MyIncredibleStruggleAfterTheAccident

 

MORGUNBLAÐIÐ

,

Tuesday September 23. 1975

(The Morning News)

The car-crash in Grímsnes:
2 men killed and 2 seriously injured
The condition of the two young men who now are fighting for their lives in The Borgarspitali (Reykjavik city's hospital) after their accident in Grimsnes ("Headland of Grimur") hadn't changed over the week-end according to latest information.
One of them, a 21 year old from Laugarvatn had
regained his consciousness, but the other, a 20 year old from Keflavik and the driver of the car was still unconscious. Both are badly injured, but the latter is in a critical state.
The two men,who died in this tragical accident were
Eirikur Asgrimsson
from Rein on Laugarvatn, born on May 3. 1952,
and
Sveinn Sigurdur Gunnarsson
living at Brekkubraut 5 in Keflavik, born on August 17. 1955.
The accident occurred just before midnight last Saturday. The four young men were travelling in a ten year old Volvo from Laugarvatn to Selfoss.
Just south of the farm by Svinavatn there is a sharp right turn and by the left side of the road there are two large electric-posts standing side by side, 3- 4 meters from the road.
Because the police has not yet been able to talk to the young man that has already regained consciousness after the accident, and for the fact that there were no witnesses no one has been able to tell what really happened, but it seems that the driver must have lost control of the vehicle in the bend thus making it crush on the posts at great force because of its high speed.
One of the posts fell on the car's bonnet, but the other on the top of the car just where the two that died had been sitting in the back-seat.
Another car arrived at the scene of the accident just a few minutes after its occurrance so the local police at Selfoss was notified immediately.
In a short while the police had arrived at the site accompanied with an ambulance and a doctor.
When they arrived the lads were already dead and were supposed to have died instantly.
The other lads were moved immediately to
Borgarspitali, at first on the General-ward, but then on the Emergency-ward where they are at the moment.

 

PARALIZED-BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH

 

Why a Coma Occurs!

 

The cerebral cortexis the part of the brain that is ultimately responsible for processing all sensory input, motor output, and integrative functions of the nervous system.
The recticular activating system, RAS is the core of neurons in the center of the brainstem that projects into the cerebral cortex and wakes up the cortex so it can process the information it's getting and do something about it.
To put it another way, the RAS is like an alarm clock. If it doesn't go off, the cerebral cortex stays asleep and doesn't do its job, so you stay unconscious.
There are three types of coma. In the first category, widespread areas of the cortex are damaged by causes such as severe trauma, absence of blood flow for more than seven to ten minutes, or advanced meningitis.
In the second category, processes like prolonged seizure activity, intoxication and alcohol withdrawal, or liver and renal failure alter the ability of the brain tissue to function normally.
In the third category, things like tumors, strokes, or compression of the brainstem damage the RAS.
When a coma falls into the first two categories, meaningful neurologic recovery isn't possible. With the first type, even if the patient regains consciousness they're severely incapacitated because of the widespread brain damage.
In the second, say where there's liver failure or prolonged seizures, the patient dies if the if the metabolic cause of the coma inn't corrected quickly.
In the third category, when a patient is comatose because of trauma damage to the brainstem RAS that occurred when the head gets struck with a lot of force. Then traumatic damage may be done to the lower posterior portion of the skull just above the top of the neck. This covers the brainstem and cerebellum. The locus ceruleus, a section of the RAS.
What is good about this is that people in a prolonged comatose state caused by damage to the RAS can spontaneously recover consciousness. In theory, recovery can also be induced pharmaceutically, though no one has done it yet.
Theoretically, yohimbine, which has been around for years, should do the trick. The problem is that it causes extreme elevations of blood pressure even at relatively small doses.
There have been attempts to develop a drug that will block the peripheral effect of yohimbine on the heart and blood vessels. That would allow the administration of high doses to the locus ceruleus and reverse the coma.
The greatest success has been achieved by using a drug that is similar to carbidopa, which is used to treat Parkinson's disease, but the pharmaceutical companies are far from the point where the FDA will approve such a drug for use on living patients.

09.21.75 2 0'clock

 
Intensive care:
Specialist-examination on Olafur Thor Eiriksson, Haholt 5, Keflavík.--Patient no. 535-457.
Examination: Pat. is comatou (unconscious), no signs of injury over neuracranium, X-ray of cranium (head) - fract (unbroken).
Patient has a broken jaw.
The pupils are both quite narrow, but there is some skew-deviation Pat. is decorticate bilat.
Pat. has a contusion on one lung and has aspirered. Blood pressure 130/80, pulse 90.
ECHO: Normal.
Result: Pat. has contusio on spinalcord, no sign of intracranial -cerebral hemorrhage as yet.
Recommend: Decadon 4 mg. x 4 ( has had. 10 Keepiquid in the distance
1000- 1400 ml. (glukose). Tracheotoma.
Pat. weighs 70 kg. on arrival.
Will keep tabs on pat.
B. Hannesson

09.21.75 2.30

X-ray- ward Intensive care Borgarspitali:
Doctor: Magnus
CERVICAL VERTEBRAE: A fracture can be seen on the transvers process on the right side on C:VI and in addition to this, one notices on an x-ray picture
that the first rib on the right side is also fractured and there is a piece missing from under that rib ca. cm. in diameter. No contortion can be seenin the cervical vertebrae and no fractures can be seen on profile.
CRANIUM: No fractures seen. Sella turcica looks allright and cellu-system and sinuses seem well-filled with air.
LOWER JAW: There's a fracture on right side a cm. behind angulus and by the canine tooth. The fractures seem to go right through the jaw and the
bonepart being loose..
LUNGS: On the right side in thorax above apex a liquid can been seen down to the VI. rib and the distance between the lung and the thorax-wall
primarily by apex a wide 2 cm. In addition to this a compression is fromboth lungs that could allude to an aspiration. On the left side a lungstructure can't be seen in a periferin, which could allude to a pneumothorax even though a clear lungstripe can't be seen.
ABDOMEN scheme: No additional liquid can be detected nor any expansion of organs in the abdomen, but two X-ray shadows can be seen at either of the two connections sacro-iliaca. Looks like an X-ray contrast. In addition to that one thing can be mentioned, that the pediklin on L:IV on the right side seems fractured and the patient has spina bifida occulta (a little split spinal) on L:V - S:I
where an obvious split in transvers processi (vertebra) on these connections.
PELVIS: Fractures or other patol. variations aren't diagnosed in this examination.
JF/_m

09.21.75

Doctors of Surgeon- and Neuroward:
A twenty year old man who came here after an accident that occurred in Svinahraun shortly before arriving to the hospital, at 2,30. He's totally unconscious, though he reacts in a very deprecated way to a painful stimuli and probably has brain contusio. The pupils are even and fairly
co-ordinated and he has a stable pulse and tensio.
The mandibula is fractured in two places on the right side and quite large haematoma, that has sank down the neck on the right side.
Much crepitation can be heard during his respiration and therefore much blood-colored liquid needs to be sucked from his mouth and throat, probably originated in the lungs.
There was suspision of a haemothorax (blood in chest) on the left side on X-rays and therefore a thoraxdrain is put down his throat shortly after arrival on Intensive care, but no blood has come out. A probable cause is a contusio on the lung itself.
Furthermore a tracheostomia was made shortly after the arrival and then a lot of blood came up from bronchi. The tracheostomiana was difficult because of much thyroideatissue lies over the trachea.
Supposedly his neck is broken? He has slight wounds scattered here and there on his body, mainly on his limbs.
He gets limited liquid, Decadron and Penbritin. A catheter is put on his penis and he is put in a monitor.
Temperature encreases soon to 39_ C and therefore he gets a cooling mattress and asperin. His respiration seems fairly good and the crepi-tation deminished greatly posterior to the sucking of bloody slime through the tracheostomia-tube.
_._./as

9.23.75:

The patient's conditition is a little better, his temperature has been mostly normal without a cooling mattress the last 24 hours.
Patient has good respiration and his respirations-graph was almost normal when read yesterday. His movements were very spastical at first, has got lots of Valium intravenust (veins) lately, but a lesser amount yesterday than the day before and the last 24 hours he has not been spastical and seems a little lighter.
He gets Decadron inj. 4 mgr. x 4 and Penbritin 1 gr. x 4 and had his first liquid-food through a tube (sondumat) yesterday.
Still has a thoraxdrain and a tracheostomi.
_.M./go.

09.26.75:

An operation made by Sigurjon Olafsson, dentist.
DIAGNOSIS: Fractura mandibula dx. (fracture in a jawbone) on caninetooth-area. Fractura mandibula dx. on molararea. -the front fracture is open into mouth.
OPERATION-DIAGNOSIS: The ri. canine-tooth in the lower palate is removed in the beginning because it was quite loose in addition to the supposed greater risk of infection by keeping the tooth.
The mucous membrane in this area was then sewn together with chrom 0:3.
Wire-loops were now fastened onthe teeth in the upper gum both on both sides.
Then the alveolarbar was wired to the lower jaw's right side all the way to front fractureline.
Wires were then fastened loosely around the alveolarbar and isolated teeth on the left side. The lower jaw was then moved in occlusion with the upper jaw and all wires on the left side were thoroughly tightened.
Finally two wires on both sides were used to keep steady the interdental fixation between the lower and upper jaw. No complications.
- Sigurjon Olafsson/es

09.27.75.

 
City's Hospital's Intensive care X-ray ward:
CERVICAL VERTEBRAE, CONTROL: The fracture-line is unchanged compared to an earlier examination on 9.21.75. More injuries have not been discovered.
H_/e¾

09.30.75:

Situation similar these last days. Though he seems to have lost a little weight. The Thorax-drain has been closed with a clamp since yesterday, but a little sickle above the lung, perhabs making it possible to remove the drain tomorrow. Penbritin is no longer needed. The wires that eld the jaw together snapped, but got put together again this morning.
_._.J./bk.

10.01.75 kl. 9.05

X-ray-division of the Intensive care.:
LUNGS BEDPHOTO, CONTROL: Now only a small stripe can be seen on the pneumothorax perifert in the left thorax. Other wise status hasn't changed.
H_/e

DREAMING IN A COMA ???

 

I open my eyes.
The ceiling´s in a haze.
Run my eyes around.
I'm in a white room.
Where am I ?
Hospital?
Heaven?
I'm so weak?
What´s the matter with me?
Maybe it´s my appendix?

Hovering above myself, looking down.
Naked on a bench, so awfully thin.
Four humans standing by my side.
White ropes, maybe doctors?
Gliding their hands over and wounds appear.
Where the arms and legs join the body.
The wounds filled with something biological.
Gliding hands over.
The wounds disappear.

I can see their faces.
Pakistani or Indian?
Who are you?
We assist Einar from Einarsstad.
Who?
If you won´t be good and well, then you can get help on ...as
And they dissappear as I re-join my body.

 

THERE IS H0PE

10.2.75:

Doctors of Surgeon and Neuro-devision of Intensive care:
The Thorax- drain was removed yesterday, as the lung seems to be okay.
There is no change otherwise.
Ó.Ó.J./bk.

10.07.75:

There has not been much change these last days, but now he seems to be awakening a little, at least seems to understand at times what is said.
He is quite spastic mostly on his left side.
He is nourished via tube that goes through his nostrils down to his stomach with out much difficulty.
Ó.M./bk.

10.14.75:

The pat. is more awake, though he hasn't spoken yet. He has had some abnormal body temperature, about 38 degrees. The Tracheal-tube was removed today.
Ó.M./bk.

