8 July), around 10pm, I was flying around my house being chased by two Boston Terriers who wanted the toy that I was teasing them with. As I was zooming through the kitchen, I slipped on a patch of water, after which my head bashed the panel over the oven and then I slumped to the floor, where I passed out for a bit. When I woke up I did not know how long I had been unconscious. I did know this: I could barely move, I had no feelings in my arms, hands, legs, and therefore I could not move. I also knew this: no one would be physically coming to my home for me until 4pm the next day: a high school classmate who was picking my up for a Bar-B- Que we were attending on early Wednesday evening. To the best of my knowledge I spent 18 hours immobile on the floor. Of course my dogs licked my hands and face, and I did have a rather enforced time of introspection. When my friend Dave arrived at 4pm, I was awake and mentally lucid. I said "Dave, get me out of here".
He said, "There is no way that I can get you out of here myself, I'm calling the paramedic squad". Two people arrived, and they were brilliant but they waited for more help. When the squad of 8 people was assembled, they got me to the ambulance en route to Hamot Hospital ER in Erie. The rest is a bit of a blur, because I was on a gurney being wheeled everywhere. At about 9:30 that night, the neurosurgeon operated on my spinal cord, which decompressed a portion of it in order to allow more blood and other healing elements to flow and nourish the damaged spinal cord. The next morning I had a much more simple procedure. A very fine screen was inserted in my thigh near the groin to preclude large clots from flowing to my heart or brain.
Since then I have been in the ICU which is a kind of highly monitored dormitory for accident victims. I am confined to my bed attended to by a talented staff of nurses and practitioners, who have been marvelous in attending to my needs. In addition, my beloved godson, John Chapman, and his mother, Nancy Chapman, have been living in my house taking care of my pets, and providing a veil of love, devotion, and concern.
It is now Sunday morning I am still in intensive care and will be for several more days. The next major chapter of this adventure will be my admission to a rehabilitation hospital for major physical and emotional therapy to prepare for the running of my next marathon. That stay will probably last into September, perhaps longer. I know this: If I can begin serious running at age 40 and still run thirteen marathons, I feel I have the strength, perseverance, and dedication to see this issue to a successful conclusion. You might be thinking, "How is he able to be writing this on a computer". I am not. I am dictating this to my godson John who might become my amanuensis (look it up!).
There are probably a thousand more things I could say, but you need your sleep too. If necessary there will be more news but if you here none, assume that things are going well.
Paul
I have not been in touch with you for several days, because of a very weird and not-very-pleasant experience I have had. On Tuesday evening (8 July), around 10pm, I was flying around my house being chased by two Boston Terriers who wanted the toy that I was teasing them with. As I was zooming through the kitchen, I slipped on a patch of water, after which my head bashed the panel over the oven and then I slumped to the floor, where I passed out for a bit. When I woke up I did not know how long I had been unconscious. I did know this: I could barely move, I had no feelings in my arms, hands, legs, and therefore I could not move. I also knew this: no one would be physically coming to my home for me until 4pm the next day: a high school classmate who was picking my up for a Bar-B- Que we were attending on early Wednesday evening. To the best of my knowledge I spent 18 hours immobile on the floor. Of course my dogs licked my hands and face, and I did have a rather enforced time of introspection. When my friend Dave arrived at 4pm, I was awake and mentally lucid. I said "Dave, get me out of here".
He said, "There is no way that I can get you out of here myself, I'm calling the paramedic squad". Two people arrived, and they were brilliant but they waited for more help. When the squad of 8 people was assembled, they got me to the ambulance en route to Hamot Hospital ER in Erie. The rest is a bit of a blur, because I was on a gurney being wheeled everywhere. At about 9:30 that night, the neurosurgeon operated on my spinal cord, which decompressed a portion of it in order to allow more blood and other healing elements to flow and nourish the damaged spinal cord. The next morning I had a much more simple procedure. A very fine screen was inserted in my thigh near the groin to preclude large clots from flowing to my heart or brain.
Since then I have been in the ICU which is a kind of highly monitored dormitory for accident victims. I am confined to my bed attended to by a talented staff of nurses and practitioners, who have been marvelous in attending to my needs. In addition, my beloved godson, John Chapman, and his mother, Nancy Chapman, have been living in my house taking care of my pets, and providing a veil of love, devotion, and concern.
It is now Sunday morning I am still in intensive care and will be for several more days. The next major chapter of this adventure will be my admission to a rehabilitation hospital for major physical and emotional therapy to prepare for the running of my next marathon. That stay will probably last into September, perhaps longer. I know this: If I can begin serious running at age 40 and still run thirteen marathons, I feel I have the strength, perseverance, and dedication to see this issue to a successful conclusion. You might be thinking, "How is he able to be writing this on a computer". I am not. I am dictating this to my godson John who might become my amanuensis (look it up!).
There are probably a thousand more things I could say, but you need your sleep too. If necessary there will be more news but if you here none, assume that things are going well.
Paul
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