Hi again, everyone! While half of our dynamic duo is still on her hiatus (during which time, she’ll be creating and starting her own online nutrition-based education/coaching system – Go, Nikki!), the other half, Kate, is here to give you our fifth podcast episode, “Self-Hate and Female Rivalry.” This podcast episode focuses on how we, […]
By: Katherine Itacy, Esq.
Dated: June 3, 2018
Ok, so I have been going around for quite some time, claiming to feel like I am an active mind and spirit trapped inside a diseased body.
I’ve made this claim, knowing full well that I could have it a lot worse: I could actually have become paralyzed; I could have completely lost my mobility and independence. I’ve tried to imagine what it would feel like if I had become paralyzed, and I’ve tried to empathize with others who are.
I’ve tried to adjust to my physical disabilities, and accept the fact that a large part of my identity is now that of “disabled person.”
I’ve struggled a lot with this over the last decade, and even more so over the last two and a half years. As a child and young adult, I always said: “I have diabetes. I’m not ‘a diabetic.’” I refused to let my health dictate who I am, and instead, have tried to identify myself in terms of my accomplishments. For years, my identity was that of a student-athlete; then, a criminal defense attorney and civil rights activist.
I refused to let my medical conditions dictate how I lived my life. Until they did. They took over my daily life, ended my identity as an active attorney and activist, and sentenced me to limited mobility and a reduced quality of life.
I’ve had to acquiesce to the fact that many days, my illnesses stop me from making plans or accomplishing certain things. Through it all, I’ve tried to keep a healthy perspective regarding my life, and how I continue to be fortunate in a lot of ways.
But I’ve never felt more grateful about my life, and more empathetic and impressed by another disabled person than when I heard the story of Jean-Dominique Baby.
The 44 year-old editor-in-chief of French Elle was going about his life one day, planning a weekend adventure with his 10 year-old son, when he suffered a major stroke.
Nearly three weeks later, Mr. Bauby woke up from a coma and learned that he was a quadriplegic, with the use of one ear and one eyelid. He was suffering from what’s referred to as “locked-in syndrome,” which is when the mind is aware and fully functioning, but the body makes it all but impossible to communicate with the outside world.
Through the assistance of medical professionals, Mr. Bauby was able to communicate by blinking his one useful eyelid. Anyone trying to communicate with the editor would have to read off letters in the alphabet, and watch as Mr. Bauby blinked to indicate which letter he wanted to use. This was done, over and over, letter by letter, until words and sentences were formed.
As impossible as it may seem to even hold a conversation this way, Mr. Bauby blinked approximately 200,000 times over the course of ten months in order to compose his memoir, “The Diving Bell and The Butterfly.” In it, Jean-Dominique Baby describes what it was like for him to actually be an active mind trapped inside his own body, with his mind and imagination being akin to a butterfly, trapped inside a diving bell.
To the best of my knowledge, the above image is an example of an open-bottomed “wet diving bell” from the 1700s, which was used to transport divers to and from the water’s surface. The divers could sit or stand in the bell, with their heads out of the water, in order to adjust to the difference in outside pressure to their ears.
According to Wikipedia, a closed diving bell is “a pressure vessel for human occupation” under water. It makes sense that Mr. Bauby would equate his experience to his mind and spirit being trapped inside a pressurized underwater vessel; I’ve often found myself making similar comparisons in my situation.
Jean-Dominique Bauby’s book (and life story) is simply incredible. He writes almost objectively about his condition, with no sense of whining or “woe-is-me” found within the pages.
And as inspiring and heartbreaking as his story is, it becomes even more devastating to learn that just two days after the book’s publication, Mr. Bauby passed away due to complications from pneumonia.
I know it does little-to-no good to compare your situation with others, because there will always be someone worse off than you, and always someone better off than you. But when you’re indulging in a little self-pity, it does help to read a story like Mr. Bauby’s, if only for a little life perspective.
How could you possibly wallow after hearing such an inspiring, yet tragic story?! Personally, I find such motivation from stories like Bauby’s. The human spirit is so resilient, even when the human body fails us.
From now on, if I ever find myself immersed in self-pity or anger towards my physical impairments, I will remind myself of Jean-Dominique Bauby, and the mental and spiritual strength he summoned during such unimaginable circumstances.