OUT OF COMA

I can feel the warm touch on my left hand and I open my eyes.
-Mamma, I shout in astonishment. What am I doing here?
She doesn´t seem to hear me, where she sits by my side with tears in her eyes.
-Thank God! You´re back, my dear child, I can hear her say.
I repeat my question.
-Are you trying to tell me something, my dear?
I coin yes with my lips as I nod my head, but otherwise I lie perfectly still under my sheet.
-Wait a moment, she says as she stands up and leaves the room.
She returns in a short while in the company of a man and a woman wearing white robes.
He seems to notice that I look at them with a stupid face.
He takes my right hand into his as he intro-duces himself and the woman as my doctor and nurse.
I cannot feel his touch.
The nurse removes the rug.
He presses lightly on the spots where my body joints its arms.
Tells me to nick my head when I feel a touch.
I feel quite bad, actually I have constant pain above my left thigh and in my right shoulder.
-Can you move your toes and fingers, young man he asks encouragingly.
I'm able to move the toes on my right feet and left hands fingers.
Mom´s got questions in her eyes as she looks at his face.
-That´s a normal paralysis, because the arm´s sensors lie in cross, he informs.
I feel bad about that I'm neither able to move my left leg nor my right arm as I somehow remember that I'm a left-footed football-player, but I´m right-handed.
He takes my left hand in his, looks into my eyes and says to me:
-You´re quite lucky my friend having such a caring mum he begins his lecture, as he gives my mother a respectful eye where she stands on the
other side of my bed holding my weak hand.
Here by your side she´s been standing most of the time that you have been lying here on the
Borgarspitali's Intensive Care in a coma.
She´s been holding your hand and talking to you.
When I put up an empty face the doctor affirms that even though many might be skeptical of its importance he´s quite certain about that my mother´s love for me, her unconscious son and the fact that she had sat by my side all this time, while she has spoken to and encouraged me is the main reason I've been able to awaken from my coma.
-It wasn´t just me, my mum said happily with tears in her eyes.
And the doctor carries on:
-Yourself and Bjarni Thorkelsson came via
ambulance the night of September 21 last, after an auto-accident had occurred a few hours before at Svinavatn.
Bjarni was less injured and has already left the hospital.
You on the other hand were unconscious, paralized from your neck down because one vertebra was bruised and contused the cranium part of your brain, the doctor said as he pointed at his own neck.
A broken rib had made a hole in your left lung, besides that you had a fractured jaw.
Here on this hospital you have been sleeping for almost five weeks.

As soon as I've been moved from the Intensive-ward my teacher of speech, Ebba a young, attractive woman tries to find out what is wrong with my organs of speech.
But all in vain.
However I try I can't make a sound.
As soon as my teacher's left me my mother and father who's visiting continue to talk to me and I try to answer in my soundless way.
I try and I try until...it happens. As I try to answer by making a sound one time my nose itches and automatically my left hand moves towards it to scratch.
And guess what!
I make a nasal sound.
Very pleased parents inform my teacher immediately what just had happened, and she concludes that some concretion in the coma has made it impossible for air to run through the mouth.
She thinks that the only way for me to be able to speak is by closing one of my nostrils.

REHABILITATION BEGINS
10.20.75:

Pat. has shown some progress lately.
He has been eating some and put in a chair and makes a progress there too.
He is much more awake and says at least ja and mamma.
He weighs 49 kg. Goes to the general ward today. _.M./bk.

10.20.75

0Gen. ward room 401:
Arrived from Intensive Care at one pm, was in an car-accident in the Grimsnes.
Pat. gets mash-food and liquidscheme.
Put him in a chair.
Urinates into his bed; had a catheter, but because he was always touching his penis it was impossible to place a bottle by his side.
Was put in a chair.
His feet touch the floor.
Pat. has no thoraxdrain anymore.
Remember to write down what ever he says.
Wet himself once.
Has been "innhverfur" tonight, has not said anything and does not seem to be keeping abreast with anything.
Was put in a chair.
His mother demands that he be put in inner pants, for he's begun to be a little shy.

10.21.75:

Slept the whole night.
Was wet this morning.
Put in a chair.
Has diarrhea.
Got liquid-food through a tube for a long time and slime seems to fill his nose.
Had much diarrhea once.
Hasn't said anything tonight.

10.22.75:

Slept.
Sat for a long time in a chair.
Said Kaffi (coffee) today.
Wet himself twice.

10.23.75:

Slept but tumble a lot about.
Eyes seem clearer.
Makes progress in physio-therapy
Wet himself.
Must remember to give him his urine-bottle
off and on, but it must not be left by his side.
Has urinated in a bottle.
Moves a lot in his bed.
Patient's mouth must be cleaned well because of
broken jaw.

10.24.75:

Wet one time.
Had a good sleep.
Was put on a bedpan and defecated.
Wet himself; itching on penis; must wash it in
salted water a couple of times.

10.25.75:

Slept well.
Wet himself.
Sat on a stool.
Penis was washed in salt-water to pre-vent
possible itching.
Was able to speak whole sentences, when closing
left nostril.
Said he wanted to go home, that is along with his
mum and dad.

10.26.75:

Slept well.
Wet himself.
Got daily morning nursing.
Talks a little today.
Sat on a stool.
Is more perspicous.
Talks tonight.
But he wants to go home.

10.26.75:

Pat. has now been awake almost a week.
He watches and keeps tabs with every-thing that
goes on around him and has begun speech therapy
and has even spoken whole sentences. He moves
more about in his bed but is still a little spastic.
Left pupilla is still obviously wider than the right
one.
He is not incontinent any longer with his urine and
excrements, but sometimes he has diffi-culties
urinating.
Blood-scanning results have been normal.
H.L./go.

10.07.75:

Slept well.
Wet himself.
Morning nursing.
Spoke a little today.
Goes in a short time to Grensás.
Left thigh x-rayed. Talks tonight.
Dry tonight.

10.27.75

X-ray ward Borgarsp.
An exam. on the l. thigh is required because of
swelling and soreness about the middle of the left
thigh as a result of multi injury 6 weeks ago.
Doctor: Bjarni Hannesson
Le. femur: Fractions not visible. Streaklike curved
calcifications can be seen medial, lateral and on
the frontside of the left thighbone, possibly
being calcifications in the hematome.
KS/b_

10.28.75:

Not wet.
Slept well.
Wet this morning.
Is able to speak loud and clear even though he
doesn't close a nostril with a finger.
Ebba the teacher of speech has been training the
pat.
Walked a little with a physiotherapist.
Ate without existence.
Been good tonight.
The pat. mother wants a rich diet for Ólaf.

10.29.75:

Wet.
Slept well.
Got bathed in a tub.
Probably goes to Grensas next weekend.
Got splints this morning.
Must put them on 3-4 X per day to accustom him.

10.30.75:

Slept well.
Asked for a dentist because of the clamps.
Because chin bleeded a doctor from TNE (the
throat, nose and ear's section) came and re-
moved some of the wires. Oli got real hurt and
became tiresome afterwards. Urinated out on
the floor.
Splints once tonight, wet himself.
Dentist didn't come.

10.31.75:

Wet this morning.
Good nights sleep.
Dentist came this morning and removed wires in
upper palate, but still has wires in the lower one.
Try and brush teeth after each meal.
Got a clyster pipe after lunch and got
rid of some defecation.
Was very tired at the end of the day.
Walked to the preparatory-room.
Got 1 magnyl-tablet at 18.05 because of
headaches.
Has been mentioning that he's going to kill
himself.
Somewhat similar health.

11.01.75:

Pissed in the bottle tonight.
Slept well.
Walked a little with therapists.
Ate alone in bed.
Is supposed to have a black patch over one of his
eyes.
After a while must put the patch over the other
one.
Ate alone.
Mouth-washed.
The clamp hurts the pat.

11.02.75:

Slept well.
Defecated.
Is similar.
Fell asleep early.
Been in better spirits.

11.03.75:

Slept well.
Is a little depressed.
Went out of bed when his mother arrived and his
spirits became much better.
Sat in a chair.
Watched TV.

11.04.75:

Slept well.

Mum tells me that along with me and Bjarni in the car there were two others, Svenni my best friend and Eirikur a school chum and sorry to say that both of them were killed in the accident.
Still I'm too numb in my body and soul to realize the consequense of this loss to my future.
The day has hardly gone by in all these years that I haven't thought about Svenni Gunnars one way or another. How different my life would have been if I'd enjoyed the company of my best friend surely I can't imagine myself. Thus I'm not implying that I'm not satisfied with what I have got, by all means no, but there is always the feeling that something is lacking.

 

BORGARSPITALINN

(city's hospital)
Surgeon-ward 435-457
Patient: Olafur Thor Eiriksson
Age: b.06.19.' 55
Position: Student
Parents: Eirikur Gunnar Olafsson and Hrafnhildur
Gunnarsdottir
Address: Haholt 5, Keflavik
Arrival: 09.21.' 75
Left: 11.04.´75
Reason: Aftermath of an accident
Diagnosis: Contusio cerebri
Contusio on braintrunk
Jawfracture right side
Contusio on lung
Surgeon Pneumothorax left side
Fractured 1. rib right side
Fract. on process transversus C.VI. right side
Tracheotomia and jawfract. wired together

SJUKRASAGA (Journal):

A 20 year old lad who was a passenger in a car, frontseat that crashed on a high-voltage pole in Grímsnes the 21.9.'75.
The pat. arrived on the City hospital's emergency ward approximately at 1,30 the morning of 21.9._75. On arrival the pat. was in a deep coma had pin-point pupils and had some skew-deviation, he was decorticate bilat., that is he had much spastic paralalysis, held the arm contracted on the elbow and hyperexstendiated on both feet.
The pat. had hyperventilatio.
Pat. has a doubtly folded jaw on right side and a contusio on a lung.
Because of it he undervent a tracheotomia, also he had a lung collapsing and therefore he had to have a thoraxdrain.
The pat. condition was status quo forthcoming days, but on 9. 25. he had an operation bilat. carotis angiography that showed no signs of any
intracranial bleeding or any intra cranial mash and pat. was somewhat like, until the 10. 14. '75 when he started changing and began proceeding in
compliances with orders, even though his move-ments were very spastical.
By that time the thorax drain had been removed and his jaw-fracture had been attended to, but still he has a few wires in his mouth.
The dentist S. Olafsson has had everything under control.
At the same time the tracheotomia was removed from him and the pat. condition has since been
getting better every day and by the time of his departure the pat. was fully awakened, he followed with his eyes everything that was happening around him.
He speaks in whole sentences and seems quite aware of things.
Pat. has Hornes syndrom on the ri. side, he is spastical in every limb and has mild quadtic paresa. The Paresa has been strongest in the right arm and left leg, thus the pat. has had very diffusal injuries.
Pat. had a hyperexstension around the ancles for a long time and has to use splints for that reason.
Pat. has been in physiotherapy and has started to go downstairs in a wheelchair and he has been practising walking a little.
X-rays of his lungs have been taken again and he hasn't any problem when urinating anymore.
Pictures were taken on 10.27. of the left femor, because the pat. was swollen and had pain about the middle of the left thigh and calcination could be seen in the pat. soft parts where he had had haematom.
Control on cervical vertibrae was taken on 9.27.'75 and no signs of any dislocation or holes in themselves, only that isolated fracture on processus trans- versus on C.VI.
Pat. lay for a long time with a catheter, but it has since been removed and the pat. hasn't had any signs of urin infections.
Pat. has had normal diet and has good appetite.
The last blood-tests were
made on 10.18.''75: Hb. was 12,6, hct. 37, "sukk" 52, hvt. blk. 6,800 and the electrolytes were normal.
Repeated urin-cultivation in October were also negative.
Pat. will now be moved to the rehabilitation-division of the Bsp. called Grensas for further rehabilitation.

Mr. doctor Hospital-doctor
Doctors of Grensas Bjarni Hannesson/go.

