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‘I Can’

Believe in yourself

Believe in your dreams

Believe that you’re special

Believe that you can...

By Cy and Wendy Edmondson

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What others are saying about the book…

• A quick and easy read with a most inspiring

message. What I enjoyed most was the positive

message that flows from every page. – Patti

Kramer – Eden College

• What a refreshing, inspiring and awesome book. It

is just Schiznie!!!! I wish there were more stories

as I could read it for ages. Your manner of writing

is as if you are sitting and chatting to me. It is a

book for all ages and leaves a lasting impression. I

take my hat off to you and your family. I

thoroughly enjoyed the humour and honesty in

the book. I look forward to more reading more of

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your books. May your lives be filled with happiness

and joy! You are an inspiration! - Kate Rose –

Crawford Schools Head Office

• Through the laughter and tears, this book is not

only a huge learning curb for children and adults

alike, but an awesome inspiration to life in every

perspective. Now I know I Can! – Sherry Lurie

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Title: ‘I CAN…’

Author: Cy & Wendy Edmondson

Company: Another point of view

Umhlanga, South Africa

www.anotherpointofview.co.za

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be

reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,

electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval

system, without written permission from the author,

except for the brief quotations in a review.

Copyright © Cy Edmondson

First edition 2007

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Acknowledgements

• To my loving and supporting wife, Wendy, who

has helped and guided me to following my dreams.

She has been there through the good times and

the bad. She is my rock and I will love her forever.

• To my son, Josh who has been an inspiration to

me. As Wendy says, ‘Our future lies in the dreams

of our kids.’ Josh, you are a true testament to this.

We love you for you - and always will.

• To my parents. My Dad for his humour, and my

Mom for her loving support.

• To my in-laws, Ruth and Sharl. Sharing your wise

words of support and encouragement. Through

bad and good times. You will always be close to

my heart.

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• To our editor, Lisa Cooper. Thank-you for your

valuable input and minute attention to detail. It

wouldn’t have been possible without your

guidance and constant encouragement.

• Last, but not least. To all the teachers, kids and

parents out there, willing to change. Working

together and conquering the negativity that

surrounds us in today’s society.

• Thanks to Peter Barrett for his time and dedication

in designing the cover for “I Can”.

• Sincerest thanks to Tony and Wayne of EZprint at

the Crescent - Umhlanga for the professionalism in

their photographs and assistance in creating the

best possible quality

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‘The future lies in the dreams of our kids…’

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About the Author

In 1990, during a school leadership course, Cy fell ill

with an unknown virus which attacked his spinal

cord. After three months in a coma, he regained

consciousness but had to learn to deal with the heavy

burden of being disabled for the rest of his life. He had to

learn how to speak again and to come to terms with the

fact that he would never walk again.

During a stay in hospital, Cy developed a close

relationship with his nurse, Wendy Lurie, and they

married in 1994.

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Although they were advised that producing children

would be a near miracle, if at all possible, their son,

Joshua, was born in April 1995.

Despite his disability, Cy continually directs his energy

towards assisting individuals in steering their lives

towards their personal destinies – whether they be family

or relationship orientated, directing their focus on

personal goals, or making profound contributions to

organizations and communities.

In November 2000, Cy accepted the challenge of

‘climbing’ the Sentinel Peak in the Drakensberg, defying

the ‘rules’ of disability and making history in the process.

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Foreword

Having heard Cy Edmonson deliver his address at Hilton

College in January of 2007 at Hilton College, it has been

my pleasure to read his book covering his short and

vibrant life. As I remarked in my report on his

presentation, this is an important book for all young

people to read. It covers, in a human and illustrative way,

the power of dreams and the aspirations that all of us

have and few have been able to achieve. The fact

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that Cy could well have curled up and literally died but,

most importantly DID NOT is the important message to

take from his moving story. His is a remarkable

account of the power of the human spirit. He has, despite

crippling adversity, made the conscious decision to

celebrate life and to live each day to the fullest. As you

travel with him through his life's journey, he inspires and

uplifts you and makes you think what you and I can and

should achieve and that the only limits are the limits you

impose on yourself. This is a commendable book filled

with human interest and urges one to celebrate life even

in the darkest night.

Anthony Durnford – Deputy Director of Academic Studies – HILTON COLLEGE

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Chapter 1

From able bodied to disabled. From consultant to leader.

From looking to conquering. From merely existing - to

living. These are the mountains I’ve climbed, and this is

my story.

I started boarding school when I was eight years old, and

only then because my big brother went and I was jealous!

For the first three months I was miserable and wanted to

go home. Everyone kept telling me that I wouldn’t be

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homesick forever. They just didn’t understand. I wasn’t

sick of home - I wanted to go home! Luckily this feeling

soon passed, and before long I was getting up to the

same mischief that most other eight-year-olds do.

