I WILL SURVIVE (TONY'S STORY)

This article was printed in the Friday Times on the 10th December 2010

I will survive
Rabia Ahmed  meets a man who takes ‘self-help’ to a whole other level
Adjust Font Size    Tony and his family in Florida Tony at his home in Lahore Tony and daughter Alysha Tony (2nd from left) talking to a spinal injury group at home Tony with the mayor of London He was pulled out and taken to the Combined Military Hospital (CMH) at Sialkot on a flatbed truck next to the scalding silencer, which burned him. But CMH Sialkot was unable to treat him. When he was lifted out of the hospital bed (so an ambulance could take him to Lahore), his skin, burned on the truck, remained on the bedsheet. His mother passed out at the sight And then came Ruth, “a vicious tigress of a physiotherapist. She bullied me into rehab. It took me a while to get used to her. I hated her for a month, before realising what she was trying to do. It was she who gave me hope. She would come on her days off and order the nurses around. ‘Let him go thirsty until he learns to pick up that glass,’” she told them ony, a strapping young man who excelled in every sport from track to wrestling, fulfilled his mother’s ambition of ‘mera beta engineer banay ga’ by getting a diploma in Civil Engineering. He was employed by the Pakistan Rangers as a sub-inspector. In 1986, while diving at the Marala Headworks near Sialkot, he hurt himself. He didn’t know it then, but he had broken his neck at C5 and 6. He was 22 years old. Swallowing water and sand, he thought as he blacked out, “I hope they find my body.” He was pulled out and taken to the Combined Military Hospital (CMH) at Sialkot on a flatbed truck next to the scalding silencer, which burned him. CMH Sialkot was unable to treat him. When he was lifted out of the hospital bed (so an ambulance could take him to Lahore), his skin, burned on the truck, remained on the bedsheet. His mother passed out at the sight. En route to Lahore, the ambulance overturned on some large speed breakers on the Ravi Bridge, and Tony was thrown from his stretcher. There was severe pain in his neck and what little movement he had in his limbs ceased. “I woke packed in ice. My whole family was present.” He was in the CMH for almost seven months and then at the Services Hospital. Tony’s older brother Faisal went into a depression, isolating himself in a dark room. His younger brother Imtiaz left college to look after him. Nothing can describe what his parents went through. Terrible pressure sores developed after months in bed; but all Tony says about his life then is, “I found angels everywhere I went.” Surgeons at the hospital worked to heal his sores. His cousin Dr Waseem supervised his treatment, and his whole family was very supportive. Tony belongs to a middle class family that couldn’t afford to pay his medical bills. Tony’s mother tried to get funding for her son’s treatment. Because Tony was an employee, the Government of Pakistan gave him £10,000 for treatment abroad. Eighteen months after his accident Tony, his mother and Imtiaz left for England. They stayed with a cousin, and Tony was taken to Cromwell, a private hospital in London where he twice endured spinal fusion, a procedure that involves the placing of bone grafts around broken vertebrae, but it didn’t help his spinal cord. Dr Amir Aziz (now in Lahore) had Tony’s bed sores treated at Mount Vernon Hospital where the surgeon charged nothing. Dr Aziz was present at all of Tony’s surgeries, and visited him in hospital and at home. Tony also went to the Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital for Occupational and Physiotherapy, where surgeons did not charge a fee, and also managed to get the hospital fees reduced. More angels. A further £15,000 was needed for Rehabilitation. Tony’s mother applied to what was then the prestigious BCCI bank for help, and Mr Agha Hassan Abidi approved the grant. “That money saved my life,” says Tony. In 1988 at the International Spinal Injuries and Rehabilitation Centre in Aylesbury, Diane, a nurse, helped him out of the car. His doctor then insisted that Tony’s mother return to Pakistan because, he said, rehab was impossible with her around; she was “mothering him too much.” Tony’s mother wept but did finally leave; and the doctor said, “You’re on your own now, Mister.” “It broke my heart when she left,” said Tony. It was his mother who, in his state of incapacitation, had done everything for him. He knew little English and was scared of ringing the bell and irritating the nurses. “It was the best rehab anyone could have,” says Tony. He had a lot to learn, and he did. “So many things worked out,” Tony says. “People turned up and helped one after another, as though God was putting everything in place for me, and holding my hand while I took one baby step at a time.” A Palestinian doctor gave Tony a rudimentary mattress in the form of three strips of foam, which served to keep pressure off the heavier parts of his body. And then Ruth, “a vicious tigress of a physiotherapist. She bullied me into rehab. It took me a while to get used to her. I hated her for a month, before realising what she was trying to do. It was she who gave me hope. She would come on her days off and order the nurses around. ‘Let him go thirsty until he learns to pick up that glass,’” she told them. “The first day in a chair, I fainted. I would feel dizzy and shout ‘I’m dying!’ They would tip my chair back but I stayed in that chair. Eventually, I didn’t want to go back to bed. A week later I was fine, kidding around with everyone although still shy of speaking English. It took me weeks to get used to the constant ‘Thank yous’ and ‘Pleases’, but I got there.” Three months later, when his family returned, he told them he’d “had a blast”. Diane and Tony became friends, and a year later when he asked her to marry him, she agreed. Their valima was held in Lahore in 1989. Diane was older than Tony, had been married before, and had four children. He says, “I thought my life was over until I met Diane.” Nancy Reagan said that a woman is like a tea bag: it is only when she is in hot water that you realise how strong she is; and it was Confucius who said that a gentleman can withstand hardships; it is only the small man who, when subjected to them, is swept off his feet. Diane was 45 years old and Tony quadriplegic, and this was a marriage between a strong tea bag and a large gentleman. Diane worked full time while Tony passed High School. He also did a counselling course with a scholarship from the British Government, and began counselling people on disability and later fertility issues. Rehab had taught Tony many life skills, but it was Diane who helped Tony in every way, day and night. In 1992 when Diane was 46, a son, Ismet, was born to the couple by IVF. In 1993, Tony and Imtiaz decided to buy the local video store, but their bank refused them a loan. The banker they were dealing with, Brett Chown, apologised, saying that if he were the Manager, he would have granted the loan. He suggested another bank. Barclays gave them the money, with the Manager saying, “I’m going to give you a break.” He asked them to match whatever he gave, and they did, with their joint credit cards. A few years later, Chown became the Corporate Manager and a personal friend and helped Tony with all his ventures. The store did well and brought in more money than expected, and two years later the family bought a house. Was Tony ‘freaked out’ with all these new responsibilities of family and work? “I live in country where I know that even if I lose everything, I will have a place to live and food for myself and my family,” he says. “So I was happy to try new ventures, and I worked hard. At the worst I’d have to return my business to the bank.” In 2000 Tony bought another store and two cottages next to it and in 2001, Tony and Diane had their second child, Alysha (aka Biscuit), also by IVF. In 2003, Tony, unable to buy a locally made muffler for his car decided to start fabricating and manufacturing car parts, and created ‘Top Gear’ to supply just that. However, his main source of income remains an insurance business that he set up a few years later. We visited Tony at his home in 2005, when Diane cooked us an excellent dal gosht . She has managed to integrate with Tony’s cultural expectations without losing her own identity. Their place is home to all four of her children now grown up, and both of theirs. Tony says the key to his and Diane’s marriage is that neither makes unreasonable demands, religious or cultural, on the other. He says he never pushes his children to be what they’re not. “If someone wants something, they will get it somehow. The world consists of all kinds of people who are all essential.” “My mother tried to make doctors and engineers of us. Faisal went into the army, and Imtiaz was bright and studied. I was ‘nobody’, yet now I am better off than all of them put together. I’m not bragging, just saying that being a decent person matters too, and people should do what they want.” Tony’s biggest support after his wife is the British Government, which provides him with free medical care. He drives a car for which he paid neither sales nor road tax, and in the shape of the mobility allowance paid to him every week by the government, fuel is paid for as well. Tony’s parents died some years ago, as also, tragically, did his brother Imtiaz in 2003. Tony visits Pakistan every year. It is not easy for him to visit, and it is impossible for him to live here permanently, given the absence of facilities for people with disabilities. In Pakistan Tony can only be a passenger in a normal car. A specially adapted car such as the one he owns in the UK costs at least £50,000. When importing such a car into Pakistan the Government of Pakistan levies import tax, which is calculated at a higher rate than on normal cars, that is at 100% of the cost. A £50,000 car therefore costs at least £100,000. Pakistani roads have few pavements and are hazardous. In public, people stare and pass comments. As for facilities in public places: The Business Lounge at the Allama Iqbal Airport in Lahore is not accessible to persons on wheel chairs. Neither was Tony’s apartment in Lahore, and a friend had a ramp built there. One of the largest banks in the Pakistani city where Tony holds his account has no wheelchair access whatsoever. Most incredible, however, is the fact that his hospital in Lahore is not wheelchair accessible. The clinic of Tony’s ophthalmologist in Lahore has wheelchair access but the machines inside are inaccessible to a person in a wheelchair. Tony would like us, the people of Pakistan, to give just a bit of thought to the problems faced by the countless disabled persons in our midst, to try to help them in even a small way. (We could start with ramps, for example, and make a significant difference to the life of a person who is already facing so many challenges.) Tony’s motor and sensory abilities were destroyed after his accident. Because he has workable muscles in his shoulders, he can move his arms. He exercises these precious muscles constantly. He says using them day after day makes a bigger difference than going to the gym. He can jam an object such as his phone in his permanently clawed hands and use it all by himself. He can eat, and use the computer by himself. He turns himself in bed by using a ‘monkey pole’ over his bed from which hangs a bar that he hooks with his arm. He also exercises his lungs by blowing balloons. Tony uses a battery-powered wheelchair all by himself, and in England his car, which he can drive on his own. The car is adapted for him, with a ‘push and pull’ control instead of a steering wheel. Tony’s own chair swoops up a ramp into the driving side, and away he goes, music and all. Drop the image of a decrepit man weeping into his soup: Tony is often the best-looking man in the room. He takes charge in a way that others ought to envy and, at the very least, think about very seriously. Rabia Ahmed lives in Lahore