ON GRENSAS ( rehabilitating ward)

November 8. 1975 I was moved via ambulance from one ward to another so I could increase my rehabilitation, on Grens...as. (See Coma earlier in the story).
-Please tell me. What was I doing there, I ask my parents, brother and sister with a finger closing one nostril, who had come to join me at this turning point in my life. I have no memory.
When my family starts to refreshen my memory about one thing or another my memory returns a bit by bit, anyway what they knew same as I, but everything else seems to have forsaken me permanently.
They inform me that having finished the school I and Svenni had implied for teaching-positions at Hellissandur and gotten the jobs.
We had bought an old, white Volvo; alias the hunch thus not being without wheels up West.
Even though having gone through The Inspection with high honours not so long ago the vehicle seemed more or less out of order, including the brake system. A school-chum of ours living in the village of Gardur (Siggi Alberts) made it drivable for us.
The fateful weekend we had decided along with many other chums from Laugarvatn to come togeth-er in our friend's apartment thus giving ourselves a good farewell party before we either took up a job or started studying in the University. No-one expected anything else than that we would return to Keflavik coming Sunday.
My parents were on a short visit at their friends' in Luxembourg and therefore I said good-bye to my brother and sister, Asgeir and Marta leaving them alone in the house for the weekend, he was eighteen and she fourteen.
I and Sveinn Sigurður Gunnarsson my closest friend had decided to take a one year leave from further studies. We applied for two vacant teaching
positions in Hellissandur which we received.
In our naivety we believed that our taxes would be lower if we were listed in the University at the same time we were working as teachers. Therefore we enlisted ourselves in the subject that we surely wouldn't choose next year. I took Theology, but Svenni Physiochemistry because he was rather a languageman and I couldn't picture myself as a clergyman.
He was born in Keflavik on the seventh of August 1955, the son of Fjola Sigurbjornsdottir and Gunnar Sveinsson manager of the town's co-op stores and was raised up on Brekkubraut 5. Svenni had two younger brothers and a sister and a elder brother. Kristinn Kristmundsson who was our schoolmaster on Laugarvatn wrote his memoir in the Morgunblad, where he compliments him for be-ing a substantial pupil and that he was growing as such:
"To my knowledge his maturity and proficiency seemed most visible in his final winter in this school and it wasn't concealed from no-one that he was a promising young man. His appearance was exceedingly affectionate.
He was cheerful and smiling on a every day basis, but under his cheerful appearance there was deep contemplation. Benevolence constructed his temper and gained him the friend-ship and trust he deserved."
These words of our master I'd like to have been mine, for he was as good as friends could possibly be.
Of the late Eirikur, the lad who travelled to-gether with Svenni to another world is just that to tell, that he graduated two years ahead of us. He was Asgrimsson, a villager of Laugarvatn just as Bjarni Thorkelsson and his best friend. The two of them, Bjarni and Eirikur were among the funniest of the human race one might say. The reason that they were travelling with me and Svenni to the country-dance to which we were going rather than the other car that the old camrades were divided into was sheer coincidence I imagine, but anyhow our trip together ended in a sudden and a horrible way.

MAY THE FABULOUS SVEINN AND EIRIKUR BE REMEMBERED FOR A LONG, LONG TIME!

ll

I tell them about my dream as mentioned before (Dream in a coma?):
-I lay naked on a bed in a white room. Into the dream four doctors enter wearing white robes, they appear to be oriental; Indian, Pakistani or whatever.
They do an operation; cut through the skin with their bare hands just where the four main joints are; where both the arms and legs meet the body. Subsequently they install some kind of an organic knot into the wounds that didn't bleed by the way.
Thus done they held their hands over the cuts and mysteriously the holes dissappeared. Before they went away they informed me that if everything wouldn't be ok when I finally woke up I'd get help on "-as".
I could only remember that part and now I'm at a rehabilitation center called "Grens...-as".

-Yes, they are doctors on the other side and are working with Einar on Einarsstadir, mum informs me.
-She hasn't just been sitting by, your mother, oh no not now rather than ever before, dad informs me, distinctly being quite happy with his mate.
She had heard about Einar the healing psychic on Einarsstadir, and when she heard this hospital's doctors´ prediction that most likely you'd be para-lised from the neck down your mother decided to do everything she could to help you out. She spoke with Sigurdur Haukur, a priest here in Reykjavik whom she knew was a linkage with Einar and begged him to contact Einar on your behalf.
And surprisingly a short while later your body began to show some life again.
-Everybody was praying for you my dear boy, mum says happy at heart, where she sits by my bed with tears in her eyes.

lll

Now I begin an unceasing therapy and practise at Grensas, either with myphysiotherapist who tries almost anything in her power to help me get my strenght
back to my feet and hands so that I might be able to walk again and use my hands without any aid and another therapist teaches me to perform with my hands doing things like cross-stitching.
Relatives and friends seem willing to do anything for "poor" me;
I get numerous invitations;
a television into my bedroom;
Gunnar, an uncle of mine and I go to a movie, by the way the same Gunnar that later supervised the campaign for Vig-dis Finnbogadottir when she became president of Iceland;
chinese massage from Kolbrun, his wife and numerous pleasant visits from relatives and friends.
My mother has returned to her usual life-style back home in Keflavik, but my brother who studies at the junior college in Hamrahlid visits me as often as he´s able to.
Soon I'm allowed to spend week-ends in my hometown.
On Grensas I recognize some faces of people who are there rehabilitating, amongst them the members of Althingi Einar Agustsson and Magnus Kjartansson who propably have fought for a better facilitation in the succession of being there.
I also come acquainted with Jon who becomes my room-mate for a short number of weeks and to-gether we do a few shady things, e.g. we travel alone and without permission downtown to the center of Reykjavik, where we visit a number of places, e.g. the tobacco-store Bristol, both of us in wheel-chairs. Fortunately there's no snow on the pavement and relatively warm-like weather at the time we go down-town, even though it´s winter and we had no mishabs in that journey. But I wasn't so lucky a few days later.
On the ground floor there is a double door used when patients arrive by ambulance for their reha-bilitation program. Because the door is a few
centimeters above the pavement there is an upward slope.
Once when Jon and I were killing time in our wheel-chairs we decided to slide our chairs down the slope outside. The weather was beautiful at the
moment but a little bit frosty, and even though my mind was brave and indifferent my body wasn't agreeing.
In my coma I'd lost a lot of weight; I used to be 70, but now I´m 49 kilos and of course my physical strenght is nothing compared to what it was.
Badly clad we slided into the cold winter weather. Outside we drive our chairs around the cemented pavement. It's easy for Jon to slide back
inside, but for me it was impossible to return up the lamentable low slope.
There beneath the slope I had to stay until my friend had fetched assistance. This perilous journ-ey had bad aftermaths. I became really sick; high temperature and a bad cold which delayed my recovery for a while.
In my sickness I started sneezing whenever my nose felt irritated and each time Jon used to say:
-Hopefully the Devil won´t get you, instead of the usual God bless. Of course I thought it very funny and began using it myself with little delight amongst my female relatives.

lV

-Your girlfriend made you a visit while you were in a coma, my mum tells me shortly after I had begun my rehabilitation at Grensas.
-Girlfriend? What girlfriend, I ask astonished at the same time as her beautiful image enters my mind again. I remember how sorry I was when we parted last spring at the end of the school-year and she returned to her home in Sweeden perhaps for good. Who knew?
When her sister who lives on Selfoss read about the accident at Svinavatn, and noticed that Svenni and Eirikur were killed she concluded, that you might have been one of the other two boys that had been in the car.
Therefore she made a phone call to Sweeden notifying her sister of her suspicions. Your girlfriend rang to us in Keflavik and was told that you were lying on the Borgarspitali.
-Is Anna still here in Iceland, I ask hoping she might...
-No, sorry to say she had to return to her job in Sweeden.

V

Into my private bedroom at Grensas, where I'm amidst various electrical tools that we modern hum-ans have become accustombed to, such as the 14 inch. TV which Stella, one of my mother's sisters lent me, and my own Hi-Fi's, a Pioneer receiver-amplifier and an Akai tape deck, one day a liberal looking man appears introducing himself as a phsychologist who's supposed to put me under a test.
Suddenly I'm covered with cold sweat, when I convince myself in my ownfoolishness that the learned man is supposed to judge whether I have enough intelligence left after I got the blow on my head to be called a "student" (graduate). I'm so terrified that I haven´t the guts to ask him what might be the reason for this test. Thus I avoid getting any confirmation of my suspision!
I'm all of a tremble trying to solve various trials, but it is all in vain. The phsychologist thanks me as he leaves my room leaving me feeling as a total failure. I'm quite sure that big brother will deprive me of the diploma that I had aimed at for four years of my life.
The childishness, let alone the utter foolery of mine to rage outside during Icelandic winter-weather badly dressed in a wheel-chair has the result that I become really, really sick; delirious high temperature and bad coughing. I become quite desperate and lose the heart that I had had in all the construction of my body and soul.
I had lost all faith in my rehabilitation. I simply don't have any energy left and have become lazy.
But then my mother again takes all matters into her magical hands and informs me that she has been corresponding with my girlfriend. She had been writing about that I had begun rehabilitation,
making great progress in getting my strenght back.
-Will she return?
-I understand that she´ll return next February or March, and imagine yourself how happy she´ll be if you will have regained your former self.
My mother's answer´s like a vitamin-injection for me because I restarted my rehab with greater energy, because I had found a reason for all practise.

FAREWELL TO SHYNESS

One day lying in bed at Grensas, listening to music suddenly I remembered that my shyness had really bothered me as a youngster!
Ye, I was terrified of the other sex.
So much even that I couldn't chat normally with girls about my feelings, except when intoxicated with alcohol.
Even then there was some ligament of the tongue.
Why was I so scared of girls?
In junior college I had been rather a conspicous guy; a member of the school's teams in soccer and volleyball and in my third year I and Johann Gardar Einarsson, a friend and room-mate were elected chairmen of the recreation-committee.
In that office many a times I had to speak out in public; to my fellow students or strangers like reknown musicians and commedians that we hired to entertain in our school.
Then I wasn't bothered by shyness.
I also remembered that I was often the leader in all kinds of questionable activities, either in school-lessons or otherwise.
But I never did anything unless I were among friends; had someone to lean on, I was always able to avert to fun and games.
On the other hand I became a different person when I was in front of a girl all alone.
The words got all crumpled up on the road between my mind and organs of speech and I shifted from being serious to the clown.
That way I was able to hide my true inner self.
Really I was just an innocent little boy.
It took me a long time assembling enough courage to ask girls if they wanted to dance with me.
If I luckily/unluckily was able to drag the girl to my bedroom after the last dance I was of course a total failure in bed.
This kind of conduct won't be tolerated any more, I decided on this serious meeting with myself.
I must overturn my habits.
Now when I realize how frightfully short the line between living and dieing can be, it feels dreadful how my life's seems wasted away and could have so easily been a lot different if shyness hadn't been the cross that held me back.
I couldn´t imagine myself as an old man making up my life while awaiting death regretting not doing many pleasurable things I could have done, just because of my shyness.
Life's just too short and you won't get another chance!
I decided to say farewell to my shyness, never minding what others might say about me and what I did.
Standing alone
I was at home for the Christmas-holydays.
In my opinion my progress was quite steady.
By steady practice at Grensas I was at last able to use my right arm and hand again.
My memory had returned somewhat.
Still my left leg refused to obey what my brain ordered.
The house where we lived has three platforms;
on the first (the attic) we have four bedrooms and the bathroom, on the one in the middle the living
room, kitchen, telephone-hollow and main entrance, but on the lowest we have the laundry, backdoor, boiler room and the TV lounge.
A four meter long passage comes between the TV lounge and a cemented staircase that leads to the second platform.
When the house was constructed the needs of the disabled where not on anyone's mind and therefore it was of no use to take my wheelchair along to Keflavik, so usually I had to lean on my father's shoulder when moving around the house.
At the end of the TV- program on Boxing Day my dad and I started our journey;
him holding under my shoulder.
When I reached the staircase and had grabbed the banisters as usual, I heard his jolly laughter behind my back and turned my head.
There he still stood at the beginning of the passage, where he had supposedly taken under my shoulder, but really hadn't without me having the slightest ...
-I really thought you'd be able to, he informed me obviously very pleased with the trick he'd made on me.
-Did I really make it alone, I asked with a weak, but pleased voice closing a nostril with a finger.
I'm laughing silently when I drag myself along the passage walking back.

RETURNING TO NORMAL SOCIETY

From the Borgarspitali's checkout-report:

WALKING and TREATMENT: Here the pat. gets physio- and performance therapy, gets movement-and strengthening-exercises and in addition to this he gets balancing-exercises, because of obvious ataxia.
The pat. gained much strenght and was able to walk without a cain the last month of his treatment, but walked with feet very wide apart.
The strength both in the upper and lower extremit. was progressive and general health either mental or physical was getting better.
For a while it seemed that the pat. had little realization of his own condition, and therefore we asked Jon Bjornsson a psychiatrist to have a talk with the pat., but haven't received his opinion, before the pat. gets checked out.
The pat. hasn't needed any drugs.
The urine's been clean.
He has been going for weekends to his home in Keflavik without any difficulties coming up, and therefore he will be allowed to leave the hospital today for good, without having a need for any aid, such as drugs and will he keep on doing his strenghtening-practises at his home.
Johann Gunnar Thorbergsson
doctor

I'm HOME

FEBRUARY 9th 1976 I leave Grensas, the Rehabilitation Ward of the Borgarspitali for the last time hopefully as a patient.

