Yesterday I took the time to read the Washington Post Magazine cover story, "Medical Marvel," by Tom Dunkel. It told the story of Pat Rummerfield, a fellow who sustained a high-level spinal cord injury in a 1974 drinking-and-driving accident, but who regained an extraordinary level of mobility. While he remains classified as someone with quadriplegia, he has become agile enough to compete in marathons and drive racecars.
Being that kind of "medical marvel" immediately sounded thrilling to me; but the more I read, the more it sounded like a difficult position. Rummerfield works at the Kennedy Krieger Institute's International Center for Spinal Cord Injury in Baltimore, giving patients hope about how they, too, might be able to recover. The newspaper article described several cases where individuals told Rummerfield, "I want to be just like you...."
I'm not sure what I would do if I were in his shoes. I fiercely believe in the power of hope, but it would be disturbing to me if the medical community was unable to pinpoint the reasoning behind my astounding physical well-being. I would be afraid of promoting false hope. I would also be questioning why *I* was given this unexplainable opportunity-to recover beyond any conceivable expectations.
My suspicion, however, is that I would ultimately try to react similarly to the way Rummerfield has chosen to proceed. I would encourage others to make the most of the capabilities they have and I would be grateful for the blessings in my own life. No matter whether we are a "medical marvel," there is a miracle in that power.