If you have any thoughts or comments regarding Mr. Bauby’s life story or his memoir, “The Diving Bell and The Butterfly,” you can let me know by leaving a comment below, or reaching out to me via Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, Tumblr, Google+ or Twitter.
’Til next time, my friends!
By: Katherine Itacy, Esq.
Dated: May 30, 2018
Hi, everyone! I’m back from my surgery, and thankfully, I still have a few of my wits about me!
While the recovery process is still ongoing, and the original pain has returned, I am so thankful that the neurosurgeon was able to remove most of the tumor and untether my spinal cord. Even if none of my other neurological deficits are alleviated, and the pain remains the same as before the surgery, at least the doctor and her team were able to prevent paralysis!
Lately, I’ve been thinking about those of us with chronic pain. It’s so hard to describe sometimes, and can be so wildly subjective to the individual. On a scale of 1 to 10, is my 7 a ‘real’ 7? Or is it someone else’s 10? Maybe someone’s 10 is another person’s 4. No one really knows, because you we’ve never been able to objectively quantify someone’s pain. But what if we could?
My husband has often told me that he would take the pain away from me and feel it himself if only I could be spared from it. In fact, he’s said he’d take away all of my medical conditions from me if he could. Obviously, it’s an incredibly sweet sentiment, but I’d never want him or anyone else to have my disabilities.
But that got me thinking….
The hubby and I also talk a lot about the criminal justice system, as well as the discrimination that persons of color frequently face in America. He’s obviously coming from the viewpoint of law enforcement, but also as a person of color and a legal immigrant into this country. I, of course, have my limited insights as a former criminal defense attorney and civil rights activist, as well as my experiences as the wife of a Haitian male and the step-mother of a Haitian-American male.
We talk about how frustrating it is when individuals offer opinions about the experiences of persons of color in the United States, when those individuals don’t even try to consider what it might be like for a black man or a Latina female, for instance. Being able to understand what another person is experiencing or feeling is the definition of empathy. Often, it’s impossible to fully understand, but we, as people, need to at least try. Otherwise, there’d be no compassion for our fellow human being.
So what if it were possible to put yourself in someone else’s shoes for a short time?
And no, I’m not talking about the plot of Freaky Friday. I’m talking about virtual reality.
With all those new VR goggles boasting lifelike experiences, I asked the hubby this past weekend: What if someone created a “Day in the Life” VR game to foster greater empathy towards others??
Maybe the user could experience what it’s like for the average black man to be pulled over several times in one day, just because he “fits the description” of a wanted suspect?
What if you could experience what it’s like to be in solitary confinement in prison, or on death row? How about being a day laborer in Southern California during the summertime? Or an undocumented person, traveling through the desert brush with a Coyote smuggler and a group of others trying to illegally enter the country?
How about experiencing, through VR, what it’s like for a police officer to canvass a dangerous neighborhood for an armed robber? Or a soldier on patrol?
What about trying, through VR, to make it through the day as a homeless teen on the streets of New York City? Or being a person in a wheelchair, trying to navigate yourself around a busy college campus? Or a single parent, working two jobs and trying to raise your children alone?
Now, I’m not suggesting that we create a VR game that would create pain or trauma for the user. But wouldn’t we, as a society, get along with each other better if we could better understand the struggles that so many of us endure in our lives? Don’t you think that Congress would benefit from a little more empathy before it proposed and voted on various laws?? That the average person might be a little less judgmental or self-absorbed if they better understood what others go through?
Of course, it’d be very unlikely that people with limited empathy would even want to try the VR game, but wouldn’t it be awesome if they did?
Who knows – maybe future generations could be required to play the game during high school, sort of like having to carry around a robotic baby for a few days to understand what it’d be like to be a teenage parent!
What do you think?? Could a game like this be helpful? Do you think it’d work? That the people with limited empathy would take such a game seriously? If so, what other experiences do you think it would help the user to be exposed to?
I’d love to know what you think!
Maybe I’ll even make it the subject of a future podcast episode! You can learn more about the podcast I co-host with my BFF Nikki by visiting the website here. You can also follow us via Twitter, Facebook, Google+, YouTube, or Tumblr. We always appreciate feedback!
‘Til next time!