I knew there was something I was forgetting to write about in yesterday's "Tune-In-Tuesday" post, but it didn't come to me until today. I almost updated yesterday's post, but then decided this needed a post of its own. If you're reading this and you read yesterday's post too, bless you!
December 19, 1999 which was 19 years ago today, I was a 19-year-old college sophomore who had just returned home for Christmas break. Little did I know then that my Christmas break would be no break at all. Mom and I were involved in what could have been a fatal car accident, but by God's grace was not!
There's no way to say conclusively, but every neurologist I've seen has tried to play "Monday morning quarterback". We have no way of knowing 100%, but that accident could have been the catalyst to me developing dystonia. Again, there's no way to pin everything on that accident, nor do I want to do that, but it's one theory.
Thankfully, I don't remember the accident at all. The only thing I remember is waking up in the hospital and someone suggesting I might need surgery. I freaked out at that idea. Had I known then that in the 19 years following, I'd have more than my share of surgeries, maybe I wouldn't have freaked out as much, but then again, knowing myself all too well, I would have still freaked out. In the end, I didn't need surgery. My main, most painful injury was a fractured pelvis. I had been knocked unconscious, but being 19 at the time, I was more concerned about the pain right then and there and nothing else.
For those that know me well, you know I love anything medical. Why this is, I don't know, but I was kind of upset that I don't remember the "jaws of life" being used to extract me from the car, or the ambulance ride to the hospital with lights and sirens or the ER visit or really any of the doctors who treated me (why must they round at such ungodly hours of the night and day?!), yet at the same time, I am eternally grateful that I don't remember any of that. I would have panicked! God's there in every detail whether big or small, so He knew I wouldn't be able to handle those situations. I can only handle them when it's happening to someone else and when it's not happening to any of my family members.
The memories I have of the hospital stay are mainly good. I remember that I had a male nurse who looked like he could have been a football player. He'd sweep me up in one fell swoop and gently lay me down again on the bed. Back then, I was a little "thick" (OK, fat...that freshman 15 was more like 50 and then sophomore year came and with it, more pounds!). I remember he told me that he and his wife had just had a little boy and it would be his first Christmas that year. To think back on that means that this year that nurse's baby boy is now the age I was when in the hospital - wow. I remember Marvin W., a member of my church, got me a stuffed bear from the hospital gift shop and I still have it to this day. I remember Cheri S. (another member of my church), sat with me all day, every day, until I was discharged on Christmas Eve. I remember Oma (my maternal grandmother) spending each night with me until I was discharged. My dad couldn't be with me because he was with my mom who had the same injuries I did (fractured pelvis), but was at a different hospital. I remember employees of the hospital coming by my room and singing Christmas carols. I remember Jill buying me a new sweater because mine had been destroyed in the accident. I remember the totally hot physical therapist that attended to me. It was a good thing he was so cute, because he inflicted pain that I never want to experience again, all in the name of getting me better. I remember all the visits I got from all my friends. I remember the paramedics who extracted me from the car came by and told me they were sorry for yelling at me. I laughed because I didn't remember them yelling, but then got embarrassed because I must have been doing something wrong. They said I was moving a lot and they wanted me to remain as still as possible. Good thing I don't remember that.
Nineteen years have come and gone. Now, my brother, Stanton is an ER doctor at the very ER I was taken to back then. I still love all things medical. In fact, my brother gave me a tour of his ER last year and I saw the trauma bay. It's SO MUCH BETTER to be on the "touring" side of the ER than the patient in the ER. ;) I've had my share of surgeries since then. I've had my share of ups and downs since then, but looking back, all I can say is that I'm incredibly blessed. Blessed to be alive. Blessed my mom is alive. Blessed by the doctors and nurses and staff that took care of me. Blessed by the friends I have. Blessed to be walking. Blessed that back then and to this day, God's Got This!
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