Our Crawford County Fair Family

     Most of us have some sort of extended family.  Although we may not get to spend much time with them, we know they will always step up to the plate when we are in need.

     My husband and I have quite a list that we consider our extended family.  Whole communities have shown their support during our need over the last three years.   Sharing this story of our local fair family and how they pulled together to show their support for us still gets me all choked up.  Fair time is just around the corner and speaking of this instance just last week, filled my chest with overflowing gratitude towards the amount of people in our community that can rally, when one of it's members is down.

     Nearly seven months had passed since our collision,  I had

already completed, I believe, five surgeries on my pelvis and bilateral ankles.  Just a couple of weeks prior I had learned to take my first steps using a walker and had progressed to using a walker with wheels!   What was equally as exciting was that I put on a pair of shoes for the first time in six months!  The ominous wheelchair was still in my life, but fair time was too rugged for that cheap seat to functional properly at the fair grounds.

    I refused to make our kids miss showing their livestock animals that year.  I did not want my condition to continue to dictate the activities of my family.  We could also use a "pick me up" by letting the kids have some fun and doing a little socializing ourselves.  I could endure two trips to the swine barn a day or I could sit on my blue Yamaha, four-wheelin' walker and let the kids take turns pushing me.  If I recollect correctly, it was only 117 degrees that July, which helped none with my already massively swollen ankles.  All week our family received well wishes, hugs and sincere compassion from all who knew us.  

  

   The moment that took the cake was Saturday's livestock sale.  I sat next to the sale ring waiting for our kids to emerge one by one with their animals.  Our middle two daughters won the top two awards in the swine division, it was our high light of the week!

       As our second oldest walked the ring with her pig, I had one camera in my left hand taking a video and another camera in my right hand snapping photos.  I was being a "Mom" and loudly whispering for her to smile and look at the crowd when I finally heard the auctioneer say that she had set a record.  

     What?!  I was so busy juggling my cameras and insisting my daughter keep a smile on her face that I hadn't heard a single word the auctioneer had said.  Both cameras stopped following my daughter as I turned my head to the right to view the crowd.  I viewed a mass of people, but I didn't see a single face. 

      My vision had tremendously blurred with the turning of my head as my mind wrapped around what these wonderful friends of ours had  just done.  My lips parted in awe as I swung my head to the left to find my husband leaning against a wall with his hands stuck deep in his pockets.  

     His eyes were swimming with un-shed tears, that was my confirmation that I understood what was transpiring.  I held his stare for so long that he walked  over, knelt down beside me and wiped the tears from my cheeks ever so gently with his calloused knuckles.  "Carey, these are good people," he said softly.  Indeed you are, friends, indeed you are. 

     $17 a pound that piece of pork brought on that hot, humid day.  My daughter had no trouble keeping that smile from enveloping her entire face. To top it off, the hog was donated back to be auctioned off, this time to help with medical expenses!    

     I made an inept attempt to focus on the rest of the sale, but it was a futile one.  My emotions overwhelmed me as I sat in my lawn chair staring blankly, still in awe.  Leaving the show pavilion, an acquaintance said in earnest, "Carey, the 2011 Crawford County Fair is the start to a better second half of this year."  I believed that with all of my heart.  

     Looking back, I'm not sure how I even attended that fair or survived through the pain that it cost me.  Your can bet your bottom that I wouldn't have traded that moment for one pain free day.  It was a turning point, a boost our family needed, but never would have asked for.  That is what friends do best.   We couldn't be more proud to be a part of a community like this.  

We love our Crawford County Fair Family!

We Don't Call it Torture Anymore-it's Called Physical Therapy

     As physical therapy sessions approach again, flashbacks of my first session flood to my mind.  April was the month I began my first voluntary torture showdown.   Me versus induced pain.  It was a crap shoot which one was to win on those first visits.  Never having experienced physical therapy before, I had no expectations.  My bag of bones was petrified into the shape of a chair position.  Barely moving for over three months, muscle atrophy and inflexibility scolded my frail, skinny frame.  I had in this position since my car crash.   

