http://www.grapplers.com/zone/news.cfm?#172
"They Call Me Sensei by Barry Griefer as told to Frank Ascione
My journey started in 1987 when I began seeing double – vertically; a symptom generally associated with head trauma or diminished blood flow to a cranial nerve. I was coaching Little League and Babe Ruth Baseball at that time and one day, while warming up the pitchers, I started seeing two balls coming in over the plate, one above the other. After “catching” the wrong one and getting hit in the face with the other, I decided I had better see a doctor.
The diagnosis was immediate; I had a brain tumor. From there, I went on to see three or four neurosurgeons and all concluded the same thing - it was inoperable. A friend of a doctor I knew recommended that I contact Mount Sinai hospital and send them my history.
My MRI was examined by Dr. Sachdev at Mount Sinai hospital and, after looking it over, he immediately called me in for a consultation. He explained that he would have to operate immediately but the odds were definitely not in my favor. There was a 50-60% chance that I would not survive the surgery and, even if I did, there was then a 50-60% chance that I would wake up blind. So, basically, the odds that I would wake up from the surgery with my eyesight were less than 1 in 4. Not bad, I guess, when you consider that, without the surgery, and barring divine intervention, my odds were essentially zero.
Dr. Sachdev explained to me that he did an operation of this magnitude only about 6 times a year and, three days from that meeting, I was being prepped for surgery.
As I lay asleep in my room the night before, I had a dream that Dr. Sachdev was beside my bed praying for me. I lay there, quietly watching him, until the realization hit me that it wasn’t a dream! It was 3:00 AM, a mere three hours from my scheduled surgery, and my surgeon was in the room praying! I turned to a nurse and asked, half jokingly, “Shouldn’t he be home resting?”
While in the hospital, I had watched other patients being taken down to the operating room and noticed that, a little while beforehand, everyone was given a pill and a shot which caused them to fall asleep before they were wheeled out. Because my odds of waking up from the surgery were small, I asked permission to be able to stay awake as long as possible. If, one way or the other, the lights were going be turned off on me, I wanted to take in all I could.
The nurses, trying to keep things light, kept asking me why I was still up and saying things like “Hey, you’re not here for your tonsils” and “This is a little more serious than a sore throat, you know.” As I was speaking to them, one of them picked up on my distinctive New York accent and said, “We’re going to take a wild guess that you’re from Brooklyn.” The nurses did their best to help me to remain calm and optimistic, an effort that I greatly appreciated, but I still felt as if the life was slowly being sucked from my body. As I lay there waiting to be taken to the operating room, the song “I Never Promised You a Rose Garden” kept running through my head. In resignation I would nod in acknowledgement and say to myself, “No one promised me a rose garden.” Then, about two minutes before they came to take me, “I Never Promised You a Rose Garden” actually started playing over the hospital’s sound system. Whether is was a sign from above or merely a bizarre coincidence did not matter because, for whatever reason, it seemed to calm me and I felt the fear evaporate from my body. As I was being wheeled into the OR, I kept repeating it to myself like a mantra, “Nobody promised me a rose garden, nobody promised me a rose garden, nobody promised me a rose garden...” I felt calm and at peace.
18-hours later, I woke up in the intensive care unit with the doctor by my side. I had beaten the odds by not only surviving the operation but also having retained my sight. I was told that they had removed seven tumors from my brain and one large tumor on my optic nerve. The doctor went on to say that he had considered removing all of the tissue in my nose, from the inside, to be sure that he had gotten all of the optic nerve tumor but that, after having endured 18-hours of surgery and given my condition, he did not think it was prudent to proceed with what would have been another 6-8 hour procedure. Now, nineteen years later, that tumor still haunts me.
Within 1-year of the surgery, I began to experience significant memory loss which persisted for the next 22-months. The doctor explained that, given the amount of brain surgery that I had endured, this was not really unusual.
A short time after I had begun to recover from the amnesia, I decided to begin training in Tae Kwon Do. I thought that learning the moves and forms would help train my memory to come back. I attained the rank of black belt within 4 years and made some wonderful friends in the process, most notably Frank Paul, Tony Parker, Bill Thompson, Todd Smith, and Anthony & Vito Chiarello.
To continue my training and become more of a complete fighter, I began looking into Brazilian Ju-Jujitsu and mixed martial arts. A friend recommended that I should check out Alex Wilkie’s Martial Arts Academy.
