It Was Like...Magic

"Well, it was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were supposed to be together... and I knew it. I knew it the very first time I touched her. It was like coming home... only to no home I'd ever known... I was just taking her hand to help her out of a car and I knew. It was like... magic." - Sam Baldwin in Sleepless in Seattle

Someone recently suggested that I write about how I met & married my husband. Since I do happen to be married to the most wonderful man on the planet, I thought it was an excellent idea! So here goes:

I don't remember ever officially "meeting" my husband, Jerry. We grew up 4 blocks from each other & went to the same high school. He was a few years ahead of me, but we hung out with some of the same people. Besides, it was a pretty small school by today's standards - only 500 students in 8th - 12th grades by the time I graduated - so everyone just sort of knew (or at least knew of) everyone else.

As I said, Jerry & I had some of the same friends, so we would cross paths from time to time. I thought he was sweet & really cute, but I was too young to date, so even if he had noticed me, which he now says he had, it couldn't amount to anything. Awhile after he had graduated, however, he finally asked me out. Well, actually, since he was the shy, quiet type, he had a mutual friend ask for him. Since I was now old enough, & since the mutual friend, when I asked him if I should go or not, said I should, I said yes. (Undying gratitude to you, Charlie, for your fabulous advice!) We dated on & off for the next several months. It never became serious, but in hindsight we both realize that we had a deep connection even then. One particular event pretty much sums it up. We were sitting on my front porch one day & out of the blue - & totally out of character - he looked at me & said, "I could be married to you." That surprised me, but we followed it with some playful moments of me calling him "Husband" & him calling me "Wife", but that was the end of it. Or so we thought.

Many years & a lot of life went by for both of us. Jerry's led to marriage, a child, a major career change to the job of his dreams, a few moves & a divorce. Mine, of course, led to college, the car wreck, spinal cord injury, quadriplegia, & adjusting to my new life. Then one day we saw each other. We talked, we caught up, we laughed and, well, to quote Sam Baldwin (& Annie Reed), "It was like...magic." He told me later that when he looked at me he didn't see a quadriplegic in a wheelchair. He saw that 15-year-old on my front porch He saw ME. That's just one example of how amazing he is.

We started dating & quickly fell in love. We began talking about marriage, & the one thing I asked was that he not propose on a holiday because I wanted a separate "special" day to remember. So what did he do? He proposed to me on Christmas Day! I was so shocked that I thought he was kidding. After all, I TOLD him I wanted a separate day. He ended up having to ask me 4 TIMES before I could get my "Yes" out. The 1st two times I thought he was joking, the 3rd time I was crying & the 4th time I was finally able to answer. His excuse for asking on Christmas was that it was the last thing I would expect. Well, he was certainly right & his surprise worked!

Up until a few weeks before Jerry proposed, I had a combination of professional caregivers & my mom taking care of me. As a quadriplegic, I need someone else to do almost everything for me. If they don't do it for me, they at least have to set things up for me to do it myself - like give me a special splint, for example. In early December, 1992, I lost my live-in caregiver. My mom, who was 68 at the time, had developed rheumatoid arthritis & no longer had the strength to bathe me, dress me, etc. We hired a daytime caregiver & Jerry decided to move into the live-in caregiver's room & take over my nighttime & weekend care. Over the previous few months, my mom had already been teaching him all that was involved in caring for a quadriplegic. It is a HUGE responsibility including VERY personal contact. It requires an enormously special heart - truly a gift from God - on the part of the caregiver, as well as complete trust from me in that caregiver. After all, my life is LITERALLY in their hands. Jerry rose to the challenge & showed me all the love I could hope for. He learned the proper & safe way to bathe me, to dress me, to transfer me to & from my wheelchair & many more things that are simply too personal for me to write about. (If you're really curious, just Google "SCI quadriplegic care" & you'll get a ton of info.) Suffice it to say, he went FAR above & beyond. Heck, he even learned how to use curling irons, barrettes & mousse to style my waist-length hair! That in itself should earn him a medal!!

Because we felt it imperative that Jerry have a truly thorough understanding of the commitment he was undertaking, & because I dreamed of a Spring garden wedding, we had a fairly long engagement of 16 months. Jerry was involved in all the planning, & like a good groom should, he liked everything I chose. :-) When the day finally arrived, it was truly beautiful. It was a very touching day (& I'm not being biased. People still tell me so.). The whole day was a dream come true to me, but one very special thing to me was that Jerry got on one knee to say his vows so we would be eye level. It about killed him since we were on brick pavers, but he just laughed off the pain. To this day, remembering that act of kindness always reminds me of how special he is. You see, when you spend your life in a chair, you're always looking up. In groups, at parties, chatting before church, shopping...everyone is above you, & you always have to crane your neck to join in. Understandably, most ABs (that's "crip speak" for able-bodied people) don't really think about how difficult that is for the wheelchair user. It can make us feel unnoticed, unheard & a bit claustrophobic. It can even quickly become quite painful for a quad who's had neck spinal fusion surgery. Sometimes someone will pull a chair up to sit by you to talk, if one's available. Occasionally, someone will squat down to you, but that's VERY rare indeed. When it does happen, it makes me feel very cared for...very special...very loved. So to have Jerry kneeling eye level during our vows is a treasured memory to me.

After our marriage, we continued living with my mom in the house I had grown up in. My caregiving situation stayed the same until November, 1995. My paid caregiver had a child die, so she had to quit working suddenly. We tried a different woman, but she was a nightmare! No matter how many times Mom or Jerry showed her how to do something, she just couldn't get it. To this day, Jerry & I jokingly use the expression, "Oh! OK!" to mean we have no clue what's going on, because that's what that woman said every...time...we...showed...her...something. My mom was so worried for my safety that she stayed home from work to watch over me. Well, after a few days, Jerry decided to make a change. Since none of us trusted this woman, & since we wanted to build our own house & knew we couldn't afford a caregiver & a mortgage, Jerry decided to become my full-time caregiver. In order to do that, he had to request a change of shift from his employer from day shift to midnights. It was granted & our new life began.

