The Benefit

I guess the reason this section is on here is to say thanks. To say thanks to everyone who has helped me through those first crazy months. When asked by reporters or complete strangers, how I made it through four months at the hospital with my positive outlook on life in tact, I say, "My friends and family made it possible."

What I really mean to say is, “I would have never made it without people who stayed for hours at my bedside stretching my fingers and feeding me ice cubes. I don’t know what I would have done without the tremendous support that everyone showed at my benefit. Friends, friends’ parents, strangers, acquaintances, and celebrities jumped at an opportunity to help me. I owe my current quality of life to them. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” 

Thanks to my parents for doing more than I will ever know. To Joyce for massaging my spastic muscles.  To Andrea, Betsy, and all my therapists. To Greg who worked so hard for someone he never met. To Wayne, Steve, Darcy, and Roz for caring so much about a neighbor kid. To Barb, the Nancys, Steve, Ray, Dwayne, and all my nurses. To Diane P for giving me strength. To Burk, Jaster, Jess, Whiteis, Fish, Jess, and all my buddies for being good friends. To Diana for being there almost everyday for me and my family.  To Suzanne, Paula, Bob, Nancy, and everyone on the benefit committee. To Mary, Jim, the Sexton’s and all my cousins and extended family. To Bill, Nancy, Scotty B, The Dyruds, Heidi, and the rest of my speed skating family. To Doctor H. To Twyla for teaching me how to have fun again. To Don Banyon, Michael, and all of the other SCIers that visited me.

And thank you the hoards of people I forgot to mention. 

When others were scared or didn't know what to say, you realized that it didn't matter what was said. It just mattered that you were there.

Below is a quote that relates to how I feel about everyone who was and continues to be there for me.

 “When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.” --Henri Nouwen.

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