I never would’ve made it out of the hospital at all if it weren’t for Jeff. He has been working at Craig Hospital so long that he commands a great deal of respect from the rest of the staff, the    nurses, and the doctors. He is often called on to help train new hires. Jeff’s the man who taught me how to be a quad. He was a tech mostly working night shifts whenever he wanted, very calm, very efficient; and we just sort of connected. One of the great ironies for me as a patient at Craig, was if I hadn’t broken my neck I never would have met any of my doctors and nurses and techs; many of them snowboarders, mountain bikers, kindred souls in many ways. We had so much in common even though we would never do any of these activities together. Anyway, Jeff is my consummate “Brother from another mother”. He lived with us when we came home two summers ago, he helped set up the house and get us into a routine. Jeff helped interview and hire our  original caregivers. He understands my wife, which is sometimes more than I can say for myself; and she tolerates him, which is sometimes also more than can be said about myself. He is there for me in a way that no one else on earth is. Until I met him, I would never have used the words meticulous, fastidious, and chews tobacco in the same sentence to describe anyone.

Kristie is 25, a 6 foot African-American lesbian who is the most wonderfully comfortable person in her own skin as anyone I’ve ever met. She has a brilliant smile and she loves to wear my hand-me-down clothes. She’s been working here two years; a remarkable fact. Most disabled people who require the help of caregivers do not keep them for long. The good ones are all taken. She had limited experience with spinal cord injured patients; most of her patients were geriatrics. The very first day she came to work as a trainee my blood pressure fell off a cliff and I passed out while she was trying to get me ready for a shower. Her next full day of work was at a Manhattan Beach party. We have been places and done things. She sometimes does her job with this studied care of someone who wants to make it look easy. Her personal life can be interesting; which is to say hair-raising, much of the time. For Fifth Amendment reasons, and/or to protect the guilty, I do not feel at liberty to tell anyone some of the things she has shared with me. I can say that when she’s driving, she’s channeling a NASCAR driver on a Roid rage.

Liana is in her mid-30s, a Ukrainian fitness trainer/nursing student who emigrated here about eight years ago. She was a nurse in the old country. She has a lovely almost lilting accent and a nice butt, a sunny sweet disposition and she’s slightly deaf. She is also very fastidious, almost to her detriment; everything she does takes just a little longer. She is enthusiastic about helping out around the house, she’s one of those people who goes out of her way to find something to do rather than wait to be told, which around here can be anything from doing the laundry to picking up dog shit. This is particularly wonderful as far as Mrs. Dubey is concerned, who craves the cleanliness and orderliness Liana brings to our home like an alcoholic’s next drink. She likes to cook and market, and is good at it. Liana tolerates our cat Daisy, who is old and grumpy and occasionally incontinent.

Salvadore just turned 36. He is a fraternal twin, a hard-core basketball fan, likes corny Latino soap operas, and is a serious full-time Facebook addict. He stays in close touch with the 300 or so kids he went to high school with, who are scattered all over the globe. He has caught on to the social media phenomenon and its vast potential for self-promotion. He’s making T-shirts with the barcode graphic on them with the letters T P V V M C or “TePuedeValerVergaMiCariño“, which loosely translated means “you don’t give a fuck (thought) about my love”. Don’t ask me why, he’s obsessed. And people are buying these shirts and taking their picture wearing the shirt and posting it on his Facebook page. He eats like he’s starving sometimes. Several times a day he looks at me with sad eyes and says “oh Mr. Dubey, you crazy”. He is well read and literate, from community college and the school of life. Even Sal with his burly swagger and big head and vague resemblance to Shrek cannot safely walk down the streets that he comes from. He can be very emotional, he sends money home to his mother and worries about her even though he complains about it.

This slightly wacky trio comes and goes according to their school schedule and their social lives; they walk the dog first thing when they get here in the morning, they put me to bed last thing before they leave. Sometimes they’re here for very long days, slightly bored but ready to jump in at a moments notice. It’s annoying never being alone, it’s lonely when no one’s here. They make it possible to attempt a normal life, whatever that is. The fact of the matter is, this is a new part of my daily routine for as long as it lasts. Two of the hardest things for me to say have been “No”, and “I fucked up”; but the really difficult thing to say is “I need help”.

