Back to the Summit: How One Man Defied Death & Paralysis to Again Lead a Full Life of Service to Others

by Sen. Omer Rains

Overview

“You’ll never walk again.”

California Senator Omer Rains had been a politician on the global stage, a power-broking lawyer of A-list celebrities, and conqueror of some of the highest mountains in the world. But when a paralyzing brain aneurysm and stroke hit him at age 61, he became more helpless than a small child.

In Back to the Summit, Rains takes readers on a courageous journey toward recovery, both physical and spiritual, as he reflects on the people, events, and American history that shaped his life and gave him the strength to dare to walk again. Every flashback to the past offers insight into the philosophy that once saved his life and now defines his every action: “Get up from every fall, no matter how great or far, and continue to live life fully.”

Those who have suffered physical trauma may find hope in his story; their loved ones may gain insight and understanding. And any reader who has ever faced a mountain of a setback will be inspired to keep on fighting to live again.

Back to the Summit takes us on a journey toward physical and spiritual recovery that reminds us that anything is possible.
 

 

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781614480945
Publisher:	Morgan James Publishing
Publication date:	11/01/2011
Pages:	360
Product dimensions:	6.70(w) x 9.60(h) x 0.90(d)

About the Author

During his tenure in the California Senate, Omer Rains represented over a million people in the Central Coast Area of California (principally the Counties of Santa Barbara and Ventura). In that capacity, among many others, Rains served as Chairman of the Senate Majority Caucus (the youngest in State history), as Chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee, and as Chairman of the Senate Committee on Political Reform.

Rains has fought tirelessly throughout his adult life for environmental protection, for political reform, and for civil and human rights—both at home and abroad. He has also served as a prominent international lawyer, financier and investment advisor with extensive experience in all major world markets and finance centers.

After a life-threatening stroke and aneurysm at age sixty-one, Rains beat incredible medical odds to walk again and thereafter to once again lead an active life of service to others. He continues to engage in humanitarian and charitable work in all parts of the lesser developed world with special emphasis on projects in Nepal, India, and Bhutan, as well as on more recent projects in Latin America. Among other responsibilities, he currently serves as Chairman of the Board of READ Global. When not abroad, he makes his principal residence at Lake Tahoe (California/Nevada).

Mr. Rains is an experienced and frequent lecturer and mentor on virtually all topics covered in Back to the Summit including, but not limited to: overcoming brain injuries and paralysis; doing international legal and finance work; and speaking on the enormously important and gratifying work being done to promote world literacy by Rural Education and Development (READ) Global. He is also available to speak on the therapeutic effects of Transcendental Meditation (TM) and the calming practice of Tibetan Buddhism. He can be contacted through his websites: www.backtothesummit.com or www.senorains.com.

 

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

A Shattered Life

Five days after I was admitted to Sutter General Hospital in Sacramento, California, and as I slowly came out of a coma, I heard a voice. The sound seemed to come from the left and seemed to be speaking to me. But who was speaking to me and why?

I struggled to open my eyes, and when they fluttered open, my surroundings — whatever they were — were hazy, cloudy.

"My father was a minister back in Illinois," the voice said to me. "And my mother's maiden name was ..." The voice told me a bit about his childhood back in the Midwest. I couldn't understand why.

As the voice continued to tell me things about his life, I began to detect that there were things — lots of things — attached to me, uncomfortable things. I was able to move my eyes slightly to the left, and then I saw him: a man was standing next to where I was lying. A fairly tall man but with a soft and soothing voice.

The man was looking at me. He identified himself as Dr. James Turner.

"Well, Omer, I have told you a bit about myself," he said. "Now can you tell me a few things about you? Where were you born, Omer?" It was a simple question — rudimentary really. But I struggled to find the answer.

Finally I mumbled, "I think it was in Missouri."

"Can you tell me the name of the town in Missouri?" the man asked.

"Um, it may have been Barnett," I answered.

"What was your mother's maiden name, Omer?" the man asked.

"Damn it, what's wrong with me?" I thought. "These are simple questions. Why is it so hard to answer them?"

"What did your father do for a living?" he continued.