I made many friends, some of them life-long, and spent

my weekends with them on surrounding farms. I had a

busy life - chatting up the girls, playing touch rugby,

socialising… I’d go for long runs in the conifer plantations

and spend time fishing and playing tennis and squash

down the street. As the years passed, I developed a love

for sport, which helped to strengthen my already

persistent determination to succeed. You’d find me at any

rugby, tennis or cricket function – if I wasn’t playing, I’d

be there supporting.

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As a teenager I was pretty independent. School holidays

consisted of visiting girlfriends, clubbing, and earning

pocket money by helping my old man mix cement, cut

bushes, paint various rooms of the house, etc, etc, etc -

you get the picture!

I loved alternate music, and the more black I wore, the

cooler I looked (or so I thought, anyway!). The perfect

outfit was a tight black shirt and black tapered pants with

black Winklepicker shoes (the pointier the better…). And

a long black trench coat to top it off. Eye-liner was also

part of my attire, and one dangly earring. I had a

moderate build, but with all the black plus the Durban

heat, I probably sweated half my body weight away! I

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was cool; I walked with my head high and a swagger in

my shoulders.

Fortunately, my mom’s one of those very accommodating

types, with only a little temper if provoked - the best

anyone could have from a mom. We used to talk about

everything and she never seemed to judge me, or my

decisions. I remember her having a calm, peaceful way of

guiding me through my various teenage phases. My dad

was always different. He used to rip me off, referring to

my attire as ‘coffin-kid’ – whatever! With his unique sense

of humour, he taught me that nothing in life comes for

free (hence all the holiday chores). He also instilled in me

that laughter really and truly is the best medicine, which I

was grateful for in the years to come.

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I’d be home for long week-ends and holidays. Walking

through the front door after first term, looking forward to

a warm welcome, my dad would say

‘Who’re you? Hey look, it’s that guy who used to

visit us a few years ago…’ It wasn’t really that funny then,

but I have to smile at the thought now. I always made

my way straight to my bedroom, which was the garage. I

loved it there. It was my space. I even spray-painted all

my favourite bands on the walls. It was pure bliss. I’d

immediately get changed into my black attire, ready to hit

the streets.

‘Cheers Mom, Dad.’

‘Hey, where’re you going?’ my Dad would ask.

‘Dunno, I’ll see you in a week’s time.’

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‘Oh, ok. Bye. Be careful.’ And that was my holiday

routine: a brief encounter with the folks, then off to do

my own thing.

I hitchhiked everywhere - day or night, rain or sun. In

those days it was most male teenager’s mode of transport.

Sleeping on a park bench or at the back of some guy’s car

I’d just met was pretty much a norm. I’d wake up and

make my way to the local shopping centre to get

freshened up and ensure that I smelt good and had clean

teeth. I’d walk down the aisles trying on tester

deodorants and gargling mouthwash and then swallowing

it (you never know who you might see at the Mall!)…

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Going back to school after the holidays always brought

me back on track though, the ‘straight and narrow’ so to

speak. Being involved in sport made me my own hero.

Sport got you all you wanted in a co-ed school: fame,

girls, and a few bruises. Everything a teenager could

want! If there was mischief around, I’d usually be at the

bottom of it, and had the tendency to always see the

funny side of things. I was also the school ‘comedian’,

which helped with my popularity stakes, but didn’t bring

me too many girlfriends. It’s one of those things that I

wish I’d learnt from the beginning.

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Chapter 2

The school bell rings, its time for break.

‘Ok, pack up and make your way, quietly, to the

playground, you lot.’ The excitement from the teacher

was almost parallel with the kids. Break-time after a two

period session of maths - what a relief for all of us! I

sprinted down to the hostel hoping to be first in line for

sarmies. Shaun and Nigel, my two best mates, had kept

me a place in the line.

‘Hey, Cy,’ Sean said between mouthfuls of peanut

butter and jam sarmies, ‘rugby’s cancelled. What ya

gonna do this afternoon?’

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‘Go for a run in the plantations. Coming?’

‘No chance, I have to study.’ I shrugged casually.

‘Cool, I’ll go on my own then.’ That was my life.

Between playing touch rugby on the field and chatting

with the girls, there were no worries. Choices were

simple: do I chat, or do I go and play touch? I was

getting myself ready to play first-team rugby. Had to

make it this year. I love my rugby!

The following day, the principal called an assembly and

announced the trial prefects. My name came up.

‘Yes!’ I’d made it. The potential privileges of

prefect-hood flashed before me – authority, respect,

lights out late, our own dorm… I couldn’t wait. A week

passed and I was so excited to finally be going on the

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leadership course. It was in the bush and I was feeling a

little under the weather with a tummy bug, but that didn’t

worry me. I’d have to be dead to miss this.

The camp was beautiful. Waterfalls and bush all around,

with a rustic feel. The activities were awesome, including

abseiling during the day and the campfire chats at night.

