When I decided to go body surfing on a beautiful sunny afternoon five years ago, I had no idea how it would change my life. I was 15 yards out in the ocean when a seemingly angry wave snapped my neck.

Totally paralyzed, I began to sink to the ocean floor. I went to a mystical place that words could never describe and gave myself gladly to the journey. But that was not my fate. I can't say I wasn't disappointed.

An array of remarkable people--the life guard, the paramedics, the incomparable doctors and staff at the hospital, and, of course, the hand that lifted me from the ocean floor-got me to The Rehabilitation Institute at Santa Barbara. Here I found a world of expertise and kindness, an unbelievable group of people who really cared about helping me find the way back to my life.

In the first few days, as the severity of my injury became alarmingly apparent, the burning question in my mind was: Would I ever hold a drumstick again? As a professional drummer for over 40 years, I couldn't imagine a life without drumming.

As soon as I felt able, I asked for a pair of drumsticks, a couple of shakers and a cowbell. I was still lying flat on my back with very little prowess physically. My left hand was in pretty bad shape but my right showed some promise early on in my recovery. I began tapping out a simple rhythm on the side of my bed.

 Oscar, the aid in my ward was smiling, so I asked him to join me. He played along on my food tray, tapping out a rhythm of his own. Edith rolled her wheelchair into our jam session and asked to join in. Oscar gave her a cowbell and showed her a part to play. Edith was recovering from spinal cord surgery and was in constant pain. I never saw her smile as much as she did that day.

Ted joined us next. With pancreatic cancer, multiple bone fractures and blood clots, Ted wasn't in great shape, but he was determined. Oscar laid a cowbell on Ted's chest and a stick in his hand. We had a quartet.

I thought such a disturbance would get us in trouble. But the nurses, doctors, patients and anyone within earshot loved it. That many smiles can't be wrong. Caesar, an aid with our occupational therapy group, was so impressed that he took the idea to his coordination group. Here it really turned heads, patients and therapists alike.

By this time I was up and about in a wheelchair and recovering nicely. I had a drum set brought into the hospital and asked some industry friends to send percussion instruments, hand drums and shakers, tambourines, cow bells and wood blocks. Within a week we had enough instruments to supply everyone in the hospital.

Although presented as a fun activity, the therapeutic benefits were becoming more obvious. Auditory, sensory, fine and gross motor skills, range of motion, social integration, memory, attention span, regenerating nerves and impulses-all these things came into play when directed by the therapists and me.

Libby Whaley, the director of recreational therapy, took the project under her wing and had it approved by the senior leadership at our hospital. We taught two classes a week for three years. Fun remained the essence of the program as it progressed and addressed specific rehabilitation goals. 

Libby and I took our Rhythm Therapy to regional and national conferences and continue to collaborate on various modalities. Local awareness spawned new interest from other facilities such as Jody House, a support group for traumatic brain injury, and Casablanca, a residential care home for people with Alzheimer's disease and dementia. I'm now working with the Y-Spirit program for children and young adults, and Club Aspire and The Ojai Enrichment Center for adults with developmental disabilities.

 In every setting, drumming transcends logic. There is something magical about rhythm, something spiritual and positive. 
 

Eddie Tuduri is founder of The Rhythmic Arts Project (TRAP), Carpinteria, Calif. Go to www.traponline.com for testimonials and more information.