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.  

Pilates: A Tool to Help Me Keep Walking

     For the three years that I have been recovering, I've heard from my surgeons and physical therapists, "Core and glutes, Carey, core and glutes."   Meaning, I  needed to strengthen these muscle groups in order to walk and stay walking.  There has been one big problem with that.  By the time I have been released to start working on this after each surgery, I had to gear up for the next one. 

     Irregardless, I would always try.

     I spent the majority of the first sixteen months after my collision in a wheelchair and many months of the second year using a walker or a cane.   It was no small feat relaxing my body from the wheelchair shape it became accustomed to.  My surgeon also relinquished the information that if I gained thirty pounds, I would be sitting back in the seat of my metal friend that rolled me around.  No pressure there, right?  Luckily my parents blessed me with good  genetics and so far I have not had to work on the weight issue.  The nausea that comes with my medications adds to that factor as well.  

      Realizing that many of the exercises my therapists were giving me were Pilates, I purchased a few DVDs for home use.  To this day I still cannot perform many exercises standing, so I prefer Pilates on the Mat.  Although I need to gain muscle strength around my injuries, bulking up with it is not an option for me.  Muscle is heavy and adding too much would get me closer to that thirty pounds I do not want to see.

     Difficulty is an understatement to how hard it is to stretch my body back out after each surgery.  The first year of therapy trying to accomplish this was impossible and as I recall, painful.  To the confusion of my therapist, I would  expel a laugh/sob sound as he torqued my body into positions it clearly did not relish.

     I am not one to wait on progress so using the DVDs at home helped propel me forward at a faster pace.  Each of the DVD sets I purchased came with three sessions.  Beginner, Intermediate and Advanced.   For the first time in my life, I was a Beginner.  Physically, I could do anything I wanted before my injuries.  I, now, have many limitations.  Mentally, this has been a huge challenge and acceptance issue for myself. 

     Pilates builds strength without excess bulk.  Long term use creates a sleek, toned body.   It improves flexibility, agility and economy of motion.  It can even help alleviate back pain.  This has been an obvious innovative and safe choice for me.  
                                                         Body Wisdom
     Now that I have been blessed with what is hopefully my last surgery for quite some time, I have been released to start engaging in physical activity.  Pulling out the DVDs, I participate in 30-50 minutes of Pilate's each morning.  After the first two weeks, the pain of stretching out my muscles decreases and I start feeling the benefits.  It's pretty rough at the start, but having been through this on multiple occasions, I ascertain that I must push through if I want a certain percentage of mobility.  At least up to my standards.
 Windsor Pilates
     Admittedly, I was mentally frustrated with Pilates at the start of my recovery.  The types of exercise that I engaged in BEFORE, were high impact and very physical.  No longer able to jump, squat, run or even walk fast made the Pilates decision easy.  Moving beyond the beginners phase and into the intermediate and even short advanced sessions, I comprehend that Pilates can kick my butt just as much as that P90x DVD.  

     If I continue to live a healthy lifestyle and preserve my body strength, then I will enjoy 8-10 more years before I must consider another surgery or handicapped apparatus.  It sucks a little bit to think about or maybe it sucks a lot, but we are finally talking in years instead of months.  

     Working hard is ingrained in my personal being, along with persistence and perseverance.  Knowing I will never have it easy keeps me in my place.  Apparently it is going to keep me healthy as well!  Exercise has become as much a mental thanksgiving as physical.  If you happen to see me working out on the playground equipment near my child's sporting practice or riding my bike around town, I am not only creating natural muscle but mental as well. 
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