At first, when Jerry got home from work at about 7:15 am, he would start his second job by getting me out of bed & fed. He'd then take a nap until lunchtime when he would get up & feed me. Then he'd go back to bed until dinner time. If I needed anything in between times like the door opened, or my urine leg bag emptied, or a book, or whatever, I had to wake him. I hated doing that, so I tried to wait until I HAD to wake him to empty my leg bag. Mom usually made dinner after she got home from work. At night, Jerry put me to bed & then left for work at about 10:30 pm. On the weekends, he'd flip his sleep schedule so he'd be up during the day. It was grueling for him. After a few months, Mama retired from work. That made it a bit easier for Jerry. He was at least able to sleep all day after getting me up because Mama saw to my other needs.

Eventually, we found some land, sold our house & built our current one. The three of us moved here in September, 1997. Life continued pretty much the same way for a couple of years - except Jerry had a 45 minute commute instead of a 10 minute one. Then Jerry noticed that my mom had stopped asking him to pick up her prescriptions. He found the bottles in her in-law suite & noticed she'd stopped taking them. We put that together with some other oddities & decided she needed a trip to the doctor. She was eventually diagnosed with Alzheimer's, which we later discovered was actually Vascular Dementia...she'd had at least 6 "mini" strokes...but the results were the same. My mom was losing her memory & abilities.

Over time our roles changed. Instead of Mama "being my hands", I became "her brain". After Jerry got me up & in my chair, I would talk her through the steps of getting herself dressed, fed, etc. At first I just reminded her to do things. Later, I took her step-by-step through each item ("Pick up the pants. Sit down. Put your leg in." etc.) As a quadriplegic, I have had to become an expert at communicating my needs & instructing others in how to carry out tasks...& an expert in patience. These skills helped tremendously with Mom. Blessedly, she was able to understand my instructions for several years, & was even still able to help me some in return.

Sadly, as is the case with dementia, my mom progressed to the point where my instructions weren't enough. By December, 2002, we had to use a combination of adult day care & hired caregivers for her. One woman, Janelle, (who we still think of as our angel & are blessed to call our friend) came on weekday mornings to get Mom up & drive her to the adult day care center for dementia patients. On most days, Jerry was so tired that he would have to take a nap after work before getting me up. Many times he even fell asleep in his car in the driveway. When that happened, Janelle would wake him when she got here & send him inside so he could get me up. With Mom gone all day, Jerry & I were back to our original routine of my having to wake him when I needed him. It was really rough on him.

In the evenings, another caregiver would pick Mom up, bring her home & look after her needs. On the weekends, she had caregivers at home all day. These ladies were a blessing to us as well because they occasionally helped Jerry with tasks around the house like cooking, laundry & one girl even once in awhile helped him in taking care of the acre of land we have. But if one of the caregivers didn't show up...which happened from time to time...Jerry had to, not only work, take care of me, take care of the yard & the house & the grocery shopping & the cooking & the laundry & everything else, but he also had to take care of my mom. How many guys do you know who would do that?

Eventually, in Fall, 2005, my mom's dementia advanced to the point that we had to make the difficult decision to place her in a nursing home, & a few months later, she went Home to the Lord. After 10 1/2 years of marriage, that was the first time that Jerry & I were alone in our one home. To be honest, it was a little weird & took some adjustment on both our parts. But while it was harder for Jerry physically because he no longer had ANY help, it was, in a way, mentally better because he could set everything up in the kitchen, laundry, etc., just the way HE liked it...a plus for anyone.

With Mom gone, it was time for us to make changes again. Jerry's working night shift was dangerous for me. After he put me in bed at night & left, I was literally TRAPPED there, alone, until he came home. If anything had happened, like my getting choked on my saliva (which happens), a power outage, tornado, fire, etc., there would have been nothing I could do. So after more than 10 years, Jerry put in another shift change request & was back on day shift. And, after nearly 20 years of knowing someone was always in the house if I needed them, I had to learn a lot of independence...something impossible in my bed, but MUCH easier in my wheelchair.

At first, it was a bit scary, but God has blessed us with GREAT neighbors who have always been a phone call away. I've now grown to love my "independence"...such that it is. Jerry's day now starts at 4 am. He gets up & gets himself ready for work before waking me at 4:30. He gets me dressed, in my chair, etc., & gives me a pillow & blanket so I can recline my wheelchair & go back to sleep for a couple of hours. (It's not comfortable, good sleep, but I'll gladly take it!) Then he leaves for work. He leaves my protein shake & lunch & special fork in a lunch bag on the table. (Feeding myself regularly is one of the things I've had to gain the strength to do.) He makes certain the blinds in my hobby room (Mom's former in-law suite) are open, my computer is on, & my iPad & glasses are clean & accessible. He installed a new thermostat with a remote control so I can adjust the HVAC. As for my catheter/leg bag, he found an automatic emptier & attached it to my wheelchair. I can open & close the doors now, so I can come & go as I please. And occasionally I have friends come by or take me out to "play". And as I said, my neighbors are always close by & willing to help.

When Jerry gets home from work, he still has to begin his "second job" around here. He's still responsible for all of the grocery shopping, cooking, laundry, cleaning, car care, AND my care, & doesn't usually get to sleep until 10:30 or 11:00 pm. We were blessed to find yard help about a year ago, which has been a HUGE blessing to him. On top of all of this, Jerry is ALWAYS willing to help those in need. When a neighbor, friend or family member calls, he answers, "Yes" whenever possible. For example, he just spent 2 days doing "extreme yard work" for his elderly parents, is waiting on parts to fix his dad's car's brakes, has a friend's dirt bike in the garage to repair, & married two high school friends this weekend!! (He became ordained last Spring so he could marry my niece & her husband.)

