Overheard at Sister Kenny Rehabilitation Institute in Minneapolis:
Bob: “How can you tell a therapist from a terrorist?”
Pete: “I don’t know. How?”
Bob: “You can negotiate with a terrorist.”
Pete: “That’s so true. Therapists are always, ‘Do this. Do that. Remember your goals.’”
Bob: “Oof! Goals! I am so !#&*ing sick of goals.”
I just have to ask all the Bobs in the world, “What’s the problem with goals?” If we’re talking physical therapy, work, or even life in general, I would argue that goals are indispensable.
Case in point: Twelve years ago I had a stroke. Actually, two strokes. Two different types in two different parts of the brain at nearly the same time. By all rights, ONE should have killed me.
But neither did. Why? Because from the moment the EMTs rescued me, every health care professional––doctor, nurse, therapist, aide––worked together with the aim of saving my life. And they divided this main goal into achievable, incremental goals.
The EMTs’ goal? Stabilize my condition and get me to the hospital. The emergency room doctor’s? Diagnose the issues and prescribe treatment. The hospital’s? Maintain life and prepare me for rehab.
All reached their objectives. I’m glad they did.
In the ensuing weeks, the effectiveness of setting goals became increasingly evident. Task One (sitting) led to Task Two (transferring from bed to a wheelchair), which led to Task Three (standing), which led to….
Each success was a victory, but no goal was an end in itself. As I accomplished each task, the rehab team added new steps to the agenda: Eating with both hands, shaving myself, dressing myself, WALKING.… Each victory built upon victory until the staff deemed my progress sufficient to go home.
The process was not easy. There were plenty of failures and setbacks, but I slogged on even while other patients rebelled, stagnated, and even regressed. Unfortunately, like Bob in the opening story, those victims questioned their goals and their ability to achieve them.
However, perseverance and downright stubbornness led to my release. The problem was the journey was not complete. As I left the clinic, the occupational therapist told me bluntly, “You know you are not finished. You still have a long way to go to be completely healed.”
“How long?” I asked.
“A year. Maybe two. Maybe never. However, if you keep setting attainable goals and meeting them, you will at least get close.”
So, when I got home, the first goal was to walk––not with a lurch, not with a shuffle, but really walk like a human being, not a refugee from a B-grade horror movie. That meant I would first have to master using a walker. Then, a cane. Finally, I would strike out on my own and go back to work.
That accomplished, I never stopped seeking renewed skills, new accomplishments, new destinations. A year after the strokes, my biggest landmark event was traveling to New York City and walking across the Brooklyn Bridge.
Even with all that progress, the healing continues. New goals are set, new lessons learned. I would like to say I’m cured, but I’m not. What I am, though, is happy and excited to be alive, anticipating what’s next.
So what has this to do with The Write Wind blog? Everything.
Long ago, a major part-time goal was to finish my first novel. However, things kept getting in the way. I had a job. I had responsibilities. I had things to do, darn it! Consequently, the manuscript found itself hidden under the couch, stuffed in a drawer, or piled in the back of the hallway closet.
Then came the strokes. With the physical limitations that came with them, my ability to be the teacher I once was and still wanted to be was no longer viable. It was time to seek other pursuits. It was time to revive the writing ambition. So I retired from one vocation to work at another.
With newfound drive and focused enthusiasm, I haunted libraries searching for a quiet spot, played obscure mood-setting playlists on my noise-canceling headphones, and worked long into the night crafting characters and plot. Slowly, the fledgling book materialized word after word, chapter after chapter, draft after draft, until I smiled and said, “It’s complete!”
However, before I could relax and bask in the satisfaction of finishing, the lessons of the past five years announced in their best therapist voices, “Wake up! That book’s done! Next step? Write a new one. Get on with it.”
So here we are. A new life with a new purpose.
My nonworking life is not finished. I still have family and friends that I will cling to as long as I have breath. As much as this new career excites me, those people are my top priority.
However, I embrace the writing opportunity. And the first step in that regard is to set aims and find methods of accomplishing them.
So while crafting the next “story that must be told” into a novel, I research background. I seek counsel. I develop characters. I refine the outline. And I share what I have learned, am learning, and will learn with other writers. More importantly, I seek their advice.
This then is the most dauntingly enormous and exciting goal ahead: To employ the skills I used for 35 years as an educator and use the ones I’m learning now to work and live as a writer. The intermediate goals may include blogging, marketing, and setting word to cyberspace, but the main one—to become and live as a writer—is the guide, the lodestar.
With that objective growing ever clearer, the more likely I am to reach it. Without setting that target, I'm more likely to flail wildly getting nowhere.
You see, Bob, while goals and ways to reach them can be adjusted, setting them is NOT NEGOTIABLE!
Hmmm. Maybe I should have been a therapist.