I remember feeling a true sense of belonging, and we

developed a strong bond amongst ourselves, and with

nature. Two days passed and then we were summoned to

go night hiking with nothing but one torch for the leader

of the group. The point was to build trust amongst the

teams.

The weather was cold and wet, and you couldn’t see

anything in front of your face. My stomach was still

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playing up and I’d started feeling a bit irritable. The last

thing I felt like was slipping and sliding in wet mud in the

darkness. My body felt weak and hollow. The final straw

was when the leader in front of me accidentally

catapulted the branch he was holding into my face. I felt

the sharp, sudden sting of a slap, and small twigs of the

branch scratched my cheeks. I slumped down onto my

knees, unable to pull myself up. My group panicked.

‘Cy, you ok?’ I barely nodded, and stared at the

droplets of rain running off my hair and mingling with the

tears that stung my eyes. The leader radioed camp and

asked that someone come and assist me.

‘There’s something wrong with Cy, Sir!’ I heard

him say in an unsteady voice. I got back to camp and was

given something warm to drink. I don’t remember falling

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asleep. The next morning I felt slightly better, almost as if

I had a hangover, but the ‘stomach bug’ hadn’t left yet.

Two weeks later I still hadn’t got rid of my bug. I felt like

I had a heavy dose of flu and the runs and stomach

cramps were really making me feel weak. I finally decided

to see the local GP, who gave me some tablets for my

bladder and an injection for flu. The next morning I was

so fragile that I couldn’t even get out of my bed. The

hostel master took one look at me and summoned my

buddies, Shaun and Nigel, to assist me to his car. Shaun

bundled me into the passenger seat, but I couldn’t even

hold my own head up so Nigel jumped into the back seat

behind me and held me steady. I can’t remember what

they were saying; their voices were distant muffles, like a

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dream. The next thing I remember was waiting for the

doctor in the girls’ hostel. I noticed that the girl I was

fond of was also waiting to see the doctor. I put on a

brave face (I had a reputation to protect, you know!).

‘I don’t look so good right now, hey?’ I said as

casually as I could manage in my stupor.

‘Cy, you really don’t look so good,’ she answered

seriously. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be ok?’

‘Of course I will, just a bad bout of flu,’ I replied

with a shrug. I somehow didn’t feel the conviction of my

own words.

The doctor didn’t hesitate. He advised the teacher on

duty to take me to Christ the King Hospital urgently. It

was one of those clinic-type hospitals which unfortunately

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don’t have the necessary equipment to deal with critical

situations, just the basic drips and beds. I felt as if I was

slipping into deep sleep for hours at a time, only to awake

and see that only ten minutes had passed. I remember,

as if in a foggy tunnel, Matron Swinscoe from my hostel

standing beside me, her face drawn and her eyes darting

from my face to the doctor questioningly. Her mouth was

moving but I heard no words. I don’t remember much

from this point.

When I finally opened my eyes again my mom and dad

were standing in front of my bed. Oh boy, I thought –

this must be pretty serious. It’s a one-and-a-half hour

drive to the school. My parents later told me that the

doctors had advised them that I needed to get to a better

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equipped hospital as soon as possible as I was

deteriorating. The problem was that if they flew or drove

me anywhere, there was a chance that I wouldn’t make

the trip. They decided to take the risk and I was

transported to St Augustine’s Hospital in Durban by

ambulance.

That night my heart stopped and I was rushed from High

Care to ICU. This was a ward with only five beds and a

sister allocated to each one. Now it was really getting

serious! From what I’ve been told, my condition was very

erratic and unstable and my chance of survival was slim.

After the third night in hospital my folks were called in.

‘Mr and Mrs Edmondson, as you know, your son is

very unstable. I’d like to suggest to you both that you

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treat every visit as your last.’ My parents sat in stunned

silence. They were in shock. This is our son, they were

thinking. This isn’t possible, and it’s unacceptable. Why

must he die first? It’s not supposed to work that way…

The following morning my parents arrived at the hospital

to meet the local priest. He wasn’t there for a social visit.

He was there to give the last rites. A mother and father’s

worst nightmare was becoming a reality as they prepared

themselves to deal with the death of their youngest child.

A week passed. I was in a coma and hooked up to a life

support system by this stage. My parents were living a

nightmare. Tempers flared, reason fled and accusations

flew. The doctors and staff weren’t doing enough – my

parents needed answers! No sleep, no food, the quiet

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breaking of their hearts clearly showed on their faces. As

I eventually stabilized they began feeding me through a

tube in my nose. I was emaciated and had bedsores the

size of tennis balls covering my buttocks - but I was alive.

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Chapter 3

When I finally opened my eyes again it was to see the

stark whiteness of the ceiling above my bed. I smelt

detergent and the sickly-sweet smell of disinfectant. I

could hear a continuous ‘beep-whoosh’ sound next to me

but I couldn’t turn my head sideways to see what it was.

