Scene 11 - Forming a Community

****************Scene 11-Forming a Community***********************************

Well, the news was out -

And - now - remember, Bloomsburg is a small town,
And that means - in a small town -
once one person knows something, Everybody knows it…

and soon,
there began to appear,
at the hospital,
PEOPLE
showing Love, Support,
giving offers of Help to my parents.

And my parents were gratefully Accepting all these offers of help,
and on the phone with insurance companies,
and running back and forth between the hospital,
work,
my sister at school,

and trying to figure out What the Hell the Doctors are saying!

And I’m told about my mother being in this room,
filled with doctors throwing this conglomeration of technical terms,
and pushing papers -
some they should sign, some just read -
and the pedologist wants -
but the cardiologist needs -
the orthodontic history -
and your son might need to have Brain Surgery -

and my mother,
she finally stepped forward,
and she said,

“STOP!
Get into line!
One at a time, Please!

Okay, what do you need?”

And still more offers of help continued to arrive at the hospital
and my parents,
they were thankful for this love,
they were honored,
they were…

exhausted.

and they didn’t want to turn anyone Away, but they didn’t want to -
they couldn’t deal with All of the People All of the Time -

So they finally got this idea that maybe the could have…a prayer service.
some Event where they could bring the people together,
and anyone who wanted to show their support could come,
offer help,
and then go away.


They were given use of the hospital chapel for the event,
but didn’t make a big deal of it -
told a few close friends,
people at church,

the evening of the service came
and the chapel was filled.
Extra chairs were brought in - people were standing in the back.

And once everyone had come in, found a…place
No one really knew what to do.

My parents had decided to run this service in the Quaker style of worship,
that’s where everyone sits together in silence to pray, meditated, be with one another,
and if anyone was “Moved by the Light”, they could stand a share a thought,
prayer,
joke, whatever felt right -
and my parents thought this would be a good, nondenominational, all inclusive style of worship,
and they were right,
In theory,

Unfortunately, for the majority of the people present, the only thing they actually knew about Quakers was that Maybe it had something to do with Quaker Oats
and Nobody knew what to do.
So the service began…
Silent.

There was some shuffling of chairs, whispering in the back,

and no-one said a word for thirty-five minutes.

and my parents were just starting to think that maybe they had made a mistake,
that they should end this early and try something different another night,
when Susan,
a friend from elementary school,
suddenly felt Moved by the Light,
and she stood and shared a story…

and this Story, it hit something -
it - opened a floodgate because stories began to pour out of the people

Stories about laughing together,
working together,
classes, parties, dates,
stories about that time we all got naked and went streaking downtown…

So they told a few stories I had hoped my parents would never hear.

But people began to laugh,
to Smile,
and a transformation…from a service of sorrows to a celebration of Love,
Life,
of Community coming together.

And the next morning, I woke from my coma.

*****************************************************************************
This is a beautiful story - almost too beautiful - and, in a TV movie friendly environment, could easily be interpreted as “Lethan was loved back to life” (or some variation thereof).  I, however, will begin this entry by stating I do NOT agree with such an interpretation.

Maybe that’s too blunt - let me dissect what I mean.

The life situation surrounding the events of my accident was a blessing created by circumstance - things my family’s life were by no means perfect, but we did live a moderately comfortable, safe, and stable lifestyle.  Bloomsburg - my home town - is a rural college town in central Pennsylvania. (Please note, the following is a dramatically oversimplified representation of the cultures in Bloomsburg, but I feel it highlights what was beneficial in my recovery process)  In Bloomsburg, there exists a juxtaposition of cultures - aspects of the the old-time-small-town lifestyle meld with progressive-intellectual-artistic pursuits brought by the faculty and students at the university.  My family has long been active in many parts of this socially diverse community and thus, when my accident occurred, people from a variety of social groups flocked to me and my family.  An inspiring amount of goodwill and assistance was heaped upon us and it seemed that every corner of the community was praying/hoping for my recovery.

Were love quantifiable - there was indubitably an adequate amount to “bring me back to life”.  It is touching and moving to see how the love of the community surrounded me and to think that when the community came together, I awoke from my coma - this idea, however, has no objective reality.  If we suggest “love saved me”, how do we account for the countless number of people who did not have similar success after a traumatic incident?  Were they not loved enough?  Is there some sort of love/trauma ratio that must be reached to successfully save a person after an incident?

These questions should sound absurd - they are.

There is absolutely NO objective proof of love’s ability to save a life, and to suppose any subjective proof based upon one’s fate and/or karma seems narcissistic and arrogant.  In my experience, I was lucky and I survived.

That said, while there is no basis for the community playing a part in my immediate physical survival, the community did create a network that my family and I utilized throughout the recovery process.  This network provided comfort and assistance to my parents as they learned how to adjust their lives to my recovery - created a series of safe social outlets for my sister to save her from feeling that she was forgotten in the midst of the storm - and helped to teach an active group of caregivers who willing learned how to help me cope with and accept my new situation.  The community was not able to bring me to life after my coma, as the above scene seems to suggest - but they were able to provide a support network that kept me on my feet, kept my family sane, and created a good environment for my recovery.

I feel it is important to make this distinction because, while many of the physical aspects of recovery are determined largely by chance, a community that provides support for a recovery is created by those close to the survivor and can be found with - at most - only a little effort.  In this internet age, a survivor - or caregiver - can quickly find formal and informal social support groups from which one can begin to build a community.  These groups may come through reaching out to friends, community organizations, religious groups, TBI support networks…anywhere you can find people who will help uplift a survivor.  More commonly than not, people like to help other people, especially if these peoples share a social network.

Granted, in the situation with my family, we were fortunate to already have already formed a variety of social and professional relationships with groups that came to us offering support, but that needn’t be the case - if you are not socially embedded in your community, start embedding yourself.  To be specific, there are dozens of TBI support groups that can be found with a Google search, and finding these groups can provide an invaluable resource.  As expressed by TBI survivor Barbara Webster, ”What I hear regularly from support group members is that the most valuable benefit of a support group is finding a place where you feel comfortable and can talk with people who ‘get it,’ who truly understand your issues” (brainline.org).  The urge to retreat into solitude might arise after an injury, but doing this is not only potentially dangerous, it also unnecessarily limits the resources available for survivors.  Furthermore, by finding support groups, survivors are able to better know that their difficulties are not unique - by meeting other people, sharing, and hearing stories survivors and caregivers are able to better prepare for and anticipate the stages of recovery.

And one needn’t focus only on organized medical support groups - by becoming involved with community events and organizations, a person often discovers unexpected friendships - these friendships can help with simpler, non-trauma related tasks.  While friends formed in this manner might not provide the same empathy or share difficulties, they do provide a relief from the occasional intensity that comes up in recovery based support programs.

I am a strong believer that a social group and support network exists for anyone who is willing to reach out for it - it is up to the survivor to reach out for what is there.

There is no proof or likelihood that a community will perform spiritual miracles for an individual - if it happens for you, that’s great, but don’t count on it - miracles do happen, but you should never bet that they will.  That said, a community can console survivors and caregivers and is necessary in creating the base from which a successful recovery can grow.


To wrap up, I’m going to say that I recognize a response to this scene could have talked about several other subjects - the overwhelming plethora of actives involved in recovery, the excitement felt after a crisis, the importance of finding a balance when dealing with the post accident drama - and perhaps I’ll approach these questions at a later date, but I decided to discuss creating a community because I feel it is a necessary part of creating the foundation for a positive recovery.  Thanks for reading - please share and comment below.