Footprints in the Sand

        I was becoming moody.  Three months had passed since our collision.  Having decreased my narcotic dose, I was more lucid, which allowed me to remember more of my daily pain.  Misery was normal.  Moodiness came from lowering my narcotic consumption and frustration of not being able to accomplish what  I want to do each day. 

      I had never sat this much in my life.  My mind would not let me focus to read, I stared at the tv without hearing it.  I was exhausted from healing, I was bored, I couldn't drive, I couldn't leave my house on my own, I couldn't do much at all without help.  

     I was pissed about it. 

      Dependency is not my personality.  Greg sat with me and explained this is the third time I had gone through this phase of frustration.  Remembering this time only, I was stunned by his confession.  

     I did not go around the house screaming or throwing things, but my family could sense how irritable I was.  I did not want to talk, I did not want to be alone, but I did not want to be around anyone at the same time.   I just wanted to stand up! 

     Limbo, is where I was swinging right then.  We did not know if I would walk well or when.  We did not know if my ankles would hold me or how long.  We did not know how long the actual healing was going to take.  We did not know much, except that I was surviving. 

      Reminding myself of this often helped me work through my days.  I am grateful that I am alive.  I do not want to give up the life God granted.  Somehow I had to work through this and learn patience.  Please God, grant me the patience.  

     Greg and I spoke at length about how I could find peace with dependency until I could do things on my own.  I could see it was wearing on him.  He'd gotten upset only once, at least that's all that I can remember and I believe I am the one that pushed him.  

     Knowing that I do not know what I am saying most of the time requires great understanding from him.  He is my living angel.  He has patience, understanding, a thick skin and a love for me that carries us all.  I hold onto his strength so tightly that I hope that I do not drain it from him completely.  

     Thoughts of how well I was going to recover were constantly boring their way into my mind.  I desperately wanted Greg to understand my thoughts, feelings, all of these emotions swirling their way around inside of me.  He is unbelievably compassionate, but I see in his deep, brown eyes, a lack of full comprehension.  

     He's cannot fully understand because he experienced a different side of this tragedy.  It is not fair of me to get upset by this.  I felt I was at my lowest, saddest point in recovery. If it hurt this terribly to sit, it was going to be more excruciating to stand.  Maybe it would be better to stay in the wheelchair.....  Maybe it would be better to remove my right lower leg.....  Anything had to be better than what I was going through at that time. 

      Explaining to him that I felt like I was going through this part alone, he softly says that while we were in the hospital he read a phrase in the hospital gift shop and would like to recite it to me. 

      Holding my hands loosely in his, he looks tenderly at me, "Carey, you are asking me why you feel alone during your weakest moments and I think this is your answer.  The quote said,  

"Why, during my hardest times was there only one set of footprints in the sand?"  God answered, "You were not alone.  That is when I was carrying you, when you were not strong enough to carry yourself." 

  I stared, awestruck at him, lips parted, eyes wide with understanding.  I could not believe how true those words rang.  Greg's timing with that phrase was impeccable.  I could only sit there and allow that to sink in as my admiration for my husband grew.   

     He kneels on the floor beside my wheelchair and caresses my hand.  He says softly, sympathetically, "I can't fix this part for you Carey.  You cannot take the idea of being vulnerable and depending on others to take care of your needs, I can sense this."  

     "You feel guilty and it's causing a great deal of frustration.  Let us take care of you and make yourself a priority for once in your life.  I don't just love you Carey, I adore you." 

      I'm sobbing at his words, he is spot on.  "Carey, you haven't cried about what has happened, not once.  Just cry and let it all out," he begs.  I sobbed on his shoulder until I could sob no more.  

Asshole of the Day!

     Two weeks ago, on a Thursday, I was leaving an appointment an hour from my home when I pulled into a well known fast food establishment.  Already disappointed that this drive through was the last  place I could stop before making the trip back home, I pulled up and both lanes were full of travelers in the same predicament as I. 

   

 It was not a healthy choice and it was busy.  As my turn to speak into the intercom to place my order approached, I noticed there was a pretty long line behind me as well. 

       Sitting in the outside lane, I pulled up and waited for the inner lane to progress so I could merge into the pick up line. Unable to move but a few feet, I hear a female voice radiate from the speaker asking if she could take the next cars order. 