The only facility for rehabilitation in my home-town was then only the one that you created yourself or at a small station that two women owned and ran down on Tungata. For a few times I went there for training.
They say that walking is really good for you and therefore they recommended outdoor walking so as to strenghten my body and soul.
At first my walking is very devious like that of someone who has been drinking a lot of alcohol, and I couldn't have walked a straight line for a million dollars.
For that reason my parents have to stand by my side once again, now on my short travels in the neighbourhood so as to make sure that I didn't kill myself in the traffic.
The usual walking-courses were the closest
streets:
Haholt, Lyngholt, Skolavegur and further, just as my growing strength and ability allowed me.
Many a times we were stopped on our trips,
either by people that were acquainted with us and others that somehow knew that mum's son had been in a terrible accident.
Sometimes such a situation becomes comical like once when I was rumbling and drooling at my mother's side going down Skolavegur, when an active looking middle-aged woman winds herself towards us and starts a conversation with mother, at the same time as I try my best standing still at her side.
There comes a moment in their chatting when the Mrs. asks:
-And how's your son?
Mum points at me instantly answering with another question:
-Why don't you ask himself?
The Mrs. drops her face of course, but picks it up before anyone notices and points the question at me.
I close one nostril before I answer the lady in a usual way, that I were in good health.
It's not customary for Icelanders to reveal their sorrows and pain.

THE SWIMMING POOL

When I rehabilitated at Grensas there was no swimming pool in the building, despite the common knowledge that swimming is very good for the human body.
Never the less the patients in rehabilitation got a chance to get acquainted with the wonders of water once a week in a tiny indoor-pool at Hatun in Reykjavik.
Because of the floating-characteristics all movements become so admirably easy and light in water that it makes wonders.
The people that normally don't move much or at all in their wheel-chair or bed change their appearance instantly as soon as they are in the water.
-Well, my son! Let's go swimming tomorrow, dad informs me when he returns from work one day.
I've already spoken to the Swimming-pool manager, Hafsteinn Gudmundsson and he seemed eager in allowing us to swim in the lunch-break every day for as long as it takes.
That's how it happened that for some time we, father and son were the only guests in the old swimming pool of Keflavík at lunch-time, when the staff went home for a bite.
So weak and powerless was I, dad has informed me since, that it took me a month's practise to make it without help between the banks (4 meters)!
Nevertheless I did make it eventually.

IMPEDIMENT TEACHER

l

The principal of the primary school in Keflavik that year was a real noble and gentle man.
Once he made a phone call to my home and asked for me;
off course he knew about my accident as half of the villagers, and he was also aware of that I'd finished junior college.
-Hello namesake! Olafur principal of Barno (the childrens´school) on this end.
-Hello Olafur.
Quite astonished I return the greetings of this popular VIP at the same time as some wondering thoughts go through my insignificiant mind, such as:
What is he phoning be me, an unrelated man?
-How are you, namesake?
-I have no reason to complain, I answer instantly and try to hold my head high.
-Would you want to do me a great favor, young man?
-Ye, of course I would if I possibly could?
-In short, because of the great number of teachers that are sick I need an impediment teacher in the morning, the principal informs me.
-But don't I have to prepare myself, I ask gladly and grateful to the man that bears the same name as I for this unexpected but pleasant proposal.
Instantly I realise that this will be a good variation in my rather dull life;
when everybody's at work or school, I had nothing to do other than reading the Morgunbladid, going for short walks when the weather was okay and swimming in the lunch-break with my father.
-No, no, impediment teachers can't do that, but I shall have copied some assignments that you might present to the class in the morning.

ll

I arrive at school eight o'clock the next morning.
When I enter the teachers' lounge in the building, where I had myself been a pupil a few years before I immediately recognize a few of the old staff and give them a nod and the others as well.
The principal comes to me, shakes my hand and hands me a pile with Icelandic language-assignments for the kids I was supposed to teach or rather keep quiet.
Then we walk along to the school-room, where the pupils in this fifth class have already gathered in a row in front of the door.
Some murmuring noise goes through the group when the kids discover that today they'll get a new teacher.
The principal hushes on them immediately, introduces me and tells the group that I'll be their teacher until their regular teacher gets well.
Thus spoken he opens and lets them flow into their seats.
-Good luck, namesake, he says at the same time as he puts out his hand and directs me to the teacher's table.
When he's left and closed the door leaving me alone, thoughts of a confused man go through my head:
-Am I any man for this job, I ask myself where I'm standing facing 25 kids that seem able to make mincemeat of me.
I try my best to shake these foolish thoughts
out of my head and begin work.
-Well, kids! Here on the timetable I see that in the first hour you're supposed to read. When I was in elementary-school we were supposed to read aloud for the rest of the class...
-Pardon me teacher, one lad's high voice shrieks from the table in the corner, and embarasses me the novice teacher.
-Yes how can I assist you son, I give my best answering the kid being the authority as well as a friend.
-Aren't you going to read the checklist, he asks me.
-Ye right you are, I was just coming to that, I reply.
I open the list where the teacher keeps the pupils' names and various information about them, such as their diligence. I read aloud the first name:
Andrjes?
-Here, replies the same and grins at my pronunciation. And my name is Andrjes, but not And-res he informs me and seems quite pleased with himself having reprimanded the teacher, and he runs his eyes over his class-mates looking for some verification of his own prominence, but he just gets the girls' chilly look.
-Oi! You just ain't funny Andreeees, some of the girls reply in a manner that shows that they have long since become tired of everlasting interruptions from the class' peace-disturber.
In my mind I mock when remembering how I used to behave myself when I was his age.
Obviously there's one in every class, someone who yearns for attention.
Suddenly I realise that I've forgotten to swallow my saliva before I started reading.
One of my long coma's consequences on Intensive Care was a reduced formation of saliva, which causes the blurring of my speech, even so much that people that don't know me think I must be heavily drunk.
To the date when I'm writing this, approximately twenty years after that terrible event on September twentieth 1975, still I'm troubled by my enormous saliva-productivity which forces me remembering to swallow before I use my organs of speech.
But often I don't remember to swallow, and therefore I often make the impression that I'm not of a sound mind when having a conversation with novices, or I'm asked if I'm drunk.
Unquestionably this is a pity, especially when my appearance is significant, e.g. in the numerous occasions I've been in job-interviews.
With an empty mouth I begin the reading anew:
-Anna? Yes!
-Berglind?
While waiting for her reply I use the opportunity to swallow.
This way I keep on reading to the end of the list in some kind of a military habit instead of finding the number by counting.
Then I put up the face of a true teacher and swallow before I ask:
-Kids! Where are you in the
reading-book, while I turn the pages of that book in my hands.
-We had reached page 81, a girl with glasses and long dark hair replies.
She sits closest to the teacher's table.
-Well then won't you begin our reading today, Rakel.
And she starts before I'm able to locate the page in my own book.
Her beautiful sonorous girl's voice resounds as music to my ears and for the next minute I sit listening to her with wide open ears.
-Thank you Rakel, I inform her when she's finished reading two paragraphs, your reading is quite excellent. And the next one! Snaehvit (clean as snow)is it not?
-Svanhvit (white as a swan) was it the last time I knew she corrects me and gets giggling twitters amongst her mates.
-You're right, Svanhvit was it. Pardon me. Will you do me the honours?
She reads the next two.
Thus I manage making everyone read before the bell rings at the end of my first lesson.
In my oppinion there was a striking variation in the pupils'
reading-ability leaving the boys quite far behind the girls, but surprisingly the peace-disturber in the corner is best of all using amusing changes in his accent.
Two or three read stuttered and a few others weren't much better.
I don't remember such much of a difference in my classmates' reading-ability when I myself was in the fifth grade and had a teacher who was the librarian's wife back in the sixties.
Perhabs the reason is obvious; then the pupils got distinguished into classes by the speed of their reading, but after 1974 with new laws for children's schools discrimination suddenly became illegal.
In my next lesson I was supposed to teach arithmatic alias mathematics as it's called nowadays and still I had an easy time keeping the children good and quiet.
When the bell rang for the longest pause at the end of the second lesson and the going was still without a hitch my self-confidence had reached its peak.

lll

-Well, how was it, son the principal asks as soon as I enter the teachers' lounge hoping to get a cup of coffee.
-No problemo (quietly I swallow) there's nothing to it, I reply proud as a cock.
-Well my friend , that's quite nice to hear, my benefactor carries on in his gentle and soothing voice. I wasn't quite sure whether you had enough strength for working as a teacher so shortly after the accident. But certainly one can't expect you to be able to prepare yourself like a qualified teacher.
-Nei, nei, I put in at the same time as I reach out for a cup and saucer.
Put them under the cock on the big electrical coffee pot and then with too full a cup I'm thinking of taking a few steps to the sofa where two of my "mates" are already sitting.
But obviously too much of a task for me, as spastical as I am.
I am in need of all finer movements.
Alias Pinocchio, especially at the times when I really have to avoid any mistakes.
My nerves just go berserk.
Bomm, the first step.
The leg reaches the floor so roughly that it trembles.
I'm able to do this!
I try to tell myself
At a snail's pace I take another step, while staring into the cup, wishing warmer than I'm able to describe, that I could avoid making a fool of myself here on my first day.
The turbulence in the cup has become so gigantic, and its rattleing on its bolster, that my heart is beating with frenzied speed, but I just strengthen the bite on my lower lib.
By the third step I notice that the fingers have started to tremble.
WILL I MAKE IT?
A feeling of sheer anxiety and despair overwhelms me.
I'm trembling allover, but instead of spilling coffee on the floor I'm able to slam the cup on the white-covered table infront of the sofa.
I'm on the verge of madness watching the jingle and turbulance, where I'm standing crestfallen watching the waves finally calming down in the cup.
I'm feeling quite sure everyone's watching the odd gestures of the disabled man, but haven't the guts to look up to observe.
Instead I plump myself down at the end of the sofa, trying to look as normal as I'm able to, reach out for my cup which is now covered in coffee-reins and a Danish.
Because the quietness on the crowded sofa is getting to be miserable I try to start some conversation.
Only one of them seems willing to take part, a veteran teacher, a thin-haired, slender and kind man.
I remember when he was teaching in this school when I myself was a pupil here.
When taking a small draught of the piping hot drink I get burned.
Automatically I reach out for the small milk-jug standing on the table and over-fill the cup.
Having the consequences that time when I take a sip I spill over myself and the clean table-cloth.
-Andskotinn (damned) I cursed myself quietly and I can feel how I blush allover.
When the coffee-woman comes rushing with the rag I gaze on her with my apologetic look.
I only notice pity towards me, when she says:
-Next time you want to have coffee just ask me for help.
In my oppinion this offer is preposterous;
so very depreciatory.
She's obviously not aware of the fact that the worst gesture towards a handicapped person is when you indicate that he's not able to do whatever others find just normal to do.
Soon the clatter becomes stronger in the lounge, but surprisingly I keep quiet for a while but I regain myself, happy when the bell rings for the next lesson.
The principal turns to me and asks what's next on the new teacher's schedule.
-Communionology, I reply really not having the slightest idea of what this subject comprises.
-Ya, by reason of your lack of experience in these learnings just tell the pupils to write about a trip they had last summer.
-And then, I ask feeling quite sure that nothing will happen that I won't be able to handlet without assistance.
-Just allow them draw pictures at will, says my namesake and claps me lightly on my back when I start walking towards just another adventure.

