From a Facebook poster:
The following story is reprinted with permission from our friend Buddy Davis' blog appearing in the Ruston Daily Leader as "OK's Corral". Buddy is one of the most courageous people I've ever known in our 53 + years of friendship!
"Stroke can't prevent passion for writing"
For the first 53 years of my life writing sports, I often wondered how I would cope if I ever lost the use of my hands.
Three years ago, on July 5, 2013, I found out.
I suffered a stroke that left me immobile on my left side and partially on the right.
Suddenly, as if I had been smacked by a knockout punch from a heavyweight boxer, I was left without the main tools of my craft.
Reality had arrived at my door step.
For a while, it was depressingly difficult to accept such a fate.
Writing sports is something I began doing at the age of 14. It's the only profession I desired.
And for what seemed to be the longest time, I became mired in the belief that a return to any degree of normalcy -- typing by whatever means -- would border on the impossible.
For months on end, far longer than I had anticipated, I wasn't filing any stories with the Daily Leader.
My typing skills were a thing of the past, rendered useless by the stroke.
That, and the ever present IV's transporting recovery fluids or the blood transfusions needed for various complications.
While being treated at St. Francis Hospital in Monroe, my iPad was back in Ruston, unused and likely collecting the proverbial cobwebs. My iPhone texts and phone calls were being relayed to me by friends.
My daily routine became one marked by therapy sessions, movies and television programs ranging from ESPN Sports Center to The Weather Channel and CNN news.
Oh, and my patience level to be writing again was nearing the grunting stage. I had intermittent bouts of grouchiness, leaving some of the nurses and aides to conclude I would become the test model for writing withdrawal symptoms.
For a writer, nothing is more frustrating than having a sundry of ideas clog up in one's memory bank and be unable to cash them in on a computer screen or paper.
Thankfully, such an eagerly awaited wish began to take fruition upon my return to Ruston.
It was a slow process, because I wasn't able to use the keyboard which can be linked with the iPad.
But I had to get back to writing. However long it took and by whatever method.
For several weeks, I began writing my weekly column in long hand and having fellow staffer T. Scott Boatright pick them up from my room at the Princeton Place.
That project soon fizzled out, however, due to my handwriting that resembled hieroglyphics and the time it required Boatright for re-typing.
Also being shelved for its time constraints was recording my column on a cassette tape.
Then, presto, the iPad on-screen keyboard solved our problem, albeit in a rather unconventional manner.
Now, nearly two years from its inception, I type all of my stories applying a stylus to that keyboard with my right hand.
It's the only functional hand I have now.
But as far as I am concerned, it is a hand coated with gold and with a blessing from the good Lord.
I am writing again and that's all that matters.
Hands or no hands.
The following story is reprinted with permission from our friend Buddy Davis' blog appearing in the Ruston Daily Leader as "OK's Corral". Buddy is one of the most courageous people I've ever known in our 53 + years of friendship!
"Stroke can't prevent passion for writing"
For the first 53 years of my life writing sports, I often wondered how I would cope if I ever lost the use of my hands.
Three years ago, on July 5, 2013, I found out.
I suffered a stroke that left me immobile on my left side and partially on the right.
Suddenly, as if I had been smacked by a knockout punch from a heavyweight boxer, I was left without the main tools of my craft.
Reality had arrived at my door step.
For a while, it was depressingly difficult to accept such a fate.
Writing sports is something I began doing at the age of 14. It's the only profession I desired.
And for what seemed to be the longest time, I became mired in the belief that a return to any degree of normalcy -- typing by whatever means -- would border on the impossible.
For months on end, far longer than I had anticipated, I wasn't filing any stories with the Daily Leader.
My typing skills were a thing of the past, rendered useless by the stroke.
That, and the ever present IV's transporting recovery fluids or the blood transfusions needed for various complications.
While being treated at St. Francis Hospital in Monroe, my iPad was back in Ruston, unused and likely collecting the proverbial cobwebs. My iPhone texts and phone calls were being relayed to me by friends.
My daily routine became one marked by therapy sessions, movies and television programs ranging from ESPN Sports Center to The Weather Channel and CNN news.
Oh, and my patience level to be writing again was nearing the grunting stage. I had intermittent bouts of grouchiness, leaving some of the nurses and aides to conclude I would become the test model for writing withdrawal symptoms.
For a writer, nothing is more frustrating than having a sundry of ideas clog up in one's memory bank and be unable to cash them in on a computer screen or paper.
Thankfully, such an eagerly awaited wish began to take fruition upon my return to Ruston.
It was a slow process, because I wasn't able to use the keyboard which can be linked with the iPad.
But I had to get back to writing. However long it took and by whatever method.
For several weeks, I began writing my weekly column in long hand and having fellow staffer T. Scott Boatright pick them up from my room at the Princeton Place.
That project soon fizzled out, however, due to my handwriting that resembled hieroglyphics and the time it required Boatright for re-typing.
Also being shelved for its time constraints was recording my column on a cassette tape.
Then, presto, the iPad on-screen keyboard solved our problem, albeit in a rather unconventional manner.
Now, nearly two years from its inception, I type all of my stories applying a stylus to that keyboard with my right hand.
It's the only functional hand I have now.
But as far as I am concerned, it is a hand coated with gold and with a blessing from the good Lord.
I am writing again and that's all that matters.
Hands or no hands.
