I am in love with Benedict Cumberbatch. Let us just get this out of the way straight off the bat. In truth, it’s hard not to fall for the actor known for his roles in “Sherlock,”“The Imitation Game,” and now Marvel’s “Doctor Strange.” I mean, have you ever seen his eyes? His palms? And, have you ever heard him speak? Enough said.
I am a 30-year-old female who favors a great drama on any superhero movie, so when I led to the theatre to watch “Doctor Strange” at night it started, I did so purely for Cumberbatch. I understood his acting would be phenomenal — if you still need convincing just view his portrayal of Hamlet — and guessed that it would be enough to enjoy his abilities, even if I wasn’t crazy about the movie itself.
What I didn’t anticipate was that I’d be in tears within the first 20 minutes or so of this movie.
I understood the basic story: Neurosurgeon Doctor Steven Strange suffers harms his palms and a automobile accident outside repair. He turns to the One in a attempt to heal, and learns to harness powers that are, basically, magical.
But I was shocked by the precision and emotion by which the movie highlighted chronic pain, nerve damage, and injuries that alter our lifestyles. Strange’s injury wasn’t just brushed over, as I’d assumed it would be. It was more than just a plot point. It was central to shaping Strange’s lifestyle, attitude and future.
Time for disclosure number two: My profession was altered because of an accident. Or, even more correctly injuries. To the article I double majored in school. The English was to be a fallback in case it turned out I didn’t have the talent. During school I worked harder than I have ever worked in my own own life, practicing for eight or more hours a day, training my body to do the impossible. And I triumphed. I was a actor with a future, and also my senior recital was a triumph.
But I was battling pain in wrists and my hands throughout my junior and senior years of school. Doctors dismissed this injuries fixable with surgeries, and so I pressed on, slathering my wrists within muscle rub wearing ice packs as I practiced, and taking copious quantities of painkillers.
I took a year off from chasing music farther as a graduate student, after graduating school. I knew I had to reach the origin of the difficulties. About a year later, I was diagnosed with repetitive motion syndrome, tendonitis, nerve injury, carpal tunnel syndrome, and subsequently, fibromyalgia. The fibromyalgia was the seal on the fate of my own career.
It would not be physically possible for my body to maintain itself under the stress of a music performance profession.
By that point, my palms had worsened to the point where my fingers were numb, fingers and my palms trembled, and that I had control over them.
And that is just what I viewed in the hands of Strangeon. In teaching his hands to shake and tremble, Cumberbatch did a tremendous job, and the movie drove home the effect that the lack of a profession — the loss of a prior life can have.
There is a point in the movie where Strange asks, “What’s life without my job?” His ex-girlfriend, Christine Palmer, answers, “It is still a lifetime.” Strange shrugs his dismissal — his disbelief, and the comment away? — is absolutely accurate.
It feels like losing your own life, when you eliminate something, such as your livelihood, that is that you, that defines you. I can not count the years into playing music I poured. I was happy to make the sacrifices in the time — I’d no nights without the weekends while I was in school — since I knew I was working toward something. But if that’s ripped away from you, then you are left hollow. All of the work that you just poured in — where did it move? You have nothing to show for this, and is now gone.
I once held the title of “musician.” A couple of months after my diagnosis, a friend introduced me to a coworker as someone who “was a musician.” It was a minute. I’d no new title to substitute “artist” together; I had no individuality.
This movie makes it. As I saw “Doctor Strange” and we proceeded to the next hour and Strange’s palms were still referenced, I sat there in amazement. There is something powerful about knowing that you are not lonely, and seeing this movie was just like listening to someone stating that they know. The writers get it; it will not just disappear. You are never left by the shift, but it transforms you. And should you come across other side a better man for it, good. But that is sometimes not the case.
It’s been nearly four years since my diagnosis, and I am still bitter. I disturbs people whose palms function normally, and seeing my school classmates progress in their careers can be painful occasionally. Somehow I doubt I’ll come to help me find my greater purpose, but I have started on that trip on my own. I have concentrated on my writing and developing a career, but although I really do teach lessons.
And a bit at one time heals,. Seeing an accident portrayed with sensitivity and precision to the emotional toll it brings in media? That’s a recovery step. So frequently pain becomes glossed over, this past year, however, it’s prominently featured in a few of the movies. That movie is a message of understanding. Someone gets it.
So I’ll continue on. Each day brings the sudden. Will a visit to the store ship my annoyance? I’ll be fortunate enough to have a great moment. Perhaps the pain will impair my activity level. I’ll continue on with my writing, and perhaps one day I’ll be fortunate enough to make a difference for someone else with my words, with my narrative. After all, “Doctor Strange” was just a comic. But to me, it means much more.
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