The Communionology-Lesson

 

l

For a couple of minutes we just stare open-mouthed with expectation;
I on them and they on me in a peculiar, but wonderful silence.
Suddenly peace is broken.
I turn my head towards the peace-disturber in the corner, both being pleased and annoyed at the same time.
-What are we supposed to do now, Mr. Teacher? We haven't any books.
I do my best keeping my dignity in this sarcastic situation that I felt had developed, so I replied the kid in a wise looking manner after I'd swallowed all saliva that had heaped up in my mouth.
-Ya, I was thinking of you telling me in a short essay what you did last summer, how you spent your vacation; where did you travel or did you do anything amusing that you'd want to tell me about?
-No, not again, shrieks the disturber. We did that last fall.
I had not expected this reply and look awkward for a while.
-In that case wouldn't you like to show me your best in drawing throughout this lesson, I ask already having doubts on whether I will be able to maintain discipline any longer.
-Oh, no, a miserable voice can be heard from the other corner, the window-row. There a thin girl with short dark hair is sitting, but she had been quiet until that moment.
Wouldn't it be super to go outside for a game of brenno?
She looks at me begging with her big, sky-blue eyes.
-Brenno?
She has really disrupted my confidence.
-Ye, let's play brenno!
The pupils' voices clash on me one higher than another, in a way that isn't to my liking so I raise my hands in despair.
-Silence!
I shout with my weak voice forgetting to swallow, despite greater product, before I ask.
What do you think the principal'll say if he sees me outside playing at the same time I should be keeping you occupied in learning, like a proper teacher...
To my peril these last words reach out into the air in such a weak way, that the kids obviously can't understand anything of what I'm saying.
I must make a sudden decision, so that I won't have to re-peat myself.
Would it really be a sin if I'd take them outside when the weather is so beautiful I think to myself noticing the clear blue sky looking through the big windows.
I've made a decision, but before I inform the kids who suddenly have become silent as lambs I swallow properly, preparing myself and I try to sound quite merry, even though I'd really had wished for the perverse.
I've been beaten by those who I was supposed to control until the end of this day that began in such a promising way.
-Well, kids!
I address the class, at the same time keeping the damned saliva away, so that my pupils will be able to grasp what decision I would like to think they will believe I'd taken on my own accord.
Let's go outside! Enjoy the nice weather and play brenno, until the bell rings for the next lesson which is geography.
The applause doesn't stop until I raise my hands again, but not in any desperation as formerly, my illusion has reached its peak and I've started to believe that I'm having my pupils in full control.
Kolbrún, won't you go to the gymnasium to get a ball for us, I ask the girl in the corner remembering her name.
-Yes no problem she replies instantly as she runs along.

ll

Obviously a teacher with my physical ability should've stood by allowing his pupils to be alone in their game, but because I want them to know that I'm their friend I decide to be the leader in one of the two teams, the king.
Rigoristic with my woodenlike legs I'm really to blame for losing the first round in a humiliating way.
I refuse to surrender, despite numerous heavy falls.
I try my best to keep up my chin forcing out laughter, despite not really being in the mood for laughing.
I'm really ashamed of myself, but hide my true feeling.
After some thinking I decide we should change our tactics, so that my team will be able to keep their heads up high.
I call for a meeting before the second round.
-Kids, I begin with a bone-dry mouth. We have come here to beat the hell out of them, or what?
But avoid mentioning the reason for our losing, myself.
-Yes, of course, they repeat one after another.
-Then we must reform the way we play our game, our tactic, says I and swallow before I presume my case.
The kids all agree with nicking their heads.
Instead of shooting in hopeless opportunities we should concentrade on a single opponant at a time;
throwing the ball between us until he gets tired and becomes an easy prey. In that way we can chop them down, I conclude my case and finish by swallowing my saliva.
This goes on almost faultlessly, not mentioning the number of times when I don't catch the ball.
We beat them every time and I'm catching almost all
the time.
When the bell chimes for the next lesson I happen to notice my namesake, the principal in one window where he's watching our game with a mocking face, then I raise my hand as a friendly gesture.
He returns my greeting, before he returns to his office.
Obviously he's pleased with my enterprise I reckon and subsequently being so sure of myself I decide to keep on playing also in the next lesson.
And on we go, the teacher and his pupils play-ing Brenno at the same time when everyone else is sitting over their books, until the bell chimes the second time, but this time for a break.
When other pupils come streaming out of the school, I come around, give my greetings to my play-mates and hurry to the teachers' lounge, tired and sweatty but quite pleased with myself.
In stead of getting what I expected; congratulations, nobody seems to notice me, but the coffee- lady brings me my cup of coffee with a quick mur-mur supposedly "gersovel".
So I'll be able to break the wall of silence I turn to my seatmate asking whether he had any opinion about the importance of games in schools.
-That's why we have gymnastics, Oli, he mur-mured without turning his head towards me and that was the end of our conversation.
But my co-teacher's lack of interest doesn't discourage my newfound conviction;
that schooling doesn't have to be just inside four walls and therefore I turn to another teacher.
But no dice.
Nobody seems to have any interest for a conversation with the new teacher, who reckons he's found a brave new world.
Lively conversation have begun in the teachers' lounge anyway, but apparently no issue does include teaching in any way.
What kind of teachers are they anyway, goes through my mind, don't they have any interest for their job.
If I were in their shoes, I'd use the breaks to discuss any improvements I might find for my teaching.
Try to get new ideas so that I could increase the variety in the rather dull curriculum of my clients, the children.
I really don't realize that teaching is like any
other job, where everybody gets filled with a certain boredom after a while and start yearning for their vacation.
Because I can't find any common interests with my seat-mates I start wondering what the two lessons that are left might be like.
How would it seem if I took the kids on a field-trip to a fishing-factory, so that they might become aware of where the money comes from?
Yes, what a brilliant idea!
How marvellous the school would be if all teachers were as imaginative as I am, is the thought that goes through my modest mind.
Maybe I should ask for the principal's approval, feeling sure that he will approve of my new-fangled proposal.
I take a quick look at my Certina, an automatic wristwatch, a present from my parents and they had given me at a milestone in my life;
the long desired gratuation almost a year ago.
In a glimpse a memory from my youth goes through my mind.
A part that had been buried somewhere in the ventricles of my brain, but has suddenly become vivid to my imagination.
I feel a loss for my junior-college-years, when the future was sunny.
I was young, healthy and promising.
Then nothing alluded anything else, than I'd become a normal happy drudge who built his house collecting children and debts.
But nobody can tell his future just as the examples have proven.
I had no idea about what would become of me.

Profession Selected

-Wake up, namesake!
I wake up from my thoughts, feeling the gentle touch on my shoulder, looking up with groggy eyes seeing the principal standing over me with a smiling face.
At the same time I take a glance around and notice that we are alone in the room which was crowded just a minute ago.
Soon I remember what I wanted to ask the master.
-Listen Olafur, I begin a little uneasy, but quite certain that my newfangled proposal would get a good reception.
-Yes, what is it young teacher?
That word- TEACHER -was like music in my
ears.
-Well, it crossed my mind that it would be nice for my pupils to use the next two lessons for a field-trip. Isn´t that a good idea, Olafur?
Feeling hopeful for a moment I wait for a reflex, which appears almost instantly in the principal´s friendly face which is lifted to the highest heights.
His smile reaching between his finely shaped ears when he gives me a cheerful answer:
-That´s an outstanding idea, namesake! It would be better, if your colleuges showed their clients the same kind of interest as you obviously do. Field-trips is something all teachers should use a lot. I´m certain that some day you´ll become a great teacher, my namesake. Where are you headed?
When I´ve told him he leans close to me and whispers in my ear:
-We should keep this a secret between the two of us, for I don´t think it would be approphiate if all the other pupils would demand a rest from their indoor studies at the same time.
I had trouble controlling the kids' enthusiasm when I'd told them to put down their school-stuff for I'd want them to join me in a visit to the fish-factory Baldur ltd.
The jubilation was genuine with the appurtenant noise.
The visit was a real success for my pupils as for the foreman who seemed very glad and relieved having this innovation into his regular life.
At twelve o'clock I said goodbye to these happy and satisfied children when each of us went to our home and the staff took their lunch-break.
I was quite happy with myself walking to my own home in Háholt, where mother had prepared a hot meal for the family.
I had made a fateful and an important determination. I had decided to become a
TEACHER!

BODYTRAINING

With the becoming of spring the weather got better and better thus making it more difficult to stay indoors feeling so alone and deserted;
all inmates gone out, either to work or to school.
Including my fianceé, Olof Anna Gudjonsdottir a legimate medic, who was working in a fish factory for the first time in her life, because yet she hadn't found a job as a medic.
She had promised me in a letter to come and visit me in March all the way from Sweeden where she lived with her parents and sisters.
She kept her promise even though she didn't really know what kind of a decrepit person I'd become.
In that moment I didn't realize the kind of courage that young girl showed when she didn't really know me at all.
But in later years I've come to recognize and respect her courage when she at nineteen, a healthy girl in the prime of her life decided to lay down all her former plans in Sweeden and come to Iceland to attend and support this handicapped individual that she'd only come acquainted with the last four months of her study-visit on Laugarvatn.
Many years after that fateful day in her life she informed me how her reactions had been when she had at last seen me where I was standing in the old airport terminal building, spastical and dribbling.
My dad and I weren´t as eager to spend our lunchbreak swimming as before and my walking was becoming monotonus, and in addition to this I felt that I couldn't develop my walking-style any further.
-Why don't you go ride on your sister's bike around town?
-It is good to be wise for others, I growled crossed at the one who had proposed this. At first I didn't like the idea of riding a bike, thus being visible to all. I'd be like some freak in town, because at that time grown-ups didn't ride bikes in town, except maybe "Oli the mailman" who has since ridden to another world.
Do you really think that I would like everyone laughing at my back riding a bike, and that a girl's bike?
-You might ride up by the Airport-road to the town's barracks in the moors, where nobody will be able to see you. There you could ride back and forth the tracks between and under the fish-trestles. You might even run a little?
To my true amasement I hadn't forgotten anything. I was able to ride the bike just as if I hadn´t done anything else. So fast even that before I knew it I'd reached the moors above the habited district and had the fish-trestles on both sides.
The adorable smell of stock-fish;
a combination of decay and money filled my nostrils.
For some time I rode to and fro on my sister's bicycle which is rather small, being a girl's bike, but it didn't matter much for the reason that I'm not any giant myself.
It's broad wheels enabling me pursueing easily the grassy trails inside and beneath shrunking, hanging cods.
Finally when I felt I'd reached perfection in the art of riding a bike I became bored and decided to find a new quest worth conquering.
"You might even run a little", I remembered someone had proposed before I went to my first practice-ride in the tranquility of the moors.
I recollected dimly that I'd never been much of a runner in my younger years.
That is why I became a goal-keeper!
But all practise would be good for my lungs, which weren't in a better shape than those of a heavy-smoker;
I was very short-breathed and had the most yowling laughter that one could imagine.
The times I had been told to keep quiet weren´t so very few, because whenever I had found something deliriously funny whether it was watching TV or in a cinema my laughter was some kind of a weak wailing.
A wailing that nobody tolerated, but I weren't able to do anything about.
My laughing and the reaction to it were the reason, that for a long time I only laughed in silence.
I laid my bike at the side of the intended race track. Having the hovels and the withered cod above and on both sides I prepared the run just as if I were a real track-runner.
AND THE RACE STARTED!
A few steps in my Pinocchio-way and that was it for me.
I fell down on the red gravel that covered the track.
My heart raged just as it was about to leave my chest and it took me quite a while catching my spirit that wanted to leave me dead.
-Wow!, I groaned when I had regained myself at last.
Obviously I'm not ready for this major break-through!
My head turned when I'd tumbled on my feet, but when I'd collected myself at last I mounted my bike again and went straight home to mother.
°
Eventhough I´d decided never to run again I´d returned to the moors the morning after trying to run amongst the dry fish.
For many days the effort was quite desperate, but...
-You´re not giving in, boy!
Don´t you realize that if there is a will there is a way!
Just look at your dad.
Would you believe it if I told you that as a child he had to walk with crutches, but he didn't want to submit to such a cribbled life.
No, not your father!
He played soccer with his friends;
was a goal-keeper with the aid of his crutches and he was a full member of the team.
As a teenager he started doing the Atlas-drills and still does occasionally.
Push-ups each morning and still he's quite fit as you have noticed, not an ounce of unwellcomed fat on his body.
My mother's lecture influenced me in a good way.
Of course I decided not to surrender, and as a bonus I was aimed to lose the extra weight that had gathered on my weak body in the easy living these last months.
I started making push-ups in the morning and have done to this day with pauses now and then.
The following day I had returned underneath the stock-fish hanging in the hovels in the moors and I ran and I ran.
I made progress each day in my running until I got a job at the Mail-Office that summer and thus the running trips became fewer and fewer, but I´ve tried to stay fit riding the bike as often as I´m able to.

