BULLY PULPIT

Long ago and far away I raised many a cup to welcome in the new year. But I wasn't so much celebrating the new year as I was trying to drown out the old one. For me the cup seemed half empty. I was not a happy camper.

My dark period began when I regained consciousness after the plane crash that paralyzed me at the age of 20 and brightened -- ironically -- when I finally admitted to myself, at 26, that I was powerless to do anything about it. Nothing I could do or say would change the fact that I would be paralyzed for life. Although this kind of resignation is seen by some as giving in or giving up, it freed me to accept who I was and begin making the best of the life I had. That change of mind began to open doors and spawn new dreams. When you think about it, it's perfectly logical. You can't dream new dreams until you let go of the old ones.

Today, facing a newly acquired disability or revisiting an old one elicits different variables than I pondered in 1965. Back then there was talk of cure and walking again, but it could only be glimpsed in the hypothetical future. Now that medical research sees some level of restoration of function as not only possible, but probable, today's big question is when. We know it can happen; we just don't know the best way to achieve it -- or how long it will take.

So those with newer disabilities are faced with a difficult question. How much time, energy, money, prayers and wishful thinking is it wise to expend on future restoration when each day is alive with possibilities for fulfillment based on your present condition and abilities?

I have a 26-year-old friend, a T6 para, who is contemplating traveling to China. There Dr. Hongyun Huang waits, offering to restore a couple of spinal cord levels of motor function and twice that many levels of sensory function. He has injected fetal bulb olfactory ensheathing cells into the spinal cords of hundreds of people of various injury levels and ages, and the procedure, while not without risk or controversy, looks promising. But there are newer, even more promising procedures on the near horizon. Anyone who undergoes an experimental procedure today -- like OEC transplantation -- will likely be ruled out as a candidate for the next round of restoration procedures.

It's the classic dilemma: Take the bird in hand? ... or wait for two in the bush.

Too bad we can't look into the future and see everything that waits to truly enrich our lives, like finding someone to love, being part of a family, building a career or meaningful avocation, or just being content with who we are. If we could, we could then ask ourselves: Which of these fulfilling activities, relationships and mental states would be enhanced by regaining some level of neurological function?

For my friend it's a tough decision. But any choice -- as long as his cup is half full -- is better than none at all. God willing, his cup may even overflow, if only for a brief season. And that is all any of us can ask, regardless of how many intact nerve fibers we have.

--Tim Gilmer