Love Broadens the World - 101 Big Principles in the Heart of True Stories

Author: New Growth Reading Guidance Committee
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: Love is the greatest force
On May 1, 1995, my life changed completely. I was competing in a horse show in Virginia. The horse I was riding suddenly stopped its hooves when crossing the third obstacle. Due to inertia, my body was thrown forward and I fell over the horse's head. However, my hands were tangled in the reins, and I couldn't free them to balance myself, landing headfirst. I am 6 feet tall and nearly 200 pounds—just the kind of physique that made me famous for playing Superman in the movie Superman—but the consequences of landing headfirst were predictable. I lost consciousness immediately, as if drowning and struggling for breath. Five days later, I woke up in the hospital room at the University of Virginia Medical Center. Neurosurgery Chief John Jan told me that my first and second cervical vertebrae were broken. To survive was a miracle. He also said that I might never be able to breathe normally again. Fortunately, my brainstem, which was closest to the injury, seemed unaffected. He said that my skull and cervical vertebrae would need surgery to be reconnected. He couldn't guarantee the success of the surgery, not even that I would survive the operation. I suddenly realized that I had become a burden to everyone. I had not only ruined my own life but also ruined others'. Why not die? It would be better for everyone if I just ended it. Family and friends kept visiting the hospital, but those days were utterly bleak for me. I lay there, staring at the wall, thinking about the future, finding it hard to believe there could be any good left. Only in dreams did I become whole again—hugging my wife Dana, riding a horse, or filming a movie. When I woke up, I felt even more despondent because none of those dreams were possible. I was just a waste of space. One day, when Dana was by my bedside, I had something to tell her, but I couldn’t speak because I was wearing a respirator. I communicated with her with my eyes: “Don’t save me. Let me go.” Dana seemed to understand, and she cried, saying, “No matter what, I will always be with you.”
As the surgery date approached, I grew more and more afraid because I knew the success rate was only 50%. Much of the time, I lay rigidly in bed, pessimistically ruminating. But my three-year-old son, Will, brought hope back into my life. Once, he told Dana, “Mom, Dad’s arm isn’t moving.” “That’s right,” Dana said. “Dad’s arm isn’t moving.” “Dad’s leg isn’t moving either,” Will added. “Yes, that’s so.” Will paused, then seemed a bit sad, but suddenly looked very happy. He said, “But Dad can still laugh.”
On June 5, I had the surgery. It was a success. Just before Thanksgiving, I was finally completely off the respirator and discharged from the hospital to go home. P40-41