Where was everyone? I felt confused, as if I’d fallen

asleep and been moved. My dad used to do that when I

fell asleep in front of the TV sometimes - I’d miraculously

wake up in my bed the next morning. Only this wasn’t my

bed.

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Moments later an unfamiliar but friendly face appeared

above me.

‘Cy,’ I heard her say in a quiet, soothing voice,

‘welcome back.’ I tried to ask her where I was, I had the

words in my head, but my voice had no sound, not even

the rasping of air passing through my throat. When the

kind face and soothing voice began to explain my

surroundings to me, my heart began to pound loudly.

How could I possibly have slept for three months! Where

were my parents? Was I meant to play rugby today? Why

couldn’t I speak? And what was wrong with my damned

arms? As an overwhelming tiredness swept over me, the

bright whiteness of the room hazed over, turning from

grey to black. I slowly drifted from the real world back

into my familiar cocoon.

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Far in the distance, I heard my parents. Their voices were

growing closer and closer, as if in a tunnel. They were

calling my name, over and over. They were in my dream.

No… wait… it wasn’t a dream. I slowly lifted my heavy

eyelids and saw them standing anxiously beside my bed.

They looked so tired – I could see big black rings around

their eyes. I could also see from their faint, unconvincing

smiles that something tragic had happened. What was it?

What was wrong? TELL ME! Instead, they both gave me a

kiss and simply said that they’d missed me. I tried

desperately to respond, but all I could manage was to

click my tongue in response. (This later became my form

of communication - one click meant yes, and two clicks

meant no.)

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I wanted answers but the nurses did nothing more than

carefully mother me and smile encouragingly. Two days

passed before a doctor finally came through to see me.

He sat down with a nervous smile on his face.

‘Cy, I need to speak to you about your situation.’

‘Click,’ I replied with my tongue.

‘It’s amazing that you’re alive,’ he said gravely.

‘However, we expect that you’ll be paralyzed from your

neck down, and won’t be able to see out of your left eye

again. Oh, and you’ll also have slight brain damage...’

I stared into space for a while, desperately trying to

comprehend what he’d just said. What kind of a sick joke

was this to play on someone? I stared at him as a slight

tear rolled down my face. Hate boiled deep within my

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stomach. It was his fault. I turned my head slowly to look

at my mom, convinced that she’d burst out laughing at

the mere thought of what I’d just been told. She didn’t.

Instead, rasping sobs escaped her throat, confirming the

bitter truth.

I remember my mind freezing for an instant. In the

seconds that followed I simply didn’t believe him. Then all

the things I still needed to do began to line up in quick

succession: playing rugby ... socialising with my friends …

dating. Girlfriends! What now?? Could I ever get one?

Would anyone ever love me??

Time seemed a blur, but later that night, in the stillness

of the High Care ward, I finally came to a realization.

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There was a choice to be made – and I had to make it. It

was difficult, but I felt within myself that the choices that

I had to make that night were ones that would determine

my very destiny.

‘Cy, you have a choice, pal,’ I said to myself

sternly. ‘You can either sit here and feel sorry for

yourself; or you can go back out into the big world with

an “I CAN” attitude.’

There and then, I made an effort to stop myself

from thinking negatively. I may not have been able to

control my circumstances, but I could control my attitude

towards them. It wasn’t easy, and it’s an ongoing process,

but the key lay in believing in myself.

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I left the hospital four months later and learnt to face a

life that felt like a roller-coaster of obstacles. Obstacles

that had to be overcome. Bathing, for instance - how

simple is that? It became a major concern for me. I

needed assistance to climb into the bath as well as to

wash myself. I couldn’t move my body like I used to, and

had the additional frustration of trying to move my hands

and arms to do a simple thing like bathing. However, I’d

made the choice to be strong and positive, and tried to

overcome these small yet huge obstacles with all my

strength, and most of all my dignity.

I was still on cortisone for my eye and hadn’t fully

regained the use of my arms when I decided to join a

gym to get my body into shape. After three months of

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pushing myself to the limits, I became fitter, more

confident, and stronger, allowing me to gain the use of

my arms again. Having the use of my arms also gave me

the ability and confidence to do more things. Training was

hard work, and took hours of painful dedication but it

strengthened my resolve to continue with the rest of my

life.

Now I needed a challenge to go to the next level – one

within me this time. I needed to examine the reason why

I couldn’t do things. Why I couldn’t get a girlfriend, for

example.

I found that the solution was simple: there was actually

no reason why I couldn’t. No real reason, anyway. My “I

CAN” attitude simply had to be translated into “I CAN”

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action. From that point onwards, every time I had an

obstacle in my way, I practised telling myself, ‘I CAN, I

CAN…’, and I discovered a simple, yet remarkable fact.