Did I answer? I don't really know whether I did or not, but of this I am sure: I was becoming more and more aware of my surroundings and of the numerous wires attached to my body — to my chest, my right arm, my left arm, my head. An IV drip. A catheter. I think the man introduced himself as a doctor, didn't he?

As the interrogation progressed, several others came to my bedside, intent on looking at me and examining me. Doctors? Nurses?

I was advised that I was in critical condition and in intensive care. This must be the reason so many things are hooked up to me, I thought. But why I was there and what they were monitoring was still unclear.

"My wife, Judy, can answer all of these questions," I told the doctor. "No, no, that's not right. I think my wife's name is Diana or something like that. I'm having a hard time with these questions."

"No, I want to get this information from you," Dr. Turner explained as he continued to ask me more questions.

A day later, another doctor who would attend to me with great regularity over the next month as I remained in critical condition in intensive care, a Dr. David Dozier, broke the news of what had happened to me. I had suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm and an associated hemorrhagic stroke. The doctors couldn't understand from a medical standpoint why I hadn't died on the spot when the artery feeding blood to my brain burst.

Dr. Dozier recounted my admittance to the hospital, the desperate measures that had been taken to save my life, the prolonged operation involving numerous physicians and nurses, and the new procedure that had saved my life — at least temporarily — developed and tried for the first time in Northern California on me. The primary doctor who led the surgical team was the only person on staff having been trained in London in the new procedure. As it turned out, this particular doctor got on a plane, as scheduled, the day after he saved my life. He was, and remains to me, a beneficent phantom.

The artery that had burst in my head was the one that feeds blood to the brain. The new surgical procedure conducted by the phantom doctor, and assisted by several other physicians and nurses, was intended to stop the flow of blood that was spilling over the brain.

During the next several days of my hospitalization in ICU, as new nurses, technicians and orderlies came to assist or monitor me, they would invariably ask the same question: "Where is your zipper?" At first I didn't know what they meant. But I learned that the normal procedure for my condition was to remove the skullcap, to clip the aneurysm, to then put the skullcap back on and sew it up. None of the nurses had ever seen a coiled embolism like mine.

The procedure, as I understand it, went something like this: In the hope of stopping the flow of blood across my brain that resulted from the arterial rupture, the surgeons had begun by making a very small incision in the area of my groin. In an operation that lasted several hours, the medical team carefully threaded platinum coils through arterial veins all the way up to and through my heart and then through the carotid artery in my neck. This artery, as it turns out, provides a sufficiently large passageway to the brain so that the surgeons were able to thread the coils through my carotid artery up to the spot in my brain where the artery had burst. Without blood my brain would die, but with an unmediated flow of blood coursing through my cranium, even if I lived I was at best to be left in a vegetative state.

During the procedure the doctors were able to find the exact spot from which the blood was spilling, and it was here that they inserted the platinum coils to prevent any more blood from escaping. The first time they tried this part of the procedure, the coils dislodged. The second time, however, they hit it spot on and the coils stayed in place — in effect plugging the leaking artery. They remain there today.

Was it enough of a miracle to save my life? They weren't sure. If so, would I ever be able to talk again? Would I ever be able to walk or even move again? Would I have any ability whatever to again reason or to understand? Would I remember my idyllic childhood in Missouri where my grandfather was once respected as the unofficial town Mayor? Would I recall the ex-wife, Judy, who had stalked me for the majority of my adult life? Or the three beautiful children that had resulted from my two marriages, the earlier one to Judy and the current one to Diana? Would I be able to describe the many years I spent serving in the California Senate working for civil rights and environmental protection, or the time when I was startled from sleep in a client's house in Pakistan and sharply interrogated by over sixty town elders and Taliban sympathizers on United States policy, because my "friend" had misrepresented me as a currently serving U.S. Senator?

Would I ever again be the person who had climbed great mountains, rafted mighty rivers, dined and danced in the White House and flown on Air Force One — or would I instead remain in the worst of hells as but an atrophied replica of my former self?

Who could be sure, but lying in bed week after week in critical condition and unable to really move any part of my body, but with an almost eidetic memory that thank God had not betrayed me, I was allowed to think long and hard and reflect upon the amazing life I had led and that I was determined to live once again. But how? I had to start at the beginning.