     Pure terror consumed my mind over a stranger touching my ankles.  Unable to bear the thought of multiple strangers working on me, I asked to be scheduled with one therapist only.  Trust was essential in my participation.  As I sat in that cheap, blue contraption known as a wheelchair, my therapist asked what I wanted to achieve from therapy.  My desperate answer, " I want you to challenge and push me.  I want to live as closely to my previous activity as possible.  I want to walk," I declared.  Examining my x-rays and listening to me reveal my last three months made us both sigh.  "What is he going to do with me?" I speculated.  "What am I going to do with her?" he reciprocated in his own mind.  (he later divulged this to me)

     Transferring to a cot that butted up against a concrete wall, I was advised to lie on my back.  "Flat?" I asked incredulously.  My waist and pelvis were rebelling against the action.  Each part of my anatomy liked the position it was in, they didn't moved independently anymore.  Leaving my knees bent and lowering myself down to my left side, I met the white cot with my shoulder and rolled to my back.  I'm sweating.  My 'inducer of pain'  pushed my knees to the mattress and my lower back revolted by awkwardly arching upward. 

      "Roll to your stomach," was his next instruction.  My face went blank as if I didn't understand what he was saying.  "On my stomach?", I am appalled.  First off, my legs are in braces, I haven't rolled anywhere in months, my pelvis and lower back pain is atrocious and he wants me to roll over?  Terrible, just terrible is what this movement was.  To make it worse he asked me to then push up on my elbows.  He measured the angle my torso was able to bend.  I had barely moved. 

      "Are we done yet?", I prayed.   Perspiration rolled in droplets down my spine.  Plank like, I rolled to my back again and he announced he was going to stretch my ankles.  Like hell!  Oh no.  NO, NO NO NO and NO.  Don't go there.  Stay away, don't touch them.  Don't even look at them.  No. 

      "Okay," I sulked instead.  Just removing my socks was a time consuming chore as he stared at the damage.  As I sat upright with my legs stretched out to the end of the cot, he spelled out that he needed to extend my ankles downward.  Pushing down on the tops of my feet was the only way to regain movement.  I am panicked.  I don't want to do this, My God, I don't want to do this.  "Let's do this,"  I state with false enthusiasm.   

     My eyes squeezed shut as hot pain seared from my ankles up to my lower legs at the lightest push.  His hands shifted my feet downward even more.  My palm met the concrete wall to my right with a smack, sweaty with fingers splayed apart.  "Dear God!" I screamed inside.  The sound of my bones moving was nauseating as if they were breaking apart all over again.  Reciting internally that I could handle this was the only thing I could do to keep from sobbing. I wanted to sob, it was right there ready to bellow out.
 

 I can describe the feeling only as if my ankles were encased on old, crumbling concrete for a decade.  Now they were being removed from this unforgiving home.  Popping, grinding and my own gasps engulfed me.  Taking myself back to the pain that fateful night as I awoke in the car, I thought that surely today's anguish couldn't be as dreadful.  Could it?

     My nose began to run with tears that I refused to let fall.  A half sob, half laugh escaped me as my fingers clawed at the cold, beige  wall while he held my stretched ankles down for ages.  "That's enough for today," he admonished.  Air rushed out of my lungs as I sighed with relief.  My shoulders slumped and my head leaned against the wall as he strapped my braces back to my legs.  Throwing a narrow side glance his direction as he asked how my first visit went, said as much as if I had uttered the words aloud.  

     Leaving with sheets of exercises to perform at home, I started making my goals list as Mom wheeled me to the truck.  Determination set it's long talons inside of me right then.  Today, I have stopped surviving this trauma and started recovering from it.
Let's do this!

 #PCRMC Success Story!

Carey Portell 2011

My accident occurred on December 29, 2010.  I was hit by a drunk driver that luckily only left me with severe bone injuries.  The most severe were a pelvic ring fracture and severe bilateral ankle fractures.

All bones in my left ankle were broken and dislocated, causing the nerves to tear.  This left no feeling from the ankle down.

I had an open tibia/fibula fracture and all bones were crushed so severely in my right ankle that the physicians could not save all of the splinters.  I still have gaps that are trying to grow back in.

After many surgeries and lots of metal installed, I was put back together and able to start therapy.  With the help of my therapist, I was able to start stretching out my body from being in a wheelchair for so long.  Most exciting was learning to walk again.  Just to stand on my own two feet was exhilarating.

My choice of coming here for therapy is a confident one. The therapists have not just helped me physically, but mentally as well.  Some days are a challenge and you just need to hear someone else tell you that you can do this, then show you that you can.  I am in pain every day, but look forward to therapy days because I know I will be met with a smile from every staff member & I will be challenged to progress in my #recovery.  I leave with a feeling of accomplishment & that I can win this fight.