Jerry & I have been together now for over 18 years. We've been married of over 16 years. And he's been my only caregiver - without a break - for nearly 15 years. And he never ceases to amaze me. "They" say a spouse should never be your caregiver, & I can understand why. But "they" don't live in the real world where you either have to be very poor or very financially "comfortable" in order to have hired caregivers. I KNOW how blessed I am to have Jerry. I PRAY we could have other caregivers until I am healed. And when I day dream, it's not of all the travels I'll take or paintings I'll paint or dances I'll dance. I DREAM of caring for my husband...of scrubbing toilets, ironing his shirts, cooking his meals & being the wife he deserves. As I said at the beginning of this, Jerry IS the most wonderful man on the planet. He isn't amazing because he takes care of me. He takes care of me BECAUSE he's amazing!

And God knew & planned way back there on that Spring afternoon on that front porch...and it was like...magic.

Monday Moment

It's Monday morning. A new week. A new month. So I thought it'd be a great time to start a new feature..."Monday Moment". Maybe this will be a regular post where, each Monday, I jot down a few of the random things on my mind. So, here goes...

• I hope I'm more consistent with this Monday post than I've ever been with keeping a journal. Just 2 weeks ago I found an old journal from 1983. The first page talked about how I planned to FINALLY keep a journal consistently! It had 5 written pages, all from that first day. So much for KEEPING the journal...well, unless you consider the fact that I still had it after 26 1/2 years "keeping" it.
  
• Eight years ago today my daddy died. I still miss him. I am to that stage where I truly rejoice for him that he is with The Father, worshiping Jesus at the throne & would NOT want him to give that up to be here. But every now & then I still catch myself wanting to send him an email or give him a call to ask his thoughts on something. I miss him, but at least I can type that without crying now.
• I found a program that lets you turn your blog into a book. A lot of folks have said I should write a book, but I've never known how to begin. Maybe that's an answer. We'll see.
  
• It's really cold still. If you read my last post, you know how happy THAT makes me.
• The sky is an absolutely gorgeous shade of blue...you know the one...deep, rich, cloudless, lapis blue. I call this color of sky "the color of God's eyes" because nothing could be more beautiful. I could just MELT into it!
• I have tried working out the last 2 Mondays & it ruined me for days. I only did 5 minutes of aerobics from a DVD made for quadriplegics. I was exhausted afterwords & didn't recover until Thursday! I new I was out of shape, but this is worse than I thought. I need to do something, but I don't know what. I know I'm NOT doing the workout today though! Any ideas?
  
• My oldest niece is on her way over for a visit. She's bringing my first great-nephew to see me. He's 2 months old now. I haven't seen him since Christmas. I'm excited! My nieces have always been like my own children. That makes The Little Man sort of my grandchild. I bet he's changed a ton!
• Looks like we need a new furnace. I'm not happy about that. It doesn't exactly fit into our Dave Ramsey Debt Snowball. I have no idea how much it'll cost yet. At least, thanks to Dave, we have an emergency fund in place, so it won't destroy our finances...just put a severe dent in them. I highly recommend Dave to EVERYONE.
• I want an iPad. I can't afford an iPad, but I WANT an iPad. I have an iMac on my desk...my first Apple product...& I LOVE it. I've had computers for 22 1/2 years, my first being a pre-Windows laptop that used DOS. I am hooked on Apples now. I know the iPad is just an over-sized iTouch, but that's what makes it perfect for a quadriplegic. The iTouch is just too small for me to use...I just don't have the dexterity. The iPad would be perfect. If anyone reading this works for Apple or knows anyone who does, I would love to be a product tester for you! Or if you'd just like to donate to my cause, I am not too proud to accept your gift!

That's just a few of the crazy, random thoughts going through my head right now. (Believe me, there are more, but my family just got here, so let the spoiling begin!) When you can't physically DO a lot, you tend to THINK a lot. Can be a good thing, but can also be a very bad thing. Today, not so bad.

Hope I didn't bore you too much. I'd love to hear what's on your mind right now.

It's Christmas Once Again

Twenty-three years ago I spent Christmas in the hospital...Shepherd Center, specifically. It was just over a month after my accident, & it was a very hard thing for me. I ADORED Christmas! I loved the decorating, the shopping, sending & receiving cards, the wrapping, the music, everything! And I was missing it. Worse yet was the fact that it was my very first Christmas spent away from home. Come to think of it, it's the ONLY Christmas I've EVER spent away from home. Oh, I've gone out visiting later in the day, but I've always awakened in my own bed...except for that one year.

At the time, I was very sad about being stuck in Shepherd for Christmas, but looking back I realize it really wasn't so bad. In fact, considering it was a hospital, everyone made it quite fun.

First, there was Richie Bear. At the time of my accident, I was working as a staffing assistant & customer service trainer at one of the Rich's department stores. Rich's was an Atlanta institution, especially at Christmas. Each year on Thanksgiving, the downtown store would have the lighting of the "Great Tree" on top of their 5-story building. They also had Santa & his reindeer & the Pink Pig - a pig-shaped train ride for kids. In 1986, Rich's introduced Richie Bear - a big, white, stuffed bear sold during the Christmas season as a charity fundraiser. As Customer Service Trainer, Richie became "my baby" for our branch, so to speak. It was my responsibility to train the sales staff on all things Richie. By the time of our Richie kick-off meeting, I was so tired of Richie that I, a (at the time) teddy bear collector, told the store manager that I never wanted to see another Richie again! So, naturally, I received FIVE of them as gifts while at Shepherd, the 1st being from the employees at my store, delivered by my aforementioned store manager. With a crooked grin on his face he said, "I know you never wanted to see him again, but we just HAD to." And those silly little bears DID cheer my room a bit.

