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Saturday, March 20, 2004
455 Stacey - a story of courage
“I`m not afraid to die. I feel like I faced death two years ago, but I came back, maybe to try to impart on a few people how precious life is. If I`ve done that then I feel I`ve accomplished quite a lot.”
Stacy Martell, May 31, 1989.
THE LANDER community lost a great friend Sunday when Stacy Martell died. He taught us all a lot about living and dying, life and death.
This frail young man had fought most of his life against Muscular Dystrophy. His struggle captivated his classmates and their parents. His courage was legendary. His understanding was immense. His patience with his situation made us stronger.
For years, he was a familiar sight in his motorized wheelchair, buzzing the neighborhoods of Lander. During one particular speedy trip, he rolled his chair and damaged his neck. Doctors told him he probably would never speak again.
Yet with patience and time, he figured out a way to talk. He talked well enough to address his graduating class in 1989, through an elaborate TV connection from his home on Bellvue to the high school fieldhouse.
The guest speaker that night played the song Wind Beneath My Wings as a tribute to Stacy. I was there. It was incredibly moving. There was not a dry eye in the place.
GRADUATIONS are emotional events, anyway, but that one back n 1989 was almost totally unique.
It was unusual to find a class with this many all-stars. Top stu-dents like Joseph Gee and Cristy Hunt were exceptional plus their supporting cast would have domi-nated other years’ graduating classes. Teachers will attest to the outstanding nature of that year’s class.
And it was an international group with youngsters from Brazil, Denmark, Germany and Australia in the class while others missed the ceremony be-cause they were overseas.
But all this was overshadowed by a young man who couldn’t even breath on his own.
The graduation was Stacy Martell’s night. That courageous young man had set a standard of bravery that none of his classmates could experience themselves. A life-time victim of Muscular Dystrophy, he had struggled hard to live long enough to graduate.
And by his example, Stacy showed each of his classmates what real strength was.
This class was definitely special in the way its members treated its most severely handicapped member.
When he was a freshman, he wheeled his wheelchair to the li-brary in order to skip the pep assembly. “There is always a crush of bod-ies and it is a general hassle for me,” he wrote in an essay he hoped to someday publish.
“This particular time, the vice-principal came and got me out of the computer room and told me I had to go. I was annoyed. This was going to cut into my computer time!
“When I got to the gym, I was asked to go out on the floor. The football team presented me with a football jersey and made me an honorary member of the team. I got a standing ovation from the student body. There was an incredible rush of emotion throughout the gym. It made me feel very special and well-liked.”
HE WROTE about his physical deterio-ration, concerning a period in 1988 when he was hospitalized and had to be taken to Denver for specialized treatment:
“I felt I was really going down-hill, and this affected me mentally also. I was depressed. I was going to turn 18 soon and all I could think of was my uncles who had MD and had died at ages of 17 and 18.
“At that point, I had accepted that my life was soon to end.”
But Stacy bounced back. He got out of the hospital and learned to speak all over again, after being told by some doctors that he would never speak again.
He addressed his classmates at the 1989 graduation through the magic of video. And although he spoke haltingly at times, his voice was strong and his words were true to the point.
His personal writings reveal even more than his talk:
“There are times when I want desperately to be like everyone else. I’ve thought about marriage. There’s a void when I think this won’t happen, that I’ll never be able to have a family of my own.
“But I know a person can’t dwell on improbables. You have to take what you’ve got and go with it. I used to worry about what people thought of my body. But now I know that it’s a person’s inner self that’s important, not your outer self. I’ve looked at my inner self: It’s healthy, strong, vibrant, active. When I think of myself this way, I’m satisfied. I’m at peace with my-self.”
STACY MARTELL pro-vided his classmates with insights that they could never have had without him.
They have gone through the rest of their lives reaching out to handi-capped people because they know it is not the “outer self that matters,” but the “inner.”
Stacy writes the following about death:
“I’ve lived, I’ve done my best, what happens, happens. I’ve seen an unspoken question in some peo-ple’s eyes. It’s ‘Do you wish some-times you had never been born?’
“Absolutely not! It hasn’t always been easy but I’ve met the chal-lenges and I’m here to say that life is worth living.”
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