CHAPTER 2

Barnett

"There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the childhood in."

— Graham Greene

I was born in Barnett, a small town in the northern Ozarks of Missouri. The population of Barnett was and is 200, at least according to the local populace. The sign at the edge of town then said "Population 200" and today, as I write this, I believe it still says "Population 200." I don't believe there were actually 200 people in town during the years I lived there, but in the State of Missouri I'm told that in order to get any roadwork done a village has to have at least 200 people so the citizens of Barnett always had a sign saying population 200. There were no paved roads at that time in Barnett, but the dirt roads were always graded and easy to walk, ride or drive on if one was lucky enough to have an automobile, but not many people did. In fact, Barnett did not even have electricity or running water in those days.

I was born September 25, 1941. To today's youth, that was somewhere between the discovery of fire and the development of the Blackberry. However, to my generation, this was just a few months before we entered WW II. Having been born five years before the first of the "Baby Boomers," my age group — driven by the principle of individual freedom — came to be known as the "Beat Generation." For better or worse, this was the generation that was to lead the counterculture revolution of the late 1950s and early 60s.

My mother had been born and raised in Barnett and her parents, Omer Emanuel Cochran and Tracy Sullivan Cochran, had lived in and around Barnett their entire lives. Needless to say, my rather unusual first name results from being named after my maternal grandfather. One of his ancestors, and thus one of mine, had come through the Cumberland Gap with Daniel Boone in the early part of our country's history and settled around what was then the French fur trapping center of St. Louis. Omer is not an uncommon name in France, and in every French speaking nation there are cities by the name of St. Omer. Although my mother's family was not French, but rather of Scots, Irish, English and Viking descent, the name, with an Anglicized pronunciation (with emphasis on the first syllable so that it sounds like Homer without the "h"), originated in the family at that time — almost certainly because of the proximity to the French speaking fur trappers in the area in which my ancestors had settled before moving further west.

My father was born and raised in the city of Versailles, Missouri, approximately twenty miles to the west of Barnett. His mother, whose maiden name was Golda Widener Mohler, came principally from a Dutch family, the Wideners, who also had come to the New World approximately 200 years earlier.

I was truly blessed not only to have wonderful grandparents, but also to get to know them extremely well. In fact, I even got to know some of my great-grandparents, as they were still alive at the time of my birth and for several years thereafter. One of my most prized possessions is a photograph of me, at approximately six months of age, sitting on my ninety-five-year-old great-Grandfather Cochran's lap in a rocking chair on his front porch in Barnett.

My family also had a strong military history, going back to the Revolutionary War and continuing right up through Vietnam. Two of my Grandfather Cochran's brothers also lived in Barnett. Both had been severely wounded in trench warfare during World War I and bore the results of those wounds. One was named Boone (after Daniel Boone) and the other Abe (after Abraham Lincoln). They were frequent visitors to our home and I got to know them well — well enough that I knew I didn't want to go to war unless it was for an awfully good cause.

Versailles, though a small town of approximately 6,000 people, was the county seat of Morgan County, Missouri, and my Grandfather Rains was seemingly the most prominent merchant in town. Although not wealthy by standards of America in general, he certainly was by Versailles standards. He owned several businesses and most of the buildings around the town square. Each year, he bought a new Oldsmobile '98. As a result, my father was able to attend college although he did not complete his studies — something he always regretted.

Most of the Rains' were outstanding athletes. My father was no exception. He excelled in baseball and while in college, was signed to a professional baseball contract. In those days, the 1930's, professional sports at the highest level (e.g., major league baseball) did not extend west beyond St. Louis. In fact it was not until 1958 that the New York Giants moved to San Francisco and the Brooklyn Dodgers moved to Los Angeles. Without commercial airlines, almost all travel was by bus or train and the players played for small salaries and lived while on the road in flea-bitten hotels. Out west, in large and growing cities along the Pacific Coast, there existed a professional league that was not considered part of the major leagues. However, it was a training ground for players who often ended up in the major leagues. As it turned out, before finishing college, my father had an opportunity to go west and play for the San Francisco Seals. This was still several years before my birth. While there he met and played with Joe, Vince and Dominic DiMaggio, Lefty O'Doul, and many others who were later to become household names in the major leagues.