Richie wasn't my room's only holiday touch. I received TONS of Christmas cards, which my nurses taped up all over my walls. I also got a few plants & balloons, & my stepmother's boss even sent me a decorated & lit table-top Christmas tree. They all helped make my room very Christmasy.

Throughout December we had a lot of visitors to Shepherd. They brought cookies, visited & went caroling down the halls.

On Christmas Eve, the nurses moved a cot into my room & my mom spent the night with me. That was wonderful. On Christmas morning, my sister's priest surprised us with a visit. He brought us Communion. That simple act touched my heart deeply & has always given Brother Joel a very special place in my heart.

Later, my entire (local) family came to spend Christmas together. Honestly, it was a bit surreal having my step-family & "real" family celebrating together. But there we all were - me, Mama, Daddy, my stepmother, her mother, my sister & her husband & 3 girls, my brother & his wife & stepdaughter, my 3 stepbrothers, 1 of their fiances, & my friend Mary & her boyfriend. We all gathered in the gym & they sat on the mat tables as we opened presents.

That year made such an impression on me that I even remember many of the gifts that I received. I remember thinking, "What can they possible give a quadriplegic besides sweats!?" Well, they did a pretty darn good job on creativity. My sister's family gave me a handmade teddy bear made by my sister out of an antique quilt that had been made by my mother's mother. My brother's family gave me a gold teddy bear charm for a necklace. My dad's mother - the families official "queen" of gift-giving - sent me a $50 savings bond (which I have never cashed). But the best things they all gave me were their love, their support & their presence. They will never know how much it meant to me to be surrounded by them on that difficult Christmas day.

Little did I know things were about to get even more difficult. As the day wore, on my mother started feeling bad, so my dad & stepmom followed or took her home, only to end up taking her to South Fulton Hospital. She spent a week there with heart problems, & ended up having triple-bypass surgery at Crawford Long Hospital in February . Then, on New Years Day, my dad came to visit & surprise me with a special lunch from Longhorn Steak House. He surprised me, all right, by having a heart attack as he walked through my door. Thankfully, it was mild AND, Mary & her boyfriend were with me AND we were in a hospital. (If you're gonna have a heart attack, have it in a hospital!) He spent that next week at Piedmont Hospital & St. Joseph's Hospital. Eventually, everyone turned out to be fine. We even started a family joke became that that my sister could now write a Fodor's Guide Book to Atlanta hospitals, having eaten & slept in so many!

Yes, that Christmas was a challenge, but it had what mattered most - family. Whether by blood or by love, family is what matters most at Christmas. So if you don't have a family, why not drop by your local hospital & "adopt" one. I assure you, they will be blessed, & so will you!

I wish each of you a very Merry Christmas filled with joy & love.

Part 7 - Surgery & Spa Day

After my accident, I spent 2 weeks in the "ice tong" traction laying in the Special Care Unit waiting for my body to stabilize enough for surgery. My 5th vertebra was crushed on the right side & my 6th was broken, so surgery was required to repair the bones. There was nothing they could do for my spinal cord. Once a spinal cord is damaged, it's up to God to heal it (which, by the way, I totally believe in). At the time of my accident in 1986, research was underway for a medical cure for spinal cord injury & they felt they were having positive results. The doctors were saying that they believed a cure was just 5 years away. Funny. Every time I've ever heard of medical advancements for a cure, they have always said, "Just 5 years away." Never 3 or 7 or 10...always 5. It's been 22 years & still no cure.

My surgery was scheduled for Friday, December 5th. I had always been a very healthy child, so the time following my accident was my first experience with hospitals. Because of that, I was a bit nervous about surgery. They didn't give me any explanations of what to expect either. I just sort of found everything out as I went along.

The first thing they did was take me to a curtained area to allow the anesthesiologist to perform a procedure. He cut a tiny slit in my wrist in order to insert something he would use during my surgery. I have no idea what. Then they wheeled me into the operating room, which was FREEZING. I asked them why it was so cold & they said it was to keep down the risk of germs causing an infection.

The next thing they did was transfer me to the operating table, which was no small task. They had to insure that my head didn't move AT ALL because, if it did, it would cause further spinal cord damage. And they had to do this while holding the ice tongs & sliding my body over. Not only were the nurses there, my orthopedic surgeon (Dr. Apple), another orthopod (Dr. McDonald), the anesthesiologist & who-knows-who-else were there lending a hand in my transfer.

After I was placed on the table, Dr. Apple explained that they were going to give me something to make me sleep & then flip me over on my stomach to do the surgery. That explained the army of people in the room. How many people DOES it take to flip a quad? Today, as I understand it, SCI neck surgery can be performed through a front incision made through the throat, but in my day, a neck incision was the only option - which meant flipping me. Before I could say anything or ask any questions, they put a mask on my face & told me to count backward from 100. I think I made it to 97...then nothing.

While I was under, they intubated me (put a breathing tube down my throat), removed the ice tongs, did, indeed, flip me over, removed a piece of bone from my right hip to use in my neck, shaved the underneath layers of my hair from about my ears down (lovely), opened my neck, replaced the broken bones with the piece of hip bone, wired everything together, stapled my neck & hip closed, placed a hard collar around my neck & flipped me back over. Oh, & extubated me (removed the breathing tube.)

I have no clue how long I was out. When I say I remember nothing, I mean NOTHING...no dreams...no out-of-body experiences...no memories...nothing. One minute I was counting backwards & the next minute some nurse was calling my name. I was so blank in fact, that when I heard my name I started yelling, "Wait! Stop! Don't flip me over! I'm not asleep yet!" The nurse, giggling, said, "It's OK. You're in post-op. The surgery's over."

After I was taken back to the SCU, my family was allowed to visit. I don't remember much. I do remember my throat hurting terribly, which is when I first found out about the intubation. I also remember my mood being very volatile. Up until the surgery, I had loved it when people touched me where I could feel it...my shoulders, neck & face. I craved it in fact. I was always asking my family to rub my face. However, after the surgery, when my stepmom put her hand on my forehead, I yelled at her to get it off. Apparently, anesthesia does strange things to me.

