NSide Magazine Article  Volume II  Issue III

July.August.September.05

by Brooke Hadley

     When National cycling team member Gary Seghi walked through the tunnel that led to the 1996 Paralympics, he expected to feel excited and proud to represent the United States in the Olympic Games. What he didn't expect was the emotional wave that would overwhelm him.  As he stepped into the arena to the tune of "Star-Spangled Banner," he felt a rush unlike any other.  "It was the greatest thrill of my life."   He wanted to fall to his knees, but joint pain would stop him--pain caused by a life-changing accident.

     FACING ROADBLOCKS  In 1982, while training for a national bike event, an 18-wheeler hit Seghi at an estimated 70 miles per hour, leaving his body's imprint permanently indented in the truck's grill.  After the initial impact, he slipped from the front of the cattle-hauling truck, which then completely ran over his body before dragging him another 100 yards.  "This can't be happening," he remembers thinking.

     Dr. Seghi's 20 year struggle to live a pain free and healthy life had just begun.  He was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital, but was revived.

     Doctors didn't expect him to live even after the first of 12 operations.  A dislocated and fractured hip, crushed spine, broken ribs and a lower leg attached only by a piece of skin, as well as a shattered knee and a pierced lung weren't helping his prognosis.  Plus he was treated as a burn patient since he had no skin left on his back. 

     Seghi spent the next 10 weeks in the intensive-care unit.  The doctors finally concluded that his leg needed to be amputated.  He felt that he only had one option: keep the leg and get well.  For the next five years he couldn't even exercise; the pain was just too intense. 

     FIGHTING BACK  Coping with the unrelenting daily pain was an incredibly difficult physical and emotional challenge but surprisingly was not his biggest one.   According to Seghi, learning how to wean himself from the Morphine and Demerol he needed to endure the constant pain was far worse.  "To be dependent on a drug and addicted to it was totally foreign to me," he says.  "The hardest part was going cold turkey and getting off of the drugs. My whole personality changed.  I became a 'junky' dependant on a 400 mg daily fix of Demerol."

     Seghi says that he started to feel sorry for himself and began psychoanalyzing and questioning the value of his life.  "It is as if you are pushed off a cliff and clawing at space grasping for a sense of self worth.  The desperation and anxiety that went with it became a living hell.  The medical community had no positive answers for me."  He finally reached a point, however, where he needed to dig deep inside himself. 

     CHANGING COURSE  Recovery, however, has not been without its share of bumps over the years.  If he slept over three hours a night, "it was a gift."  As Seghi was rebuilding his chiropractic practice his open wounds refused to heal for four years.  They were so bad that he would have to schedule 30-minute  blocks of time between patients to allow himself time to clean the wounds.  "I was in no way going to stop what I was doing, even though I could only work for two to three hours a day,"  he says.  "My own pain and anguish has given me greater insight as to how my patients feel."

     Dr. Seghi believes that he has a responsibility for redirecting his patients' physical and emotional well being.  What's interesting to an observer is that he doesn't let on to the patient that he has felt their pain.  He doesn't carry on about himself or his past injuries.  He quietly focuses on giving the best possible care and never asks for recognition. 

     "I feel our life's view should come from the heart.  For me, I am practicing my art.  This becomes my patients' gift."

     But life has a funny way of catching up, and, in many cases, recognition is just inevitable.  Cycling became Seghi's primary form of rehab.  His friend Lance Armstrong, said, "He's very strong on his bike, as strong as someone who never had an accident, especially for his age.  He's super serious about training.  He's very dedicated.  Sometimes I think he's more serious than I am." 

     REHABILITATION  It was five years after his accident that Seghi got back on his bike.  And though he could only go a couple of feet, it was a huge accomplishment.  He created a rigorous rehab program.  16 to 20 hours/week for the next 15 years.  Since that time, he has been the national champion six times and won seven silver medals along with some international wins.  "Technically I should not be able to do anything on that bike," he says, while motioning toward his bicycle sitting across from his desk.  "Friends told me to 'get a life'; MD's said that the arthritis and damaged joints made my goal impossible.  I proved them all wrong."  Success came in 1% increments spread out through the years.  "The body is designed to be healthy.  I know that.  I became dogged in making my body work properly.  My patients rehab is based on that concept." 

     A pile of gold and silver medals can be found in his office, but they're not matted behind frames; they're tossed to the side like dirty laundry.  It's not that they don't matter to him, it's just that winning is not his most significant accomplishment.  Mark Edwards, (USA National Coach), said Gary's greatest accomplishment was something that never made the newspaper headlines.  "First, he overcame amazing odds to become one of the best cyclists in the regular U.S. Cycling Federation, not disabled,"  Edwards said.  "He never sets a limit on how good a rider he can be.  He trains that way and races that way." 

    In 1996, Seghi didn't just place sixth at the Olympic Games, he competed against able-bodied athletes and won the cycling road race at the Pan-American Games. 

     When referring to the crash, he says, "The accident forced me to re-invent my life.  It was a bitter-sweet wake up call.  Now there is more clarity and purpose."  (He also had an out-of-body experience in the operating room, which is another story itself.) 

     "I'm convinced that you can meet any challenge if you remember that the line that separates the possible from the impossible moves as soon as you change your attitude."