



The story of Jean Dominique Bauby is incredible, heartbreaking and inspiring. At 43 years old he was the editor of French Elle magazine. He suffered a massive stroke and became completely paralyzed. He was completely cognizant, but unable to speak and his only form of communication was done by blinking. His right eye began to deteriorate and was sewn shut. His communication was then limited to one eye.
He called his speech therapists guardian angels who set up the communication code without which he would have been completely cut off from the world. (They read each letter and he wrote the book spelling out each letter by blinking.) The life he knew was snuffed out and something like a diving bell held his body prisoner, but his imagination gave him his freedom, and his mind could take flight like a butterfly.
It was heartbreaking to read and to see his life on film, and watch him unable to reach out and hold his children, or unable to enjoy simple pleasures. The only manifestation of his feelings are the tears that roll down his face as his children are near him and his little girl says over and over as if to convince herself, "You're my dad, you're my dad."
"...even a rough sketch, a shadow, a tiny fragment of a dad is still a dad."
As he is bathed he is plunged simultaneously into distress and happiness. He remembers with nostalgia what were the joys of his previous life. "Armed with a cup of tea or Scotch, a good book or a pile of newspapers, I would soak for hours maneuvering the taps with my toes. Rarely do I feel my condition so cruelly as when I am recalling such pleasures."
His own clothing became a symbol of continuing life and proof that he still wanted to be himself. "If I must drool, I may as well drool on cashmere."
Jean-Do retains his humor amidst despair and wonders why does it take the harsh light of disaster to show a person's true nature. When his son wants to play hangman with him he aches to tell him he has enough on his plate playing quadraplegic.
His life is incredible and his story is beautiful. He died two days after publication in France.
I loved this book, the movie, and the man. I posted it on my books read for this month, and Erin emailed me yesterday to tell me she read it, and is waiting for Netflix to send her the movie. They have 43 used copies on line at Barnes and Noble for $4.93 just in case anyone is anxious to get their hands on the book.
It really is an astonishing, unforegettable book. I read it twice. The minute I finished it, I began again.
Poor Jean Do. What a terrible thing to endure, but how lucky he was to relive his memories and escape with his imagination while imprisoned in his diving bell.



14 comments:
The book and the movie sound amazing. What an incredible person. But you know me, I like happy endings. In our last ward I was friends with a girl who's dad had been a dentist and the family had been very well off, but the family got in a car accident, and then her father was a quadraplegic. I always thought her mother was so amazing. Anyway, obviously this post reminded me of their story.
I didn't think of this as a sad ending. His life was triumphant because he was able to finish his book. He found a way to endure and did so with insight and humor. It is sad but it is also an incredible story.
That is so sad about your friend's father. There is a man in our ward whose father is now a quadraplegic and has been for some time. He spoke in our ward but I found myself wanting to hear from his wife instead.
This book was even more interesting to me though because of Locked In Syndrome. I knew being a quadriplegic would be terrible, but how much worse to be unable to speak or communicate as well.
And here's something really dismal...there are no happy endings here. In this world it all ends with death for every one of us. I realize there is more but to get to more we all have to die, so in a way we're all heading toward an unhappy ending: A funeral!
How's that for completely depressing?
I suppose I should edit this but I can't help it. It's true!
Oh well. I guess if we're lucky we'll get to live for a long time.
Well, I bet everyone will really love this comment.
It's the perfect subject to contemplate on a looonggg sabbath day with a piece of chocolate cake !
I know it's a story about triumph and it's inspiring, but what a sad and discouraging thing to have to deal with. But I liked your point, that we are all headed for and unhappy ending . . . that funeral. I just like to hope that everything until then goes well, which I know sounds naive, and I don't think I naive, but maybe I am. (Do you know that quote from Sabrina? "I don't think of myself as stupid, but maybe I am" and also please don't tell my children that I said stupid.)
I agree with you about this being a perfect subject to contemplate on a looong Sunday. Aren't Sundays long when you go to church at 9?
Anyway, happy contemplating. =D
Oh good, I'm glad you wrote back.
After I read it again, I wondered if I sounded like a big brat.
I didn't mean to.
I just really loved the book and want everyone to read it and am tired of Sunday and want to go somewhere, anywhere, but Mallory has my car and it's Sunday, and Mike's asleep, and it's Sunday,
and we're bored, and it's Sunday, and it's been Sunday all day!
I think I'll call you!
