Miracle of Water
One year following my T11 spinal cord injury, I returned to a hospital in L.A. due to a major stage 4 pressure sore. The hospital had a special “brine pool” for patients with wounds. Twice a day I was taken to the pool on a gurney where I was helped into the warm, salty water. A physical therapist watched as I moved about and floated on my back for 30 minutes. After three weeks of soaking in warm salty water and lying in a hospital bed, I was released to my parents’ home with a much smaller wound and instructions to stay off my butt.
My parents had a swimming pool, so twice a day I crawled from my bedroom and dragged myself the length of a side yard wearing a plastic apron to protect my legs, knees and feet, and slithered into the pool yard, where I lay in the sun and took periodic swims in the pool. I found, surprisingly, that I could swim as well as ever from the waist up. I began swimming laps — my legs trailing behind me — and in six weeks I was in the best shape of my life — with no more wound.
Alone in the pool, I pushed myself to see how long I could hold my breath underwater. I made remarkable progress and found I could swim at least a couple of laps underwater. It was not only invigorating and healthful, it was also incredibly peaceful. I learned to relax in the water, give up to it, and when my fear was neutralized, I was able to stay submerged for longer than I ever had before my injury. As a result of these workouts, I gained strength, slept better at night, and recaptured a kind of bodily range of motion and flexibility that I thought I had lost when I was injured.
When I moved to Oregon at the age of 29, I began swimming in lakes. My wife and I would camp in the mountains and swim from a small inflatable ramp we purchased. The water was cold, but it was great exercise, and the briskness of the water seemed to wake me up and energize my mind, but I had to be careful not to get too cold.
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Another decade passed and we got a chance to travel to Hawaii. There I discovered snorkeling the coral reefs in the warm waters off Maui. I was able to snorkel not only close to the beach, but also in the relatively calm offshore waters of Molokini Crater, where the water was much deeper. I found I could dive down with weights around my waist, webbed gloves on my hands, a rubberized twelve inch-wide band holding my legs together, and a good snorkle. With this equipment, I could stay down longer than any of the other snorkelers, all of them nondisabled. I would go down as far as I could and swim with the reef sharks, keeping a safe distance away. When the dive boat was ready to depart, someone had to come looking for me. I did not want to leave my magical world of water.
On our next trip to the Big Island, I snuba-dived in a protected marine sanctuary with about five others down to 30 feet or more, connected to the same communal air supply that floated on a nearby raft. I never got to scuba dive, but many with spinal cord injury, including some quads, have been able to with proper instruction, training, and equipment — and an experienced dive buddy or two.
The freedom of movement, the escape from the tyranny of gravity, the peaceful calm of the underwater world, the healthful benefits and release from stress, the feelings of well-being and improved sleep — all are priceless. There is nothing like floating weightless, supported by the miracle of water.