KENNO -
THE TEACHERS' TRAINING COLLEGE

l

In september 1976, nearly a year after the horrible accident at Svinavatn in Grimsnes and six months from rehabilitating at Grensas I had returned to the Icelandic capital.
The next three winters I studied at the Teachers´ Traning College thus abiding the promise I'd given myself and future pupils.
Asa, my mother's sister, a real kind woman and Baldvin, her husband promised me a place of residence in the cellar of their house which has three floors, as long as I had to stay in Reykjavik.
My grandfather, Gunnar, whose soul was of a real good nature had one bedroom for himself in the cellar.
Even though sometimes being unlucky in his phraseology some phrases live in the memory.
For example little boys that were his favorite he named "The Old Man" and then there's the "Goou-soup" which was a plain instant-soup and wasn't one of his favorites.
Asa had no children herself, but she was like my second mother.
Because my fiancée was still an employee of the hospital in Keflavik when I began my studies in Reykjavik, in spite of her being pregnant of our first child I invited an old school chum from Laugarvatn, Gudjon Arngrimsson to stay in the cellar along with me and the old man.
He agreed because he had been hired as a journalist at a news paper (Visir) and needed a dwelling-place in town.

ll

I wasn't disappointed with my first day at school and became more encouraged as the autumn semester progressed.
Some students´ faces were familiar from the school years at the junior college in Laugarvatn and some were school chums in Keflavik, amongst them an old personal friend called Kristinn (Kiddi) Hilmarsson who was in the same class-room until our paths departed and he decided to study at the Junior College of Hamrahlid in Reykjavik.
On Laugarvatn I had been quite an enthusiast of Bridge-playing, but hadn´t given this noble brain- gymnastic much thought since and had really great doubts on whether my playing was any good.
For that reason it came as a nice surprise one day when Kiddi came to me and asked whether I'd like to be his partner in bridge that evening in a school-match of doubles.
At first I wasn't too eager to except the offer, but gave in with half a mind.
To prepare ourselves we did a few refreshing-drills and to my relief I discovered, that the same goes for bridge-playing as for bicycle-riding, that once something has been learned, it won't so easily be forgotten.
The match began and it finished.
In my oppinion our performance was quite extraordinary; e.g. we had all the tricks in one game.
But to our disappointment we were just second-best, after the first calculations.
But because I didn't have the means to wait for any further calculations I hurried home to my appartment in the cellar.
It was very late and I wanted to catch the last bus.
When I arrived in school the morning after, Kiddi my Bridge-partner came running towards me with his arms outstretched with a merry face giving me a hug, behaving as we hadn't seen each other for a long time.
-We beat them, Oli. We are school-champions!
-What are you saying, man, suddenly I was well awake,
Weren't we in second place?
I had already put up with that seat.
A good seat in itself, especially if compared to the fact that I took part half-minded, without any espectations.
-Yes, after numerous calculations we came to the conclusion that the two of us were the real SCHOOL-CHAMPIONS.
Relating to this unexpected victory I had the misrepresentation that all studies would be easy for me thereafter, despite having real doubts because my remembrance from all earlier studies was very limited.
With the victory I realized that all the knowledge remained hidden somewhere in my mind.
Everything would be retraced bit by bit, but as I concluded a number of times as time went by the hiding-places weren't all so easily recoverable!
Despite being in a four storey building there's no elevator in the school house.
It was built prior to all laws and regulations about accessibility for the handicapped.
On the groundfloor there's the entry, clothes' racks, toilets, offices, resting rooms and kitchen, but class-rooms on higher floors.
Despite not having a need for a wheel-chair I was always anxious for the classes I had to attend in the two highest floors.
Especially when I had to go up to the attic where to there was a high and narrow staircase.
It might sound incredible but it's as true as I'm sitting here typing that it was easier for me going up the stairs;
I took two or more steps in a pace, but going down was pure hell.
When the foot touched the next step I trembled so much that I had the feeling that I were made of wood alias
Pinocchio about to crumble into pieces, and how it ached I can´t even begin to describe.
It had come to the state that I was terribly anxious before
walking down, but was able to hide my feelings so that no-one would notice that anything was abnormal with me.

EXAMINATIONS

Most school-books, e.g. in psychology, peda-gogy or didactics (the art of teaching) were big books in foreign languages;
either in English or Danish.
I didn´t have much trouble when reading the former, because I used to watch the American television that was transmitted on the NATO naval base in Keflavik in the sixties, which Icelanders in the vicinity were able to watch.
But the other language wasn't as easy.
Despite having finished all examinations in our cousins' language with honours in junior-college I've never bothered reading anything more than what was obligated.
That's why I rarely opened the Danish books, but instead I tried to write glosses in the lessons.
When I illutioned how easy my studies could be if I would take up these glossary customs I started to gloss in all lessons.
I seldom opened a book other than novel or fiction in English or Icelandic.
There´s nothing to it, I was used to state, I know it all, whenever my loving fianceé asked me why I didn't ever open the school books!
This way of thinking did really put me in quite a dilemma when I got my grades after the first examinations!
On the first semester there were nine subjects of learning, only seven of them were put under a test, but the marks in the other two were decided by the attendance in the lessons.
In my own opinion I acquitted myself quite well;
attended each lesson and was always blathering and interrupting the teachers with some clever remarks, but something else became visible to my astonishment and disappointment.
I just got the minimum mark in the two subjects mentioned, but flunked in the rest, despite the fact that sincerily I'd expected to get a top grade each time I'd finished a test.
When I returned home after I'd finished each trial I declared to anyone who asked that I'd get the highest mark of ten, because I couldn't find any error when I went over the test in my mind.
For that reason it really came as a shock, when I finally saw the real marks!
They were all below the minimal of five, but worst of all was the phonology in which I thought I was like a real professional.
I'd fallen in love with one part of it called phonography or phonetic transcription and used to phonograph either in my mind or aloud almost anything people said either to me or not!
The mark O, zero glared awfully and my assurance was very low when I got these terrible news.
Every drill I'd made had been wrong, eventhough they'd sounded quite right in my own ears.
I understood frankly, that I had to reconsider all my learning, or un-learning and change my habits.
My reconsideration had the great effect, that I didn't flunk anymore in the College.
I accomplished the retake in the fall and received by the way a seven in phonology.
I flunked in one subject and unhappily the one that had the most value for my future as a

TEACHER!!!

ELECTIC SUBJECTS

On the spring-semester of the first year we had to elect the two subjects, that we would like to emphasize on, for example if we were given the chance to choose subjects to teach, primarily in the older classes of the Elementary school.
Of course my first elect was ENGLISH ,but I had more difficulty when electing the second subject.
In my opinion the subject would be either MATHE-MATICS or HISTORY/SOCIOLOGY.
I believed that the former subject would have been quite promising when teaching the younger kids, probably not more difficult than addition, subtraction, multiplication and devision.
The second subject I believed to be more claimant for the teacher and interesting because how it covers human activities.
I took one lesson in mathematics.
I was feeling quite sure of myself, when it began, loaded with all the books necessary, not having the slightest idea
about their contents.
I really was startled, when the teacher started writing some kind of puzzling mathematical equations on the blackboard.
That certainly wasn´t the mathematic or arithmetic that I had expected, before I opened the book.
Despite having had not too bad a success when dealing with mathematics earlier in my school-attendance, for example I was honored with the mark nine zero zero when I gratuated from junior college, I came to the conclusion, that if my mathematical talent remained still in my brain, then it must be quite well hidden somewhere in the wrinkles:
I couldn´t understand a thing.
I left the mathematic-class in a real hurry, because eventhough everybody seemed to enjoy the equations, just as a delicious meal;
and elected the other choice, where the teachers were primarily Loftur (a minister's brother) Guttormsson and Lydur Bjornsson, who were very excellent teachers.
At a later time I realized that I really could have con-gratulated myself for making this choice, eventhough it wasn't my first choice;
History/Sociology being some kind of a chatterbox and thus inferior.
I really used to enjoy these lessons and at times I talked so much about various things I thought I really had something relevant to say.
Not even the teacher was able to stop me!
I behaved just as I hadn't left home, the original blatherskate.
The reason for this behaviour of mine was possibly caused by my dumbness when I awoke from my coma at the hospital, but maybe just because of my natural shyness also.
And I can't forget to mention my behaviour in grammarschool, when I was often punished for my endless blathering, as one of my former teachers used to call it.
One teacher had even prohibited me from attending mathematic- lessons for a week because of my resistless singing besetment, but the same became my commissioner later when I became a teacher myself in my home-town.
Each time I found the way to solve a mathematical problem I used to sing aloud, quite immersed.
The reason why the history-teachers didn't reprimand me when I disturbed the lessons must have been either that my speech wasn't just bullocks, or they were just so polite and kind men.
Who knows?

TEACHER-TRAINING

During the spring-semester of my first year in college I had my first training as a teacher.
I didn't worry for it, because I had already experienced standing before pupils as a teacher in Keflavik of happy memory.
The school had been picked for me, and that school was one of the best in the country;
The Training and Experiment Grammar School that is a part of the Teachers' Training College and it was stationed very close to the mother-building, only the large and elegant Gymnasium comes between.
My training-teacher was a lovely elderly woman who happened to be a tried good teacher of children in the younger section of grammarschool.
In one of our conversations I discovered that her father who had been a hairdresser used to teach my mum when she became one of the first Icelandic women to learn the craftmanship of hairdressing.
It was a genuine delight to watch how she enchanted the curious young souls who were her pupils, but there wasn't much more that I tried.
I had anticipated for these lessons, when I supposedly would be able to practise and train myself in new teaching-methods in this Mecca of Icelandic grammarschool-teaching, where all innovations usually get tested, before they're dispelled into other schools in the country.
But that wasn't the case.
Most of the time I used to sit on my butt, just as any other pupil watching the tried teacher.
At that moment I wasn't very disappointed with how little real teacher-training I was getting, but felt it convenient to be able to skip any hard work, as it was in my opinion;
distressed by a good old way of thinking from my junior-college years:
To work as lightly and little as one was able to, but I hadn't had the last bite from this thinking.
The teacher-training that I received or didn't receive which way one looks at it didn't get any better.
I never really got the chance to show whether I had any talent for teaching or not.
I remained an ineffective bystander most of the time, or had the privilege to walk between the pupils to observe them working.
Now when I look back on how I was wrongly treated during my school-years I find it a disgrace and condemnable by the school's administration for not intervening and finding me some special resource, like more teaching.
My teachers must have noticed, that I wasn't a normal student, because everybody was aware of the fact that I had been in a serious accident, where I'd received grave injury on head and body.
The results in exams must have given a reason to speculate whether there was something bother-ing this student. But nobody seemed to hear my cry for help.
After three years of struggling to get a diploma, great expence and debtrunning, I get the happy news that I'd accomplished everthing to become a teacher, but...
the subject that had the most momentum: THE TEACHER-TRAINING!!!!!
Despite this shock;
not being a legimate teacher and not having the honour of taking part in a formal gratuation with my fellow-students I didn't lose heart, and being supported by good people I got a job as a teacher in the south-east of Iceland in the village Hofn at Hornafjordur, where I believed I'd be able to show 'em that I really was a great teacher, anyway just as good as the next man.
But it didn't lie before me, despite my high intentions, everything went down the drain my first winter as a teacher.
In the earlier part of the winter the going was quite good in my own opinion.
The kids seemed to like their new teacher.
I took them on field-trips, both to a fishing-factory and elsewhere.
But...as time went by in my first year it was apparent that I wasn't able to hold good discipline amongst my young pupils.
I didn't know how to prepare myself before lessons so my pupils could be busy throughout the forty minutes.
I tried to change my methods, sought guidance from my fellow teachers, but it was all in vain.
The damage was already too overwhelming!
One way I tried was to assist each pupil at a time, e.g. in arithmetic, but then I lost track of others who also needed assistance.
Before I knew it there was total chaos in the classroom, and I had to seek assistance myself, the principal's again and again to pacify the class.
Despite my determination and will to remain at Hofn (harbor) for another winter, having gained the experience, the will wasn't mutual and thus with the tail between my legs I had to return to Keflavik along with my fianceé, Anna and our four year old son Sveinn Sigurdur, whom she had given birth to back in November '76 after only a seven month pregnancy.
One thing I would like to mention is that whilst I struggled along in my hopeless teaching on the outskirts of the world as most Icelanders know it I received a letter from The Teachers' College:
-After a reviewal of your teacher training the school's administration has determined, that the right thing to do in my case is to give you full rights as a teacher.
This came as a nice surprise of course, but peculiar at the same time.
I've asked my parents whether they knew or had anything to do with this decision, but they've denied.
Probably against better knowledge.
Despite all my speculation about the altering determination it can't be denied, that my family was
quite happy having more money to spend.
History repeated itself, when I was a teacher at Gagnfraedaskolinn (senior-elementary) in Keflavik two years later.
Again I failed keeping appropriate discipline amongst my pupils, despite many attempts.
Looking back speculating what the reason was for me failing again I often come to the conclusion, that it might have been because that my main branch of teaching was mathematics that I'd never seen before and was learning at the same time as my pupils.
If I'd had a choice which branches to teach I'd
liked to teach either English or History which were my elective subjects in college.
Perhaps that was the reason for my failure?
It makes me sad to think, that after my three years of education and great debts I've only been a teacher for two winters, despite the fact that I'd decided as early as 1976, when I was teaching in the Barnaskoli in Keflavik, that more than anything I wanted to make TEACHING my profession.