     For a reason unknown to me, I left my window rolled down even though it was only twenty degrees outside and I hear a male voice bark, " If this asshole in front of me would pull up, I'd love to order!"  WTH?

     My lips parted and my eyes opened wide and instinctively I stuck my head out the window and looked behind me, only to have my mouth gape wide open and I now looked incredulously at the car behind me with bug eyes.  WTH?

     For there was a man and his wife that were most definitely in their seventies staring back at ME.  They were talking about ME!  Never, ever, ever has the term "asshole" been directed at me before, at least within my ear shot. 

     Looking ahead of me, I pull up the six inches between myself and a woman driving a brand new Tahoe, only to get a look of WTH? from her!  I am now cursing an elderly man and his elderly wife for having such nasty, impatient attitudes, effectively working myself into a offended tizzy. 

     Approaching the payment window, viewing them in my rear view mirror, I decide that I didn't care if they were ordering for the entire Jeff City football team, I was going to pay for their lunch!  I am "kind of" going to take the high road that even if I couldn't do anything about the dang drive through line, I was going to make an attempt to brighten their day, even if it was somewhat out of spite.  Or a lot out of spite. 

     Smiling as I was handing my debit card to the ladies on

the opposite side of the window, I instruct them that this "asshole" would like to pay for the "gentleman's" order behind me.  Humored shock crossed their faces as they both burst out with "awww, good for you for honey".   Yeah, yeah, high road.

     Driving away, I hear a couple of honks paired with a big wave from the gray haired couple to the rear of me.  Instead of flying my free bird, I also give a big wave to accept their thank you.  

     Pulling back onto the highway, my thoughts were of hoping they learned a lesson of patience and kindness because it really was no fault of my own.  

     Then I speculated that it was a good possibility that they were thinking they were the ones who taught ME a lesson.   So I was like, WTH?

 whatever.

     

     
     

Acceptance is the Key to my Happiness

I Can't?

     The absurdity of the words, "I can't walk", emanating from myself felt foreign.  Rarely have I ever spoken words of that nature.  Not being able to stomach that phrase, it soon became,

 "I can't yet"

  

   Teaming with two surgeons, I began a quest of moving forward with a philosophy of "Let's see how much of my life I can get back."  It has been a long road to my best recovery from that car collision. We are just a month shy of four years since our world has been rocked.  Four years of frustration, tears, lost memories, living in slow motion and sheer joy at the most trivial advancements. That brings us to the splitting of tracks.  I have envisioned myself the small but mighty engine that may not be able to pull the largest of loads anymore, I may have to be more creative about which route I must take, but I am persistent and always make it to my next station.  

     My upcoming visit with my surgeon in December should be my release into the real world.  Providing all goes well, I am free of surgeries and free to live as I want to live until the day arrives that "I can't" anymore.  Enthusiasm envelops me at the thought that no one but myself has authority to tell me what I can and cannot physically do.  The other side of the sword is that this truly means I am at my peak.  There is no getting better anymore and that is all that it has been for four years.  This is as good as it gets.  I have worked hard and my family and I have practiced extreme patience with my trials and I believe we are all proud to have this moment upon us.  But this means, I must now accept that this is where I will stay.  So I must swallow those bitter words of "I can't" and accept that there are some physical activities that I just will not be able to achieve.  

     Entering into a small shop I chose a gift for my daughter.  Walking into a back room, the owner wrapped that gift with care as she asked, "Carey, how do you do it?"  "What is that exactly?" I inquired.  "When you have tried everything you know how to do and you know you will not get any better", she spoke.  Thankful that her glance was cast down as my eyes darted to her face, I felt my lips part in astonishment.  Did she know?  How could she know?  Tears sting my eyes as I perceive that it was a honest inquiry and that she has no idea that question has been slowing invading my thoughts as I near the end of my own recovery.  She was speaking of her own trials. 

      As my emotions released their hold on the lump they had placed in my throat, I admonished,   "When I know that I have done all that I can do, that I have put one hundred percent into the effort and feel proud of that effort, then I accept.  Actually, acceptance is the key to my happiness." 