If you can, you will.

Eight months after my original release from hospital I was

back. The spasms which pulled my knees against my

chest were painful and embarrassing, and they were

restricting my ability to do more, so I approached my

doctor and he advised me of an operation that would

allow my legs to ‘flop’ more freely.

‘Let’s do it,’ I said, and the date was booked.

Clouded by the excitement of having an operation that

could give me the extra mobility that I needed, I was

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completely unaware that there was something even more

exciting and life-changing up ahead than I could ever

have imagined.

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Chapter 4

After the operation, I woke up and found my legs in

plaster of Paris from my hips through to my ankles. I

really didn’t know at that point if the operation had been

successful - I was too busy looking around the hospital

room in the realization that I was surrounded by nurses.

Young nurses, caring and assisting with everyone’s needs!

And all of a sudden, my eyes caught an angel. She had

this look of a model - and she was headed my way. My

breathing paused for about ten seconds, making me feel

a little light-headed!

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‘Hello,’ she said. Gulp!

‘Hello,’ I said with a squeaky, unfamiliar voice. ‘I’m

Wendy. I see on your file that you’re Cy?’

‘Yes,’ I said. And after all that uncomfortable,

nervous feeling, I suddenly felt comfortable and at ease. I

felt like I could have told her everything. WOW! She was

a beautiful person.

A few days went by and then ‘Nurse Wendy’ made her

way over to my bed in the hospital ward and said,

‘I’m new in Durban. Do you know of anywhere I

can go tonight?’ This was it! An opportunity to go out

with her.

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‘Yes,’ I replied immediately. ‘I happen to be from

Durban you know, and I have a pass to go out tonight… if

you’re interested.’ Since I wasn’t sick, and only in hospital

for the operation and the physiotherapy that followed, I

was issued a hospital pass which allowed me to go out.

The curfew was midnight and the condition was no

alcohol.

‘That’s great. What time?’ she said.

‘I’ll meet you outside the ward at eight,’ I replied

casually, sure she could hear my heart pounding against

my ribcage.

We went to a movie – kind of awkward with my legs

plastered from thigh to toe straight out in front of me, but

hey, I’d got my gal! That was the beginning of our lives

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together. The next day ‘Nurse Wendy’ had difficulty

keeping a straight face as I went to great lengths to make

her aware of me. I rang the bell for attention

continuously, demanding hair washes and foot massages

– anything to have her near. I had a stereo system with a

plug-in microphone next to my bed that my folks had

brought in for me. I used to call Wendy across the ward:

“Nurse Lurie, please report to Cy’s bed!” and she

did – out of pure embarrassment!

I was unhappy with the ward that the hospital planned to

move me to for further rehabilitation and so, despite

warnings that ‘these romances never last,’ Wendy and I

soon found a flat together. I was still on a lot of

medication to help with the spasm for my legs so Wendy

gave up her long working hours and devoted her time to

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nursing me. My dad paid the rent for our bachelor flat on

the Marine Parade, but our living expenses were our own.

Since we never had the pleasure of rubbing as much as

two 10c pieces together, our staple diet consisted of

peanut butter and toast and much of our time was spent

at the beach. Sun and fresh air are still free!

It was some of the best days of our lives - no

responsibility, no obligations, and free to spend the days

as we wished. In retrospect, it was the best rehabilitation

that I could have ever hoped for. If I didn’t follow, I

missed out, and being one that hates to miss anything, I

pushed myself to do things that I ordinarily wouldn’t have.

We went dancing at local night clubs, went to parties, and

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had friends over - all the things people our age were

generally doing, I think.

One particular day sticks out in my mind. It was a typical

sunny, hot and humid day. We decided to go down to the

beachfront as usual. Right down to Addington beach

where it was quiet. I had to take my bucket and spade

(C’mon guys, you have to take it!). I removed the flowers

on the side of the bucket, because at the age of twenty,

flowers on the bucket weren’t cool.

We met up with Shaun, who had the brilliant idea of

creating a hollow in the sand for me to sit and have the

waves wash over my toes. How refreshing! I had the sun,

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sea and sand, what more could I ask for? This was the

shniznie!

Being Durbanites, Shaun and Wendy were soon diving

into the waves and seeing who could swim the fastest to

the buoys. Five minutes later, I felt a slight trickle of

water come in by my feet. Swoosh… Ok, a little panic, but

not to worry, it’s only a little water. I mean, think about it

guys. Sand, sun, sea, Wendy in her bikini, and now a little

water to cool me off. This was the shn-iz-nie!

Soon enough, another wave pushes up the stretch of

beach. SHWOOOSH! My shorts lift up in the front,

allowing the sand to filter into my underwear and

submerging my legs. Now I’m sitting waist high in my

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‘pool’. Ok! Now I’m panicking a little. So I put my hands

in the air and shout,

‘Errmmm, guys, there’s water coming in my hole

here!’ To my dismay, they simply wave back. Well, I think,

don’t panic, it’s just a little sea water… it’ll drain out.

