Why IOWA?

Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa, is an excellent demonstration of normal human vitality. It's in Iowa, after all, which is the definition of normal according to North American cultural standards. If you find it in Iowa, it's normal, and if it's normal, you'll find it in Iowa. Perhaps it's because everyone seems to have been through Iowa at one time or another and they inevitably have a conversation with an Iowan in the process. Iowans love to talk and they really do try to include everyone in the conversation. Unlike Las Vegas, where what goes on there is supposed to stay there, what goes on in Iowa gets mainstreamed to North America, meaning really spread around. While Iowans may not have witnessed something personally, they've heard about almost everything from "reliable sources." There are very few secrets in Iowa. That's why the US states grudgingly tolerate letting Iowa act first in the Presidential nomination process. The rest of the continent may not like the choices Iowans make but at least the conversation is out in the open and it is something we can normally trust. That open conversation is vital to individual achievement and mobility.

It is the nature of the Iowa City community to include people with disabilities in the health conversation mainstream and you can see it in the spontaneous interactions between strangers. In early June of 1995, I had been driving the standard thirty minute commute to Iowa City on a daily basis. Just after entering the city, I once again observed a fellow, our hero, moving along the sidewalk, controlling his motorized wheelchair's joystick with mouth and tongue. On this particularly pleasant late spring afternoon, he was headed south on the walk as normal. He picked his way through the obstacle course of broken concrete in typical fashion until an odd bounce of the chair dislodged the joystick from his mouth and knocked it out of reach, stopping him immediately. He needed a jump start at that moment, just as a graduate student type wandered toward him. Our hero made a quick request for assistance, the student moved the joystick back into its proper position as though he'd done it countless times before even though he hadn't, they exchanged pleasantries, and both proceeded on their way to forgetting the incident even happened at all. That simple yet powerful act of support was all that was necessary for our hero to achieve normal mobility. The abnormal nonchalance, the sophistication of the interaction made it extraordinarily memorable. It was an encounter between two individuals who were both in the mainstream of the community and interacting as peers. That's when I started looking for a place to live in Iowa City.

The ability to move around physically, socially, and intellectually with ease is the essence of our vitality. In Iowa City, people with the most serious mobility impairments achieve uncommon vitality because there is a tremendous amount of sophisticated support for doing so at all levels in the community. That provides a most excellent environment for Vitality In Action Foundation to take the action necessary to make our Mobility Laboratory successful and develop innovative recreational opportunities for everyone. That's why the path we've charted in "creating mobility for a lifetime," will go via Iowa. We're excited to be at work in Iowa and we have already been warmed by a hearty (normal) Iowa welcome.

Going with the flow: Whitewater Kayaking as an Amputee

The analogies are endless: life brings us ups and downs, ebbs and flows, currents and eddies. We need to stay balanced, take things as they come, and not get too far ahead (or behind) the situation in the journey. We need to be flexible—both literally and figuratively—in order to achieve the best outcome. Set-backs are inevitable, and our reaction to these situations are what will help determine our success. Yes, kayaking is very much a metaphor for life.

I recently returned from a phenomenal week of kayaking with other young adult cancer survivors (for those of you unfamiliar with the term "survivor", this includes anyone from the day of diagnosis, to the day they leave this earth—whether this is the result of cancer or not). The camp I attended was funded and run by a wonderful organization called First Descents. In the kayaking world, a first descent is one where the kayaker is the trailblazer for a river that has previously not been kayaked. The campers were not blazing any new trails, but in our worlds, these were all first descents in their own ways.

Along with 16 other campers ages 20-39, I arrived to the tiny airport in Kalispell, Montana on Sunday. I met a few of the other campers at the airport, then others at our campground (6 cabins with a main cabin with bathrooms and a kitchen). When I replied, “Abbey” to the question, “What’s your name?” I was immediately told, “We’ll work on your nickname.” By that evening I was Popcorn--my favorite food.

On Monday we headed into the park to a small lake. The scenery was a gorgeous as could be, but with all the nerves and emotions, it was hard to fully appreciate it at that point. We were taught how to get into our dry-suits, PFDs, helmets, and into our boats. Before we even learned about paddling, we were shown, and then required to demonstrate, the “wet exit”. Remembering that we were in glacial water, I wasn’t thrilled, but knew it had to be done. They taught us in a systematic 4-step approach, and shortly after I was upside down in the water, I was out of my boat, and once again breathing fresh air. Knowing I could do this maneuver really helped calm my nerves. The heightened emotion at this point was now almost all excitement.

