My 'Miraculous' Recovery

This post is more about my thinking rather than any particular event. I mentioned what I thought about my 'miraculous' recovery and how it didn't feel miraculous a few posts ago in regard to writing a book about my experiences but I have been doing some more thinking about it this week so you have to put up with a more complete post about it.

Nearly everyone I meet, if I know them, wants to tell me how amazing or miraculous (or some other similar superlative) my recovery is. It doesn't really matter but I don't like talking about it because generally I can think of better things to talk about. The main thing, however, is that I don't like talking about it because it feels immodest because it implies that my efforts are amazing or miraculous when it's probably all a matter of luck or something else outside of my control.

This probably seems like a funny thing to think about, but people bring it up so often that if you are at all uncomfortable about it you are forced to deal with it.

My parents point out that I can't remember how bad I was when I was in hospital and that it probably seems amazing or miraculous to those who can. While this might be true (I have remembered some more pre-accident stuff but early April is still my earliest memory post-accident) it doesn't change the fact that I feel slightly uncomfortable about it.

My Dad was telling a close family friend and a former chemistry buddy of his about things shortly after my accident and they hoped that the "variance would be my friend." By that, they mean that my recovery would, hopefully, be above average. Indeed, it seems the variance has been my friend and there is lots to remind me of how easily things could have been so much worse. Again though, I feel uncomfortable that my recovery could be attributed to much more than good luck or some other outside force.

My thinking this week was based around what to say when people start talking about it. I discussed the issue with family, Cavit staff and a few unfortunate close friends. The best idea came from my physio, Sue, who said that if people try and tell me my recovery is miraculous I should change the subject by saying that miracles are for French peasants.

It seems inevitable that people are going to say whatever comes to mind though, so I thought the problem is probably with my definition of immodesty rather than with other people. Perhaps, it's not immodest to accept but not endorse such comments. So, now I'm going to accept such comments but offer none of my own views on them.

This probably seems like an awfully long thought process to arrive at a simple conclusion, but that's the price of doing my best to keep my modesty, I guess.

Cheers,
Mike