I thought I had seen the worst day ever, but I was wrong. Last Thursday night our son Mitchell was murdered. Someone shot him when he answered the door. I thought my world had been turned upside down by my accident, but it was barely jostled. The outpouring of anger and grief and love and compassion is as incomprehensible as his death. Tonight his friends celebrate Mitchell and his life in the music he loved at a special show in New Haven, and on Wednesday he will be laid to rest here in Los Angeles.

newhavenindependent.org/index.php/…/bike_enthusiast_shot_dead/
www.yaledailynews.com/…/bike-shop-service-manager-mourned

Our eternal love and gratitude

(More to follow).

Larry Dubey

Services Wednesday, April 6 at 2 PM
MOUNT SINAI HOLLYWOOD HILLS
5950 Forest Lawn Drive
Los Angeles, CA 90068
(800) 600-0076
(323) 469-6000

Everyone, please forgive me, I’m not very good at this yet. The note that I put up the other day was actually an e-mail I started sending to someone specifically, but then I started thinking I had no idea when he would receive it, and I was wondering what would happen if I just threw it up on the blog. (Sort of like barfing, and then you feel better). So much to my surprise, people did read it, and George and Cathy called Randi later that evening to see if I was OK. My brother called the next day to see what was going on, so… Mission accomplished! I had connected. Now I just have to learn how to read the comments and stay up to date. Is there a responsibility to maintain a conversation, or can I just share what’s on my mind? Impulsively, like buying candy at the cash register. Today is partly cloudy — partly sunny — fresh clean day after a storm. Matches my mood. My goal for today is to join a support group for tethered spinal cord patients. I’m scheduled for un-tethering surgery in three weeks, and I’m going to try and crawl out of my shell and connect with other people who have suffered through this procedure. I’m not sure how many of you out there know about this upcoming event, so within the next week or so I shall explain further. That’s all for today.

The Monday after I was exhausted. By Tuesday our houseguests who had come into town for the event were on their way home. By Thursday I was in perhaps the worst pain I can remember since the accident. Maybe worse. Afternoon doctor’s appointment, and I’m admitted to the hospital running a high temperature and delirious with pain. Being in the hospital was not necessarily the safest place for me, since most of the staff have little or no experience in dealing with a quadriplegic. The source of this pain and fever appeared to be that some form of staff infection had set in the pressure sore in my left elbow. This sore has been a chronic problem for me, and has been under the care of a special wound care nurse for going on close to two months. It seemed to be getting worse instead of better for a while, and was the ugliest thing I have ever seen. I was in the hospital for five days, and then on home bedrest. The combination of the intravenous antibiotics and the (now daily) treatment from the wound care nurse seemed to turn things around, and about a week and a half ago I started to feel better. My last day of IV treatments will be Wednesday this week. I’m feeling better, much better.

I went to Malibu today, to building and safety, and said hello to Craig George (chief building inspector), and to Roberta who issues the permits. She and her husband came to visit me in the hospital when I was at Craig. Something like they had a timeshare in Denver, and knew I was in the hospital there so they came to look me up. Anyway, it felt good to cruise into the office there and see familiar faces. Craig had an interesting suggestion for me about learning about the California accessibility program. Possible source of future work. The reason I had gone in was to track down the answer to a question for Dan, but I think the real reason was just to show up.

Some of you may also know that I’ve been suffering from pain and spasms ever since my release from the hospital a year ago. In the spring of this year I went back to Craig Hospital for a reevaluation, which revealed I have some posttraumatic buildup of scar tissue, and I’m a candidate for surgery to fix it. My insurance company originally denied preapproval for the surgery, and I spent several months composing (procrastinating) an appeal letter and gathering my backup information. Immediately after the benefit my friend John Robertson helped me with the final draft and I sent the appeal in to the insurance company. They actually received it while I was in the hospital a few weeks ago. The fantastic and slightly scary news, is that they have reviewed my appeal and reversed their previous position, granting me preapproval for the surgery. There are quite a few details to work out still, and I don’t know when I’ll have the surgery, but hopefully before the end of this year.