Understanding a little of how the tides work, I quickly

looked to my left and right and noticed that I was pretty

safe, since the tide that came in the previous day was

level to were I was lying.

Five minutes later. SHWOOOOSH!!! This time the wave

was substantially larger. My eyes grew wide as I saw that

it was going to wash over me. I felt my lips vibrate with

the force of the water and my eyelids were pushed back.

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It even cleared my sinuses! OK! Now I was panicking. So

I raise my hands up again and shout,

‘HELLO! I’m drowning here…’ They wave back

again… Unfortunately, that wasn’t the scary part. As the

waves leave the pool, they leave something behind them.

Blue-bottles. Yes, blue-bottles, and these guys were

stinging me everywhere. Wendy and Shaun, oblivious to

my dilemma, simply thought that I was having a

wonderful time moving around on the beach like Michael

Jackson in his Thriller video.

Later that night, while I soaked my swollen body in milk

for the stings (which doesn’t work by the way, but my

skin glowed!) I reflected on my experience earlier that

day. I had a choice. In fact, I had many. I could have

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vegetated in front of the TV because I was different, but I

didn’t. I went to the beach instead, because I believed

that I was entitled to be different. I decided that I was

‘differently-abled’. I also decided that I was, in fact,

special. To this very day, I still believe that I am. Each of

us is.

Keep telling yourself that you CAN - and you will.

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Chapter 5

My being disabled limits a number of things. I’d been

told on numerous occasions and by various medical

professionals that I couldn’t have children, which was

quite upsetting. Wendy and I wanted kids, and so with

the mindset of ‘we can and we will’, we managed to break

the rules yet again. In April 1995 Wendy gave birth to a

handsome boy named Joshua.

I believe that the levels of maturity in children these days

have increased, in fact so much so that my son Joshua is

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eleven but I prefer to say eleventeen. The environment

surrounding children today seems to have ‘imposed’ this

level of maturity on younger children, often with

unfortunate consequences. I’ve personally found that

listening to my parents and being open with them allowed

me to travel down the road of teenage-hood with support

and confidence but I’ve learnt that there are others who

are not that fortunate.

My son, Josh, is a professional shopper. He loves to go

shopping with Wendy. I, on the other hand, don’t really

have a clue. One day we decided to go shopping (Josh

and I) for the stuff that gets rid of the ‘KwaZulu Natal

Provincial Bird’. Yes, you guessed it. The mosquito. Now

the mosquitoes in Durban are hectic! If you slap a regular

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mosquito, they go SPLAT. If you slap a Durban mosquito,

they start doing press-ups under your hand!

So off we go to the local supermarket to get the mosquito

repellent. Once we’re in the shop, Josh goes over to

collect a trolley while I look at the magazine rack. As soon

as Josh gets a trolley, he gets this look in his eyes and

starts with that evil little laugh,

‘Hehehehehehe.’ He takes aim…and starts racing

at 400 km/h towards me. I’m unaware of this. All I hear is

the noise of a racing trolley getting louder and louder.

And BANG! Followed by hysterical laughter,

‘HA HA HA HA.’ My wheelchair receives the full

impact, lifting up about ten centimetres. Being the

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supportive and loving Father that I am, I say in a low

voice,

‘That’s nice boy, sleep with one eye open

tonight...’ I can still imagine him snoring away with his

one beady eye cautiously scanning the room.

Apparently there is a certain routine that is followed by

more regular shoppers. They start at aisle one and move

progressively up and down the aisles until they reach the

tills. I didn’t know this, so I was happy to go down aisle

one, then four, then skip to seven. Josh, on the other

hand, has a routine that his Mom taught him. So I

suddenly hear this loud, excited voice from the other side

of the shop.

‘DAD!’ shouts Josh. ‘DAD!’

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‘Yes, Josh?’ I reply.

‘Dad, they have a special on cabbages.’ Huh?

‘So?’ I reply.

‘Well, mom said that if there’s a special, you must

always buy two.’

‘Two?’ I say, trying not to sound confused. ‘But we

don’t even like cabbage!’

‘Yes, two. Mom says we can freeze the other one.’

‘No, leave it, Josh. Let’s just get what we came

for,’ I holler back, all the while thinking to myself, isn’t it

amazing how children imitate us?

As we’re making our way through the supermarket, lifting

and inspecting things we’ve never seen in our own

grocery cupboards, I see an opportunity to get Josh back

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for ramming me with the trolley earlier. On my right-hand

side is a lovely looking pyramid of toilet paper. Mmm, I

think to myself. This is it!

We’re slowly ambling past the pyramid of toilet paper

when I decide to stick my elbow out just a little and

casually nudge Josh into it. He throws his arms up in the

air as he tumbles into the tower, accompanied by a

dramatic bellow.

