His doctor called him “The Miracle Man” for surviving and recovering from a head trauma with a 90 per cent fatality rate.
For this week’s edition of People of Collingwood we spoke with Sam Signer, 73, retiree and musician.
Q: Where did you grow up?
A: Toronto.
Q: For how long did you live there?
A: I moved full-time up to Collingwood 10 years ago, and I lived in Toronto until then.
Q: What did you go to school for, and what was your career?
A: I was into pure sciences like math, physics and chemistry.
Things change in your life. I decided to go into teaching. I didn’t really want to be a teacher; I didn’t want to teach science because I thought I’d be locked in a prep room all day setting up experiments. Math was my really strong subject. I went for business because that’s where the jobs were.
I went back to university at night to take business courses and taught both.
Eventually, I switched boards and went into administration at an adult learning centre.
Q: What made you want to make the move to Collingwood?
A: A couple of things. I had retired. The traffic in the city was killing me.
Q: You dealt with a serious accident about 10 years ago. Can you tell me about that?
A: It’s a really odd story.
I was teaching at a school in Richmond Hill. I was on my way out to a portable in the middle of winter and no one had cleared the walkways. I slipped, fell and hit my head on the edge of a concrete step.
When it happened, I just wanted to go to sleep.
Something clicked in my mind that I shouldn’t.
I forced myself to stand but I was dizzy. I was blind.
Fortunately, a couple of students escorted me back to the office and I went to the hospital.
My doctor called me The Miracle Man. With the type of injury I had, it was about a 90 per cent instant death rate. Four to six per cent of people became quadriplegic.
I was blind for a while, I had extreme vertigo and it lasted for two straight years. It was horrible. I’d fall trying to put on socks. I saw so many doctors.
Fortunately, my vision came back.
I was off work, in recovery for almost three years. I couldn’t do anything. At one point I tried to go back to work but I lost my math abilities. I couldn’t add up numbers. It was really bizarre.
I decided I needed to do my own therapy to get my dexterity back. I started by playing solitaire on the computer. At first, I couldn’t grab the mouse. My memory had been wiped out. I learned that using the computer about eight hours a day. I counted the number of solitaire games I played over that time – it was about a quarter of a million.
After a while, it was getting boring so I needed another diversion. I had a piano I had bought for the kids, and I figured I’d give it a shot. I could read music.
Because of the trauma I had experienced, I no longer had the biological feedback that normal people had.
I was hard-headed. I got a Casio keyboard that had light-touch keys.
I went to the local music store and bought a music book. When I opened the book, and looked at the music, I could hear the music in my head. I could visualize the orchestra playing and if I focused on a specific instrument that instrument became pronounced in my mind.
Q: How did that feel for you?
A: It was a little bit unnerving. But it was also pretty neat.
I thought maybe I could put my own arrangements together.
I had a goal of 50 songs. That was 500 songs ago. I was getting better and better and people wanted me to play. I started picking up books and I would hear different arrangements of the same songs. I started playing original songs.
I would know the title of the songs before I finished them. For some reason, I couldn’t change the titles of the songs.
When I was going through my three-year recovery, I would sometimes go into a trance-like state.
I said it was like looking through the mist.
When I looked at the second song I wrote, it was called Through the Mist.
I put together that I had a three-year memory gap and I didn’t realize it, but it was obviously tucked away somewhere in my mind and it was coming out through the music. The 40 or 50 songs I wrote in that time were all related, in some way, to the accident.
That’s why I couldn’t change the titles.
Q: You play piano at some community events and charitable causes, such as during McHappy Day festivities at the Collingwood McDonalds. Why do you choose to give your time in this way?
A: I’ve been playing during McHappy Day for the past eight years. I know a number of people who have used the (Ronald McDonald House) from Collingwood. The stories are heartbreaking.
I’ve always been very touched by children who are ill. It’s upsetting to see that happen.
I’m also involved with some other (charities), like the Nottawasaga Lighthouse Preservation Society. I’ve played at a few of their picnics. I played once a month at the Collingwood Nursing Home.
Q: You moved from a science and math-based life, to a creative one. Can you talk about that shift?
A: It was very difficult. I knew I could no longer add up a column of numbers, and I couldn’t do calendars which was a problem in my job at the time.
I couldn’t even make change.
It was disturbing that I could no longer do math because that was a big part of my life. It still is hard to deal with.
Then, of course, I have the music. It’s been great therapy for me.
I lost my math, but I’ve gained the music.
For our feature People of Collingwood, we’ll be speaking with interesting people who are either from or are contributing to the Collingwood community in some way, letting them tell their own stories in their own words. This feature will run on CollingwoodToday every weekend. If you’d like to nominate or suggest someone to be featured in People of Collingwood, email [email protected].
