Author Caren Topliff is correct in her assertion that there are not enough resources available to help patients and families faced with spinal cord injury (SCI). Wrestling Back should be applauded for its stark and unembellished storytelling. It is a thought provoking memoir, and very hard to put down. Topliff includes an appendix with contact information for SCI advocacy and treatment resources. As an able-bodied person, can I imagine my legs not responding to my commands? I try. Can I imagine how permanent the word permanent can be? Wrestling Back is a terrifying first-person account written by the mother of an Olympic-bound college athlete who is permanently paralyzed in a car accident. Topliff's story of her son's struggle to live drives it home that there is a huge family drama behind spinal cord injuries. Even when the patient regains independence, the struggle to accept a new life with physical limits is unthinkable to most of us.
Topliff deserves praise for her painstaking and candid account of the tensions in her family, the medical care her son received, and her exhausting vigilance. It is notable that she spent much of her energy convincing her son to fight for his life yet couldn't always support herself in the same way: her quality of life often seemed depressingly low. Maybe it was the relentless pace and tone in which she wrote the story, with intense focus on the central experience of supporting her son, but I felt drained after finishing the book. It takes a pragmatic and focussed mindset to support someone who has suffered a major trauma. Topliff was as much a survivor as her son, but her efforts took an incredible toll on her.
In a physical sense, the SCI patient (statistically, a young adult) becomes an infant again at the time of the injury, and the mother often builds an exclusive relationship with the born again child, monopolizing the chores of physically caring for that child to the detriment of her family and herself. Topliff exhausted her physical and spiritual self as Larry's primary caregiver. Larry not only went through a rebirth as a quadraplegic, but also a second adolescence. Until he married, his mother lived with him in the same house, sleeping with one eye open and monitoring every aspect of his health. She didn't or couldn't allow her son to be fully independent. While it can't be denied that Larry had many physical complications and needed of a lot of care, is it possible that Topliff, in spite of herself, internalized the stereotype of the helpless disabled child-person in the wheelchair?
Through much of the book I felt Topliff was hoping for unattainable outcomes, for a cure. Perhaps she used hope as a lifeline. Unrealistic hope can be a defense mechanism against facing something that feels unacceptable. It is part of the human condition to long for what you cannot have. For someone whose body has been broken, whose sense of self has been shattered -- this longing for a return to 'normalcy' must become acute and painful, and a mother's instinct would want to relieve that pain.
A telling omission in this very personal story is dialogue with other family members, including Larry. Topliff's emotional journey is a lonely one. She describes expressions in her son's eyes that substituted for words, and she describes a lack of communication in the family. Families often shut down in reaction to this kind of life change, as a way of coping with the trauma. The drama and suddenness of it, the social stigma and the physical and financial burdens can be too much to take in all at once, and can pull families apart. It is uncannily similar to the scenario of facing homosexuality in a family member. Just as noone chooses to be disabled, many homosexual individuals would not choose to be gay, given the choice, because of the stigmas and difficulties it will present them in their lives, from social awkwardness to rejection and discrimination to a reduction of civil rights and on down the line. The new identity of the family member is something the family must learn to accept. If they will achieve closeness, they must learn to embrace it, despite the possible negative reactions of those outside the family.
There is a definite and vast canyon between Before and After a spinal cord injury. The injured person is not the only one to see the moment of their injury as a watershed. Parents have dreams that they project onto their children -- and partners and friends have an image of their loved one as 'able-bodied'. In Wrestling Back, Larry's parents were committed to helping him realize his goal of competing in the Olympics. A successful athlete, Larry's body and physicality were a part of his identity. Not only did friends and family see Larry in this role, he saw himself this way as well. Someone who arrives After the SCI has occurred might not see these Before ghost images so strongly, and could be less likely to have expectations of something different -- at the same time, they may possibly overlook the person who existed before the injury. There is no denying that Larry has changed, and there is no denying that Larry is still Larry.
In the closing paragraph of the book, Topliff explains in a very deliberate fashion the pride that she and her family feel for Larry and his accomplishments (he became a wrestling coach and a father). Her need to state this so explicitly pinpoints one of the most difficult struggles of SCI: the difficulty of acceptance. Prejudices and stereotypes of the disabled exist in all of us: not only in the mind of the public but in the families of the disabled, and most poignantly, within the disabled person him/herself. The preservation of pride in the face of a permanently disabling injury is the most incredible struggle of all.
Caren, i cannot thank you enough for telling your story.