‘AAAH, HEEE, AAAHH.’ Of course the first thing I

do is scoot in the other direction as fast as I can. ‘DAD,

DAD. Why’d you push me?’ he splutters, with anger

making his voice sound quivery.

‘Excuse me,’ I reply. ‘I don’t think I know you,

young man.’ He wasn’t very happy with me for a while.

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After five minutes of being upset, I was forgiven though -

either because I bought him an ice-cream, or because he

loves me. I prefer the latter explanation.

I could finally see it: aisle number fourteen. That’s where

we find the mosquito repellent. As we’re making our way

down the aisle, we notice that it’s on the top shelf.

Staring up at our intended target, Josh asks the obvious.

‘How’re we going to get up there, Dad?’

‘Mmmm,’ I say. ‘I got an idea.’

‘What’s it?’ Josh replies.

‘I want you to climb onto my hands, and I’m going

to lift you up.’ His face brightens.

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‘Ok, Dad, lets do it!’ I knit my fingers together and

Josh puts his left foot into them. Then I carefully lift him

onto my lap.

‘Watch where you’re standing!’ I moan in a

squeaky voice. Josh reaches up and grabs the mosquito

repellent. In fact, he even grabs four more just to make

sure we’re sorted for the next few months.

Objective: achieved!

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Chapter 6

As much as we loved our ‘carefree days’ we recognised

that they couldn’t last forever, and in time I felt confident

enough to venture into the serious business of ‘getting a

job’. I worked in a plastics firm for a while but it was on

night shift and when Josh began not to recognise his own

father I knew it was time to move on!

My desire for a challenge to grow was never far from my

mind and when Josh was about three years old I decided

to try my hand at a position in a large corporation. I

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found that the work required my full attention, and the

company was also going through some major changes

which put me under a lot of pressure. No matter how I

looked at it, the ill effects were rubbing off on my family –

and that didn’t work for me.

I decided to focus on setting myself a higher target. I

figured that by doing this, everything else underneath

would simply become easier. My decision made, all I now

needed was to unearth the challenge - and I kept my

eyes anxiously peeled for the opportunity.

It was Wendy who eventually found it. Reading the

newspaper a few days later, she came across a challenge

that I thought could be the answer. There was a group of

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mountaineers looking for someone to climb a mountain

with them.

‘Hey, why not,’ I said. The mountain was my goal

not only because it was literally a mountain, but I felt that

the word ‘mountain’ posed similarities to the mountains of

life itself.

I had numerous obstacles in my way before I even set

tyre and tread on that mountain. Everyone around me

was telling me,

‘You CANT do that! There is just no way that you

can climb that mountain.’ The corporate company I was

working for told me that they wouldn’t sponsor me

because what I was aiming for was impossible.

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The only way I could overcome all the negativity

was to keep my focus on the mountain, and to believe in

myself. I kept telling myself,

‘I can climb that mountain, and I will climb that

mountain.’

If you tell yourself you CAN then you WILL. If you tell

yourself you can’t, then you won’t.

I had made a choice, and that is exactly what I was going

to do. I was so ready that I was moving the wheelchair

back and forth by the gate, waiting for it to be opened so

I could zoom to the top. I hadn’t realized how high it was.

I never saw it that first day. The Sentinel Peak in the

Drakensberg was surrounded by dark and pendulous

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clouds, obscuring the landscape in front of me, cloaked in

heavy mist. I wasn’t afraid though - this would be easy!

I started my ascent in my wheelchair, but soon realized

that it would be impossible to manoeuvre over the

slippery rocks and pathways waterlogged from the rains.

Then BANG! Ten metres past the gate, I hit rock. A rock

that me and my trusty wheelchair had no way of

overcoming. This was a big disappointment. I’d reached

my first obstacle. I got off my wheelchair and put a

leather sack over my legs. It was a thick sack made from

strong leather and had a zip on the side. It fitted me like

a glove, and was pretty heavy. The function of the sack

was to protect my legs from injuries while dragging

myself up the mountain.

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I proceeded to drag myself backwards. I never realized

that my mind would have to be so strong! I wanted to

stop, to give up! I was tired, my hands were swollen, and

the skin on the back of my heels and coccyx was scraped

and blistering. My arms ached and my whole body

trembled with exhaustion.

At 5pm that afternoon we decided to pitch a tent and

spend the night on the side of the mountain. I couldn’t

have been more grateful for the rest. My team was

amazing, making sure I was dry and fed, and keeping my

spirits high. I was lying by the fire thinking about the

day’s events. Thinking about how difficult it had been to

climb this monster. I thought about the unforeseen

obstacles that I’d faced. Then Wendy radioed me from

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her lodge. Her soothing voice sounded over the two-way

radio.

‘Cy, are you there?’ she asked.