So there you have it.
Gratefully yours,
Larrydubey

PS — I would’ve loved to add pictures, but I just didn’t have my act together, and I wasn’t about to let that keep me from making a post.

If you’re having trouble reading the newsletter, please click here: SuperDubey Times Edition #2

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This all started when I got a phone call. I look at my phone it’s my pal Larry Dubey. We don’t get to talk much so I’m elated when I find out who it is. “Larry so good to hear from you, what’s up”. “Not much” he says,” What are you doing?” I tell him I’m headed home from a surf trip, went down to my house in Baja Norte with Cooper . “What a coincidence” he says, “That’s what I’m calling about. I’m going surfing Sunday and I want you to paddle out with me”. Now normally when someone asks you to paddle out with them you don’t think much about it. But, you see the crazy thing is, about a year and a half ago, only a few weeks after finishing the Malibu triathlon, Larry, while snowboarding with friends in Mammoth, suffered a cervical fracture and had broken his C5, C6 and C7 vertebrae, damaging his spinal cord, resulting in what is considered a C5 complete spinal cord injury,. He can pretty much just move his head. That’s it.

Larry Dubey riding a wave!

Larry tells me he’s registered for the go out with Jesse Billauer’s Life Rolls On Foundation. He registered for the event before, but his body could not do it last time. He thinks he’ll be ready this time and he wants me there. My response, “Totally cool! I’ll be there. Where do I need to be and what time?”

The event was held at El Porto in Manhattan Beach . Not far from home. Never having been to a They Will Surf Again event, we had no idea what to expect. I arrive with my son, Cooper, who happens to be an L.A. County Beach Lifeguard and my wife, Lisa, the photographer responsible for the images you are seeing.

After a short while Larry arrives with his entourage, his wonderful Daughter Lauren, her boyfriend Juan, Christy his daily caregiver and close friends Lynn and John. Larry is looking stoked with that ear to ear grin that has never left him in spite of his injury. There is just a hint of fear in his eyes. Similar I’d guess to when I’m looking out at a double overhead day.

The event was so well organized. Everyone involved was great, cooperative, knowledgeable of the foundation and mostly, aware of responsibilities of themselves and other volunteers in the water. After registering as a water safety volunteer and answering their important question.” Are you comfortable in the water?” We were ready. Well we thought. Cooper and I then attended an informative orientation of how the water safety volunteers are to interact with the “athletes/surfers” and the different responsibilities of the water safety teams, the land team, the shallow water team, the mid water team and the deep water team, who were also responsible in getting the athletes out to the line-up and successfully catching a wave.

The orientation is over. I glance over Cooper’s shoulder and Jesse is seated just to his left. I have watched as this ambassador of good will and hope cordially accepts requests for pictures being taken with him. I smile at him and he smiles back .I get up to walk towards him and notice the guy just wants to finish his breakfast. But, I’ve already started towards him. Oh well. I start off by telling him , yesterday I surfed with a buddy of yours, Zinger. He told me if I saw you I needed to tell you hi from him. Well, the eggs got a bit colder as Jesse warmed up. His smile now a legitimate smile and he thanked me and said He’d call Zinger later.

We meet back up with Larry. We are talking for a bit then Cooper and I are called to the water for our first go out. The first surfer is just the cutest, little, blond, braided, pigtailed girl of maybe about 20. She was transferred from her wheel chair to the surfboard in knee deep water and then we swam/paddled her out to the line-up. She was beaming, talking, laughing and just so excited all the way out. We spun here around and pushed her into her very first wave. We have a few more surfers and then It’s Larry’s turn.