My brother, Roy, four years older than me, was actually born in San Francisco in 1937. Shortly thereafter, however, my father was signed to a contract by the St. Louis Cardinals causing a return to Missouri. But my mother and father never forgot the lights of the big city and the "streets paved with gold in California," and they always dreamed of one day returning to California. As it turned out, my father threw his arm away and, as a result, his career with the Cardinals (the famous "Gas-House Gang") was not long lived.

When I was born a few years later, war had already erupted in Europe and it was increasingly evident that America also would soon be drawn into WW II. Shortly after the bombing of Pearl Harbor and when I was but a few months old, my father was assigned to Fort Leonard Wood near Rolla, Missouri and he was subsequently assigned to manage a munitions plant in Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. As a result, due to the war effort, I seldom saw my father during the first five years of my life. My mother, my brother and I lived with my grandparents Cochran in Barnett. As a result, my grandpa Cochran truly became my father as well as my grandfather. As it turned out, I never became particularly close to my father, and my grandfather played a far greater role than did my father in my development. On those rare occasions when my father was around he was very demanding of my mother and generally spoke to her in a rude manner. Both parents had considerable native intelligence, but the demeaning way that Dad sometimes treated Mom was a matter that was to become more and more critical to our family life as the years went by. This caused constant dissension between my father and my brother and me and, in large measure, explains why my brother eventually entered the Navy at age seventeen and why I, in turn, left home when I was fifteen.

My mother, on the other hand, was a truly beautiful woman and loving mother, throughout life making sacrifices for my brother and for me. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do for one of her children. In retrospect, that was one of the things my father couldn't stand. He was jealous of the attention she gave her two sons, and wanted her to devote full time to him. Loving my mother as I did, that behavior always ate at me and was the cause of frequent disputes between my father and I as the years went by.

Living in Barnett — small town America — during those years was truly a blessing and I can't imagine a young child having a happier and healthier life than did I. Again, by the standards of the big city, everyone in Barnett was poor. But the Cochran's were probably as well off as any family there and my grandpa Cochran was always looked upon as the community leader. He was often referred to as the "Mayor," although I don't believe an election was ever held. If a dispute arose in town the disputing parties almost invariably came to my grandfather to resolve it and they seemed to always respect whatever decision he made or whatever he recommended. I don't know that I've ever known a greater man than my grandpa Cochran. I certainly know that I have never loved a man more than my grandfather.

It was seldom that my grandfather would go any place without taking me with him. We were absolutely inseparable. I would beg him to put me on the back of the farm animals for a ride. My brother, my cousin and I were especially fond of riding "Black Betsy," a sway-backed cow that lived on Grandpa's farm. Special fun was had when my grandpa would put me on the back of pigs that had been wallowing in the mud and laughing his head off as I tried to stay on. Of course, I would invariably fall off into the mud and I didn't mind it a bit. However, my mother would scream bloody murder when we returned home.

Life in Barnett for me, other than when I was with my grandpa, pretty much revolved around the town church. There was just one church in town called the Barnett Union Church. Because Barnett was part of the "Bible Belt," everyone in town was Protestant and just about everyone in town went to church every Sunday. However, not everyone was of the same denomination. Many of the farms outside of town had been settled by Amish, Mennonites, and Brethren. Their horse and buggy lifestyles were a curious aspect of the landscape.

(Continues…)

---

Excerpted from "Back to the Summit"
by .
Copyright © 2012 Omer Rains.
Excerpted by permission of Morgan James Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---

