Sovetsky Sport. January 30, 2007. History, as is well known, admits no hypotheticals. Yet how one longs to rewind the tape - to stop Lena, who, on that fateful day of July 3, 1970, decided to train on her own...
The day before, someone arriving from Moscow brought a rumor to the Belarusian training base at Staiki - where the national team was holding its final training camp ahead of the Moscow Games: namely, that Mukhina would not make the Olympic squad. One of the most genuine contenders for the all-around gold - a gymnast whom even the Romanian Nadia Comaneci openly feared - left off the national team? Could a fluke mishap at the 1979 world championships be the reason? Or perhaps her injury from that autumn?
The tough and ambitious Mikhail Klimenko immediately rushed to the capital to stand up for his protege. Lena - as, presumably, any twenty-year-old girl would have done - decided not to waste any time. A "signature" element in the floor exercise - one that no one else in the world had ever peformed: a one-and-a-half back somersault with a 540-degree twist into a forward roll - was, in her and her coach's view, destined to be their trump card at the Olympics.
"I took a running start, pushed off - and then, it was just like a dream: I saw people rushing toward the mat where I had been warming up. As it turned out, they were all running straight toward me. I tried to get up but couldn't, even though my mind was perfectly clear. I tried to move my arm, but I couldn't. And then, out of nowhere, a thought struck me: "This must be a catastrophe." They brought me to the hospital and held smelling salts to my nose, but I was fully conscious; I just kept shaking my head - I don't need that" - this is what Lena later recounted - once she was in a Moscow hospital - to one of the people closest to her: Tamara Andreyevna Zhaleeva, the head coach of the Moscow gymnastics team, who would remain her closest confidante until the very end of her days.
A fateful jump - which ended in a fractured cervical vertebra - split the life of twenty-year-old Lena Mukhina in two: before and after.
The "after" turned out to be six years longer...
"You Don't Live Long in a Situation Like This"
Tamara Zhaleeva, Merited Coach of the USSR and world champion (1954) in the team event, recounts:
On the evening of July 3, 1980, I received a call from Minsk informing me that Lena had taken a bad fall during training and strained her back muscles. They decided - as it later turned out - to spare my nerves so that I could sleep soundly that night. The call from Minsk was certainly unsettling, but not enough to make me dramatize the situation. Lena had accustomed us to her injuries - the most recent of which had occurred no further back than the autumn of 1979 during an exhibition tour in England, where she broke her leg - and to the fact that she was ready to compete despite any of them. That fateful jump, incidentally, she also performed while nursing an unhealed ankle injury, which prevented her from pushing off properly during her run-up.
I didn't learn the truth about what actually happened at the Staiki base until the morning of the fourth. To this day, I cannot shake the thought that things might have turned out differently for Lena if she had undergone surgery not on the third day after the incident, but on the very next day. But what is the use of talking about that now...
We met her at the Belorussky Station when, two weeks after her surgery, Lena was brought to Moscow. Her motionless body was lifted out through the train window - lest, God forbid, she be harmed even further.
She spent about a year in the spinal unit of City Clinical Hospital No. 19 on Krsanaya Presnya, after which she adamantly insisted on going home. No - not out of despair or hopelessness! She never harbored any defeatist sentiments. She believed in the future; throughout the entire twenty-six years she spent in total immobility, she never lost hope that she would eventually get back on her feet and walk again. At the very least, I never once saw her in a depressive state - though at some point, I suspect, Lena began to realize that a miracle was no longer in the cards. Yet she never spoke about this aloud.
It was only after her death that a journalist wrote - purportedly quoting me - that in her final days, Lena had thought a great deal about death, and about where and how she wished to be buried... It was deeply hurtful to read such a thing, because it simply wasn't true! I could never had said such a thing, for the simple reason that Lena herself had never once spoken about it. Only on one occasion - some four months before she passed away - did I ask her: "Lena, why have you constantly been sick this year? Come on, let's put an end to it..." and she suddenly replied: "Tamara Andreyevna, I've been bedridden for twenty-six years now. People don't usually live this long in such a condition." Yet, even that was said with a smile - as if to say: "Don't worry - I'll pull through..."
Despite her injury, she lived a full and meaningful life. She read voraciously, making up for all the reading she had missed out on during her years as a competitive athlete. CSKA - the club Lena competed for - installed a satellite dish in her apartment, and she never missed a single interesting progrem, let alone the broadcasts of gymnastics competitions. She remained absolutely abreast of everything happening within our sport. She was constantly analyzing things and had a distinct opinion on every subject. She even went so far as to suggest specific elements for their routines - or even music for their floor exercises - to some of the athletes. Lidiya Gavrilovna Ivanova, an Olympic champion from 1956 and 1960 who is now frequently invited to provide commentary for gymnastics events, recounted that after every broadcast, Lena would invariably call her, and they would spend a long time discussing the performances of our gymnasts.
