A guide to not just coping, but living in the wake of a sudden catastrophic disability.
Bray, who operates a healing ministry in Arizona and experienced an accident years ago in which he lost his sight, is a testament to St. Barton’s ode: â€œI am hurt, but I am not slain. I will lie me down and bleed awhile, then I will rise up and fight again.” In a voice that is businesslike, but still buoyant, he advocates for maintaining one’s independence and decision-making authority in the face of disability, plowing through the trauma, humiliation and embarrassment that a sudden change in your physical health entails. Bray’s advice is sprinkled with nondenominational Christianity and leavened with humor: â€œThis book cannot and will not diminish the absolute hell of a suddenly blind individual, but if in hell, why not bring an air conditioner and try to beat the devil at his own game.” The author’s mantra is that a person will only be victimized if he or she plays the role of a victim. Bray advises those living with disabilities to follow his brass-tacks listing of commandments, including warnings, reminders and rules: how to secure mobility (â€œdevelop the right â€˜attitude’ by never looking at the ground while traveling. Since the [suddenly blind] can’t see it anyway, it doesn’t make sense to look down”), tap into the benefits available for higher education, deal with finances and organize a kitchen and cook. The author wants the suddenly disabled to be their own masters and delegate any personal authority only as a last resort, while taking full advantage of the laws assisting persons with disabilities, and the panoply of community resources at their disposal. Much of the book covers optimizing use of the computer for entertainment and information, and it closes with a short segment on physical fitness. The author spells out each of his prescriptions in aching detail, leaving no issue unexplored.
Thoroughly encouraging and, best of all, entirely practical.