While recovering at Shepherd Center, it was no surprise that I received few visits from friends and family. No, it was not because I had lost my legendary charisma and benevolent personality. Quite simply, Sweetie and I were separated by over 600 miles of geography from our nearest and dearest. This became a mixed blessing in that, although we missed home like an amputated limb, we were able to focus our combined efforts into therapy, recovery and training on how to be a fine upstanding quadriplegic and caregiver couple in America. This also made the smattering of visits all the more precious.
While still a patient in the hospital annex of the center, our dear friend, Sweet Melissa, visited us and presented me with a gift like no other. It was a quilt she had crafted by hand and tailored especially for me. This Steelers themed masterpiece holds the distinct honor of my most cherished possession. The very thought of the skill, labor and love that went into each stitch humbles me and stands as a constant reminder of the pure goodness of which people are capable. I certainly rely on my phone, van, computer and kickass chair to keep me rolling through each day, but when the lights go out and the house is silent and Sweetie and the dogs have fallen asleep upstairs, it’s just me and my quilt.
One might consider a quilt to be a rather impractical gift for a friend recovering in a hospital in Atlanta in July. So not true. One of the many perks to being a quadriplegic, in addition to the outstanding parking and women fawning over you, is a quirky phenomenon which alters your internal thermostat. In my case, I feel chilled more often than not regardless of the outside temperature. I place this in the “perk” column because, given the choice, I would much rather throw on a couple of layers of clothing than to be eternally hot with no hope of escape. I will most likely endure enough of that in the afterlife. At any rate, the quilt is always available to provide me comfort and warmth and it has covered me each night since Sweet Mellissa proudly delivered it.
Although most nights are restful and uneventful, the quilt and I have certainly seen our share of tribulations. Through high fevers, violent spasms, chronic pain, intense chills, garish nightmares and seemingly endless sleepless nights, the quilt has bared witness to my curses and my prayers. It has also been my silent companion during the peaceful hours I am afforded to think and reflect while the rest of the house is still.
All manner of thoughts occupy my mind as the clock ticks its endless cadence. I ponder both my accomplishments and my shortcomings. I concoct optimistic plans for both the near and distant future. I create elaborate and fanciful tales to entertain my idle mind. Often my musings focus on the reflection and dissection of the events of the past year. How is it possible that the most tragic 365 days of my life have coincided with my greatest period of enlightenment? What bizarre cosmic paradox allows me to emerge a broken man and yet, at the same time, a better man? I owe it all to my quilt.
Each facet of my life, from my system of beliefs to my proclivity toward Skoal Wintergreen Long-cut, comprises a patch in my quilt. Some squares are vast and prominently featured while others are mere swatches and rarely seen. The biggies, such as my faith, family, friends, and health, are on display for the world to see while distant memories, secret thoughts, and things that have not yet been revealed even to me, lie in it’s darkened folds. This elaborate tapestry protects me as I travel through this life.
When a portion of my quilt is torn or a section is completely ripped away, I feel the stinging cold of the world upon my naked body. These times seem unbearable as waves of helpless desperation consume me. But because of my past experiences, I am comforted by the knowledge that this condition won’t last. A quilt is an amazing entity. It has the ability to fold unto itself thus covering any holes in the fabric and carrying on its purpose of keeping me safe and warm.
I have also come to the realization that my quilt is much larger than I could ever have imagined and it continues to grow. When we think of the people in our lives, we tend to focus on the main players whom we see often, but it is the supporting cast and behind the scenes people that make the show, or in this case the quilt, possible. If the credits of my life were to be rolled right now, the list would be impressively long. I continuously thank God for this vast network for I owe so much of my success to them.
The quilt must always be taken care of and never taken for granted. For all of its durability, it is a fragile thing and must be treated gently and mended when needed. Take care of your quilt and it will take care of you, some Boy Scout once said.
