Dave Paget, the father of one of my best friends, was a pillar in the Olympia area: bank president, church elder, on the board of various charities/good causes, big family with a house on the lake. Most titles and social trappings don't impress me, but I do love people who care about others. This guy always earned my respect because even when he was in positions of power, I saw him be kind and playful with even those low on the totem pole, new employees, etc. Dave was a humble guy who didn't exhibit arrogance or vanity.
Life as Dave knew it came to a screeching halt several years ago, when he had a freakish medical event. Somewhere between diabetes medication, heat, and dehydration, Dave experienced a severe case of pancreatitis and had to be rushed to the hospital. His problems quickly worsened as doctors worked to stabilize his vital signs. In an effort to prevent further internal organ failure, he was put into a medically induced coma. Sometime during this process, doctors believe his blood pressure dropped too much for too long and left him brain damaged. It was basically akin to having a massive stroke. He was left comatose and unresponsive.
His family doesn't hesitate to tell the miraculous story of how they were ready to pull the plug on his life support. They had three consulting neurologists concur that his brain lesions would not allow brainwave activity to improve in the future, and he would not change from this vegetative state. Being a religious family, they prayed and waited 40 days (or 40 days and 40 nights as my friend likes to say, adding to the miraculous symbolism). Before making that heart-wrenching decision, they prayed one final night for a miracle, and they got it - the next day he woke up. Dave's brain lesions had disappeared. Doctors didn't have an explanation for it, and maybe no one does, but suddenly he was alive and kicking.
Unfortunately, he didn't wake up kicking his heels - this was an obese middle-aged man who had been comatose for 40 days, which wreaks havoc on the body. Many of his joints had become stiff and immobile. Even muscle tissue was rigid in places where bony crystals - a process called ossification - had occurred. And he wasn't perfect mentally either. He had to relearn some basic activities, how to walk, eat, count money, etc. Adding to this was awkwardness in social situations, difficulty sometimes when trying to speak, and also just embarrassment about being at a diminished capacity from what he was used to.
Dave was moved to an inpatient rehab center for quite some time, and when he finally got out he was still using a walker. I knew how much work it was for him just to get to that point, but he was at a loss as to why they would "send me home like this." So, I told him if he wanted to do more rehab with me, I would help him for free if he showed up 3x each week at the athletic club where I was a trainer. I'd take care of the business end of things, but he would have to work hard and do his homework. Little did I know what I was getting myself into.
Here was a pillar of a guy, reduced to wearing diapers, using a walker, and embarrassed about his difficulty finding words to chat when he'd see people he knew in the community. But he showed up. And showed up. And showed up. He was from the depression era, "old school" as they say - he had a Puritan work ethic and it showed. Over the course of a year and a half, we worked on strength and mobility, balance, and flexibility. We went from walker to cane, from cane to freestanding, from freestanding to high speed walking on an incline. I was afraid I was going to have to worry about him wanting to run on the treadmills if we kept up the progress.
At the outset of this quest, I had let the manager know that I was going to do a little donation of my time for a good cause, that it could be good PR for their club, and that it would be limited in scope. She was sold on it, and fully supportive. About 6 months later, she was ousted in a pretty cutthroat maneuver by another manager who took over her position. This new manager's knowledge, skills, and abilities were nearly as deplorable as her management and people skills. On an apparent whim, she laid down the gauntlet that I was going to have to terminate my rehab work with Dave or face discipline. I responded politely, sharing the same selling points that I had with the previous manager. Unfortunately, she saw it as a threat to her authority and became unnecessarily contentious and controlling.
Now, I don't have any real problem with authority, nor with being polite, respectful, etc, but I do not give respect easily - it has to be earned. Being respectful - i.e. polite, positive, cooperative, etc is different from having respect for someone. This woman seemed despondent over the fact that I was respectful and polite to her, but had no respect for her, her priorities, or the way she treated people. The line in the sand was drawn:
I could tell my friend's father to "pay up, since he could afford it anyhow."
I could tell him I couldn't do rehab work with him anymore.
Or I could be a martyr and do things my way and face losing my job.
After thinking it over and realizing I did not want to compromise, I decided to carefully try an end run. Dangerous, as it could come back to bite me, but very worth the potential reward. I arranged to bump into someone much higher up in the company, who had a good heart and who had been a trainer at one time. After niceties and catching up, I carefully asked for some advice about the conundrum I was facing. As hoped, upon hearing my predicament and the decisions I was contemplating, this person did not offer advice, feedback, etc, but instead blew a gasket in a good way.
Two days later I was notified by a newly wing-clipped manager that my rehab work with Dave could continue, with a few face-saving details. I was fine with that. Crisis averted, job intact, integrity restored, my stubborn ego stroked a tiny bit, but for a good cause. So I don't know if this makes me sound like a manipulator, a weasel, stubborn employee or what. It felt really good the next time he came in to continue his rehab, unaware of any drama behind the scenes. But I knew my time there would soon be over. The idea for The Strong Center was born from the ashes of a burned bridge. So, in a way, I have Dave to thank for the genesis of The Strong Center.
Sadly, Dave has faced many further challenges...the details are too hard to believe: His amazing recovery spawned a trip to drive up the east coast to see the fall colors. Knee discomfort led him to see a doctor while on the trip, and he received a simple cortisone shot. The shot apparently led to him contracting a staph infection in the knee. In a diabetic this can be a death sentence, and it nearly was. Dave faced gangrenous infection, threat of amputation, and long-term hospitalization to fight the infection. At the end of it all, he survived, though his intestinal system was ruined by months of antibiotics. His mobility and balance were nearly gone, and he ended up having a hip replacement. After he got out of the hospital, it was like we were starting over. But he showed up. And showed up. And showed up.
It has been like watching the trials of Job, but we are good for each other. For him, I'm on his team and he gets to share and hear insider updates on his son, my old friend. It is good for me as well. To see someone face so many struggles, backslides, and disappointments yet still persevere can really put one's own challenges and complaints into a much better perspective. Thinking of skipping your workout? Think of Dave. He could be any one of us. It takes him and his wife an hour to get him dressed. It takes him five minutes just to get in our front door. But he is here working out like clockwork.
Dave long ago gave me his permission to tell his story as an inspiration to others, to keep on keeping on. I am writing it now, because Dave nearly died this week and is in the ICU at Harborview. I told my friend I don't think he'll die. That's not wishful thinking, it's just a belief that he has survived too many trials and tribulations to die just yet. I actually said something a little more colorful, something akin to, "That son of a gun is not going to die in a hospital. If anything, he's going to die lifting his granddaughter too high, or he'll die here showing he can still out bench press his sons."
It is my understanding he will be moved from the ICU in the next day or so, and soon start PT. You'll see Dave back at The Strong Center. You'll know him by his sturdy blue walker and hard work. If you're having a bad day, feeling discouraged or sorry for yourself, stop and say, "Hi." It will make your day better, and his, and probably provide a little perspective. Dave's more than friendly, but he may not chat for very long. He has lots of work to do.