Bedridden, she completed her studies at the Institute of Physical Education and defended her doctoral dissertation.
To Stand Again
Nina Lebedeva, a specialist in therapeutic exercises and massage at the Spinal Cord Unit of City Hospital No. 19, recounts:
Mukhina was operated on by Professor Arkady Vladimirovich Livshits - a world-renowned neurosurgeon (who, prior to emigrating to Israel, had worked at our hospital). He flew to Minsk specifically for this purpose. He called from there to say that the surgery had been a success. And by "a success," he meant that they had managed to save her life.
The question at the time truly boiled down to this: would Lena live or not? She had suffered an anatomical rupture - specifically, a fracture of the cervical vertebrae accompanied by spinal cord damage. In other words, by the time the surgery began, irreversible processes had already set it. I subsequently heard people say - more than once - that Mukhina shouldn't have been operated on at all; that it would have sufficied to simply take her to the Poltava region to see the renowned Dr. Kasyan, who would have merely set the vertebrae right, and that would have been that. Utter nonsense! An anatomical rupture - I repeat - involves far more than just damage to the spinal column. With such an injury, the victim in condemned to immobility - and, without surgery, to certain death...
As soon as Lena was admitted to our ward, we began working with her - relearning how to stand, sit, and hold a pencil in her hand... And at the same time, we were fightiing for her life, because in patients like her - who remain constantly in a horizontal position - the kidneys suffer as well...
But do you know what struck me first of all? Her hands. I had never before sseen such fragile, childlike hands - at twenty, she looked fifteen - with huge, "industrial" calluses...
Lena was virtually motionless. It was like something out of a science fiction novel - Professor Dowell's Head - only slight movements of the shoulder joints which, moreover, caused her sharp pain. Plus - a barely perceptible flicker of life in her elbows...
It was from this standpoint that we began our work - through pain and tears, and through her innate stubbornness and capricious nature. We worked on mobilizing her joints, for if left untouched, they would seize up. Yet, even so, it is not difficult to imagine the reaction Lena would have, for instance, when yet another spoonful of soup spilled all over her as she attempted to feed herself...
The Most Important Thing is People
Tamara Zhaleeva recounts:
Complete immobility for twenty-six years! She could neither sit nor stand. She could not even hold a spoon on her own. In truth, it would likely have been impossible to survive for so long in such a condition had she not received assistance throughout all those years. Yet, from day one, Lena was never left to face her misfortune alone. CSKA, along with the sports committees of both the USSR and Moscow, took an active role in her fate. Specifically, acting upon a petition from the Moscow Sports Committee, the Moscow City Council swiftly exchanged her one-room apartment on Chasovaya Street for a two-room apartment near the Petrovsko-Razumovskaya metro station.
Through their collective efforts, they adapted the apartment to suit the needs of its new owner. They installed a special ramp leading to the balcony so she could be wheeled out into the fresh air. They purchased a bed equipped with an anti-bedsore mattress, as well as a wheelchair. When Lena began following Valentin Dikul's rehabilitation program, they installed a specialized exercise machine. In time, alongside her disability pension, they managed to secure a personal presidential stipend...
But most important of all, of course, were the people who were constantly by her side, surrounding her with daily care. Lena had lost her mother when she was just three years old. Her relationship with her father - who had started a new family - was, to put it mildly, strained. And her 70-year-old grandmother, Anna Ivanovna, was naturally unable to care for her paralyzed granddaughter all on her own...
Lidiya Ivanova, at the time the national coach for gymnastics, appealed to the administration of the First Medical Institute, requesting that they assign female students and visiting nurses to care for Mukhina. Many responded to this Komsomol call: Nina, Sima, and Galya - these young women remained with Lena until the very end of her days, even after graduating from the institute.
Laziness or Lies?
Nina Lebedeva recounts:
In the mid-80s, Valenti Dikul's method emerged, a system I found very appealing. In particular, it offered the hope of preserving a functioning shoulder joint for years to come by strengthening it through athletic conditioning. But, alas, the method did not work for Lena - even though she had initially approached it with a certain degree of fanatacism, viewing it as virtually her last hope. However, the heavy physical exertion required by Dikul's method (and, truth be told, I had actually been sparing Lena somewhat) triggered kidney problems once again, so we were forced to abandon it...
And almost the very next day, an interview appeared in a popular publication featuring Valentin Dikul, who allegedly claimed that his method had failed solely because it ran up against...Elena's laziness! I know Valentin Ivanovich very well: he simply could not have said such a thing!
