Unconquered
By Burke Tinsley
Failure of my own body was probably the biggest “failure” I’ve had in my life. My DNA in
one of my epithelial cells replicated to grow a brain tumor. Just one microscopic mistake
changed everything. My body completely failed during that experience. My body failed even
after the surgery— pneumonia, meningitis, seizures, and then because of brain injury, my body
failed me even further. I couldn’t move, talk, eat, walk, or run. Nothing was the same any more.
Even after I got “better”, I couldn’t do anything like I used to. Nothing was the same. It took me
one hour to eat an Oreo, and that was after seven months of not eating anything, having “food”
poured into me through a tube.
Before this happened, I had never failed. Sure, maybe I didn’t do well on a particular
test, but no real failure. I was an A student with a B in Greek that really bothered me and was
trying to bring up. I loved to draw, and I was thought of as an artist. I joked a lot, loved science
and history, and did improv and biology camps. And I loved running cross-country. It felt like I
could fly. Now, nothing worked.
I can remember being in the hospital room, unable to move or speak. I wondered if it
would always be like this. I drifted in and out of awareness. Sometimes, I went into “my world”
that I had created when I was nine or ten. I know it’s silly, but it helped. My world, Zalcemane,
has creatures I created, its own alphabet and language, and different rules of physics. I would
escape. I’d like to say I was a person who never gave up. But I did. I can remember one night
when the pain and isolation were just too much. I gave up. I welcomed death. Then I felt a
presence. It was real. You know how you know someone is in the room, even when it is
completely dark? I know some people will say I was hallucinating, or it was all the drugs they
gave me. But I believe it was God. And I know God kept me going that night. I know lots of
days and nights slipped by where I was unaware of what was happening, but that memory of
that night is completely clear.
A friend gave me the poem Invictus by William Earnest Henley. It was read to me,
because I couldn’t read anymore. The poem stuck with me, and the lines, “I am the master of
my fate; I am the captain of my soul.” Mr. Henley was hospitalized for three years, and I was
only hospitalized for one. Mr. Henley was trying to walk again. That poem meant a lot to me.
When I left the hospital and my eyes started to work again, I re-read Invictus, and C.S.
Lewis’ book The Problem of Pain. I think that helped a lot. I’d like to say I’m a person who never
has doubts, but that’s not the case. I struggle with doubts and have to re-visit why I’m here, and
the purpose of everything.
It helps to help others. I’ve volunteered at Gilda’s Club with younger kids, and that gave
me a feeling of purpose. It was just little things, like face-painting at festivals, but it helps. I also
helped train a rehabilitation dog. Brantley was afraid of wheelchairs and traffic and he couldn’t
be a good therapy dog if he didn’t get over it. I helped him to do better with wheelchairs and
traffic.
I draw for hours even though I’m not very good at it any more, to try to improve. Gilda’s
Club offered a free portraiture class and I took the class. That really helped. I tried to get into
Governor’s School for the Arts, even though I thought I would be rejected. And guess what, I got
in! Even though my body continues to fail me, I can still have a life! For three weeks, I was able
to do art, all the time, and meet amazing people.
I keep trying in school, even though my memory isn’t like it used to be, and my speech
sounds stupid. I’ve gotten rid of the wheelchair and the walker, and now I’m trying to get rid of
the cane. In my dreams at night, I can still run. I would give anything to run again. I still want to
be a teacher of some kind. I love ideas and talking about them. I love art, and Latin, biology and
philosophy. Hopefully I can help my future students know they can overcome anything. What
I’ve learned from failure is to keep going. Invictus. Unconquered.