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Making Your First Million
his plane to the tarmac. Fearing another explosion he told his passengers: "Get out. Get
out!" And they got out. But he couldn't. He'd broken his back. And there followed
another long stint in hospital of pain and depression.
And he told us the story of sitting on the terrace of the hospital angry and suicidal and
cursing God. Looking up into the night sky he said: "What have you done to me? Before
my accidents I had as many choices as there are stars in the sky. And what good am I
now? Look at me. I'm a burnt up cripple."
And a voice came to him: "There are still hundreds of things you can do." And Mitchell
fell silent. Yes. There were still things he could do. He could still talk and laugh. He
could still get about in his wheelchair. In great excitement he wheeled around to find the
matron. "There are still things I can do. I'm not useless. I'd like to help."
And the matron told him: "You will be of great value here." And she steered him to the
bed of a man dying of pancreatic cancer. And within minutes he was laughing, thinking
"I may be dying but at least I'm not as bad as him." She wheeled him to the beds of others
in the hospital who thought they'd had a rough deal from life. People with debilitating or
terminal diseases, depressed, feeling valueless. And Mitchell told each his story and
within a few minutes brought lightness and laughter to each. And each one was thinking:
"At least I'm not as bad as him."
Mitchell had a new purpose. Armed with nothing but his story, his face and his
wheelchair he began visiting hospitals in the Mid-West, turning people's lives around. 'At
least I'm not as bad as him.' And he became a speaker in Rotary and finally a speaker on
the international motivational speakers' circuit which was where I met him. His
philosophy was "Stuff happens. It's not what happens that matters. It's what you do about
it. You can wallow in the manure pit of life or you can pick up a shovel and use it to
compost your trees and grow fruit with it."
When Colin first came in he had weeks to live. His liver was shot, his face a bright
yellow, his eyes bloodshot and yellow, shaking, foul-smelling, filthy, unshaven and
unable to do other than mumble and shuffle. He felt valueless and lost. Cherie understood
him. She'd been there too. And she came over to Colin and put her arm around his
shoulders. "Sit here Col. Right up the front. We need you mate."
"Wha yessay? No good no more."
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