Saturday was a blur to me, but by Sunday, I was back to reality. I remember that Sunday as being an unusual & very special day to me...what I call my "man day". My family had spent 2 weeks practically living at the hospital, but on that Sunday, they finally felt able to relax some. My dad's family & my sister's family were able to go back to church & my mom was ordered to stay home & get some much-needed rest. My big brother, Mike, decided to come & surprise me with a visit. We hadn't spent much time together since the wreck & never alone. I was very much looking forward to the opportunity.

Mike arrived just as I was being served breakfast & was put to work feeding me. He had never done that before & didn't even have experience feeding children. It was quite obvious that he felt a bit awkward. He did remarkably well though, especially considering the fact that he had to feed me cereal...with milk...in bed...with me laying on my side! I was thoroughly proud of him. He didn't spill a drop.

That day was also the only time I had a male nurse. At first, that was a bit strange for me. Maybe it shouldn't have been since I knew he was a medical professional, but I was a 23-year-old girl. The idea of having a strange man take care of me was weird. Yes, my doctor was male, but that was different. Doctors don't do the physical hands-on care that nurses do. I was really uncomfortable with the whole thing at first, but his kindness & quirky attitude changed my opinion, & he turned out to be one of my all-time favorite caregivers.

After he had conscripted my brother into feeding me, he made me a VERY happy girl when he announced that the two of them were going to wash my hair! Of course, my brother was even more nonplussed by THAT news than he had been about feeding me, but I was thrilled!! Because of the ice tong traction, my hair had not been washed in 16 days! It felt AWFUL! This was a dream come true, made that much more special because my "Bubba" was going to help.

My nurse placed a special board under my head that would allow the water to flow off the bed. Then he & my brother poured water over my hair, added shampoo & washed. IT FELT WONDERFUL!! Those two men did such a loving & caring job that it felt like a "spa day". I don't know if my brother realizes it, but his presence in such an out-of-character situation made me feel like a queen, & I am grateful to God for blessing me with such a wonderful bonding experience.

Part 5 - A Time for Giving Thanks

A few weeks before my accident, I spent a Saturday night at my dad’s house. When I awoke Sunday morning, I found Daddy & his wife dressed up as though they were going to work – suit & tie for him, dress for her. At first, I thought I’d had a Rip Van Winkle moment & slept straight through ‘till Monday. I asked them what was going on & they said they had decided to go check out the church right outside their subdivision. I was surprised because, except for weddings & funerals, my father hadn’t been in church in years. He wasn’t an unbeliever, he just didn’t attend church. I was thrilled that they were going! I loved the Lord &, as I mentioned earlier, He had been drawing me back to church, too. (I didn’t actually recognize the similarities in Daddy’s & my situations until months later, but I was still thrilled they were going.) Well, they must have liked the church because they joined it on the Sunday before my accident. That would prove to be very much a “God thing”.

The folks from that church – Harp’s Crossing Baptist Church in Fayetteville, GA - became such an integral part of my family’s life & of my story. As I’ve mentioned, God tried to warn me to stay away from the accident, but He knew I wouldn’t, & because of that fact, He knew we would all need the people of that church very much. They continually exemplified the LOVE WALK of a Christian in so many ways.

My first contact with the Harp’s congregation (that I remember) came at Thanksgiving. My accident occurred just 5 days before Thanksgiving Day, & I was transferred to Shepherd Center the day before Thanksgiving. Now for those of you reading this from outside the USA who don’t know about Thanksgiving, it is a national holiday celebrated on the 4th Thursday of November. It was originally set aside as a day of prayer, remembrance &, well, giving thanks. In my experience, it has, however, transitioned into a day for family & friends to gather & eat WAY, WAY too much food – usually a turkey dinner – & watch a lot of football on TV.

Needless to say, holiday meal plans were no longer at the top of my family’s priorities. Well, God took care of that for my dad & his wife & stepchildren. When they arrived home from Shepherd on Wednesday evening, they found a complete Thanksgiving dinner waiting for them at their front door, anonymously given by one of the family’s in their new church – the church they had only joined 10 days earlier. The meal even included a big teddy bear for me & an unsigned card filled with love & prayers.

Thanksgiving was just the beginning of all the blessings given to us through the people of Harp’s. They faithfully mailed me so many cards that my hospital room wall was literally covered in them. The Single Adult group came to visit me & I gained a few close girlfriends out of that group. They prayed, prepared meals, visited, sent gifts & so much more. They didn’t even know us, but they loved on us with the heart of Christ – a servant’s heart.

There were two couples in particular that practically “adopted” me, if you will. The first was Kay & David. They had recently lost they’re only child – a daughter. She had been born with Spina Bifida, but died as a teenager, so they really understood what it was like to live with a disability . Kay & David visited me often, even ringing in the New Year with me. They gave me a special breath-operated phone so that I could make calls unassisted & a talking clock so I would know how soon my next body rotation or the morning would arrive, as I often lay awake in the dark. Those gifts were indescribably valuable to me. Kay & David were wonderful friends!

The other couple was Vance & Judy. They became my “spiritual parents”. Their story is such an integral part of my life that I will write about it in it’s very own post.

Harp’s Crossing’s pastor, Dennis Watson, became one of my regular visitors & dearest friends. He came almost daily at first &, later, at least weekly. He prayed with me, listened to me, talked to me, encouraged me, laughed with me & even cried with me. My dad told me Dennis mentioned me in nearly every service for all the months I was at Shepherd, reminding everyone to continue praying. He was the first person to have a dream about my healing. There have been several by now, but his was the first. He dreamed that I walked into the church pushing my wheelchair in front of me. If he didn’t truly have faith for my healing, he did a great job of faking it! Dennis was even the first Elder to “officially” pray for my healing from a biblical perspective:

James 5:14 – 16 (NIV) “Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.”

