You play the hand that life deals you

Quadriplegic chose life of joy, stuck to it

Dave Brown revisits the story of quadriplegic Marc Bereza,

It’s uplifting to share porch time with a happy man, and more so when that man is one of yesterday’s tragic stories.

When we first met in September 1989, Marc Bereza was 25 and lying in a bed at the Civic Hospital, concentrating on trying to move a finger — any finger. Three months earlier he broke his neck when he dove off the roof of a houseboat at Mooney’s Bay into water less than a metre deep. The water was murky, and he thought it was safe.

A contact with hospital connections passed along the story tip, saying the man’s attitude was inspirational.

Mark agreed to an interview and accepted that he faced life as a quadriplegic because, he reasoned, he had no choice. As he prepared to move to the Ottawa Hospital Rehabilitation Centre for a year of therapy, he said if he had to be a quad, he was going to be good at it. He was good at everything else, including bodybuilding, boxing, acrobatic skiing and things that involved risk.

On his Barrhaven porch, he manoeuvred his powered wheelchair with skill, using his right wrist placed in a fitted control. He had hoped for finger control, but the fingers resisted his will. He worked out the wrist system. He laughed easily at the challenges he had to overcome, and he said they were made easier by his large extended family and a network of friends with staying power.

He’s now 49 and married to the woman who was helping him pack up for his move to the rehab centre back in ’89. Before she arrived he told me the toughest job he faced was telling her she had to go.

They had been steadies for three years, but marriage was no longer part of his life plan.

Now, on his porch, a pretty 16-year-old bounces out the front door, kisses him on the top of his head, and says: “Off to the gym, Dad. I’ll be back in an hour.” As she powers a bicycle out of the drive, Dad glows with pride. She’s Samantha, born in ’98. Her twin brother, Owen, isn’t around at the moment.

Anne-Marie Carreau, the girlfriend who wouldn’t go away and is now wife and mother, was out and about doing her work as a recruiter with the Ottawa-Carleton Education Network. We talked later by phone. “Yes,” she said, “he told me to move on.” And? “I told him to ask me to marry him.”

Aside from being a joyful man, Marc Bereza is a smart man. He asked.

They see nothing unusual about their lives, other than the fact both husband and wife have been extraordinarily successful. Her job involves international travel, and she loves it. He has had a 20-year career with Foreign Affairs as a writer and is currently on sick leave. An ulcerating sore, one of the dangers for immobilized persons, sidelined him last year.

“For us (the family), everything is normal,” said AnneMarie. “Marc needs assistance, but that just disappears into our daily routine.”

Both sets of grandparents are close by and quick to help. There are brothers, sisters, friends and relatives always on call. While in rehab 24 years ago, Marc had something of a drill instructor in specialty nurse Paul Mulholland. He’s still on the job, is a close friend, and can probably take much of the credit for Marc’s appearing to be in such great shape. Nurse Sue Simpson met Marc 24 years ago. She, too, has stayed with him.

Marc is an easy man to like. He laughs easily. His immobility soon slides into the background. He’s a pleasant fellow to share time with. There’s a bonus: After a couple of hours around him, one leaves with a renewed feeling of appreciation for simple things — such as walking. (Aching 75-year-old knees are no longer something to grump about. They are a blessing.)

They see nothing unusual about their lives, other than the fact both husband and wife have been extraordinarily successful.’

“Both kids have said they never think of having (a mobile) father,” said AnneMarie. “Marc is the parent who was always around when they needed advice or guidance. Other fathers aren’t as available.”

There’s something else kids can learn from a dad like Marc. Look up the word “pluck” and you run into the advice: “See courage.”

Marc thinks his full after injury life can offer hope to others in similar circumstances. He has started writing a book.

As for physical love, AnneMarie says:

“I consider that we, like all other couples, have intimacy — and the good manners not to talk about it.”