ATHLETIC PARTICIPATION

Throughout my youth all kinds of sports occupied much of my time.
I was e.g. the goalkeeper of one of my town's youth-teams in soccer, or until I went away from home to study in the junior-college at Laugarvatn, a tiny village up in the country located in the south of Iceland.
There I carried on as a goalie in the school's team, when competing with teams from other continuation schools.
I also made the school's volleyball-team, which used the name of the local team, thus making us competible in Iceland's highest league among the best.
I and the late Sveinn Sigurdur Gunnarsson made it possible for us to take part in the National Competition of Icelandic Youth Clubs on Akranes in 1975, when we contributed to the starting of a new volleyball-division of the Youth-Club in Keflavik.
We rounded up four of our mates, thus making it a legimate team.
The fact that only the two of us had ever played the game or that I was the only one who had ever played a serious match or that we were beaten each and every time didn't matter at all.
The true Olympic-spirit of the Icelandic people;
to take part whatever the expence or results was our only purpose.
Or was it just the lust for entertainment?
It doesn't matter.
I can only remember, that we had marvellous fun that week-end.
I was compelled to wear glasses for the first time during my rehabilitation at Grensas, when I started complaining about how difficult it was for me to read the cutline on TV.
Because of my former passion for volleyball I ran up against difficulties when I turned up for my first lesson in gymnastics in the College's new-built gymnasium without glasses, but only half a sight.
I didn't dare having my glasses on my nose, because I was afraid of damaging them in the heat of the moment when playing the game.
Because the boys and the girls played volleyball together it came as a shock to me, that I turned out to be a worse player, than anyone, of either sex.
I had been quite good a player before my accident, despite my low height, but now I'd turned out to be so clumsy and rigid, that it must have been very funny to look at.
I didn't notice the ball, until it was much too late and I was always bumping into the net, which is quite illegitimate, of course.
For that reason nobody wanted to have me on his team.
To top it all the gymnastic-teacher, who had taught me gymnastics at Laugarvatn, approached me and asked me whether I didn't want him to certify that I couldn't participate in gymnastics.
For the sake of my health!
But that offer only made me mad.
I sure wasn't the kind of man who gave in because everything didn't go the way I truly wanted and was feeling anguish because of my own inability.
So as to to top all the nonsence I decided to add to my hopeless sport-participation.
I discovered that I could play soccer an evening every week in the same gymnasium.
To the soccer-enthusiasts' disappointment I used my right to play inside-soccer in the evenings.
I remembered that I wasn't all that bad when playing this world's most popular sport.
I really had found it quite amusing and had played it quite a lot both inside and outside on Laugarvatn.
But again I was shocked with my own dissability which was quite offending!
My bad sight probably had much to do with it;
still I didn't have the guts to use my pressious glasses, but also because of my stiffness.
I always got deeply hurt, when the teams' leaders were selecting players out of the group of selectees, because at the end of all selections I was left standing all alone like some fifth wheel that nobody had any need for.
And through the first two winters the final line was:
-Well you can have Oli!, before the kicking could begin.
But it wouldn't have been right for me to hate the boys for their treatment, because it is just a "natural" way to treat "different people" in our society.
I myself probably wouldn't have been much nicer if I'd been in their shoes.
I just had to live with it, because noone was forcing me to take part and subsequently my team would get beaten in all games, for the reason that there were only four players in each.
Therefore each players' ability had more importance.
In my third year I'd made so much progress playing the game, as sightless as I was, that the leaders had started electing me for their team and I wasn't any longer the fifth wheel.
When I was a teacher at Höfn, a small village in the south-east of the country there wasn't any gymnasium there at that time, but I discovered to my delight that once a week the teachers amongst other villagers were allowed to use a tiny gymnasium which was located inside the fence of the American spy-station at Stokksnes which is quite close to the village.
I asked if I could take part and of course I got a positive answer.
When I worked as a teacher in my hometown in Keflavik I started to attend the special volleyball lessons that the teachers had in the tiny gymnasium by the elementary-school.
Quite a number of participants attended each lesson, there were teachers from Myllubakkaskoli (the Elementary school), Holtaskoli (high school) and Fjolbraut (Junior College), and also a few others that were there by tradition.
During the games I didn't kick the habit of making all kinds of appalling mistakes, just a repetition of what I'd been doing back in the Teachers' College and most didn't have any humour for it.
Therefore it wasn't really like a thunder from clear skies, when some of my "camrades" approached me one Tuesday, when I attended as usual a few minutes before seven, and informed me:
-Oli! The boys had a meeting where they decided that your presence wasn't wished for anymore.
-Don't you want me to attend anymore? I asked really offended.
-No, Oli dear. There are too many participants in the short time we have. (You're just not good enough a player they wished they'd said but didn't).
-But...What about all those who aren't teachers?
-They have attended for such a long time that they've become tradition!
And that's how my participation in group-sports came to an end to my real grief, but I just didn't want to cry it out, nor did I want to surrender.
I realized that movement was essential for my body, so that it wouldn't fall into decay.
Therefore I went to the only bicycle-store in town and bought me a used three gear bicycle for nine thousand kroners and started biking again.
This bicycle turned out to be a real lucky-catch and on it I've travelled all around the district of Sudurnes;
around Keflavik and Njardvik, and to the villages of Gardur, Sandgerdi, Hafnir and Vogar that all are in a ten kilometer radius from my hometown.

CRIMINAL CASE

04.13.1978
The City's Hospital's emergency ward received a petition from the Sheriff in the county of Gullbringa located in Keflavik concerning a doctor's certificate about Olafur Thor Eiriksson because of a criminal case.
05.09. the petition was sent to the Surgical ward for dispatch.

THE JUDGEMENT

Judgement fell in a criminal case, where I was ruled guilty for causing the death of two men, Sveinn and Eirikur and for reckless driving under the influence of alcohol. The alcohol-quantity in my blood had measured 0,65 promill, or 0,02 above the permitted level.
I got a three months jail-sentence and driver's license privation for the rest of my life.
I applied to the president of Iceland for pardon because of my circumstances, being in college and having a family.
Kristjan Eldjarn who was then the president gave me his pardon.
My driver's license I regained after another pardon three years later.

GRENSAS REVISITED

 

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Once in my school-years in Kenno (Teachers' Training College) my parents travelled to Greece in their vacation. There they met and became acquainted with an Icelandic couple from Selfoss.
As time went by it became apparent that these new friends had more in common than just the nationality.
Conversing they discovered that both owned sons that were victims of car-accidents and both of them had had similar injuries.
These new acquaintances said that they were very worried about their son's wellfare because he was still paralized in a wheel-chair, but primarily because he seemed to have lost his will to get better.
He refused to take part in any rehabilitation at Grensas where he was at the moment.
Shortly after they'd returned home my mother told me about this unfortunate lad on Grensas where I used to be myself.
The only difference was that he did not take part in any rehabilitation and seemed to lack the kind of motivation my mother used to give me in my time.
Nothing seemed to help this boy.
When I' d returned to my studies in Reykjavik from Keflavik where I had been working in my summer vacation the young man from Selfoss and his problem interrupted my thoughts again and again.
I asked myself whether I could give him the motivation he apparantly needed, and thus doing something to repay the debt I had with my fellow citizens.
I used buses pretty much when I had to travel inside the city limits.
When the weather was pleasant I used my two equally long legs as often as I could or had the time.
Then I took bus no. 6 to school which is located in Stakkshlid first thing in the morning, but after school I walked the same road towards my home in Skogargerdi which is in the east side of Reykjavik.
One day at the end of a schoolday, when I headed homewards strolling I decided to bend my route towards my former rehabilitation-station for a short visit, even though I'd made a solemn oath never to enter that place again.
The weather was at its best that day in the middle of autumn, when I decided to go to Grensas so that I could try and give the paralized boy from Selfoss a rouse to action; a little push.
Mixed memories came to mind, when I reentered the re-nowned rehabilitation-station where so many people had regained their health over the years.
I recognized almost every face on my way through the corridors and the greetings went from them to me and vice versa.
The sentences:
-How wonderful to see you, and, the progress you've made since you left us is quite incredible, I heard a number of times and through me went a feeling of pleasure.
I was also asked what I was doing or working these days. Usually they couldn't conceal their astonishment, when I revealed that I was in my last year at the Teachers' College and that I aimed to become an elementary teacher.
When I'd satisfied the curiosity of this friendly staff I got to asking them where the paralized boy from Selfoss was to be found, and then I was showed to his room.

ll

He was in a double room with an amazing man who astonished me with his talents.
The room-mate was namely totally blind.
Despite his handicap he was a very good musician, a keyboard- and guitar-player and played and sang his own songs.
One wasn't able to notice that his enormous handicap, as I reckon blindness must be, retarded him in any way;
automatically Stevie Wonder, the great American musician's name came to mind, when he held the one man concert for Steini and me, as we sat together and listened with admiration to his amusing songs.
When I'd introduced myself I told Steini that I had been in similar shoes as he a few years earlier.
I told him that I'd really would like him to come downstairs with me so that he could show me his ability in the training-room.
Because Steini had lost his ability to speak, he had to use a small lettering-board;
pointing at the letters that were in each word that he wanted to say.
For a while the stapping between us went on;
while I tried everything to get him downstairs, but he always pointed at the same three letters: N-E-I.
At last he surrendered to my nagging and pointed: A-L-L-T-I-L-A-G-I (okay) and down we went.
Because I'm rather impatient and would like to get positive results immediately I did not wait but pushed his wheel-chair right towards the dumb-bells that you're supposed to pull up, while gravity pulls the opposite way, a training that I remembered myself having practised a lot.
All around us were people with all kinds of disability, but trained their hearts out under the guidance of the physio-therapists who either had them under observation or assisted them when they needed.
A blond pretty girl who used to train me, leant towards me in a discrete way and whispered:
-How did you do that, Oli. We've been trying in vain for a long time to get him downstairs for training?
I just lifted my shoulders, because I didn't know what to answer.
-Well, Steini! Wouldn't you like to show me how strong you are, I asked when I'd turned the back of his chair towards the dumb-bells. For starters we will have a little weight, just to see how far we are able to go.
Steini gave it his best and he strived hard and even harder, but the dumb-bells would not move more than a tiny bit upwards at the track, only a few centimeters.
Now the lad became angry, so furious in fact, that immediately he pointed at the board that I'd laid down at the chair's side.
What does he intend to tell me, were my thoughts when I'd laid it on his laps.
In his fit of anger he was unusually quick when he spelled:
J-U-D-A-S.
In my sheer astonishment I pointed at myself and asked, whether he likened me to the most notorious traitor in history.
Me who had visited him only with good intentions.
And again his right hand moved over the board, this time spelling:
N-E-I space A-S-G-E-I-R space Y-F-I-R-L-A-E-K-N-I-R (No-Asgeir-head doctor) he spelled and then pushed his chair towards the elevator, and left me behind feeling hurt and defended after my short career as a physio-therapist.
Then the blond pretty one came to me again:
-He has probably considered that your sudden interest must've been some plot of the head doctor to make him re-attend his training.
Then I gave her my regards and deserted the place, feeling quite convinced about the fact that I was not fit for helping anyone but myself.
I shouldn't be meddling in other's affairs.