Speaking of publications, by the way... Why did Lena once take such deep offense at journalists? I never actually discussed the subject with her. I can only surmise that it happened after I began placing her on her stomach during her first month of treatment. Half an hour lying on her front, propped up on her elbows, with her head tilted slightly back. The pain is sheer hell. On the days when these procedures take place, the ward resembles a torture chamber - filled with screams like those from the dungeons of the Gestapo. Yet this is precisely one of those instances where one must inflict pain for the sake of the greater good - to ensure, as we put it, that the joints don't "seize up."
So, I placed a scrap of newspaper in front of the sobbing Lenka so she wouldn't soak the bedsheet with her tears. And just as the poor girl - having, so to speak, become one with her pain - hit that so-called "dead point," a journalist unexpectedly popped his head into the ward. Where did he come from? After all, the hospital had a strict security protocol. A few days later, an article appeared describing how the bright April sun was streaming through the window, while Lena Mukhina - comfortably settled in her hospital bed, propping her head in her hands - was reading the latest issue of the newspaper...
After her injury, she shunned all publicity. She cut many people out of her life, keeping only those closest to her. She was afraid - afraid that something deeply personal might suddenly become public knowledge, or that someone might unexpectedly show up and witness her helplessness - her paralyzed hands, of which she had once been so proud...
Upon arriving at the hospital, she immediately walled herself off from everyone behind an invisible yet impenetrable barrier, speaking to practically none of her fellow sufferers. At the same time, quite unwittingly, they actually helped her; watching them, Lena, in my view, found her burden lightened, for these people possessed not even a tenth of what she still had. After all, she had even been flown to the spinal injury center in the Crimean town of Saki aboard a special military aircraft. She knew how to make comparisons...
I remember 1982, when the then-President of the IOC, Juan Antonio Samaranch, expressed a desire to visit Lena at home to present her with the International Olympic Order. What incredible stress she went through back then! We spent two days trying to find a suitable blouse for her - one that would keep her arms covered.
I'm Not Sick!
In recent years, Lena has turned to religion, deeply regretting that no one had previously been able to explain to her - in a way she could grasp - the things that mattered most to her. It was only through specialized literature that she came to realize that the Lord had done her no wrong, for He causes only those He loves to suffer. She became engrossed in philosophy, astrology, and parapsychology; lying in bed, she sought ways to bring salvation to herself and others. She came to sincerely believe that God had endowed her with the healing powers of a psychic - and, for a time, she even received patients...
Nina Lebedeva recounts:
One day, she suddenly said to me: "I don't consider myself sick. I'm not sick because I feel perfectly comfortable. And besides, it's still an open question whether it's a good thing or a bad thing that this happened to me... If it weren't for this injury, perhaps something even worse would have befallen me. Many years ago, I was walking along the Leningrad Highway on my way to practice when suddenly a young girl - who suffered from cerebral palsy - approached me and asked for an autograph; but I was in a foul mood and rudely brushed her off: 'Get lost, you freak!' That is why God punished me..."
Can you imagine? She carried that memory inside her for so many years...
Lenochka Belonged to Her, Body and Soul
Tamara Zhaleeva recounts:
Since 2000, Lena was constantly accompanied by her namesake, Lena Gurina - herself a former gymnast with whom she had once competed. Gurina had a family, but after separating from her husband, she dedicated herself entirely to her friend. She belonged to her heart and soul. I once asked her, "Lenochka, isn't it a heavy burden?" "No," she replied. "On the contrary, it brings me joy to know that Lenka needs me. It feels as though my life has gained more meaning and light simply by helping her..."
They were very close. Beyond their spiritual kinship, they - both former gymnasts - shared common interests as well. And Lena died in her arms.
I stopped by to see them on the 21st, but Lenochka Gurina said, "Lena has fallen asleep; she asked not to be woken." So I left without saying goodbye. There was no sign of impending tragedy - though my heart did ache a little. And the very next day, Lenochka Mukhina was gone...
The Last Day of a Great Gymnast
On the morning of December 22, Lena woke up and complained to her friend that she was feeling unwell. "My strength is failing me." "Maybe you should eat something?" Gurina suggested. "I don't want to; just give me some water instead." She took a sip and closed her eyes, as if trying to fall back asleep. It was always like this whenever she was ill. But as noon approached, Lena slowly began to fade away. Her breathing grew labored and wheezing set in. Gurina called an ambulance and tried to help on her own - massaging Lena's arms, as is customary in cases of heart failure - but there was no improvement. The doctors, too, were unable to do anything...
It was Zhaleeva who - relaying what she heard from Gurina - told me about the famous gymnast's final day; she also emphatically urged me not to seek Elena or call her. "She'll refuse an interview anyway," Tamara Andreyevna said. "Back in the day, Lena Mukhina - having taking offense at journalists - vowed never to speak with them again and asked Gurina not to reveal anything either. Lena gave her word, and now she wouldn't break that promise for anything. I know..."
B. VALIEV