Several years ago, the Lord gave me the verse Psalm 27:13 as what I call my “rock scripture” – the scripture that He wants me to always stand on & put faith in no matter what. It says:

“I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.” (NIV)

I believe in God’s provision for healing & I KNOW that I will be whole someday. I can’t wait to walk up to Dennis, thank him & show him the fruit of his “prayer of faith”!

Harp’s Crossing was by no means the only church to offer my family care, prayer & love. I know there were MANY. My sister’s priest, Joel, brought me Communion on Christmas Day. My grandmother’s church in California prayed, sent cards, etc. I received visits from the church in which I’d grown up. The list goes on. I’m certain that there are many other stories of the wonderful acts of kindness given to my family by various churches that I will not know until I’m Home with the Lord. I am grateful to them all & to the countless others who were not affiliated with any particular church, but allowed God to use them as well.

God knew & provided for our need before it even existed. That is the heart of a good father. More on the “good father” later.

Looking Back

I haven't written anything in almost a week. I don't know exactly why. I just haven't felt like "looking back". Looking back can be a great thing. It helps us to see how far we've come in life. When I look back & remember my immaturity, my lack, my foolishness of youth - of which there was much - and then compare it to my life now, it creates in me an attitude of gratitude. I can see in hindsight how God has used all of my pains & mistakes to grow me into the woman I have become & I am grateful. I can also see in hindsight how blessed a life I've truly had. Yes, looking back can bring great joy.

Sometimes, however, looking back simply reminds us of what we've lost. This backwards journey is a dangerous slippery slope for anyone. If we allow ourselves to walk through that door of self-pity, we are asking for trouble. If we entertain those thoughts of loss - of regrets - we will fast spin into a downward spiral of useless misery. I don't often feel this way, but sometimes it does happen & when I see those bright yellow DANGER signs, I stop looking back. That's where I've been this week.

You see, 7 years ago this past week I lost my father to cancer. Well, I didn't exactly LOSE him. I know exactly where he is - rejoicing in the presence of the King of Glory - but he's not here with me anymore where I can talk to him & see him & touch him & share my life with him.....& I miss him. Most of the time I'm OK with his being gone. Of course I grieved in the beginning & I have had moments of sadness since, but I have reached that stage in life where I understand that death is a part of life. As long as I know the person has a relationship with Jesus, I know that when they die they are home & that I will see them again someday.

I have faced the death of a lot of loved ones in my life, & I have grown to accept the peace God offers us at times like that. I don't even always remember the anniversaries of those times anymore - at least not always right on the day. I don' know why this year has been different. Maybe it's because I've been stirring up all the memories of my accident. My dad WAS such an important part of that time. In fact, he was my rock. He encouraged me & believed in me & supported me in so many ways!

Of course, he always did. He was my Champion. He was my knight in shining armor. He wasn't a perfect man by any stretch of the imagination & he knew it. But I was blessed to have a daddy who always wanted me, always helped me, always forgave me & always loved me. Daddy is the one person in all my life who I have never - not for an instant - doubted his love for me. That is a special bond that transcends time & distance. As it should be, I have a new Champion now - my husband, Jerry, who Daddy loved & highly approved. But even though he has passed the baton & gone home, I know Daddy still keeps watch over us as he sings praises to the King, plays his trumpet in worship & dances with joy!

Thank you, God, for giving me the blessing of my daddy, even if the time was far too short. You, as always, made the perfect choice! I miss you Daddy & I will love you always!

Please give me a few days & I'll get back to writing about my journey...as soon as I know the slope is no longer slippery. Thank you.

Part 3 - My Days In Rehab

I really hate saying, "I was in rehab for 4 months" nowadays because it automatically conjures up images of substance abuse in people's minds. Twenty-two years ago when I was actually in rehab, the term was understood to mean PHYSICAL rehabilitation. Anyone who had a substance abuse problem went "into treatment" - unless they were rich & famous & then they "went to Betty Ford". Now, everybody & their brother associates rehab with drugs & alcohol. It's not fair. I want my terminology back. Of course, it could simply be ME who automatically associates "rehab" with substance abuse & I just assume everyone else does, too, but I'm not taking any chances. So, on that note...

After spending a few days at Georgia Baptist Hospital, I was moved to Shepherd Center for PHYSICAL rehab. Shepherd is located beside Piedmont Hospital in Atlanta, GA. It was a great blessing for me to have a spinal cord injury (SCI) rehab hospital in my hometown because there are very few around the country & far fewer back then. Most SCI patients had to travel hundreds or even thousands of miles for rehab, but I just rode a few blocks in an ambulance. The greatest part of this blessing was being so close to my family & friends. I had visitors every day, which helped my recovery immensely.

I spent the first couple of weeks in "the Unit". No, this was not a top-secret covert operations division of the Army. It was the SCU - Special Care Unit. Being in the Unit was different than being in the ICU had been. One of the first things that I had to get used to was the fact that there was no rotating bed (yay!) because Shepherd wanted to begin immediately to get my skin toughened up & used to staying in one position for long hours. You see, one of the biggest concerns for paralyzed people is the risk of pressure sores. I've been blessed by only suffering a few minor & only one serious sore over the years - a very rare statistic for SCIs. Trust me - they aren't pretty & can actually kill you if not treated. Georgia Baptist had made such a big deal out of my needing the rotating bed that I was a little scared at Shepherd's attitude. I thought maybe they'd put me in a Striker Frame - those beds that you've seen in TV movies that hold the person in straps & flip them over on there face suspended. They said they didn't use those anymore. All they did was put an egg crate pad on the bed, roll me on my side slightly (I couldn't go too far since my neck was in traction) & place rolled up pillows behind my back to hold me there. They alternated - side, back, other side - every two hours, all day & all night. Eventually they increased the time to 4 hours & a total side roll, side-to-side (no back time). Toward the end of my stay, they even tried getting me to sleep on my stomach - their preferred position because of the stretch it gives your muscles. I hated that one! Picture it - paralyzed from the shoulders down, unable to turn your head all the way or lift yourself & stuck face down for hours. Try it yourself sometime. Very unpleasant. (No, I didn't get any good sleep for months.) Actually, Shepherd's goal was for me to reach a point where I could do without the egg crate pad & just be rolled every 4 hours through the night. In the end, my father, who I went to live with immediately after rehab, decided we would keep the egg crate, put me to bed on my back with the head elevated (which is how I was most comfortable) & SLEEP through the night - a much more practical solution for the real world. He said he was too old to get up in the middle of every night & that good sleep was more important than any hassle of replacing egg crates every few months. God bless that man! To this day, that's how I sleep. I no longer have an egg crate because I have a special air mattress, but I sleep on my back, head elevated &, for the most part, quite comfortably under the circumstances.

