About Me
On November 5, 2005, I woke up in a hospital bed, covered in tubes, bandages, bruises and breaks...and I began a journey that has been completely different than the storybook life I had written and imagined for myself. The first four years, I clung steadfast to the hopes and dreams I had for my life at that time...and after those first four years, I've learned to forgive myself for the many things about me that have changed since my accident. I've learned that my value as a person is rooted deeply in my life experiences, and not on any title or action, friendship, status or opinion of anyone except my own. I've learned to be kind to myself, and to extend love to everyone around me as often as I can. I've learned to love my amazing body--not because it's perfect, but because it's perfectly resilient, and has endured 5 childbirths, 1 near-fatal car accident, 8 resulting surgeries, the stress of failing marriage, and countless hugs, tears, laughs, the unconditional love of my family and my true love, handholding, slowdancing, cooked a million meals, rocked kids to sleep, brought comfort to suffering, kissed booboos and helped heal heartaches, including my own. This accident, and many other experiences since then, have taught me that it's never too late to start over. It's never too late to change your mind...but it can be too late to tell someone how you feel, if they pass away from this world before you get a chance to tell them. Tell everyone important to you exactly how you feel about them. Don't wait until tomorrow to say it, and don't put off those visits to loved ones or phonecalls to friends you've lost touch with; do it today. I am thankful for all of the beautiful blessings I have become aware of because of what I almost lost, and the reminders every day that my life has purpose; my children and the happiness they bring me and the life lessons they teach; the friends and loved ones I have discovered and hold so dear, all because I opened up my eyes again (sometimes it seems like for the first time) in 2005. I love life and everything in it, the most painful things we experience really do make us appreciate the good times, and therefore they are necessary. Thanks for reading this, and for loving me, and I love you all back. ♥
I woke up that day because I could not leave my children. They were all I could think about every time I regained consciousness that cold morning, in a frozen van with all of the windows smashed out of it, unable to move, crushed into the tiny space that used to be the driver's seat, and was almost my coffin... I could not remember what happened, if I was alone, or if the icy silence surrounding me meant that my children were with me, but had not survived. I couldn't remember leaving for work that morning; I didn't even know what day it was or where I had been going when the accident happened...I didn't remember the big silver truck that ran a stop sign and sent my van spinning into the ditch next to the highway...I didn't know he was drunk. I do remember screaming for help, and that it seemed like forever, and no one came. Not the driver of the truck who caused the accident; not the first man who stopped as soon as he saw the crash, he was afraid to approach my van because he thought I was dead. I was pinned between the crushed driver's side door and the passenger's seat, my seat back had broken and I was lying face-up on the middle seat of the van, looking at the ceiling. I could not move my arms, or my left leg. I heard glass crunching under my right foot whenever I moved it. I couldn't keep my eyes open because of the blood that ran into them. I don't remember the girl's name who saved my life; she held my hand that day until the ambulance came, until the jaws of life freed me from the mangled van and the paramedics began breathing life into me, tried so hard to stop the bleeding that drained 4 units of blood from my body, and rushed me to the hospital. I owe her, that girl who called 911 and wouldn't leave me. Without her, my life would have ended that day. I was minutes from bleeding to death, from leaving my children behind without a mother, a thought that I could not allow to enter my head. I would NOT leave my children. I would NOT die, not then, not after the 5 1/2 hours of surgery that morning, not during the week-long critical care stay, not during the weeks I spent in rehabilitation, learning to walk again, learning to strengthen the broken body I had been left with, and I would not die in the months that led to years since that I have often wondered what would have become of my family if I had left their world that day. I am so very glad I didn't. Sometimes it's hard to see through the daily pain, to realize that in spite of all that, I live a full and happy life. I have to discover my re-purposed life, as the chronic pain and other unresolved symptoms do not allow me to do the work that I enjoyed as a nurse and dialysis technician before that day. So this is my journey onto new things, my path to a pain-free life, my blessings and my struggles. There has to be a reason I survived those insurmountable odds. I do not take that miracle lightly, and I intend to fulfill whatever purpose I am meant to. This blog is a chronicle of that journey...I hope I learn to love it more everyday.
