Who decides what a life is worth?

I met a young man at the gym this week. He caught my attention because he was rolling his way through the gym in a wheelchair. He wore a tee-shirt bearing the word "Souldier." After passing by me and through and around various benches and machines, he began to exercise with dumbbells. I approached him to ask him if he was a soldier. He said no, that he had been born with cerebral palsy. He pointed out that the word on his shirt was spelled S-O-U-L-D-I-E-R. I introduced myself; he told me his name was Mike, and that he was a regular member of the gym. I told him it was good to see him in the gym. He responded that it was good to be there.

Mike can't walk. He can't run. He can't even stand up. How many times have we heard people say, "Oh, I wouldn't want to live like that." But Mike is living; and making his way through the gym, working out like the rest of us, he is every bit a man.

Cerebral palsy. Is that one of the diseases a woman can be "screened" for while she is pregnant? I judge Mike to be in his early twenties. Were amniocentesis and its related "screening" tests available in the mid-1980s?

It occurred to me that before he was born, another human being had the power of life and death over Mike. At that time, Mike's blue eyes, his brown hair, his smile, and his cerebral palsy were fully determined. Whoever it was "chose" to allow Mike to be born. Why? Why didn't she say, "No, this baby is a mistake. I'm going to put an end to this and start over again. I'm not ready for something like this. This is not the right time for this."

Mike is a young man who has had cerebral palsy his entire life. Is Mike's life worth anything, to anybody? His life is worth something to me. I'm not a kid anymore, and sometimes weight training and exercising are a struggle because of injuries and the aches and pains that come with age. It inspired me to see Mike confidently going through the gym, going through his workout. I've been in a lot of gyms in my time, and I haven't seen many guys in wheelchairs in those gyms. It takes a lot of guts to do that, surrounded by muscle men and hard-body women and trainers. Obviously Mike's life is worth something to him, too. It takes a lot of desire to do what he's doing. Most perfectly healthy people can't bring themselves to go into a gym. Mike's doing this to challenge himself, to push himself, to make himself better, stronger. That's exactly why I go to the gym. I guess Mike and I aren't very different at all. In fact, he's better than I am: I don't have to get into a wheelchair and a special vehicle just to get myself through the door. And I'm "normal," right?

What would Mike say? That he wishes he'd never been born? Judging from his smile and his accomplishments, I doubt it.