I am Carson's father. I have also been a clinical psychologist for 25 years and have seen my share of people suffering across the full spectrum of what life has dealt them---in prison systems, in war, and even working in a neurological rehabilitation unit similar to the one Carson is in now. I have a good baseline from which to gauge a person's coping. However, I can't be fully objective in this situation because my role of father comes first, and being a professional second. This injury has been crushing to us as parents, and we will never be able to adequately articulate what it is like to watch our child suffer. I'm not sure any parent can who has been through critical situations with their child. Again, in this regard we are not unique.
I've encouraged Carson to log his thoughts through this ugly chapter in his life as soon as he is able. I think writing for many people can have a cathartic benefit when emotion is put to written form. You'll notice that this blog has several voices in it. A voice from his friend who launched the blog, us as parents, and now Carson's. You'll also notice that the views of each have their own distinct flavor of each person's perception of what is going on. Now it is time for Carson to speak. More of these will come and Carson wants people to understand the journey---tragedy and triumph. While optimistic by nature, he has equally worked hard on skills that allow him to look at things from different perspectives---to understand people and situations in a more complete way and to also understand himself through others feedback. Leaders and friends have been invaluable in this regard. When we have had late night talks about a wide variety of difficulties long before this injury, I often felt like he was several steps ahead in his understanding of the "big picture." Optimism often turns to courage when waters get murky.
-Stephen Tueller
Here is Carson's first entry he sent me from his IPhone today:
Spine notes
The hard times in room 2607
It's Wednesday morning and I have been staring up at the ceiling with tears running down my face for hours... crying because I am mourning the loss of one of the most significant parts of my life. I am mourning the loss of my very being, and feel that many of my most sincere wishes for my life have been destroyed.
I had some extra time this morning and went on to Facebook to look at my blog to perhaps find some consolation and support. As I passed my own profile pictures I stopped to scroll through them. As I looked at picture after pictures of an upright, healthy Carson, I genuinely felt as though I was looking at someone dear to me who had passed away, and would never ever come back. I felt mourning at it's deepest. As I continued to scroll through the pictures, I stopped at a photo of myself slumped in a wheelchair. I struggled to recognize and accept the now crippled, deteriorating Carson staring back at me on the screen.
The most simple things have been taken from me. It's difficult for me to believe that my life is not ruined and that God has taken everything away from me.
I cry as I look down at my completely useless legs and remember what they used to do for me. Now they sit dead, usually splayed out in awkward angles, being completely worthless and cumbersome.
Once menial tasks have become indescribably difficult. I grit my teeth as I try to pick things up, because I sit and fumble, re-gripping over and over, coming from every possible angle to pick up something that weighs only slightly more than a feather. I cry as I imagine the future without the same physical freedoms I have enjoyed my whole life. I am bitter as I recognize that I will be someone's burden. The quality of my life has taken a dive and seems to spiral endlessly downward.
While I do mourn, I do not curse God. He can give, but he can also take away. I owe him my life in whatever form that may be. I know without a doubt that I am in his care. I believe that he has allowed me to face such great adversity because he knows of my love for him, and that I am willing to do whatever he asks of me.
I know who is in charge. I know who controls the stormy sea. I trust him completely. During this time, the words of Job have come to my mind and I hope to one day be able to as confidently express what he did. "Though he slay me, yet will I trust him."
I know that what he wants for me will ultimately be the best for me. I know that while he has taken the functions of my physical body from me, he is only strengthening my spirit, my character, my courage, my empathy and love, my faith, my sheer grit, and all of the most important aspects of being a human being. You can take away nearly every facet of my life, but you cannot take away my character and resolve to come through victorious. My agency and ability to decide who I want to be is absolutely immovable. Neither heaven nor hell can impinge upon my power to ultimately shape my destiny. The attributes and characteristics that define who Carson is do not change, and for that I am grateful. One of my New Year's resolutions was to make God's purpose my own. That is, to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man. God works in mysterious ways, and I will do my best to continue to spread the good news of the gospel of Jesus Christ. If I can do this best as an incomplete quadriplegic, then so be it.
Though I speak as though this will be a permanent condition through life, I sincerely believe in miracles. I want to believe with every part of me that I will walk again and that my now lifeless legs will be brought back to life by some miracle. There are times in the scriptures where the faith of an individual has been so powerful that God could not withhold himself from working mighty miracles. I want that faith.
I am grateful for this trial, in some way at least, because I know that this struggle will make me more the man I have always longed to be. There is much that I have to learn, and that's why the Lord allows me me to suffer. It is because he loves me. I know that I will walk and run again, once the Lord has accomplished his purposes through me.
