Dedication
by Cindy
Cline-Flores
Click here to return to the
Schmidt Kaye & Company information page about Always
Hope.
The inspiration for creating this
book originally came from my older sister, Marion.
She was my role model, my mentor, and my best friend.
Marion was a successful actress and model, working in
New York and California in the late 60’s and the
70’s. She was the Chiquita Banana girl,
and was featured in numerous other television
commercials. Marion appeared in the hit movie Soylent
Green, which starred Charleston Heston and Edward
G. Robinson, and had a role in another movie titled Ginger
In the Morning, which starred Sissy Spacek. She
frequently appeared in popular television shows of
the period, such as Love, American Style,
Dragnet, and Barnaby Jones. She even
appeared on The Johnny Carson Show.
Then in the mid 80’s, a
head-on auto accident in the mountains of California
left Marion comatose and paralyzed. Her friends
called and told my mom and I that we needed to come
right away, because the doctors held out little hope
of Marion surviving. She was in a coma when she
arrived at the hospital, completely unresponsive to
her friends or anyone. When Mom and I first walked
into the ICU, we were beyond shocked. The only sound
was the constant pshhh-pshhh of the respirator.
Marion’s face was badly cut, covered with
stitches, and her head was half-shaven. It seemed
that tubes beyond count were coming out of every part
of her body. My first impression was that she had
passed away; she didn’t even appear to be
breathing to me. Our mom marched right past me and
all the machines and monitors as if they weren’t
even there, gently placed her hand on Marion’s
head, and started whispering in her ear, "My
baby. My sweet, sweet little baby girl."
Immediately, Marion’s heart
rate started rising, and her chest started moving up
and down. She was breathing so hard that bubbles
started pouring out of her breathing tube. Mom said,
"Marion, if you can hear me, squeeze my
hand." Marion gave a tiny, gentle squeeze. This
was the beginning of a nine-month hospital stay, and
a lifelong healing journey. Mom and I sat for hours
and days on end watching her on the breathing
machine. The doctors told us that she probably would
not regain full consciousness, but Mom and I knew
differently. From the time we were children, Marion
and I loved to sing together. Now, as she lay so
horribly wounded, I would sing her our favorite
songs, and she would blow little bubbles from her
breathing tube. I knew she was hearing me, as her
lips would move slightly as I sang. The doctors said
it was just muscle reflex, but Mom and I knew
differently. Marion might have been in a place beyond
our understanding, but she was still here with us,
fighting to sing, and to live.
Over the next months and years,
Marion continued to amaze the doubters in the medical
profession. She did come out of her coma. Initially,
however, she was paralyzed, could not speak because
of severe damage to her vocal cords, and had suffered
significant brain damage. One day in the hospital,
Mom and I saw her big toe move. Once again, we were
told it was only muscle reflex, but again, we knew
differently. On another day, we heard her voice, but
were told she would not be able to talk in an
understandable voice. Mom’s and my faith
remained unshaken, however. Marion had amazed the
doctors time and time again, and we just knew she
would do so again. And amaze them, she did!
After nine months of
hospitalization and extensive therapy, Marion was
released from the hospital, and returned home to
Texas. After many years of therapy, Marion became
able to walk with a cane, and she most certainly could
talk! Eventually, she even managed to drive a car and
live on her own, without the constant assistance that
the doctors had told us she would always require.
During this time, I searched and searched for books
and stories to share with her, stories that would be
inspiring — inspiring enough to help her through
the long recovery road ahead, and inspiring enough
for her to want to live.
Back in Houston, my sister tried
very hard to make new friends and to gain employment.
Over the years, and faced with frustration at every
turn, the struggle eventually became too much for
her, and she lost all hope. In April of 1997, she
ended her life. I wanted to shout at the world,
"Why didn’t you look in her eyes when
talking to her? Why didn’t you treat her with
the respect, and care, and kindness she
deserved?" But even then, I knew the answer.
Many people couldn’t really be present with
Marion because they were afraid, as if by relating to
her, they might somehow be faced with the same
challenges that she faced. And I am sure that others
felt awkward, unsure of the "right" way to
deal with her. When my sister ended her life, I felt
that a part of me had died with her. I felt like
there was a huge, black hole in my soul. I would cry
myself to sleep each night, and awaken each morning
to more tears. I wondered if I would have the
strength to live through her death, and I especially
wondered how my mom would live through the death of
her child. When Marion died, she took part of us with
her.
Some years later, my nephew and his
wife were involved in a serious motorcycle accident.
While they both suffered severe injuries, his
wife’s leg had to be amputated. They have two
young children. As I walked into the ICU to see my
nephew’s wife, who was in critical condition, I
tried to think — as I had with my sister Marion
— of every positive story I could imagine, to
tell her to give her hope and help lift her spirits.
I recalled the story of Paul McCartney’s second
wife, Heather Mills. I had read an article in which
she described an occasion when she was having a great
time, dancing on the dance floor, until without
warning, her prosthesis came flying off. Even though
it must have been an incredibly embarrassing moment,
she said that she just started laughing and laughing.
I couldn’t help but wonder whether her laughter
might have been really a reaction to the humiliation
that most people would feel in the same situation,
but the fact was that she was really just overcome
with laughter at the irony of what had happened. Her
ability to laugh at her predicament truly inspired me
beyond words, and I wished I had something that I
could have given her that would support and applaud
her for her strength, and perhaps offer her some
inspiration.
Then, just months later, my
youngest sister, who has two very young children, was
diagnosed with a very rare form of cancer. Once
again, my world was shaken, and I tried to think of
every possible story of hope, of people beating the
odds of "incurable diseases." Once again, I
wished for a book that would serve as inspiration.
I kept finding myself in situations
where loved ones and friends were facing difficult
challenges in their lives. I wanted to leave them
with an inspiring book — a book filled with
actual stories of people who have been through, and
overcome, trauma — a book that would give them hope!
Then one day, I was standing at the
water cooler at my workplace, again wishing for such
a book, when I noticed a poster above the cooler that
read, "Be the Change you Wish to See," a
quote by Gandhi. It became clear that the book did
exist; it just hadn’t been written yet. I
decided right then that it was my job to create this
book — a book to give hope and inspiration to
all people, and especially those who find themselves
facing life’s most difficult situations. This is
what I call a God Job!
This book is a collection of essays
describing the journeys that these brave souls have
taken (and on which they continue each day). The
stories are about ordinary people who have not only
faced their fears, but have gone on to see the beauty
life offers to those who take the time to see and
consider the wonders all around them. By taking the
time, and opening their eyes, hearts, and souls,
these "ordinary" people have become quite
extraordinary. Working on this project, and getting
to know some of the people who offered their stories,
has touched me on a very deep soul level. To say that
I feel honored and blessed to bring their stories
forward would be a gross understatement. In the most
profound sense, they are my heroes.
It is my deepest desire that by
offering a glimpse into the lives of these
not-so-ordinary heroes, this book will raise
awareness about people with disabilities, and serve
as a source of hope and inspiration to all who read
it — especially those who find themselves on a
challenging journey of their own.
Copyright © 2006 by
Cindy Cline-Flores • All rights reserved
For more
information, send an email to Cindy
Cline-Flores.
Click here to return to the Schmidt
Kaye & Company information page about Always
Hope.
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