Põhikooli lõpuosas (vist 8ndas klassis) ühel eesti keele olümpiaadil (mis mul õnnestus võita) kirjutasin pärast ohtrate grammatikaülesannete lahendamist essee “Aeg” (just see mu õpetaja sõnul mu esimese koha vääriliseks tunnistamisel otsustavaks saigi), kus kirjutasin, et ajal, kuigi fikseeritud mõõdikul, on imelik omadus vahel hirmkiirelt tormata ning siis jälle venida kui pehmeim näts. Ka praegu, pean tunnistama, tunnen seda aja kiirelt möödumist – mulle tundub justkui oleksin teile alles üleeile kirjutanud, kuigi tegelikkuses on siiski möödas mitu kuud, millesse on jäänud tegelikult väga palju tegevusi. On vist ütlematagi selge, et aja kohutavat venivust olen praeguseks tundnud 3 aastat ja pea 5 kuud ning kui väsinud ma sellest olen. Olen väga veendunud, et aja isemoodi kulgemist olete tihti isegi märganud.
Ma ei ole näinud põhjust loopida siia sisutühje kirjutisi ja tegelikult ongi vahepealne tervise vaatevinklist läinud küllaltki stabiilselt. Ühest küljest on stabiilsus hea – vähemalt pole taastumises suuri kukkumisi-tagasilööke, teisest küljest, aga, pole ka säravaid edasiminekuid, mis teravate tippudena läbi kumaksid.
Käisin vaatamas Andrus Vaariku naljakat monotükki “Mõtlemine on seks”, milles toonitas, et peaksime tunnetama olemise vaimustavat kergust ehk minu jaoks tundub üha enam, et peaksin huviga ootama, mis Saatusel mulle varuks on ja mida ta mulle homses päevas toob – ise ei saa elus kõike ette planeerida nagu mulle väga jõuliselt ja valusalt meelde tuletati. Seni olen planeerimist väga armastanud nagu paljud teist teavad – enne õnnetust ei jätnud ma juhuse hooleks naljalt mitte midagi.
Tahaksin rõhutada väga suurepärast elamise viisi, mille hr Vaarik oma emast rääkides esile tõi: elama peab nii, et surivoodil enam midagi ei taha, kôik on tehtud. Siis saab elatud elu ilmselt tõeliselt hästi elatuks hinnata. Samuti rõhutas ta, et peaksime vananemist hindama, öeldes, et: “Sile nahk on kaasa sündinud, kortsud on välja teenitud.” Teenige oma kortsud välja eluga, milles midagi olulist tegemata ei jää!
Remarque suurepärases raamatus “Taeval ei ole soosikuid” avaldas vôidusôitja Clerfayt pärast leinahõngulise telefonikõne saamist arvamust, et kaasvôidusôitja surm Monte Carlo haiglas oli tema ônn, sest sel kaasvõidusõitjal oli pärast rasket ônnetust amputeeritud üks jalg ja naine, keda kadunuke ihaldas teda ei tahtnud. Clerfayt môtles siiski, kas mitte ei püüa ta ennast selles “ônnes” pigem veenda.
Samamoodi veename end ilmselt pea kôik minule sarnase saatusega inimesed, et mitte päris môistust kaotada. Kôiges ümbritsevas tumedas, selles mustas maailmas peab nägema mônd heledamat valguskiirt ja end veenma, et see kôik on me ônn. See on küll pagana raske, võin seda teile lubada, aga teisiti sellest põrgust nähtavasti välja ei saa. Usun, et sama “õnne” kinnitate mingites olukordades ka teie, nii vist peabki.
Taastumise osas saan siiski suure uhkuse ja rahuloluga tunnistada, et, kuigi areng on küllaltki stabiilne, toimub see väikeses tõusujoones – olen õppinud iseseisva kõnni juures valdavalt(!) säilitama tasakaalu ning suunama keharaskust rohkem läbi puusa – nagu teevad terved inimesed. Kõne on õnnestunud lihvida piisavalt heaks, et suudan end enamasti(!) probleemide ja arusaamatusteta kuulajatele väljendada. Tunnen selle üle tõeliselt suurt uhkust.
Juba varem kirjutasin, et Botox-süstid mõjuvad mu lihastele väga positiivse dünaamikana. Kuna hea sõber, kes teeb mu käele vahel treening-ja venitusharjutusi nentis, et just tugev spastika pöidla- ja käelabalihastes ei lase mul sõrmi sirutada, küsisin selle kohta ka füsioterapeudi arvamust ning ta toetas seda väitega, et nende lihaste spastikast vabastamine on sõrmede liigutamisel tõepoolest ääretult oluline. Sel neljapäeval saigi mu käsi need süstid ja nüüd tegelen aktiivselt süstitud lihaste venitamisega, et tulemus oleks püsivam.
Kuna pöidlalihas peopesa sees on küllaltki tundlik, saan lubada, et selle süstlaga korduv torkimine pole just jalutus lilleaasal päikesetôusul.
Selle toksilise aine hoogsa kiitmisega kôlan nüüd ilmselt kui keskmine vananev filmidiiva, aga Botox on mind tôesti tohutult aidanud.
Ühe-punkti kepi abiga hea sõbra valvsa silma all käin kõndimist harjutamas ka kevadises õueõhus ühel kodulähedasel asfalteeritud terviserajal ja mu kõnnikiirus on mõne nädalaga päris jõudsalt arenenud, kuigi terve kõndija jaoks arendan siiski veel kiirust, mida võib näha vaid tavapärasel tigude võidujooksul. Loetud päevad tagasi suutsin 300 meetrit läbida ajaga 34 minutit, lausa ahastama ajav aeg.
