1987 was the best year and the worst year of my life. A decade of long distance, marathon running and weight training resulted in my physical health being excellent. In May of that year, I finished graduate school at USC, earning my MSW, and thus achieving my educational and professional goals. In July of l987, I was the victim of a violent crime: a bullet fired by an irrational, angry, drunk driver as I was driving down the freeway to visit a friend.
The bullet entering my head and left me paralyzed and completely dependent on other people for my most basic needs and, in addition, contending with daily neuropathic pain and spasticity. Routine daily tasks (all requiring assistance) as simple as getting dressed, going to the bathroom, eating, and moving from one place to another, are now filled with struggles that only a few can comprehend. My problems now are monumental and clearly harder to deal with than death.
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