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THE CELTIC CONNECTION • NOVEMBER 1991
'I tried to scream but no sound emerged'
AN INTERVIEW BY TREASA O'DRISCOLL
The morning of December 21, 1983, was brilliantly sunny all over Ireland. One hundred and forty miles to the west of Newgrange, the same lightwaves hit the window blinds of the Intensive Care Unit of the Limerick Regional Hospital. Inside the ward, a blind physiotherapist massaged the wasted muscles of a 38-year-old patient who, weeks earlier, had been struck down by the mysterious Gillian Barrie Syndrome virus and who was kept alive with a respiratory ventilator.
The patient was completely paralysed. The previous night, the family and the medical advisors had decided to allow the patient to regain consciousness. A virus sets off its own defensive reaction in the human body and the anaesthetic interfered with nature's course. Besides how long can a patie nt be left on a life support machine? And there was the question of brain damage. The name of the patient was Seamus MacMahon, whose dramatic story is told in this interview.
Tom Byrne at Robert Service's Cabin in Dawson City
TREASA: Do you have any recall of that period?
SEAMUS: "As I regained consciousness, the first thing I remember was the searing white light. I could hear sounds of machines clicking on and off but I could not identify the source. For awhile I thought that maybe I was on a yacht. Gradually my eyes adjusted to the light and I could see a man in a white coat massaging my feet. But I couldn't feel anything:... I was paralysed.
I looked around ingrowing panic at all the plastic tubes coursing into my body. My arms were strapped to prevent me from tearing at the ventilator apparatus connected to my windpipe. I tried to scream but no sound emerged frommylips;onlyaghastlygurgle from a hole in my throat. The tracheostomy operation had removed my ability to speak.
'I was virtually a prisoner in my own body'
I passed out; it was too surreal. When I awakened again, there was a group of people around my bed, everybody was smiling. The doctor welcomed me back and very quietlyexplained my circumstances. He told me that a lip-reader was coming so that I could communicate with them. Within a few days, I could be weaned off the life support machine and my vocal cords patched.
In the meantime, I was to remain calm. Everybody behaved very normally and chatty but I noticed my family peer closely into my eyes and I knew they wondered if my mind was as wasted as my body.
I can dearly remember those early days when I was virtually a prisoner in my own body, utterly alone. I observed the sunlight stream through the slats of the Venetian blinds, throwing alternative patterns of light and shadow onto the wall, and that's how I measured the progress of the day.
The mortality rate in the Intensive Care Unit is high, and I could sense the strange energy that dictated who would live and who would die. A young woman from my own locality spoke quietly to her husband and children. Although I never saw her, I prayed for her life as I had never done for my own. I begged God or Fate to change the inevitable. But she died.
Christmas came, and because of staff shortages, I was kept longer than necessary in the ICU. Santa Claus came, as did a monk friend from Glenstal Abbey who gave me absolution and told me that I could fill in the gory details of my sins at a later date when I regained my powers of speech. It was an offer I couldn't refuse and I fell in love with all the nurses.
Santa Claus gave me a felt pen and marker board. I tried to write my name, but failed. I could draw doodles, small circles, figures-of-eight, triangles and spirals. In weeks, I regained the power to speak and walk again. Within a year, I was hunting on horseback with the Clare and Limerick Harriers.
At a political meeting I criticised the Prime Minister oFlreland and happily blew a promising career in politics. A furious mentorasked if I had lost my marbles in hospital. Yes, I had. My whole life was turned upside down and all my values were open to question.
TREASA: At what point was it that you recognized that you were an artist?
When I visited Newgrange. My heart leapt with joy. The echoes that reverberate through the millennia from that ancient place and the haunting music of my mythological ancestors and guardians, the Tuatha De Danann are hints, motifs of the limitless beauty of the Celtic Way.
TREASA* The triple spiral appears to be a central image in your artwork. What is so significant about it?
SEAMUS: An image is an image — you have to sense or feel the significance. Words create ambi-
§uity. Sculpture carves away the ross, leaving only pure essence.
Brevity is the soul of intelligence. The image is in shorthand as formulae are in mathematics. Children ask simple, direct questions. The triple spiral is loaded with meaning, yet minimis t in form. Triplicity itself. Can anyone explain love? It must be the most abused word in history, yet all of us use it. We sense it, yet we cannot explain it *
Secret Heart of the Wild
ART EXHIBIT
Metal-work by our cover artist, Seamus McMahon, will be on exhibit at The Celtic Connection office, #1129 - 510 W. Hastings St. Vancouver, B.C., November 1 to Decemberl—10a.m.-4p.m. All are invited to view this work.
By NIALL McCULLOUGH
At the turn of century Robert Service taught culture to "ladies" in a bawdy house in San Francisco. He played polo in Kamloops. And he rode the rails as a hobo. He also wrote legendary ballads like The Shooting of Dangerous DanMcGrew andThe Cremation of Sam McGee. These and other stories in TheRobertService Show written, directed and performed by Tom Byrne. Since 1979, the Irish-born Byrne has played Service at his cabin in Dawson City. In the summer, the show is a major tourist attraction.
Service's poems portray the reality andadventureoftheFar North. They lack any pretension. Instead, the rhymes move you and make you laugh. But in all of
them, the human spirit endures and the themes remain as relevant today as they were long ago.
The Yukon during the gold rush gave Service his "secret heart of the wild," and it never left him. Later, in The Joy of Being Poor, he longed for that simpler time, yet when Service left the Yukon in 1912, he never returned. He died in France in 1958.
Throughout the show you feel close to the true Service. Tom Byrne's performance captures Service's stand up style of storytelling; he becomes Robert Service. All these stories were meant to be told the old fashioned way, without a flickering screen, just tall tales laid bare to a hushed house 4>
Celebrate with
Treasa O'Driscoll and Friends
cGRistmas
♦ a ♦ winter ♦ solstice ♦ concert ♦
PERFORMERS INCLUDE:
Brian Bourke ♦ Whirling Dervish
Rita Costanzi ♦ Concert Harp
Victor Costanzi ♦ Violin
Pepe Danza ♦ Shakuhachi Flute, African Drums, Sitar, Other Instruments
Treasa O'Driscoll ♦ Poetry, Song, Story
Date: December 21, 1991
Time: 8:00 PM
Place: Vancouver Academy of Music
1270 Chestnut Street (Burrard & Cornwall near the Planetarium)
Tickets: $15.00 Available at
The Celtic Connection 1129 - 510 W. Hastings Vancouver, B.C. For Information Call: (604) 681-5562
Limited Seating • Book Now for You and Your Friends