If I were to ask you to think of five things that you take for granted right now, could you? If I asked you to count on one hand the things you couldn’t live without, would one of them be as simple as feeling sand in between your toes? I probably couldn’t have thought of any either. When I was on the giving an answer side of that statement, I had no answer to that question. As that truck flipped, my whole entire world flipped as well. I was a girl that didn’t see something as simple as hopping out of a car and going into the store as a privilege, I just thought it was a typical thing that people do- they do it every day and I never saw what was so special about that. We see past situations in hindsight, in which I believe is one of the beauties in life that not everyone gets to experience. Some people take a mistake, or situation, and they only see the wrong that was done. They don’t learn anything from it. That situation of mine was a very hurtful lesson, and the hindsight hurt so deeply. I still cannot understand some parts. The question why is always going through my brain, but I have gained the strength to move on but still have the knowledge to hold on to the precious parts of that event to help me take advantage of the now. I don’t want to take advantage of the simple things I’m able to do now, since I did that before the wreck.
In 2009, that wreck changed everything for me, and it has changed many things about me as well. As that truck flipped me, my life has never been the same. I received a spinal cord injury, and many more injuries including due to hitting the pavement after being ejected. It was the night of January 23rd, 2009, and just minutes before I was walking, fully functional. But after that flip, after that hit to the pavement, my life’s journey switched paths. I remember earlier that day walking around, being goofy, feeling the pavement under my sneakers, feeling all my muscles flex and contract as I walked. I also remember coloring my twin sisters hair that morning; we spent the day together. Those memories are precious, but at the time, it was just my muscles flexing as I walked, standing while doing my sisters hair. No biggie. Nothing special then. The sound and the feel of the leaves in the yard as they crunched and smashed under my feet as I walked. The smell of the winter air, thinking of how great a day it is. I remember the cold on my feet as I was walking out of the house that afternoon, and as I was playing catch with friends later. The string on my little jacket with a ball on the end, how I was walking down the street twisting it and untwisting it repeatedly. Not a care in the world that day, it was a laid-back kind. I loved running too. That day, at one point, I ran. The feeling of the cold air filling my lungs was exhilarating. I liked how when I was finished running, I could barely breath, I had this rewarding pain in my chest that told me, “well done.”
But, why did that wreck happen? Why would God let that happen? What did I do to deserve that? I felt like I died, I didn’t know what was happening after the impact. Was I dead? Was this heaven, because all I saw was someone and a bright white light? Why is there blood everywhere, all in my hair? I’m in the middle of the road. Why are there flashing lights everywhere? My back and head ached like no other, I wasn’t understanding why I couldn’t get up and run to help, I didn’t know that I was paralyzed on impact. I just couldn’t stand the pain, but all that aside, I remember trying to yell for help; all that came out was a faint “help”, since it felt like I was hit by a truck, that’s why no one could hear me. As I kept going in and out of consciousness, I remember the paramedics talking some to me, cutting my clothes off, shaving part of my head; I wanted to slap whoever was doing that, but was so weak and fuzzy. They were asking what I had that night, if I did any drugs or alcohol. “Did you have alcohol tonight”? I said, yes. They then asked, “Did you smoke marijuana”? I said, “no”. Then they asked if I could feel where they were touching me on my legs. I remember looking down at my legs, because I couldn’t feel anything and didn’t know why in that moment. I had never felt so scared, so heart-broken in my life. I was there enough to think and know what not feeling my legs meant. I then ask, “am I ever going to walk again?” The paramedic said, “I don’t know, sweetheart”. I still remember how she said it too- she was saddened by what I asked, and I knew she didn’t want to break that news to me. As I heard her say in what seemed like the background at that point to the other paramedic, “possible paralysis”, and other stuff in which I didn’t gather because I was coming in and out of consciousness. They were communicating with each other in the emergency trauma situation.
That Sunday when I finally woke up, a day and a half later, that was a day I’ll never forget. I was in the ICU in the St. John’s Hospital in Springfield, Missouri. My mom told me the news, in which I didn’t quite understand. It may have been because of the anesthesia, being asleep for so long, or the trauma to my head. I was swollen and puffy feeling, turns out that was from the road rash, internal injuries, and the impact. I felt so hazy, confused, I could smell the awful smell of the hospital just creeping into my nostrils. I immediately wished I was back asleep. My mother told me that I had a spinal cord injury, she had tears in her eyes, then I said “no, everything will be ok, mom”. Like this was just a minor accident, and I’ll be walking out of here in no time. She knew I wasn’t comprehending everything like I should have been. I still wasn’t able to wrap everything around my head, due to being confused as to why I was even in an ICU room, why I felt like I couldn’t get up to go to the bathroom, why I couldn’t feel that urge to even go to the bathroom, why I felt so numb, so heavy. I felt as if I were 300 pounds, it was a weird feeling of being weighed down and feeling as if I were trapped. Little did I know. When I was transferred to a normal room from ICU, I experienced my first hallucinations from being put on morphine and oxycodone for the pain. Never in my life had I ever taken narcotics, so me being newly paralyzed, bedbound, not being able to get away from those visions, being stuck in a bed, that was scary. I was trapped.
As I transferred from my normal room to the Physical Rehabilitation floor in the hospital, I was on less medicine, so in turn that made realization kick in. It didn’t only kick in, it hit me like a freight train, immediately sending me into depression. I didn’t want to get out of bed for days, but some of the nurses wouldn’t let that happen. The smell of the food, the facility, the realization that I really can’t move my legs, I couldn’t fathom it. I thought to myself, “this is real.” “I can’t do this.” Little did I know, that was just the beginning, and that things got harder as I went. I felt like I was in the dark, like I wasn’t able to see the light of day for a long time. With the wreck being over eleven years ago now, I have been through so much. Spiritually, emotionally, physically, financially, and just about every other “ally” you can think of. The emotion aspect of this journey has been the absolute hardest, as the physical part of it does have its deep seeded struggles and concerns, it’s the emotional part that has the deeper affect. When someone’s emotions are on point, it seems that the physical portion of someone feeds off that. If your soul is good, then your body is great, because as your spirit flies, your body glides.
When I came home from the hospital two months later, seeing the place that I was able to navigate so effortlessly before in, and now being in a wheelchair. Seeing the things I took for granted were far too many to count. Seeing everything in hindsight hurt tremendously. But more importantly, seeing the hurt in my family’s eyes hurt far more. I thought to myself, “I have put my family though a lot of hurt the past two months.” They have been to the hospital constantly, they have seen my hurt, my struggles, my depression, and all of that before I was even released from the hospital. Now, I get to see them in our comfort zone. Them seeing me struggle with “normal things”, I feel made them see the simple things that they took advantage of. I experience this daily out in the community. Things as simple as going to the grocery store. You can only imagine what I struggle with while I’m there. Some people on occasion have thought I’m mentally retarded, that I’m possibly deaf, all because they see that I’m in a wheelchair and totally disregarding the fact that I’m alone and not with a “caregiver”. If I had one wish, it would be that closed minds should come with closed mouths. Some people are very uneducated on how to approach a person with a disability, or what I refer to as a, “differentlyabled” person. I’m an independent woman, who has a spinal cord injury, who shops on her own, upon many other things. I have experienced so many people making fun of me, talking loud to me because they think I’m deaf, kneeling down to me to be at my height and talking to me like I am a mentally challenged person, when the problem is that I am vertically challenged. I don’t want pity, that’s the last thing someone wants. I want to encourage people to treat others as they are the same, with no judgement, because no one should be there to judge, but there to love.
Imperfectionisbeauty 