 | ||||||
| ||||||
On the night of November 1, 1957 - the day after Halloween - Davey Steiner took his little sister, Susie, trick-or-treating. His sister had been ill the night before, Davey explained to each neighbor, so he wondered, on his sister's behalf, whether they had any treats left.
In addition to his kindness, Davey showed unusual intelligence - enough to earn straight As, participate in medical research while still in high school, score a perfect 1600 on his SAT exams and gain admission to Yale University - the first person in his working-class family to attend college.
David decided to become a physician. For him, the study and practice of medicine provided a way to use his body and soul in the service of others. While at Yale, David met and fell in love with Cindy, whose interest in law matched David's passion for healing. David was admitted to Yale's Medical School and
Cindy would later begin her studies at the School of Law. After a storybook courtship, they became engaged on Valentine's Day.
Five days later, after David and Cindy returned home from a visit with his family, David called to let his parents know they had arrived home safely - then they went for a walk to get some fast food.
As they set out, nineteen-year-old Brian Doley slammed the door of his girlfriend's house after a terrible argument. He was angry, drunk and soon behind the wheel of his car.
David doesn't remember what happened that night, but others have pieced it together: He and Cindy were in a crosswalk when Doley, in a drunken stupor, appeared from nowhere, his car careening towards them. David's instinctive action
was to push her as hard as he could out of the path of the car. She suffered a fractured leg as the right bumper hit her, then the car crashed squarely into David's pelvis, sending him flying through the air. His limp and broken body landed sixty feet away, and his head smashed into the curb.
At the hospital, doctors would not answer Cindy's pleas for news of David's condition - they had nothing to tell her yet. What could they tell an already-traumatized young fiancée? That David hovered between life and death? That they had seen many others with less severe injuries die? That if he lived, he might have no brain function?
A doctor called David's parents to tell them their son might not survive the night.
When they arrived, ashen and exhausted by fear and grief, they learned only what the doctors could surmise: that David had multiple fractures, including his pelvis and thighbone, with other internal trauma. But worst of all, he had a serious skull fracture and likely brain injury. As soon as he was stabilized, he would go into surgery to relieve cranial pressure. He wasn't expected to live, but if he did . . . his parents remember one physician's words: "I can't guarantee how smart he'll be."
Such trauma sends ripples into the larger world. Events are set in motion that also change the lives of other families and individuals. Susie was pulled out of class and told that her brother had been seriously injured; she caught the next plane to New Haven. David's father took a leave from work; even
after he returned to work, he drove back to New Haven every weekend for the months that followed. Laura, David's younger sister, had arrived with her parents on that first frantic night, leaving behind her school, seventh-grade friends and life. She would stay to attend a new school in New Haven. David's mother and little sister moved in with good-hearted friends and relatives who lived near the hospital. His mother arrived every morning and didn't leave until visiting hours were over. Laura joined her mother after school. Once Cindy left the hospital on crutches, she continued her schooling, but visited regularly.
David's brain, once so brilliant, withdrew into a deep coma. There he remained for nearly four weeks while his mother and sister stood vigil, speaking and reading to him, comforting, encouraging and praying for him.
When David finally emerged from the coma, he was in almost constant pain. Because of the brain injury, however, his doctors could not give sedatives or painkillers. His mother remembers how her son's semi-conscious body would rock
back and forth, back and forth, groaning in a litany of suffering. He tried many times to pull the tubes and wires out of his body, perhaps to die - anything to end the agony.
Maybe it's a blessing that the body exists only in the present and does not retain the memory of pain. Gradually, the physical suffering subsided, but David awoke with amnesia. He had no memory of who he was or who anyone else was.
He did not remember his family and other loved ones, his friends and acquaintances, or his past. He knew no one; the people who spoke to him, held his hand and loved him were strangers. David also suffered from aphasia: He could talk, but the words he spoke (or heard) were mixed up and had to be deciphered. His first words made no sense until a doctor recognized them as the poetry of T. S. Eliot - words David didn't know he was even speaking, sounds boiling off from a misfiring brain.
Soon after, when Laura entered his room, David said, "Hi Laura!"
"You know me?" she asked
"Of course I do," David answered. But when his mother and a doctor joined Laura, David no longer recognized any of them. And when Susie visited during spring break, one of the nurses told her, "Your brother wants to speak with you." When Susie rushed into David's room he said, "Who are you? Where's Susie?" David's memory was returning, but only from childhood. Later, he remembered his first girlfriend, but Cindy remained a stranger to him.
Over time, David regained his childhood memories in threads and fragments. He was transferred to another hospital for rehabilitation, and there he trained as hard as any athlete, reclaiming his ability to walk and to move with agonizing slowness, slowly remembering his life and loved ones. When he finally recognized Cindy, his dear Cindy, it marked a turning point in his recovery and in hers.
In another bed in David's room lay a second patient with brain injuries strikingly similar to David's. Patient X was the brother of a well-known figure dedicated to his political rise. He visited only once. So it was that David, surrounded and supported by the presence of a loving family, made the long journey back, while his roommate, lying alone, passed into the mystery beyond this life.
David's story demonstrates not only his determination, but also speaks to the power of his family's love, dedication and sacrifice. Today, David and Cindy have celebrated many anniversaries together and raised bright and active children. Cindy finished law school and has assumed a position of high rank and responsibility in our nation's legal system.
And David? Well, this is the miracle of Dr. Steiner: He not only recovered his memory, and learned once again to walk and read and speak, he returned to Yale Medical School, completed his studies and went on to specialize in the field of psychiatry. He still practices today, a man of compassion, empathy and
wisdom far beyond his years - for he has known the dark places of the psyche; he has been to hell and back.
David's long road back to a life of service was a journey no less heroic than that of any Olympian athlete. His devoted family share in their son's miracle: His life and work, made possible by their faith and Cindy's love, continue to make a difference in this world.
By Joy Millman
The Miracle of Dr. Steiner
A gentle breeze rustling the dry cornstalks.
A sound is heard, a goblin walks.
A harvest moon suffers a black cat's cry.
Oh' do the witches fly!
Bonfire catches a pumpkins gleem.
Rejoice, it's Halloween!
-Richard Anderson © Copyright 1998
Lou Chaney, Jr.'s werewolf makeup in The Wolf Man took five hours to apply every day. The werewolf costume was actually made of yak hair.
|