Nagu paljud teist mu varasemast elust teavad, tegevusetult käed rüpes istumine ei sobi minu natuuriga kohe mitte üldse – endale praeguses staadiumis kasulike tegevuste lisamiseks käisin proovipäevadel ka Astangu taastusravikeskuses, kus loodan järgmisel aastal koos teiste ajutraumadest taastujatega samateemalisele kursusele saada. Saaksin seal osa võtta nii füsioteraapia-, kui näiteks logopeeditundidest ja mitmest täiendavast aju taastumist toetavast teraapiast ja teraapilisest tegevusest.
Soovin, et kõnniksite läbi elu pea püsti, norutamine ei vii kuhugi. Ütles ka Charlie Chaplin: “Vaadake alati taevasse, sest maha vaadates ei näe te kunagi vikerkaart”
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In the end of the basic school (class 8th, I guess), on one of the Estonian language Olympiad (which I managed to win) after solving a huge amount of grammatical functions I wrote an essay “Time” (my teacher said that apart of knowing grammar very well this essay was the reason I was qualified as a the winner) where I wrote that the time, though a fixed metric, has a strange feature of sometimes rushing so very quick, and then again being stretched like the softest gum. Even now, I have to admit, I feel that the time has passed quickly – it seems to me as if I’d just written you the day before yesterday, although the reality is, however, several months have passed which is actually behind very many activities. I think it goes without saying that I have felt the ductility of the time now for 3 years and almost 5 months, and how very tired I am of that. I am very convinced that you’ve noticed the peculiar course of time yourself.
I haven’t seen see any reason to throw writings with empty the contents here and it is really been quite stable from my health point of view. On one hand, the stability is a good thing – at least there are no major failures in the recovery but in the other hand, there are no brilliance of advances, which would shine through sharply.
I went to see Andrus Vaarik’s funny performance “Thinking is sex,” in which he emphasised that we should feel the lightness of being a here. For me it seems more and more that I should look forward to seeing what the fate has in store for me, and what a day will bring it to me tomorrow – everything in life cannot be planned in advance as I was very forcefully and painfully reminded. As many of you know, I have loved planning so far – before the accident, I did not leave anything to chance.
I would like to emhasize a very wonderful way of living, of which Mr. Vaarik highlighted talking about his mother: one must live in a way that on its deathbed one does not want anything, everything’s been done. Then this life can be called a well-lived one. He also stressed that we need to evaluate the aging, saying: “Smooth skin is congenital, the wrinkles have been earned.” Earn the wrinkles living a life in which anything important has been undone!
In a wonderful book by Remarque “Heaven has no favoritism” after receiving a grief-fashioned phone call a racer Clerfayt came to the opinion that the death of a fellow racer in a hospital in Monte Carlo was his good fortune, because this fellow racer had one foot amputated after a serious accident and a woman who he had craved for did not want him. Clerfayt thought, however if he is really not to trying to convince himself of that “fortune”.
Almost everybody with the similar fate as me probably try to convince ourselves of that “fortune” in order not to lose the common sense. In everything around us, in a dark, black in this world, we need to see some brighter light beam, and convince ourselves that this all is our fortune somehow. It’s very damn hard, I can promise you this, but otherwise one does not get out of this hell, apparently. I believe that you also convince yourselves with the same “fortune” in certain situations sometimes, so I guess that’s what we have to do sometimes.
In part of the recovery, however, I admit with great pride and satisfaction that, while progress has been fairly stable, it‘s been slightly upward – in the independent walk I’ve learned to keep the balance predominantly(!), and to devote more weight through the hip – as do healthy people. The speech has improved enough that usually(!) I can make myself understandable enough to avoid misunderstandings. I am really proud of that.
As I’ve written before, the Botox injections affect my muscles in a very positive dynamics. As a good friend of mine who quite often manages the training and stretching exercises of my hand stated that there is a strong spasicity in my thumb and palm muscles and that does not let me straighten the fingers, I asked the opinion of a physiotherapist, and he supported the argument very strongly. This Thursday my hand and palm received these injections and now I’m actively engaged in stretching the injected muscles for the result to be more durable. As the thumb muscle inside the palm is quite sensitive, I can promise that this syringe needles repeatedly is not just walking on flower meadow on sunrise. Praising this toxic substance now I probably sound like an average ageing movie star, but Botox has really helped me tremendously.
Under the watchful eye of a good friend, I go practicing walking with a usual walking stick outside in the spring sunlight on a health track close to my home and my walking speed has pretty steadily advanced within a few weeks, although for a healthy walker’s eye, I can develop speed, which can be seen only in a usual snail’s race.
A few days ago I was able to pass 300 meters in 34 minutes, desperately slow, don’t you think.
As many of you know of my past life, sitting idly does not fit my nature at all – in order to add some useful activities in my current condition, I went to Astangu rehabilitation center for some test-days. I hope the next year I can take part in some courses there along with other people recovering from brain injuries. The courses involve physiotherapy, speech therapy and other activities that support brain rehabilitation.
I wish you walking through life with your head up. Charlie Chaplin also said: “Always look into the sky, because you can not see the rainbow looking down.”
Head paranemist! Oled tubli!