The Diving Bell and the Butterfly - Bringing things into perspective

It's funny how an entire four and a half days of eating and late nights have passed, and I've not had the inspiration to blog. And then, midst way through a discussion with my client, I suddenly had a NEED to put thoughts into writing, else I'll burst. But then again, am bursting from all the food consumed anyway.

The BEB passed me a copy of the book during lunch one day. He had watched the movie and had a feeling that I would enjoy the book. Being left to my own devices last night, I decided to take a read. And I absolutely loved the book. It's going way up onto my list of favourite books. Heartfelt. Tear-jerking. Optimist. Never say die. Whimsical. Strong. Human. Witty. Real. There are just so many words that I can use to describe the book, but I think that the best compliment I can pay it is that reading the book, I was forced to stop and take stock of my own life, and to weigh the things that matter. And that it takes a very brave man with a love for life to write a book in the condition that he is in.

The book is about Jean-Dominique Bauby, a man who suffers from "locked in syndrome", the after effects of a stroke that left him completely paralyzed. His only ability to communicate is this system of having someone read off the alphabet and him affirming the correct alphabet by blinking his eye. Can you imagine slowly "dictating" a whole book in this manner? My respect for him knows no bounds. Not just so coz he wrote the book, but because of his determination to not give up on life. Funnily enough, I've never really feared death. In all the times that I've contemplated the notion of death, of suicide, my biggest fear was not dying, but to be stuck forever in the state of limbo, half death, half life.

There are just so many different excerpts from the book that I would like to quote. But, my few particular favs:

I am fading away. Slowly but surely. Like the sailor who watches the home shore gradually disappear, I watch my past recede. My old life still burns within me, but more and more of it is reduced to the ashes of memory.

"Want to play hangman?" asks Theophile, and I ache to tell him that I have enough on my plate playing quadriplegic. But my communication system disqualifies repartee: the keenest rapier grows dull and falls flat when it takes several minutes to thrust it home. By the time you strike, even you no longer understand what had seemed so witty before you started to dictate it, letter by letter. 

My heart is not in the game. Grief surges over me. His face not two feet from mine, my son Theophile sits patiently waiting - and I, his father, have lost the simple right to ruffle his bristly hair, clasp his downy neck, hug his small, lithe, warm body tight against me. There are no words to express it. My condition is monstrous, iniquitous, revolting horrible. Suddenly I can take no more. Tears well and my throat emits a hoarse rattle that startles Theophile. Don't be scared, little man. I love you.  

There's loads more that I could bring up. Love the chapter where he talks about shaving his dad. Wonder how the movie version is like. Am drawn to this book coz he makes every single word count. How would the movie version be able to translate this short 130 page into a full film? Mayhaps I will find some time to go watch it.

Well, reading the book helped me clear up at least 1 of the crossroads that I was facing. Have finally made a decision. Next chapter in life, coming up.