Larry is one of the most severely injured surfers of the day. The head of the water safety teams, Cory Staley, goes out with us and shows just why he is the man. The only guy wearing a yellow jersey. This guy extraordinarily displays capability, control and clarity in his directions of all the water safety volunteers. As Larry is wheeled to the water it is Cory who is speaking with Larry all the way from the dry sand to the location of transfer from the wheelchair to the surfboard. He rarely breaks eye contact with Larry. He assures Larry he is in good hands, all will be well, and he will surf again. At the point of transfer there are one dozen people helping to get Larry on the board. We all get Larry onto the board and swim/paddle him out, not just to the whitewater, but out to the line-up. I am at his right side and Cooper, at his left, has his hand cupped under Larry’s chin, holding his head out of the water. It is difficult to get Larry situated on the board. A clean-up set looms on the horizon. Despite the amount of people around him, one wave clears Larry off the board. We get him back on. We get him back out.

Now again it is difficult to get Larry situated on the board. It is Cory who sits atop the board with Larry and taking him by the shoulders of his life vest pulls Larry into proper position for the wave to come. A small wave comes. Larry is pushed into it. It is enough so that he feels the glide, but he rolls off the back. His fear is nearly gone and he says, he can do this. On the next wave it is Cory who maneuvers the board and makes it possible for Larry to get the wave all the way to the sand. The ride was so amazing Larry and Cory are sitting in the shallow water, laughing and talking until Cooper and I body surf in and run up the beach to them and the crowd that has gathered to celebrate this incredible display of surfing, stamina, strength of mind and stoke.

Larry is so emotionally and physically exhausted , not to mention freezing from the days events that he needs to leave. Cooper and I head out with the red team and take a few more surfers out. While we are out my wife sits and talks with Cory about the event, the organization and feelings he enjoys when helping these surfers out. It is Cory who joins in with Lisa as they weep together as the joy of the day simply overtakes their emotions.

The day is over ,the last surfer has ridden his wave. It was so emotional taking part with other surfers to come together to bring joy to people whose lives have been affected by spinal cord injury. It’s just mind-blowing helping and watching these athletes as they experience something that we as surfers get to do when ever we want. We are now leaving, walking through the parking lot. A participant, that we did not even see at the event, yells out to us,” Thank you for helping out and making this day possible.” Lisa tells her,” Thank you for being so brave”. Even though this girl’s ride could have been many hours before, she still has that surf stoked smile sitting on her face.

It’s now the day after the event. I get another phone call. I look at my phone it’s my pal Larry Dubey. We spoke of the day, the excitement, the ride, the fear, the emotions . He said that it was the second time he had been prone on his stomach since the accident. Now he has something else to work on. “Will you do it again?” I asked. ” La Jolla , September 11,” was his answer.

“Totally cool! I’ll be there.”

It’s taken me quite a while to get to the point where I can do this myself, and I think I let that get in the way of not communicating sooner. So I’m going to try and let you all know what’s been happening a little bit at a time. Happy Groundhog Day!

Stay posted – LARRY

So…it’s been about a month since their big arrival back home and no word from any of us on the blog. As you can all imagine, the re-entry process and moving back in to the house has been time consuming and difficult on all fronts. But everybody is adjusting, and both Randi and Larry are soooooooooo happy to be home.

As a family, we want to thank everybody again for their kind and loving generosity and assistance, be it in the shape of sandwich meat or welcome home parties. We all feel so loved (and full) and cannot express how good it feels to be the recipients of such wonderful giving from our friends, family, and even complete strangers. Thank you all for your help and love and support.

The new issues that confront us are finding appropriate in home health care, a good rehab physical and occupational therapy facility, and getting settled in at home into daily routines and hopefully in the not too distant future, a work schedule for both Larry and Randi. Obviously, some of these are easier battles to win, while others involve some very resistant opponents, like the insurance company. However, we are trying to find an appropriate medium for the lifestyle that they both need for physical and mental health, while still being able to afford to live.

Randi and Larry are both busy and trying to make the many adjustments they will continue to face for the next…long time. We are all so grateful to each and every person on this journey, and my mom and dad hope to be able to thank you all face to face in the near future.

This blog’s main author is going on a short hiatus for a while…she will be going to Thailand for a few weeks, leading a group of high school students. Hopefully, the rest of the Dubey clan can pick up the slack, but if not, I’ll return to the blog when I get back to the US.

Until then, keep Larry’s recovery in your thoughts and we’ll see you soon.