"Dr. Wise Young, spinal cord researcher at New York University Bellvue Hospital, reported that there was no doubt that Michael Schwass is "using his own legs for ambulatory movement."

"Even though a couple of other quadriplegics were making progress, no one was able to really walk besides me, and because of this they affectionately called me 'The Champ.'"

"Mr. Kurtis contacted me and suggested narrating a film documentary on me at my home. It was in a portion his TV program, called Focus. He met me at my dad's home. He interviewed me in the kitchen. Then, I stood, held his hand, and we walked down the hallway with my helper in tow."

"Later Charles Kuralt from 'The American Parade Show' would do the same on CBS national television. Because of these experiences, and the interest people were displaying in my having walked, I was becoming increasingly aware of the power of what I had accomplished, and its influence on even normal, healthy people. Of course, I cannot take all the credit. It was not just me who had achieved, but all those who had been at my side coaching, inspiring, supporting and waiting on me."

"I slowly rose from my wheelchair and stood facing him. Then, by myself, I walked across his office room, turned around and walked back to my wheelchair holding the hand of my helper. My leg braces? They had been sold to another quadriplegic. Dr. Fahey stared at me for a moment. Then he turned, silently walked to his desk, sat down and put his feet up. I waited, facing him head on. He leisurely lit up a cigarette, turned to me and said: 'Schwass, you sure faked the hell out of me!'"

"I felt them hovering about me as I glided over the ice. They were like mosquitoes carrying long wooden proboscises, waiting to land and sting if I didn't keep moving. In spite of those offensive players, the defensemen seemed to play it differently. As I approached, they let me enter into their own zone, backing, backing off. Perhaps they had though I would cut left or right. Then there it was. I saw an opening straight ahead of me, and I rode my Super Tacks right down the middle, lifted my stick back and waist high to my right, and slammed a shot straight into the net."

"Then without any warning it began. One-by-one they drilled each hole, and I cried out, begging them to stop. The shriek of the drill overpowered my cries and I screamed louder. The sent of burning flesh mixed with the reek of hospital odors wafted into my nose."

"As I endured the torment, held down by nothing more than my own paralyzed body-carcass, it was as if my brain matter was being twisted on that drill bit, and roasted as the hot shank did its menacing work."

"When the cacophony stopped, a nurse pushed a syringe into an IV port connected to my left arm. I felt the roiling cauldron of terror that had been cooking in my chest begin to cool, and my ready-to-break tension dissolved into sweet oblivion."

"The boards had been brought together, with me in the middle, to make a human sandwich, and ropes were tied around the two sandwich parts to hold my "body-meat" fast. I lived in this apparatus, looking our through my stockade-like window for hours on end as I was turned like a carcass on a spit."

"When facing downwards I prayed - Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be - all while surveying the fluid that trickled from my nose and pooled onto the floor. Frequently this view was blurred by my tears that dripped into a sticky mixture twenty-four inches below my face. Desolation was slowly consuming my heart. Sorrow was my companion. Time was torturous. My young body used to move in swift synchronicity with my mind, and it was a thrill for me…I want to die."

"The basement passageway was grimy, and filled with old elevators, mildew odors, rats, and stained and decomposing concrete walls. The scent of this place was overwhelming. The darkness and the silent black aids hovering alongside my bed frightened me."

"There, smiling down on me in all his colossal glory, surrounded by a small crowd of devotees, was Keith Magnuson! He was fairly glowing and his ruddy features radiated tremendous energy. Beneath a head of thick red hair was a scared but handsome face, reflecting the warrior that he was. He had cuts on his hands, and a nose that told a story of battle. His massive frame completely filled out a turtleneck sweater and blue sport jacket he was wearing. When he spoke, his voice was deep and resonant, carrying the tone of one in command."

"Alas, I did not know how God worked. My formulations of prayers, my application of austerities beyond the woe I lived in, did not stir heaven. My sad condition was somehow lacking the necessary requirements to get God's attention. Was a quadriplegic's inability to move his body parts somehow related to his incapacity to move divinity?"

"'Let him fall. Let him fall!' She would shout, as the helpers restrained themselves, consternation and pity on their faces. I would cry, sweating, grimy, dripping from my nose, lying helpless on the dirt."

"Everyone wanted to get where I was, and I quickly became the focus of the doctors from New York. For their part, they were appropriately impressed, and said so. Dr. Wise Young reported that there was no doubt that Michael Schwass is "using his own legs for ambulatory movement."

"The map is not the territory. One who knows only the map does not know the territory. I had learned the map. I had also trekked the territory. With this conference, I believed that I had now accomplished something significant in the world. I was, in a way, the surgeon's equal, not their prey, as I had been for far too long."

"I watched as the neurosurgeons especially, cut into their steaks that day. I could not help imagine that these were the same motions they would make as they cut into the fleshy nervous systems and bony spinal columns of a human body. I had so frequently been one of those pieces of meat on their cutting table. I had far too often been the helpless carcass under their knives."