VEHICLE OF THE COMMON PEOPLE

During my first year in Kenno I and my fianceé used my first student-loan to buy our first car.
In our opinion the need was quite urgent;
we had a newborn child, a boy named Sveinn Sigurdur, still sleeping in a cradle.
What kind of a car might a poor student allow himself to purchase?
My counsellers told me to avoid buying a used car, which could break down shortly after it came into my possesion, and neither could I afford expensive repairs in garages nor had I any skill for doing it myself.
I also dicovered that for a year or two new cars were under guarantee from the agency, if the unlikely happened that a new car broke down.
Conclusion: We should buy a new car!
After we had looked at all options we agreed on the name of our dreamcar;
the cheapest one on the market, a TRABANT ;
manufactured in the former East-Germany with a plastic-superstructure and the only car that could say its own name trabb,trabb, trabb, just as my dad said when he greeted us on our purchase.
We were obliged to hand out 80,000 kroners for our first sleigh-machine;
a blue and slender station wagon which transported us between places with our children and luggage for seven years, without troubling us with too much extra expence.
Because the car had just an imperfect two-stroke engine the life of the sparkplugs was very short; I had to replace them with new ones after only a few weeks life.
Soon after replacement the plugs were in a bath of oil making them very weak, because each time the TRABANT needed petrol, the right amount of two-stroke oil had to be blended with it;
one liter for every tank, 25 litres.
Along with other particularities worth mentioning is that it seemed to have its own soul and it was given to teasing.
For a number of occasions in the first year of our possesion of the TRABANT, it became quite powerless while we were driving, usually in the worst places, e.g. downtown in Reykjavik and the electricity seemed to have vanished in thin air, therefore the engine could not be started again.
When I'd pushed the car out of the driveway I went to get a repairman from the nearest garage.
The funny thing about these breakdowns was that
whenever the expert turned the switch in the beginning of his testing the little darling of a car started just as nothing had ever happened.
-Hva... There's nothing the matter with this car! This is only a TRABANT, constantly was the refrain of the expert who had come to seek and find the ghost in our dream-car.
The ghost haunted our car for months and no-one of the so-called experts was able to resolute the problem.
But...in one of our numerous visits to my parents' home in Keflavik...it happened, finally the ghost showed itself!
When we had almost reached our usual parking-spot in front of my parents house the engine "died" and it didn't show any marks of restarting when I turned the key.
Pleased to be probably at the end of our ordeal I hurried inside to get my dad, who's a real wizard in various fields, and happily one of them being car-repairing.
In a short while he discovered what caused the devilry and was quick busting it.
The ghost: A lump of dirt that went up and down in the carburetor and occasionally got to tease us when driving, but got free when the car had been parked for a while.
The TRABANT turned out quite well after it had matured from its aberrations of youth and transported us to many places and among them Hornafjordur on the south-east corner of our lovely island;
a few hundred kilometers over rough country, full of people and luggage.

CLOSE TO DEATH THE SECOND TIME

 

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After having tried in vain maintaining good discipline among the pupils of some classes of twelve and thirteen year olds in a school in Keflavik in the winter of 1981-82, I gave up teaching;
primarily because my contract wasn't renewed, rather then on Hornafjordur.
Sometimes in the middle of my latter teaching-winter I had the feeling I was going crazy;
I trembled even and shivered between the classes.
The school-board got me an assistance-teacher to help me make it until the spring-exams.
I had in the beginning of each winter;
first in the south-east of Iceland dealing with younger kids and then in my hometown with teenagers, started in autumn full of optimism and enthusiasm;
feeling quite sure of myself the first few weeks and months;
believing that I certainly were a great teacher trying out all these innovations that I had come to know in the Teachers' Training College and my pupils were certainly aware of the "excellence" of my teaching.
I wanted liberty and freedom in my classes meaning that the pupils weren't stricted to sit still in their seat, but could walk around, talk and assist each other, with my help whenever needed.
In my oppinion a teacher should be an instructor not a tyrant.
But of course the kids misunderstood what I had in mind by giving them all this freedom, after sitting under the strict rule of all their other teachers.
At first all the going was good I thought when I'd explained to them what I wanted, but as time passed I discovered that sorry to say I wasn't man enough to make my dream come true and everything went out of hand.
At last I found out that my dissability, a blurred and drawling speech was the reason for there wasn't any discipline or respect for me as their teacher, but it was too late to do anything about it!

CLOSE TO DEATH THE SECOND TIME

 

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After I gave up teaching I got a job working for the American armed forces on Keflavik's Nato-Base.
I applied for a job at an office, which I didn't get, but I was invited one at the Labor-Shop which is the laboring sector of the so-called Public Works- Institution on the Nato-Base, where there are only Icelanders who work in miscellanous departments, e.g. heavy equipment and garbage disposal, plumbers, pest-controllers, engineers, clerks and somebody else.
When I decided to take the job at the Labor-Shop I was informed that I could always apply and get another job in some other department, e.g. in an office some time in the duration of my contract which was three months.
Jobs to be applied for are advertised on a bulletin-board in the various departments before outsiders can apply for them.
In my opinion there shouldn't be much problem for me having myself moved to an office, where the wages were higher and the working hours shorter because I was one of the few that had a college degree on the premises.
During my first week I noticed on the bulletin-board in the building where we the laborers had a residence, that an employee with typing-ability was wanted in the Comptroller.
After having filled out necessary papers at the Staff-Control as was preliminary I was sent to an interview at the intended working place in the Comptroller.
On my arrival I was directed into a room, which was similar to most offices on the Base;
very impersonal, where the furniture was a heavy navy-green iron-desk and mutually dreary-looking chairs, and on the walls were framed colour-photos of various wartools.
I took a seat at one side of the desk, face to face with two young men wearing navy-green uniforms, looking like they were taking their role very seriously.
They kept their frigid faces throughout the interview, in spite of the fact that opposite them my face was smiling.
English was the language used in the interview and went on somewhat like this:
THEY: Name,age,education and the reason I wanted this job?
I: Replied as well as I was able to, of course and told them that I wanted to make a change, and I also mentioned that in my opinion my education would be of more use at an office, than as a laborer.
Tried to be mawkish thus following my camrades of the Labor shop's piece of advice. Told them about my eagerness to be of some use for the free world, eventhough I was just thinking about what was favorable for myself.
THEY: Can you type.
I: Told them the truth, that I'd never taken any formal lessons in school, but I'd been doing drills at home using all ten fingers and was getting better each time.
At the end of my first interview I was told, that I had to go back to the Staff-control for valuation of my typing skills.
On my way out I had to go through the hall where the lady-typists were in partitioned closets.
I addressed one of the ladies and asked her whether I had to be some super-typist to be able to get a job there.
THE LASS: -Oh no, not at all. Our job is rather light and irresponsible and there isn't too much typing I can honestly state.
Armed with this information I submitted my typing-test with high hopes as I was quite certain I would make it with flying colours, because even though my speed was rather slow the typing was quite correct.
But all for naught.
I wasn't valued as a good enough typist to receive the job that had been advertised.
In the success of this rejection I resoluted to get the kind of jobs where typing-ability wasn't requested such as at the Supply.
But still all was for naught, even though I applied for every job that might be available.
My despair grew with every refusal and every day that
went by thus bringing me closer to my unemployment and then I reviewed my interview-technique;
something had to be wrong in my method, for everybody seemed to be able to get new jobs inside the Base as easily as drinking water or pissing into the sea.
I predicted that the reason for my little luck in interviews had to be my darn habit unthoughtful remarks in pure hastiness, and more rather the problem I had fighting my great saliva-produce that made me sound just like being quite drunk and of course my interviewers must have rejected me on the spot for such irresponsibility,
just at the moment when I had to give the reverse impression.
I decided to speak with a slower speed and to think carefully about each word I released into the air and finally to remember to swallow my saliva between the pronunciation of each word.
With higher hopes and a bit of nervousness I went to my next interviews.
The going was good and I was feeling triumphant and self-confident, when disaster happened.
For example:
THEY: You speak good English, it seems.
MYSELF: Yes, I studied OXFORD- English in college.
THEY: Do you think you'll have any difficulty in understanding us then.
MYSELF: I think I'll get used to you in a short while, I replied in complete innoscence.
Whether these final words or other similar had something to do with it or something else, an familiar reality faced me at the end of the year when I became unemployed at the end of the employment-deal I had made with my American employers.
Somebody told me that I was the record-holder of most applications and rejections on the NATO-base which didn't really make me feel any better.

CLOSE TO DEATH THE SECOND TIME

 

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The only job I was able to get at the time I became unemployed was at a fish-factory called Heimir ltd. in my hometown of Keflavik.
I wasn't feeling too happy when I applied for a job there.
My mind shuddered thinking about the time when I was working at a fish-factory called Brynjolfur ltd. in Njardvik after having tried my skills as a teacher at Hornafjordur.
Because of the stinking odour I had to wash and scrub my body and clothes every night.
Usually I had to undress in the lobby thus preventing the smell entering other parts of our apartment.
Life in Brynjolfur could be quite difficult most of the time, even though the employees didn't get any productivity bonuses, but just the normal low wages.
Usually we were making stock-fish and salt-fish, but for a couple of weeks in the winter-season everybody was freezing capelan-eggs.

Most days the process began upstairs where the fish, mostly dead-bledded fish (that died in the nets) was beheaded, then two strong Valkyries pushed it down a glide having ripped out the intestines.
We the lads that were supposed to hang the fish up in the fish-hovels stood beneath the glide and worked our hearts out pairing the fish with a loop-string.
Once I happened to be standing all alone beneath the glide trying in vain to pair every fish with a loop, but as I have only two hands the burden was just too much for me to keep up with the people upstairs who also were working their hearts out even though I´d pleaded them to slow down a bit or two.
Once I got so very pissed off that I decided to demonstrate in the only way that came to mind at the moment;
I pushed loads of un-paired fish into the tub.
Just at that moment the owner/manager happened to walk by and noticed all the un-paired fish in the tubs and became furious of course and scolded me like I were a child.
I waited until he'd had his outflow so that I could explain calmly my position.
When I was through and he had heard my side of the story, he begged my pardon and subsequently I got aid.
I had one happy memory from this period.
Off and on everyone was working in the biggest hall on the ground-floor packing salted cod (bacalao) so it could be exported.
An authorized valuator came to classify the bacalao into its right category according to quality and size and he stood at one side of a planket and sent it subsequently to either of the two needlewomen standing on each side of that same planket.
The two ladies stitched together marked sack-cloth around the fish.
One fine day when the foreman approached me and ordered me to remove those heavy sacks, weighing somewhere between 60 - 70 kiloes off the sewing-planket and stack them on pallets, I shuddered with horror at first, because I remembered that recently I had been humiliated by my teenage-sister, when she beat me in arm-wrestling.
-What is that Oli? Are you more of a sissie, than Addi, said the foreman relating to the laddie that I was supposed to relieve.
I looked at Addi who was both shorter and seemed to carry less vigor than me.
-Hell no, I murmured to myself, as I didn´t want to be known as some sissie in the house.
Ok, I'll see what I'm able to do, but I can´t promise you anything.
For starters I had the snail's speed, feeling very apprehensive for destroying what I'd accomplished in building up my broken down body.
Slow and easy I bent over the ponderous bag.
I was quite aware of the great suspence in the air.
Certain everyone was following my move