     Hearing my own words, I softly smiled.  I also smirked at God because He knows I now listen.  He has a way of working through people.  This shop owner helped me take my own advice that day and maybe my words helped her through the next step of her own journey.  She does not know how that short visit affected me or that it nudged me out of that rut of vulnerability.  

     Recovery is as much mental as it is a physical.   My husband has cited a pledge to me many times over our almost ten year liaison, especially this last four.  A great friend passed it to him, he has passed it to me and I will pass it to you.  I altered it a bit to tailor to my situation, but in the end we receive the same message. 

Acceptance is the key to my happiness.  When I am disturbed, it is because I find -- some fact of my life -- unacceptable to me, and I can find no happiness until I accept that situation as being 

exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment.

Nothing, absolutely nothing happens in God's world by mistake.  

 I must accept life completely on life's terms or I cannot be happy. I need to concentrate not so much on what needs to be changed in the world as on what needs to be changed in 

me and in my attitudes.

   My happiness does not hinge on what was thrust upon me.  My happiness does not hinge on my ability to walk.  My happiness clings onto my attitude, that if I cannot change my circumstances then, I make peace with it by accepting that this is how life is supposed to be a this moment.

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Saying Thank You to All of YOU!

Thankfulness     
Acknowledgement
Recognition
Appreciative
Gratitude
Honor
Indebtedness

     These are just a scattering of terms that I owe to all of you. 

     Four years is a long time to recover.   Four years is a long time for your continued support, but you have never given up on me, which in turn, causes me to not give up on myself.   We have been granted a gift of  86,400 seconds in a day, it only takes the use of one of those seconds to say, "Thank You" but I am going to use quite a few more than that today.

Silent gratitude is not much use to anyone, so

THANK YOU!!!

      It amazes me that the effects of this collision have spread so far.  Society may not know my name, but I hear, " Ohhhh, you're the one, " quite often.  I receive hugs from citizens that I do not know because they said a prayer for my family and I in church.  The same goes for cards, texts and private messages.  They start by explaining who they are and that they have a friend who knows us personally and felt compelled to write us.   Then............there is you.   Still receiving random, "how are you doing?" messages or cards.   I receive the best hugs when I venture into town.   Smiles are everywhere and if one of those smiles are a little droopy, then I hug you and you have no choice but to hug me back, because that would just be bad manners.  

     I rarely shake hands anymore unless the occasion truly calls for it, I encompass my acquaintance in my skinny, woman arms and hope they feel every bit of indebtedness that I have.   I have so much to give and give back.  

     I cannot recall if I have communicated this story to you or not, but this moment calls for it.     

     When I roused in my room after one of the surgeries, I'm not sure if it was my personality, God or something called Dilaudid, but I awoke in a great mood.  As long as I received my medicine routinely I was in moderate pain, light-hearted and didn't think much about my situation.  While I was holding my Mom's hand after a surgery I vividly recall a divine sense of prayer.  I spoke genuinely to her, " Mom, I can feel everyone praying for me, I can feel it.  That's why I feel so good."  I can only think of one way to explain this titillation.  When you watch how fans 'people surf' at a rock concert, there are many hands supporting that person as they travel along the crowd.  This is how I felt about everyone who was praying for us.  You were carrying me with prayer at a time when I could not carry myself.  It's an inspiration that I could never forget.

     When I speak of "you", I speak of everyone.  My family, friends, acquaintances and unique strangers that took time to help me, even in thought.  My family put their lives on hold until I could function on my own.  Our children practiced patience, nurturing and bred independence in their new roles, while my mind, body and spirit were reclaimed.  There were times when my own light diminished and was rekindled by a spark sent by one of you, whether you knew this or not.  I will never be afraid of saying a prayer or sending a message to someone because of awkwardness.  It was at the oddest junctures that a short note from someone revitalized my ambition to survive and live, like I wanted to live.  

     It is said that, "if you were not grateful for what you had before, that you could never be grateful for what you are to get."   I believe this to be true.  I do not wish this experience on anyone, it is painful in so many ways.  I am grateful to live thirty-five years as I did, but I am grateful to live any way I can now.  This is a promise to you, that I will pay it forward til the end of my life here on this earth.

If there was a way that I could touch you, to transfer my emotion of appreciation,  so you could feel what is in my heart, you could have endless peace just from that smallest gesture.   