Table of Contents

Foreword & Acknowledgement

Introduction

Chapter 1 A Shattered Life

Chapter 2 Barnett

Chapter 3 The Move West

Chapter 4 Paralysis

Chapter 5 Wild Oats and the Victory Bell

Chapter 6 Marriage and Berkeley

Chapter 7 Law School and the Loss of a Loved One

Chapter 8 Determination

Chapter 9 Success as a Prosecutor Marred by Family Addictions

Chapter 10 Private Practice and Public Life

Chapter 11 Divorce and Its Aftermath

Chapter 12 Pain and Hurt

Chapter 13 Elective Office

Chapter 14 Ronald Reagan and the Next Election

Chapter 15 Legislative Life

Chapter 16 The Red Baron

Chapter 17 “Climbing” to the Summit

Chapter 18 George Moscone

Chapter 19 Jimmy Carter

Chapter 20 The Third Term

Chapter 21 Turkey and Greece

Chapter 22 Pushing the Limits

Chapter 23 Decision to Run for Attorney General

Chapter 24 The Campaign for Attorney General

Chapter 25 Reflections on Public Service

Chapter 26 Letters to a Son

Chapter 27 Return to Private Life

Chapter 28 Lake Tahoe: Back to Nature, Back to God

Chapter 29 The Sacramento Kings and the NBA

Chapter 30 The Sherman Anti-Trust Act

Chapter 31 Ross Perot

Chapter 32 From Chaos to Order

Chapter 33 The Light of My Life

Chapter 34 “The Rest and Be Thankful” and Fire

Chapter 35 “The Troubles,” Costa Rica, and Worms

Chapter 36 China

Chapter 37 A Fisherman and the Albatross

Chapter 38 Nelson Mandela & South Africa

Chapter 39 Recovering At North Shore

Chapter 40 Lives of Quiet Desperation

Chapter 41 Being Alive at 55

Chapter 42 Extreme Adventure (More Sports; More Injuries)

Chapter 43 Black Diamonds

Chapter 44 Mt. Everest

Chapter 45 Pakistan, the Taliban and Paco Tech

Chapter 46 Turkmenistan

Chapter 47 A Setback

Chapter 48 Geneva and the Unraveling of a Long Marriage

Chapter 49 The Snake Pit

Chapter 50 Tragedies in the 21st Century

Chapter 51 Divorce - Again!

Chapter 52 A House of Cards

Chapter 53 Aftermath of an Aneurysm and Stroke

Chapter 54 Spartacus

Chapter 55 Death of a Father

Chapter 56 The Flume Trail

Chapter 57 Nicaragua

Chapter 58 READ and a “Pistol of a Lady”

Epilogue – Blessings

About the Author

Index

Editorial Reviews

Back to the Summit” records the amazing story of Omer Rains, a person who in spite of having to overcome one challenge after another during his lifetime, has left us with a legacy of legislative and humanitarian achievements that few of his generation can match. I got to know Omer particularly well during the 2000 Presidential Campaign when I was the nominee of the Natural Law Party, the Reform Party and, in New York, of the Independence Party. Little did I know then that he would face his greatest challenge of all less than two years later when death stared him in the face. But fighter that he is, once again he rose to the occasion and today continues to leave his mark helping others both here at home and throughout the developing world. We can all learn profound lessons from this book.
-Dr. John Hagelin
Internationally Renowned Particle Physicist
3-Time Candidate for President of the U.S. National Director, Transcendental Meditation Program President, Global Union of Scientists for Peace Author, “Manual for a Perfect Government”

“Back to the Summit” illustrates how in America one can still overcome great obstacles given enough will power, determination, and tenacity. The way in which Omer Rains overcame a paralyzing near death experience is as inspirational as any story can be.”
-John C. Malone
Chairman, Liberty Media Chairman, Liberty Global Inc. CEO, Discovery Holding Company Former Pres. & CEO, Tele-Communications Inc. (TCI)

I first met Omer Rains on Mount Everest in 1995. At age 55, he was remarkably fit. Seven years later, while seemingly still active and fit, Omer was unexpectedly struck down by a ruptured brain aneurysm and stroke. Only through a series of miracles and intense personal willpower was he able to survive and later recover. I am Nepalese—a Sherpa—and Omer’s inspirational and heroic story of recovery is a moving one both in my native land of Nepal and in other countries where he does untold humanitarian work. Today, Omer retains his ties to Nepal through frequent visitations as Chairman of READ which built the library in which I received my own education, including my ability to read and write in English. He is one of my heroes. This book is a must read for anyone with a loved one who has ever suffered a near death experience.
-Kaji Sherpa
Former Holder of World Record Fastest Ascent of Mount Everest

Omer Rains was a law student of mine many, many years back. Little did I know then the life challenges he had already overcome in order to even attend – much less excel – in college. It was a bit ironic when later, as Chancellor of the Universityof California (Berkeley) and in a classic reversal of roles, I would annually visit Omer in his capacity as a California State Senator on behalf of the University. Omer’s story, told in “Back to the Summit,” is not just the inspirational story of how he survived a near fatal brain aneurysm, but of his humanitarian efforts to help others around the world to acquire literacy and, thus, education. This book truly speaks to a life well led.
-Ira Michael Heyman
Emeritus Professor of Law, Universityof California (Berkeley) Former Chancellor, Universityof California (Berkeley) Former Secretary, Smithsonian Institution (Washington, D.C.)

