Introduction

Ed Greene (Host): Dave Liniger has been chosen as the recipient of the 2013 Corporate Honors Award because, through his leadership as founder and chairman of RE/MAX, Dave has created a corporate culture of giving back to the community through such organizations as the Children’s Miracle Network Hospitals and the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. Recipient of the 2013 Corporate Honors Award, ladies and gentlemen, Dave Liniger.

Dave Liniger’s Acceptance Speech

A major accomplishment—I didn’t fall down! How do you like these sterling shoes?

You know, thirty years ago this week, my fiancé was injured in a plane crash with a traumatic brain injury. That started us down an interesting adventure. When you’re a caregiver for a lengthy period of time, you think that you have sympathy, you certainly think you have empathy, and you think you understand what it’s like on the other side of needing care. I thought I was pretty good at that.

From Caregiver to Patient: A New Reality

Eighteen or nineteen months ago, as a Vietnam vet, I came down with a MRSA staph infection, went into a coma for four months, and was 100% paralyzed for several months. Then came the arduous process of moving fingers and toes, trying to get back any kind of movement. Most of my disability was not invisible—it was very visible.

However, I used to be tough, strong, rich, and powerful. I never asked for help from anybody for anything. The sheer fatigue of trying to stand in a shower and taking 45 minutes to an hour to shower, dry, and dress when I used to be able to do it in ten minutes is pretty amazing. It’s not something you talk about; you don’t go out and tell everybody about the problems you’ve had today.

Traveling used to be straightforward. I was very protective for thirty years, big and strong. If my wife needed help getting in and out of a bathtub that had handrails, I could certainly assist. But all of a sudden, when you don’t have that ability and you don’t have someone who can help you—when you can’t lift your legs up to get into a tub because it’s too dangerous, and now you need a roller or a stand-up shower—it’s quite a wake-up call.

Overcoming Misdiagnosis and Medical Challenges

They had me drugged up for so long. As I started coming out of my coma, the psychiatrist was looking at all the hallucinations I was having and said I had Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from Vietnam. I looked at this psychiatrist and said, “I never had a single nightmare.” I was typical of World War II or Korea veterans: we came home, went to work, got married, had kids, drank too much alcohol—we did this and that, but somehow or another, most of us made it through. I wasn’t embarrassed, but I simply didn’t have PTSD.

They had me on a drug called Dilaudid, and the day they took me off Dilaudid, within four hours I never had another nightmare. I was misdiagnosed. But I tell you what: I’m an expert now on invisible disabilities. It is very humbling to be powerful, successful, strong, and wealthy, and yet have to have somebody provide for your every need.

Understanding Disabilities and Human Kindness

Everybody asked me if I had a eureka moment, and I kept saying no, I didn’t. I lived the life I wanted. I was never a workaholic. We built a fabulous company; we traveled, vacationed, hunted, fished, camped, and hot-air ballooned—we did everything you could do. I had no regrets. If I was going to die, there was no eureka moment whatsoever.

But I did discover something. Most of us are really pretty darn busy. Somebody cuts you off on I-25 in traffic, and all of a sudden you’re extraordinarily angry. (By the way, I did drive NASCAR for ten years, and I do know how to spin people out!)

What I really found out was that when you have a visible disability, people go totally out of their way to help you. There hasn’t been a person who hasn’t rushed to open the door because I couldn’t quite manage it myself. Getting stuck going into a men’s room—even though it said handicap accessible—my electric wheelchair and I hit the lever on the side, and I did not have movement on my left side to reach down and turn the wheelchair back on. It’s a little bit embarrassing. Yet, I never met a person during the time I’ve had this disability who has not been as big-hearted as you could ever expect—the exact same person you might bump into on the road and get angry at.

Acknowledgments and Closing

People do care, but the invisible things that they can’t see, they don’t understand. In my naive way, I didn’t understand it either. What Wayne and the Invisible Disabilities Association are doing serves an extremely valid purpose. I respect you very much for what you’ve done. For all the very kind and wonderful people out there, all I can say is that most people are incredibly kind—they just don’t know if they don’t see it. Thank you so very, very much.

You know, we almost lost Dave. So to see him walk up here, stand here and talk to you and walk back is really quite remarkable. I’ve known for a long time he’s a good guy. Dave Liniger. ~ Ed Greene