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He pauses as a new thought occurs to him: "You know, it's the way I used to feel when I would go to see sick people or handicapped people in the Superman years. I was called on to go everywhere as a kind of symbol--to Sloan-Kettering to see terminally ill children, to the Make a Wish Foundation, where the kid's last request is to meet me, you know, even though I'm not Superman. Indulge in the fantasy of meeting the person who plays Superman. Sometimes they didn't even make a distinction. I could show up in blue jeans, and I'd still be Superman to them. And it was heartrending. But I would always have to admit to that secret sigh of relief as you close the door and go back to your own life. On the way out, I would say, 'Oh, thank God.' And now I'm on the other side of the door. And I have to stay in the room and be the one with the problem. And I still have to admit to tremendous jealousy of people doing normal, everyday actions. You know, just putting on a coat and walking down a hallway and opening a door and going outside. Rummaging around in the kitchen cabinet for forks and knives. Using the clicker to change channels on the TV. Taking the steps two at a time. All those things you'd think, you know, after a while you wouldn't even notice. I realize it's petty, but...
"It bothers me when people say, 'You played Superman; now you are Superman.' They mean well, but they don't know what I go through in the middle of the night. I don't know. I guess that if part of the definition of Superman is that you keep on going even if you feel like shit, then I suppose I do reasonably well.
"You know, it's easier to live as an illusion than as a real person. When you are cast as a larger-than-life figure like Superman, there's no place to turn to from people's expectations. At the moment, people are investing a great deal of hope in me. That's very kind, very flattering. But it's more difficult for me to accept that because I'm more real to them than the fictional version was in the past. Even the injury creates a role."
Arthur Ullian feels that Reeve has been indispensable to the cause of spinal-cord injuries. "You'd never have got the national focus without him," he says. "You'd never have got the excitement at NIH. Unfortunately, diseases need icons. Chris has been that." Kirshblum of Kessler adds that Reeve has been invaluable as an inspiration to other patients. "When they hear me encourage them, they can think, 'Talk is cheap.' But they can see Chris." Young of N.Y.U. says Reeve is mainly responsible for getting Congress to pay attention to the issue. While noting that promises from politicians in an election year are like "an 'I love you' from a horny man," Young is certain that Reeve's high profile will spur both Washington and the public.