Reading “Back to the Summit” causes me to feel good about my own life and my chosen profession of medicine. However, it also tells a story of powers beyond medicine. As the primary treating physician after Omer Rains initially survived a brain aneurysm and stroke, I can attest to the fact that there is no adequate medical explanation for him being alive today and for the remarkable recovery he made. This book should be an inspiration for anyone who has ever suffered, or may in the future suffer, a life threatening challenge.
-Dr. David Dozier (ret.)
Chief Treating Neurologist of Omer Rains

Omer Rains was one of my prized patients. My specialty is in working with people who have suffered a stroke and/or a brain injury, as was the case with Omer. His book “Back to the Summit” chronicles how someone with sufficient inner-strength, determination and resolve can recover from a paralytic state to the point that today he leads more than a full and complete life, primarily in the service of others. I’m pleased to have been able to play a role in his recovery process. But the person who deserves most of the credit is Omer himself. “Back to the Summit” is an inspiring book about an inspiring person. If you’ve ever been faced with a physical challenge, read this book. It may help you find your own pathway to recovery.
-Waleed Al-Oboudi, MOT, OTR/L Internationally acclaimed in field of occupational therapy and rehabilitation Occupational Therapy Professional of the Year Originator of Neuro-Integrative Functional Rehabilitation and Habitation (NEURO-IFRAH)

The recovery of Omer Rains from a near death experience, and the way in which it was accomplished by drawing on prior life experiences, is an amazing story. One of the very early environmental leaders in the U.S., today Omer takes his message throughout the world. I have had the pleasure of working with READ Global, of which Omer serves as Chairman of the International Board. That Omer can today do the work he does in multiple countries, often in challenging conditions, is a testament to his drive to help those less advantaged than those of us in the developed world. To read “Back to the Summit” is to be truly inspired.
-Gunter Pauli
Founder, Zero Emissions Research and Initiatives (ZERI) Author of 16 books, including “The Blue Economy”

Omer Rains met my brother, Bill, in the Amazon over 25 years ago, and I have known him almost as long. Every step of Omer’s life has been a testament to his fortitude and to his determination to make a difference. We can all learn much from “Back to the Summit,” a book that tells the story of a man who thinks, breathes and lives life to the fullest. As an actor, writer and producer, I can attest that even here in Hollywood, the entertainment capital of the world, it would be difficult to write a more inspiring script.
-Deborah Raffin
Actor; writer; producer

“Back to the Summit” is a riveting read. How Omer Rains came back from a near death experience and dedicated his life to helping others undeniably has a powerful spiritual undertone. Raised in a spiritual setting in the 1940s, it is my belief that Omer’s early religious surroundings played a major role in his amazing recovery. As one of his doctors told him: “The only explanation for the recovery you’ve made is that The Creator is not finished with you yet.” That explanation resonates with me, and perhaps speaks in large measure to the way in which Omer today selflessly helps people in need here at home and in many other parts of the world.
-Rev. Ernest Chu
Director, The Soul Currency Institute Best Selling Author, “Soul Currency”

Omer Rains, Chairman of READ Global, is dedicated to promoting literacy and creating jobs in rural and remote parts of the developing world. It is only because of Omer that in my own village of Ullon, West Bengal, India that we now have the “Oceanic Library.” Indeed, the Oceanic Library is a tribute to a person who survived a near-death experience and is now renown in the developing world for his work to help impoverished villages where few people know how to read or write. He is truly helping to change the world. “Back to the Summit” tells how Omer was inspired to commit his life to such humanitarian efforts.
-Kapilanda Mondal
CEO & Secretary, VSSU (Ullon, India)

From the Publisher