I learned several things during my stay in the Unit. There were a lot of hours of just laying there with nothing to do but watch TV & talk to the nurses. During that time, things just came up in conversation.

• One thing I learned was that you don't cover someone up to sweat them when they have a fever. My temperature ran over 102 for several days. They stripped off every cover & put ice packs (rubber gloves with ice inside) against the arteries in my thighs to drop my temp as quickly as possible. The whole "covers" thing had been ruled out years before, but nobody had bothered to tell my parents.
• The whole "sweat it out covers thing" wouldn't work on me anyway because, as I learned, quadriplegics don't sweat when they're hot. Just one of the strange reactions of SCI on the autonomic nervous system.
  
• Another thing I learned as a result of a soap opera. Back then I was big into soaps (dropped that habit about 10 years ago). One of the characters on General Hospital - a nurse named Bobbie, for those of you who followed along - had been shot. The doctors on the show were all worried because they HAD to take the bullet out because it was so near the spine. My nurse, who was passing by my cubicle & heard it, piped in, "No they don't! We leave 'em in all the time."
• I was sad one day because I thought my chances of having children were gone. My nurse said, "No they're not. You can still have kids, only it's even better...painless labor!" The Lord never has blessed us with our own children, but thanks to my nurse, I know it's not because the SCI prevented it.

The most important thing I learned during my time in the Unit didn't come from a nurse, but from the Lord through my dad's wife. I honestly didn't have many "down" times. I really never got truly depressed. People are amazed by that fact. They're always telling me I have a great attitude. I guess that's because they assume they would be angry or want to kill themselves or something. Of course, no one knows how they'd really act in a tough situation & I personally think most people don't give themselves enough credit. Just look at how amazingly so many people fight cancer! Now THAT is amazing. Yes, I was sad a few times, but never really depressed. I couldn't be. My situation could have been so much worse. If my injury had been a fraction of an inch higher, I would have had to have a ventilator breath for me, but I didn't. I could have had a head injury, but I didn't. My face could have been cut to shreds by glass, but I didn't have one scratch or bruise. My family told me that there was one guy in the Unit who's injury was so severe that he could only blink his eyes! Can you imagine? No, I had no room for depression because my situation could have been a lot worse.

I did, as I said, have moments when I was sad, however. One such moment came during a visit from my stepmother. I had been raised as a Christian - a Baptist, to be specific. My parents didn't actually attend church with us or practice all of the Christian beliefs at home, but they considered it their duty to insure we had a Christian upbringing &, therefore, sent us to Sunday School & encouraged us in church involvement. As a result, I asked Jesus into my heart & was Baptized when I was 11. I was very involved in church & talked regularly with the Lord, even though I didn't exactly live the changed life of a Christian the other 6 days a week. I had fallen away from church after high school, but had recently felt the pull of the Lord to return to Him. I had even visited a couple of churches before my wreck. Anyway, on this particular day in my moment of sadness - or rather, great sorrow - I was crying & saying, "OK. If the Lord's plan for my life was for me to be paralyzed, then I'll live with it & I'll be fine. I just wish I knew why. Why me? Why did He choose me to be paralyzed? And if only He had told me to expect it so I could have been prepared!" You see, I had been taught somewhere along the way that God caused or allowed everything to happen - good & bad - for His purpose. The problem was that that just didn't line up with the God I knew as "Good Father". A good father doesn't hurt his children - he protects them. Anyway, in that moment of great sorrow, my stepmother looked at me & said, "Sandra, God didn't have anything to do with your accident! The devil did this, not God!" In an instant, I KNEW that was the truth. Those words of truth collided with my Spirit & totally erased all of the years of well-meaning, but wrong, misinformed teaching & "stinkin' thinkin'" as my pastor calls it. In that instant the power of Jesus' words in John 8:32 hit me: "Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free," & my life was forever changed. Even though I was physically trapped in a lame body, God's love - His Word - had set me free. THAT was the "Good Father" I knew! He had tried to warn me - to keep me from that accident. He sent my mom, who I ignored. He made me tired, which I ignored. He sent thoughts of finding another way home, which I ignored. He didn't want me paralyzed, but once I was, even though I had ignored Him, He was with me, loving me personally & through so many people, giving me strength every step of the journey.

More on that journey next time.

So, What Happened? - Part 2

First, let me thank everyone for the wonderful comments after part 1. I am so glad that God uses my setback to help & touch others! Now, it’s time for part 2 of my story.

As the wreck was happening, I awoke briefly to the sound of metal crunching & sliding across the ground, and then I passed out. The next thing I remember is the driver talking to me. I asked what had happened & he said we had wrecked. He said that the gas was leaking & that I needed to get out of the car. I already knew in that first lucid moment that I couldn't feel or move my legs. I knew was trapped.