I approached Alex, explained my story, and told him that I wanted to learn how to grapple. He immediately put me on the mat and began showing me some basic moves - I was hooked.
I wanted to learn as much as I could, but due to physical limitations at that time, was unable to train as much as I wanted. To compensate, I would go to the school, even when I couldn’t work out, to watch Alex as he led classes and trained others. In this way I was able to learn new moves and techniques by observation. Knowing of my business background, when the phone would ring, Alex would yell over to me “Barry, answer the phone.” From there, as people would come in to the school for information about classes and schedules, Alex would tell me to help them. Realizing that the combination of martial arts training and business responsibilities seemed to be helping me improve both physically and mentally, Alex began increasing both my administrative duties and training regimen and, in the process, we began to become a team.
Because my memory was still not completely up to speed, Alex also spent time teaching me how to navigate between my home and the school and then on to other destinations. It was not always smooth and I was not always successful but that’s another story in itself!
Ten years after my first surgery, two tumors reappeared on the right side of my head with one of them being the optic nerve tumor. I was sent to Overlook Hospital for my second brain surgery and, after approximately 9-hours of surgery, the surgeon, Dr. Hodosh, told me that he had been able to remove all traces of the tumors. Great news that, unfortunately, turned out to be false.
As I was recovering from this surgery, I continued to go to Alex’s school to observe classes. Not only was I unable to actually train but, due to weakness from the surgery, I required a cane to walk. Upon arrival at the school on my first day back, Alex greeted me at the door, took the cane from my hand and, while most of the class looked on with a mixture of shock and horror, tossed it on the ground. I picked up the cane and entered the school. Each subsequent day upon my arrival, Alex would remove the cane from my hand and toss it further and further away. On one particular day, he threw the cane all the way to the street and, as usual, I retrieved it and walked backed to the school. This time though, he again took the cane from my hand and said that if I could go that far without it then I didn’t need it any more; he then broke it over his own leg, grabbed me, threw me to the mat and, just like that, I was training again.
One month later, I went back to Dr. Hodash for a post-op check-up and he told me that I could begin to take long walks around the block. I wonder what he would have said if I had told him that I had already begun ground fighting?
I continued my training and, in March of 2001, was awarded black belt full instructor from Alex Wilkie, a rank that has been awarded to only a handful of students at the academy. It was truly an honor.
In 2005, after participating in numerous tournaments, Brian Cimins invited me to Las Vegas to grapple in a tournament. Unfortunately I had to decline because my tumor had returned and was squeezing itself around my optic nerve causing me to begin to lose my eyesight. Instead of fighting in the tournament, I began a fight against the tumor with an intense thirty straight days of radiation treatment. Before beginning the treatment, I had to sign an acknowledgement that the treatment itself could cause me to go blind. Luckily though, when the treatment ended, the tumor had shrunk enough to preserve my eyesight. I had beaten the odds again and so it was back to Alex’s and back in the ring.
Since that time, I have gone on to several other notable achievements such as receiving a certificate of appreciation from the U.S. Martial Service for providing them with self-defense instruction, an Outstanding Contributions to Martial Arts Spirit Award (2005), Action Martial Arts Magazine Hall of Fame Excellence in the Preservation of Martial Arts Ambassadorship (2006), numerous medals from grappling tournaments, an instructor certificate in Systema from Vladimir Vasiliev, an award from Brian Cimins’ Grappler Quest for being the “Most Inspirational Grappler on the Planet”, and at almost 63-years old I am currently ranked as the #3 grappler in the world in the 40+ age bracket. In addition to the certificates, plaques, and trophies I have received over the years, I am honored to have received, and proudly display in a case on my mantle, a Green Beret that was presented to me by J. D. Potynsky, a student at Alex Wilkie’s Marital Arts Academy, upon completion of his special forces training with the U.S. Army.
I would also be remiss if I did not mention and thank Ursula Berty for introducing me to the Lord, praying for me, schlepping me to hospitals and doctor appointments that included a trip to Massachusetts General Hospital, and for taking me on a sightseeing tour of Boston.
As a final note to this story, within the last few months complications from my tumors and surgeries have led me to a new battle for my health but I am determined to keep up the fight. As Yogi Berra said, “It ain’t over till it’s over!”
My friends, students, and Alex Wilkie call me Sensei."