 Gratitude has, undeniably, been my best attitude.

    

      

Getting Back in the Saddle:Don't Give Up

     "If you fall off your horse, get back in the saddle."

     How many of us have heard that quote or it has been expressed to us in a certain situation we are experiencing?

     I know I have.  Both literally and figuratively.  I've grown up riding horses and as a child I have been thrown from my saddle a couple of times.  My Father, ordering me to get back on my horse as I stare at him with a look of dismay, then angry pouting as I put one foot in the stirrup, grab the reins and head back to the barn, because I was done riding at that point. 

Writing this 3 1/2 years into my recovery from a tragic car crash, my heart wanted so badly to get back to my horseback riding. We didn't know if I ever would do to the damage of my legs and the pain they endured because of those injuries.  Walk with me as I relay what a wonderful day my first ride was. 

      Like anyone I would never want to admit my parent was right about anything as an adolescent, but now as an adult, it's clear as parents, we adopt situations as learning lessons.  We use these for our children's betterment and our aspiration is that at a juncture in their lives they will use it themselves.  They will smile as they repeat the words we said to them in their younger years and they will exclaim, " Oh my, I sound like my Mom/Dad!".

     This original quote feels true to myself as I have had to get back on that horse several times in the last three years.  My trauma surgeon informed me in no uncertain terms that I could  lay in a hospital bed, in my living room and never get out of the wheelchair that awaited me.  My other option was to conquer my anxiety, work long and hard and take the chance that my body might fail. 

      But what if I succeeded?

     Choosing to get back in that saddle was the only option for me.  I am fortunate that is my natural response, whether it comes from deep within me or from my upbringing, I don't care.  Succeeding requires this mental attitude.  

     Physically I haven't accomplished activities as I would have before my injuries.  I have learned great patience and creativity.  Looking at the situation and adapting has been my greatest achievement.  The lessons I have cultivated from my tragedy are appreciated.  I have an improved sense of myself because of them.

     It is now not enough to know how to ride, I must know how to fall.  There is an art of keeping a horse between you and the ground.  There is a discipline to recovering.  I must always be thinking ahead,  preparation is key and sometimes I just have to take a risk by sitting in that saddle and say, "Well, let's see what happens."  

     Taking this lesson literally today, I had my husband saddle my horse for me. (it was his horse until I stole it from him)   Three and a half years have passed since I've truly ridden a horse comfortably.  I have a special horse named Jack.

     He stands at 14.2 hands and is a perfect gentleman to me.  Having my pelvis and both ankles fused with loads of metal covering my bones does not make it easy to stretch your leg up to a 15 or 16 hand horse.  Today I was able to mount him unassisted, my first accomplishment, then I was able to insert my right toe into my stirrup for the first time since my fourth ankle surgery, a year and a half ago. 

     I decided to attack this challenge the same way as I had to relearn my physical activities.  One step at a time.  I prepared. 
 I had a special horse.  Special stirrups.

 

Special braces.

(I realize lace up boots are not cool anymore and this is not the epitome of sexiness, but they are necessary.  Don't judge my boots.)

     Jack and I walked for fifteen minutes, so far everything is

 A- Okay.

     Jack is as excited as I am and we are both chomping at the bit to try a trot.  He's a smooth dancing guy, I have to say.  There was just a slight  'tork' on the outside of my right ankle as we progressed. Still going splendidly.  I then realized, 

We are in a Wide. Open. Field.

Oh Yes, I did!

     A slow canter, a faster gallop, then a flat out run!  Jack's mane was whipping in the wind as my spirit soared to new heights.  Waiting and wondering for three and a half years if I would ever be able to experience that feeling again has finally ended.  My smile covered the entire county as I laughed and a tear of happy relief raced from the corner of my right eye.  I don't even know who I whispered, 'Thank You' to, but I am truly thankful.  

      I had a little swag in my hip movement as I rode back to the barn to relay the details of my adventure to my husband.  I should give that credit to Jack though as he was the one who was actually prancing up the drive way creating my swag.

     My heart leaps, knowing that greener pastures are on my horizon and I cannot wait to see what new freedoms I will unlock just by giving it a try.

     By getting back in the saddle, I may encounter failures, 

but what if I Succeed?