‘Yes babe, I’m here,’ I said with a hint of

excitement in my voice.

‘How are you doing?’

‘Fine, thanks, just very sore and tired...’ I felt a

sense of comfort from hearing her voice. It made me feel

relaxed.

‘Cy,’ said Wendy. ‘You must know that we’re very

proud of you. Your family is proud of you, your friends,

everyone. And if you feel that you want to come home,

that’s fine. We’ll still be very proud of you.’

Hearing those words was the mental fuel I needed to

replenish my sapped state of mind. Having the support

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and love from the ones you care about makes a big

difference in your heart, and how much you believe in

your abilities.

‘Thank-you, Wends. It’s nice to hear that from you,

but I need to continue climbing. I made a commitment

and I intend to stick to it. Please send my love to

everyone and to Josh-man.’

‘Ok, babe. I love you,’ Wendy said with pride.

‘I love you, too.’ Sad, but excited and motivated, I

put down the two-way radio and went to sleep.

The next morning was glorious. The sun shone

brightly in the sky and the mountain summit stood

majestically before me. There she was. This monstrous

mountain, trying to intimidate me with her mere size. I

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didn’t see her malice, instead I saw her splendour. She

was beautiful, she was the Sentinel.

‘Today, it’s me and you,’ I said with total certainty.

Only then, for the first time, did I comprehend what I was

actually doing - and why! I didn’t need to prove anything

to anyone else. I needed to prove myself to myself.

Believe, In Yourself!

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Chapter 7

We finally reached the face of the Sentinel. It was about

102 metres in height. The team sorted out the ropes and

made triple sure that I was secure, preparing me for the

long haul up the rock face. This was the most difficult

challenge I would face, both mentally and physically. My

heart pounded with anticipation.

‘This is it,’ I said to myself.

Not having top-of-the-range equipment, the only way I

could pull myself up the rope was by making a knot on

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another piece of thick string and making it big enough for

me to be able to hold on to and haul myself upwards. It

wasn’t easy. The moment I started pulling myself up, I

felt the profound weight of the leather sack. It was

waterlogged, and I felt as if I was pulling another body up

with me. I pulled myself up inch by unbearable inch,

wanting to faint, but persisting, frequently tapping my

gloves on the wet rocks and sucking the water from them.

It took me roughly five hours to pull myself up the rock

face. I had plenty time to think while I dangled and

dumped against that rock. I thought about my day at the

beach. My painful stings - and chuckled to myself. I

thought about being alive, and how fortunate I was. I

thought about my only tear when I heard that I’d lost the

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use of my legs. I had my arms, didn’t I? And strong ones,

too! I looked up and saw the ledge at the Peak. It was

only 2 metres away. No rush.

The closer I got the top, the more determined I became.

‘I CAN…I CAN’

My fingertips felt the flat surface at the top.

‘Its not far now Cy...’ I said to myself. ‘You CAN

do this. It’s right there.’ I heaved myself up and onto the

ledge. Then I sat there for a minute or so, just absorbing

the achievement.

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The view was incredible. I sat in awe and saw the parking

lot 4500 metres below. I took time to reflect on just how

lucky and fortunate I was. I heard the wind whisper its

congratulations to me. I’d achieved something with my

disability… Again… I hadn’t let it beat me. A challenge of

physical strength had been put to the test, but I’d learnt

that my strength did not lie in my arms. It lay in my mind

and in my positive thoughts.

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Chapter 8

Looking down from the Sentinel Peak takes your breath

away. Having made the climb by dragging myself for two

days was confirmation that I believed in myself. Looking

pensively into the distance I thought about the people I

loved and knew, and realized the importance of simply

loving them for who they are. Life is so precious. Start by

loving yourself and creating the attitude within. I’ve

realized that there are, and will continue to be, many

obstacles in life, but I’ve also realized that the only true

mountain that you will ever need to climb will be yourself.

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I also know that if I’d climbed that mountain on my own,

then the mountain wasn’t high enough. Having support

and giving support to your friends and families is very

important. Working together, as a team, will help you

conquer ANY mountain.

Remember though, it has to start with you. Everything

starts from a simple thought. For example: Do you

remember when you first had to tie your shoe-laces and

how you hated the world? Moaning and groaning because

it was so difficult to get it right! That started from a

thought. Then you put the thought into action: you did

something about it. By now, it’s become a habit - and

habits don’t require much effort. It all becomes easier.

Now when you tie your shoes, it’s a piece of cake.

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Also remember that it’s extremely important for you to

dream, and to think about where you want to be. The

way to get there is then to action your dream. Believe

that you are special enough to have a dream, and love

yourself enough to afford yourself the opportunities.

Determine your character - and your character will

determine your destiny.

Believing in yourself, believing in your dreams, and

thinking positively will set a strong foundation that will

enable you to climb any mountain.

You CAN climb that mountain!

You WILL!

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