In February of 1998, I sat in a quiet restaurant in Clayton, Missouri, across from a man I barely knew, but would never forget, and announced that one day I would write a book. It was an improbable dream, and Im still not sure whether I was selling the idea to him, or to myself, but clearly the seed took root. Exactly ten years later, in February of 2008, I delivered the manuscript for this book to my publisher at HarperCollins.
The journey from that moment to this began with a belief system that was instilled in me by my mother, Carol, who was a gifted believer in her children. She was a voracious readerand that included every little poem and story that I scribbled for her in crayon, pencil, or ink, or plunked into type. She just knew I was a writer, and that one day everyone else would know, too. She is, no doubt, celebrating with my father, cheek to cheek, dancing in the great beyond.
At the heart of every word Ive written in this book is my son, Patrick. From the moment of his birth, he has been my greatest teacher, informing my understanding and deep appreciation of God, courage, truth, love, and the incongruity found in the power and fragility of life. He was a child with special needs who grew into a man of many special gifts. He is my hero, and the world is a better place because he is alive and well.
Lori, Jeff, Mark, Ron, and Rickfrom the youngest to the oldestthere has never been a way to escape their love and support at every turn of my life, even at times when I tried. I have been blessed to grow up in this large, loving Weible family, because I always knew that whenever I fell, there would be someone to pick me up, and love me just the same.
Jim Murphyif Ive not said it enough in the span of our lifetime of knowing one another, thank you for encouraging me to go back to college, for being a great father, and for sharing your wonderful parents, Anna and Jim, whom I still love as my own.
I thank my friend Laura Muench who inspired me to believe I could be more than one cranky old mans secretary (not that theres anything wrong with being a secretary, theres not; it was the cranky old man who was the problem). Nunzio EdwardI thank you for being a truly wonderful friend whose love and support helped keep me sane, relatively speaking.
My agent and friend Babette Perry paid attention for all the years I threw out one idea after another; I dont know why, since most of them fell flat, but she did. And it is because she listened, and believed in the possibility of this story, that it has come to life. She is a woman with an extraordinary heart and mind, and she manages to navigate the world of entertainment with an incomparable integrity and grace.
Lisa Sharkey had been on the job at HarperCollins for only a couple of weeks when I first got the call that she was interested in Life in Rewind. She knew Dr. Michael Jenike from her days as a television producer, and there is no one in whose hands this book would be better served than Lisas. She has been a great, intuitive guide throughout this process, and she gifted me with the perfect editor in Adam Korn. I watched as Adam fell in love with the story of Dr. Michael Jenike and Ed Zineit was a literary dance through which he led me safely to an intelligent compilation of words, sentences, and chapters that tell the story in the most compelling way possible. I thank him for his enormous patience and creativity.
To DuffI thank you for helping pick me up off the floor when I was thoroughly exhausted from writing this book.
And last, but certainly not least, to Michael Jenike, a man with whom I can always, most respectfully, agree to disagree, and still hopelessly admire. And Edyour genius is unfathomable, and I thank you for the long hours in which you honored and entrusted me with your beautiful story.
MICHAEL A. JENIKE, M.D.
I T HAS BEEN MANY YEARS since I first met Ed Zine at his house on Cape Cod. He suffered from a most severe form of an illness that I had studied and treated for more than three decadesobsessive compulsive disorder, or OCD. Ed was as ill as any patient I had ever met. His story, his suffering, and his recovery reveal an inspiring young man who has touched my life in a way I had never expected. I met Terry Murphy while I was consulting for a charitable foundation in New York City. I saw some of the brilliant videos and writing that she had done for the foundation, and remember one of the secretaries being reduced to tears when she viewed one of Terrys videos about the foundations director. She has a knack for poignantly capturing the most pristine essence of a person.
Ed had spoken many times about having someone write his story as an inspiration to other severely ill OCD patients who had given up hope. If he could get better, anyone could. I told Terry about Ed, and she became enthused and offered to work with Ed to write his story. During the course of writing and working with Ed on his story, she asked me why I became so involved with Ed. She pried into my own motivation and reasons why I would be willing to do things differently from most physicians. I had known from my early years that I was willing to do unusual things to help patients. I had even been criticized during my training for making house callsDr. Jenike gets overinvolved with his patients wrote one supervisor when commenting on my visits to housebound patients. Because I had been in the military for five years and was older, these comments had absolutely no bearing on how I was going to practice medicine, and to this day I make house calls.
However, Terry astutely detected parallels between my life and traumas and Eds life. Her teasing apart these issues has allowed me to understand my own motivations in light of my past life. This book reveals more about me than I would like, but I felt I had to step up to the plate and be as brave as Ed, for the benefit of patients who suffer from this horrible illness, as well as for the dedicated physicians who treat them.
I suppose the bottom line is that we all have our traumas, histories, motivations, and accomplishments. If this story touches and motivates you like it has touched Ed and me, then Terry will have accomplished more than I ever expected.
T HE PIECE OF LINT HAS been missing for nearly a week. Before its sudden disappearance, it lay coupled with the wilted brown leaf on the basement floor near the back door. Its absence is devastating.
Finally, at the end of a long, tedious search, the particle of fluff is discovered, attached to the delicate hind leg of a cricket that has found its way indoors during the rainy season. The exorcism of lint is done with great care, leaving the cricket unharmed. But reconstructing the comfortable universe where the piece of lint once existed with the brittle leaf takes many anguish-filled hours to complete.