Wait, Catte-I haven't even finished reading the comment section yet, but I'm wondering if the girl is from Santa Clara. Because if she isn't there's another family with a dentist dad in the same situation. Is it possible? I'm going to keep reading comments now.
Les-if you go to Wikipedia it says he died 10 days after publication, but the book says two. I wonder why?
Leslie,
Pascal wrote that the final act is always a tragedy. He wrote that after his Father's death. It's true, but maybe it feels even more true when you have no car on a Sunday. We just had Mal and Hol for dinner with their friends. We had such a good time and chatted about the good ol' days on Bluefield and Gottes Lane. I wish you could have been here.
Shane is now reading the Diving Bell. I think I will read it again for my class. It's such an interesting commentary on the power of the mind and soul. It's strangely inspiring and motivating, even though his story does sound depressing, unless you read it for yourself. Especially since he deals with his situation with honesty, humour, anger, realism, and hope. I'm tempted to lay in bed tomorrow and try blinking to my family. I'll have a locked in day to go with your invalid day. One of my favorite parts of the book was when he wrote about how futile it is to try and tell a joke when it has to be blinked out letter by letter. Anyway, I've got to go do a mountainous stack of dishes, and that my dear, is almost as depressing as locked in syndrome.
What about the Ebert book about the great movies? How is that one?
Please read 52 Loaves. I'm hooked. I'm going to read William Alexander's other book, The $64 Tomato.
Pascal is right. The last act is a tragedy. Isn't that tragic?
Thank you for having my girls over. It sounded so fun.
I wish I could have been there.
I love invalid day. It's perfect for cloudy, rainy days.
I blinked, and blinked and tried to answer questions to mike and my kids by blinking. It made my eyelids ache. It was such a slow process. He must have had so much patience.
I think the dates are wrong with Jean-Do's death due to the publications of his book. Maybe it was 2 days after the French publication, and 10 days for the American? I really don't know, unless Wikipedia is wrong. I can't imagine his book is.
I will try and read 52 loaves. Did you ever read the Lonely Polygamist? I still want to read that for the title alone!
The Great Movies was fun to read. It's a great reference book.
Thank you again for having my girls over for dinner. That was really nice of you.
I am putting this on my list. I am loving the conversation you started. Posts that start a comment conversation are my favorite.
I have thought A LOT about hope, trials and that inevitable tragic ending lately, and even though funerals are pure torture, I have finally learned that the inevitability of death is what brings us back to God and to life eternal, where the endings will no longer be tragic. I have felt closer to God at funerals than anywhere else. That does not mean that I would like to attend any more of them, because it truly tears my soul to shreds. But... I can feel when someone passes that the tragedies we endure in this life are merely for a moment, and I find the greatest hope when someone goes through unimaginable pain and suffering and can remain strong and in good hummor. It tells me that they must be very near to something very sacred. Just my two cents.
Pretend that typing hummor instead of humor was just my attempt at a joke, and not a late night typo.
Julie,
I appreciated all that you wrote.
I know that this isn't really the end, but I always think,
couldn't we just walk through a door without dying?
Couldn't we all just wave goodbye happily and smiling and walk through an arch with a lei around our neck or something? A happy Bon Voyage party?
I thought it was interesting that you felt closer to God at funerals than anywhere else and I immediately understood.
Although they are hard days, it calls forth faith, truth and trust in each of us.
All right, thank you to all the penpals who joined in on this post. I think it gave everyone a lot to think about.
Erin,
The family was actually from Washington and then moved to Orem after the father's accident. The accident took place when my friend was around 7 or 8, but she is my age and her Father actually passed away a couple of years ago. I want to hear more about the family in your ward.
Mom always says she thinks death is very much like birth . . . so it has me wondering when someone left the pre-existence for the earthly realm, was it as sad as when someone leaves this life. I tend to think not. Anyway just a thought. And have I ever told you that Annabelle is a little obsessed with death. She's somewhat like Tutti, but not as gory. =D
Leslie,
A Bon Voyage party certainly does sound better. More like a mission farewell than a funeral. I guess it is weird to say I feel close to God at funerals. I hate funerals and I DO NOT do well with death. I think that is why I feel closer to Heavenly Father there. He knows how hard it is for me and he has to remind me 80 times a minute... "Julie it is okay...I am right here". And even though I still hurt I feel that presence and reassurance.
Catherine,
I like your idea (or your mom's, I guess) about death being like birth. I am sure we celebrated as our loved ones were sent to earth, but I suppose we saw the big picture far more clearly then. Death is really hard for me, but the more I have had to send friends and family to the other side, the more sure I am of where they have gone.
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