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.