I didn't panic. "Extremely calm in a crisis" is one of my gifts. I have that strange ability to detach from my personal feelings & focus calmly on others & the situation around me. I only fall apart AFTER the immediate crisis is dealt with. Because of this gift, I calmly said, "I can't move my legs. You'll need to pull me out." The next think I remember was seeing bright lights through my closed eyelids & hearing some strange man’s voice say, “I’m tired of fighting with these clothes. I’m going to cut them off of her.” My thoughts raced between, “No! I’ll be naked in front of strangers!” to “You can’t! These are Guess jeans & a Liz Claiborne sweater! They cost a fortune!” As you can see, my mind was functioning perfectly normally for a 23 year old girl. :-) After that, I passed out again. The next time I came to, the EMT was telling me that I had to stay awake. I answered him back in a, shall we say, forceful, yet calm voice, “I’m tired! I don’t have a concussion! I’m just sleepy! I was asleep when this happened! Just let me go back to sleep!” At that point, I heard the guy who had been in the backseat say my name & I instantly calmed down & passed out again. The next time I awoke I somehow knew I was somewhere different. I said, “Where am I?” A female voice, which I later discovered was that of the ride-along trauma MD named Dr. Apple, answered, “You’re in Lifeflight helicopter. We’re going to airlift you to Georgia Baptist Hospital.” I immediately said in a happily excited voice, “Oh, goodie! I’ve always wanted to fly in a helicopter!” As the flight crew was laughing at my response, we lifted off & a thought came over me & I said, “Oh, no! I’ve never flown before. What if I get airsick?” As the laughter grew, I again passed out.

When I came to again, I was in the ER surrounded by medical staff. They were asking me all sorts of questions – my name, did I live with my parents, my age, my address, my phone number, my dad’s address & phone number. I dutifully answered each one until that last one. When I told them I didn’t know Daddy’s information because he’d only been in his new house for six months, I guess I must have passed the head injury assessment because they stopped asking questions. At this point, my wall of calm began to crumble & I started asking to see my mother. Like any hurting child, all I wanted was my mommy. As they wheeled me out of trauma to move me to the ICU, they paused in the hall so that I could see her. I don’t recall what we said, but I remember her face leaning over me, trying to smile. That face both calmed & frightened me. I felt comfort having Mama near me, but her being there was somehow my first confirmation that what I was experiencing was very serious.

After that, events sort of blend together. I remember various things that happened, but my timeline is confused. I remember the first time I saw Daddy. It was an important moment. You see, I was always a big Mama’s Girl, but I was Daddy’s LITTLE Girl. I remember he came into my ICU cubical with his strong, fearless face masked with an almost too happy expression. At the time, I could still move & feel my arms because the spinal cord swelling had not yet set in. When I saw him I said, “It’s OK, Daddy. I still have my arms. I’ll learn to walk again through those parallel bars like they do on TV shows.” That moment defined my attitude throughout this entire ordeal. That’s who I was. That’s who I am. God made me an eternal optimist – full of hope & always finding the bright spot. Over the course of the next several hours, the swelling did set in & I gradually lost all feeling & movement up to 3” below my shoulders. That fact did not deter me. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve had moments of frustration over the years, but I can honestly say I can’t remember a moment when I didn’t at least have hope. I’ll go into that more later. For now, back to the facts.

I remember at one point in those first few hours thinking that my legs had been amputated. I couldn’t feel them or see them, so I thought they were gone. My sister, Sharron, who at 11 years my senior has always been a second mom to me, went out & bought a big hand mirror just so she could prove to me that I still had my legs. Sharron also stood up to the medical staff & defied hospital rules in order to spend that first night with me. She slept (or tried to) in a chair in my cubical. I remember she kept checking my arms for feeling. She literally watched my injury worsen. I didn’t know at the time that the doctor had told my family that I would soon become totally paralyzed up to my neck & most likely spend the rest of my life in bed with my arms drawn up to my chin. Boy, was he wrong! Sharron told me sometime later that I had been in a lot of pain that day & night, but I don’t remember it.

**SQUEAMISH WARNING** I remember the Neurologist putting me in traction. He sat behind my head & literally drilled pins into my skull on either side near my temples. He then attached a contraption that resembled ice tongs. They suspended 30 lbs. of weight from it the first night, but lowered it to 10 lbs. the next day. I was in that rig for two weeks until my surgery. I never saw it that I remember. I don’t know why I didn’t use the mirror. Maybe I did, but I have no memory of it. I just remember feeling like a big ice cube. Perhaps those of you who saw me can comment.

I remember various visitors. Mary, who I had just met as a part of that Sociology class & is still one of my dearest friends, came with the class friends &, I think, the driver & his mom. My friend Joe came & had to collapse into a chair because of the shock. (He won’t mind my telling that.) I remember Susan, who I’ve known since we were 4 years old. I asked her to take on the task of telling everyone. Not a very nice assignment, but she accepted it & I am most grateful. There were others who came as well after I was moved to a different ICU, & I certainly appreciated every visit.

I WAS moved to a different ICU & I was placed in a rotating bed. The bed had a motor & it would roll back & forth from side-to-side 60 degrees. The object was to prevent pressure sores. Unfortunately, the staff didn’t get my head braced well enough & it slid side-to-side about ½ inch on every rotation, clunking into the supports each time – not a great thing for a broken neck & spinal cord injury. We’ll never know if that made the damage worse or not. Oh, well. C'est la vie. Also when I was in the rotating bed, they gave me prism glasses to wear. Those were cool. I would look straight up, but the prism in the glasses bent the line of sight & allowed me to see the foot of the bed & watch TV.

I was at Georgia Baptist for 5 days. Then I was moved to Shepherd Center on Wednesday, November 26th – the day before Thanksgiving. In my next installment, I’ll tell of my 4 months spent in rehab at Shepherd. If you have memories of those first few days at Georgia Baptist, please share them in the comments below. I also welcome all other comments.