After a while of being on the lake, we headed for a pretty calm river. The calmness of it didn’t prevent all the campers from flipping over, but I found myself to be one of the lucky ones who did not. I was able to make it in and out of the eddies without too much of a problem. I felt I was ready for the next step by the second day.
The whole week we were watched after very closely. Safety really was the first priority, but this never got in the way of fun. The volunteer counselors were so friendly, and constantly were checking to see if they could do anything to make our experience a better one.

Most of the week I didn’t have any complaints, but as the week wore on, I couldn’t help but notice something that bothered me. I was the only amputee present at camp, and one of two people with a disability. The other camper had experienced a traumatic brain injury nearly 10 years prior that left him with a shaky/weak left side, slowed speech, and short term memory loss. He wasn’t as determined to kayak independently, as he seemed more concerned with just staying up-right. I certainly did not want to flip over, but by the last day, I realized that I had not flipped over other than the wet exit. I figured part of this is due to my light-weight body (I’m just over 85 lbs currently--that's what missing a hip and entire leg will do). I likened it to a rubber ducky floating on top of the waves and being able to keep his head up between his shoulders. There were times that I had to shift my weight to stay balanced, but I was able to do so before I flipped.

The other reason I stayed dry (besides the waves) was because I had a one-on-one counselor paddling with me. I knew it was not my counselor’s fault for sticking to me like glue, but by the last day I had had enough. I am sorry I let it get to its boiling point, but my pot was sure bubbling. In exasperation I lamented to another counselor, “Everyone else is being given the chance to do it on their own if they want to. I am not. I want to have the chance to prove that I can do it or not do it—but I need to be given the chance!” The message was relayed, and it was a success. I kayaked on my own for all but two of the rapids, and I still made it in one piece. I was able to feel proud of myself, knowing that I did it on my own—and still never flipped. It wasn’t a perfect run (on one rapid I ended up with my back facing downstream), but I was happy to know it was all mine.

The experiences I had, the skills I learned, and especially the friends I made are all irreplaceable. I would do it all over again in an instant if given the chance. Now, it’s time for my plug: www.firstdescents.org. Visit the site, check it out, and please make a donation if you feel inclined. This opportunity is worth so much more than the monetary value that it takes to send the camper. I can’t say it enough, “This camp rocks!!”

Welcome!

Dear readers, members, and future collaborators,

Welcome to the new Vitality In Action Foundation Blog! This launch comes during an exciting week for us, coinciding with the public rollout of our other social media platforms and our website launch, as well as our first full Board meeting.

This blog represents far more, however, than just a social media platform. We fully intend this space to be a community meeting place to collaborate on mobility and mobility impairment - a forum for new ideas as well as simple thoughts, critical discussion and constructive engagement. It is, above all, a dynamic online tool to facilitate new thinking about overcoming mobility impairment.

We're excited for you to become a part of this discussion, so please take a minute to "follow" us or subscribe to a news feed, as well as start posting comments. No comment is too short or too long, this is, after all, a discussion, not a lecture.

In fact, encouraging a vitalizing discussion goes to the very core of our mission:

Vitality In Action Foundation challenges all individuals who aspire to lead more mobile lives by drawing on adaptive sporting expertise to increase mobility through innovative recreational opportunities for everyone. We accomplish this mission by developing and distributing the knowledge of adaptive habilitation that enables all individuals to participate in these recreational activities.

This discussion is a natural part of developing the knowledge of Adaptive Habilitation, and it's also the first step in distributing that knowledge in a transparent, accessible manner.

We have some very interesting posts in the works already. Over the summer, we'll be covering topics including: a recent seminar discussion on language and ability VIA facilitated in Chicago, the story behind some of the pictures on our website, and a series that will follow an individual through knee replacement surgery as well as take a look at another individual who tore her ACL 5 years ago.

In the meantime, we hope you'll also take the time to look at our website, VitalityInAction.org, and connect with us on Facebook.

We look forward to seeing you back here, and collaborating with you in Creating Mobility for a Lifetime!