Once again focusing attention on my immediate situation, I self-assessed how I felt. The adjective I kept coming back to was “traumatized”. At first it didn’t seem quite right because I associated trauma with survivors of violent assault. Upon further thought, I understood how it results from any violent event and could be physical as well as psychological.

Though I have no accessible memory of the crash that caused my injury, it’s possible a buried subconscious memory exists. At times I couldn’t stop recreating scenarios of what probably happened mixed with fantasies of what could have happened (either dying or escaping unscathed). In any case, the injury resulting from the crash including aspects of hospitalization, was itself a source of trauma.

Unless one has experienced it, it’s difficult to imagine the horror of waking up in a newly immobilized body especially if one was relatively healthy immediately prior to the injury. It instantly shatters any illusions one might have had of a just universe or merciful higher power. But the evidence was always there, from psychopathic war criminals and health insurance CEOs living in luxury to innocent children killed and maimed in indiscriminate bombings and countless sick and injured living curtailed lives of misery due to denied claims and inaccessible treatments.

Initially it’s like a waking nightmare that never ends. One wouldn’t wish such an affliction on one’s worst enemy, much less easily accept that it’s actually happening to oneself. Even typing this now, nearly a year after the crash, waking life still sometimes feels like a bad dream.

As the reality of the situation sets in it begins to feel more like a fracture or demarcation point between two very different lives and lifestyles. Though fundamentally one remains the same person, the extremity of the physical change makes changes in personality, priorities, interests, beliefs, self/public image, and relationships, inevitable and how could it not?

Although in my case I experienced no physical deformation and associated acute pain, it was nevertheless traumatic to so suddenly lose such a large part of oneself. Especially early on, it was odd to feel so disconnected from one’s body despite appearing healthy on the outside (aside from breathing tube, nose tube, catheter, IV line, etc).

In a sense, my injury was analogous to accelerated aging. Rather than a gradual loss of certain functions and abilities over time, it’s a rapid loss of many functions and abilities instantly. At the same time, quadriplegia evokes the experience of infancy such as the many times when one is more of a spectator rather than participant and having to rely on others to attend to basic needs. Quadriplegia is not as restricting as Locked-in Syndrome, in which the only body part capable of movement are the eyes, but it is still a significant reduction of freedom and a loss of one’s primary means of interacting with the world.

From one’s new perspective, life pre-injury was one of relative comfort, ease and happiness (even if it didn’t always seem like it at the time). Life post-injury may have moments of comfort, ease and happiness, but much shorter, fewer and farther between, making them all the more precious. On particularly challenging days, sleep also offers a welcome respite as it did that night.