Going to College with a Physical Disability

“So, what do you want out of life?” my inner voice asked me. It would be an easy question if it weren’t for the situation in which I found myself. At that instant, I was an about to go home resident of a rehabilitation hospital, and recently comatose. The question’s answer, however, was as complex as love.

I want to get out of here, have a family, a career, lead a normal life, I told myself. Convinced that being hospitalized for a year was more than just a bump in the road, I steeled myself for the onslaught.

And an onslaught it was: wheelchairs, medical equipment, health-care professionals-each with an opinion that may or may not have fit with the plan, if there was a plan. (That is a matter of opinion.)

Every detail was weighed and considered, compared against a similar aspect with just slightly different qualities which yielded only a miniscule difference in results. The final outcome would often be the same with either choice.

To top it off, my family had no experience with any type of long-term injury. Oh, there were coughs and colds and allergies, even a broken bone or two, but nothing like this.

All through the ordeal of my hospitalization, my family learned that doctors don’t know everything. It was a shock to them, when health-care professionals often answered “We don’t know,” when asked about any recovery. I will present several glaring examples as proof that doctors don’t know everything: In the coma, my body had gotten stiff from lying face up immobile for months. The doctors wanted to operate on my hips, so I would be able to sit in a chair one day. (Having that surgery meant that I would never be able to walk.)

In their great wisdom, my parents did not give permission for that procedure, saying, “He just needs time.” My hips were never touched by any medical instrument nor any procedure suggested by doctors who didn’t offer a positive outcome. So nothing was done as a result. The course of action proposed by my parents proved correct. In time, I would be able to sit in a chair or anywhere, even walk with a cane.

Another incorrect opinion offered to my family by doctors was that of “If Todd ever comes out of the coma, he will probably be a total vegetable.” That opinion was given to two people who were heartbroken…talk about kicking a man when he’s down…I know doctors try to give relatives of patients worst-case scenarios so they can be prepared for the worst, but still.

Having had no experience with disability, or hospitals for that matter, my parents became aware of their lack of knowledge of medical terminology and the ability to offer their son help. However, with unwavering faith in The Almighty, my parents knew they were up against a Goliath-of-infirmities, but made advantageous decisions for me that I was unable to make myself. David and Joan Gettings took care of me as only parents can.

Of course, they both felt inadequate, but it was understood that God had a plan. His purpose for allowing me to have this experience is unknown to me and will probably continue to be so. I am not mad at God for this; I feel calmly reassured that He chose me through which to accomplish His purposes. It wasn’t always that way though.

At the time of the accident, I had been a born-again-Christian for fourteen years. But with higher education, I had begun to forget my faith and welcome sinful activities. I am thankful He chose me through which to work, though. I do remember thinking, when I had regained consciousness and some cognitive or thinking ability, “I didn’t ask for this.” Not being able to contemplate God or much else at the time, as well as being preoccupied with all the attention I was getting, prompted me to focus on myself and nothing else.

After I was injured, I was unconscious and thus don’t remember anything. Since I was in a coma for four and a half to five months, time during and immediately following those months left a black hole in my memory, where there is no recollection at all.

The cards were heavily stacked against me. All I could do was try my best, so that’s what I did. Staff at a rehabilitation place I went to, known as a “transitional facility,” often told me to try. “Just try, Todd,” they would say. ”You don’t know if you can do something until you try.” That made sense, so the rest, as they say, is history.

I was hurt during my junior year at Florida State University, so I knew I wanted a college degree. The hard part was not the desire, but gaining the encouragement and sincere emotional backing of untold unsupportive people.

When I informed my case-worker of my desire to get a college degree, he scheduled for me an evaluation with a psychologist. It seems to me that my caseworker plainly did not want to pay for it, so he arranged for an evaluation. (When in doubt, give ‘em an evaluation.)

Of course, the psychologist told the caseworker exactly what he wanted to hear, because after three days of testing, said psychologist reported, Because of my auditory-processing problem, there was no way I could manage classroom lectures or be able to fathom anything the professor “threw out” in the classroom.’ It was an opinion that I did not expect, nor believe. (Not believing it was crucial to my success.)

Nobody took me seriously; no one believed in me, but myself. It is sad to say, but nobody really thought I was college material anymore. I had been hurt too bad. I should not even have these high ambitions.

That was the thinking, I believe. I decided that people could think whatever they wanted, they were going to anyway. I also decided that I didn’t care. And that proved to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

I was suddenly free from being afraid. Being afraid of what people might think, being afraid of offending anybody, being afraid of being considered a failure.

That is what occupied my mind before I found myself in college. After I went ahead and registered, I figured I couldn’t be a failure if I was in college.

During my quest to get a degree, I made friends with every secretary, administrator and professor I could, as I never knew when it would pay off. But pay off it did. I was graduated in December 2001 with better than a B grade-point-average.

Note-takers were absolutely essential, as my writing hand was affected by the accident. A scribe to assist in typing long assignments was necessary because English Literature was my major and the written word is the crux of that enterprise. Note-takers and scribes should be available complimentary to students at any college. Most schools are happy to aid disabled students and fulfill state requirements for diversity. If qualifications are met by a prospective student, the government will cover any of the expenses he or she incurs. For this reason, the Pell Grant was created; to help defray the cost of higher education for students who qualify.

There are many trained counselors and advisors at each institution who can offer services that may not be obviously available, or who can relate the attributes of any programs the school has in existence.

A great way to make the most of the college experience is for students to join the college’s student government. Interested students should find out the location of meetings, and start attending.

Becoming involved with Student Government ensures the continuation of the organization, because older students are graduated, vacating positions and causing the need for replacements. Usually, specialized knowledge is not what is needed, but rather a willingness to tackle responsibility, and a desire for some organizational input.

The point of my writing this piece was to show that universities and colleges are favorable to the disabled. If a physically-disabled person has the desire for a college degree, then that is more than half the battle! Add to the desire one heaping helping of determination, then reach deep inside and grasp every fragment of fortitude, every shred of spunk. Throw it all together and put your best foot forward! And don’t look back.

Being graduated from college is tough for any and everybody. Granted, it’s doubly tough for a disabled person, although not impossible. My intention for writing this is to encourage disabled people to just go for it by relating a personal story that shows it IS possible.

In Deuteronomy, Chapter Thirty-one verse six of the Bible, the Lord instructs us with: “Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid or tremble at them, for the Lord is the one who goes with you. He will not fail you or forsake you.”

In the words of Nike, “Just Do It!”