November 17, 2003: 20 Years Later

Today is the 20th anniversary of the car accident that changed my life. (To read more about my accident, click here.) I have been anticipating this anniversary for years. I was just 19 years old at the time of my accident, so I have now been paralyzed longer than I was able-bodied. That's crazy to think about. Sometimes I still can't believe this is my life… I never would have imagined that my life would turn out this way. 

The first few years after my accident were very difficult for both my mom and for me, as we both learned how to navigate our new life. We both experienced a lot of loss and went through a grieving process. It was hard having to let go of most of my dreams and the plans I had made for my life, while everyone else I knew was still moving forward with their normal lives. I would never want to go back and relive those first few post-accident years again! As difficult as it was, with the help of family, a few good friends, and my faith in God and His plan, I was able to make my way through the aftermath of the most difficult thing I'd ever experienced. 

I've always maintained that breaking my neck was the worst thing to happen to me physically, but the best thing to happen to me spiritually. I guess you could say that what broke me physically healed me spiritually. I'm ashamed to admit this, but God was not the number one priority in my life prior to me becoming paralyzed. I was letting other things like school, work, and friends take priority in my life, and I wasn't making as much time for my relationship with God as I should have. There is nothing like almost dying to give you a good wake-up call to force you to examine your life and think about what is most important. While I would have never wanted to go through everything I have, I'm grateful for the opportunity to make spiritual progress that I wouldn't have made (or made as soon) without going through this trial.  The things I've gained outweigh the things I've lost.

Here is a quote that expresses my feelings about why God allows difficult things to happen to us:

Our Heavenly Father, who gives us so much to delight in, also knows that we learn and grow and become stronger as we face and survive the trials through which we must pass. 

- Thomas S. Monson 

Even though my life is very physically challenging, and I've experienced a lot of disappointment, loss and frustration in the last 20 years, my quiet, simple life is still pretty great. I'm grateful to be alive and to have more time on earth to continue to grow and improve. I'm grateful to have more time with my amazing mom and my wonderful sisters. I'm so glad that my 27 nieces and nephews actually get to know me, instead of me just being a name and a photograph of their aunt that died in an accident long ago. I'm grateful for the wonderful friends I've made in the last 20 years that I wouldn't have met if my life had ended years ago. So even though this isn't the life I imagined, I'll take it!

Finally, a verse from one of the apostle Paul's letters to the Corinthians: 

For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever!

 - 2 Corinthians 4:17 (NLT) 

My Nuts and Bolts

Two weeks ago I had a busy week, with two very looong doctor's appointments at the hospital. My mom and I were gone for 5 hours for the first appointment, and 6½ hours for the second one, just two days later. (I was originally supposed to have a third appointment that week with the optometrist, too, but my mom and I knew that we would be pooped from the first two appointments, so we rescheduled the optometrist for the following Friday for our sanity's sake!) With the exception of these two appointments being long, both went really well.

I had to get some x-rays of my neck after the appointment with my physiatrist, which is a doctor of physical medicine. I spent an hour getting all of these x-rays done, and my neck was so sore afterwards from getting stretched and turned every which way so that it could be in the right position for each x-ray. (I can't hold my head up, especially when I have to sit up at a 90° angle, so one of the guys in the x-ray department had to stretch/hold my head in the right position.) I couldn't wait to get home!

I had to get my neck stabilized after my accident, so this is what I was left with: lots of little pins and screws inserted to hold things together to give me the best chance of having as much movement as possible. These diagrams should give you an idea of where the C2 vertebra is, which is where my neck was broken in my car accident. (It's right at the base of the skull, where the skull and spine meet.)

Then at my appointment on Thursday, I had a renal ultrasound on my kidneys to check for stones. I met with my urologist afterwards, and she said that everything looked good; no new stones, and the one that I'd had two months previously was no longer visible. I don't know if it passed, or what, but it wasn't there anymore. I won't complain! I met with a nephrologist (kidney specialist) after seeing my urologist, and he said that my kidneys looked great and were functioning well. Woo-hoo! I don't have to go back to these doctors until January 2016.

Lucky #7

November 17 is a very special day for me because it is the anniversary of my car accident. I can't believe it's already been seven years! In some ways it seems like just yesterday that I was a normal person, but then again so much has happened since my accident, so it seems like a long time too. Isn't it weird how something in your life can seem so recent and so far away at the same time? When I think back to what life was like when I first came home to live a few months after my accident I remember how difficult things were for my mom and me. It was quite a mental and emotional adjustment as we both learned what life was going to entail for the rest of our days. However, even though things were difficult and still occasionally are, we've both adjusted well and we can honestly say that we really enjoy our lives.

November 17 is also the anniversary of when I got my diaphragm pacer. I'm still unable to breathe on my own, but now that I have my diaphragm pacer I don't have to be tied to a ventilator anymore. I've had my pacer for four years now, which is longer than I was on a ventilator (three years). This has been such a blessing in my life! It's definitely not a cure for paralysis or anything like that, but not being dependent on a big ventilator to breathe for me is so wonderful!

Although my life is very physically challenging, I still maintain that I would never take back my accident if given the choice because I've gained so much more than I've lost. I know who I am, I know where I'm going and I'm full of joy in the meantime. Life really is good! There are so many able-bodied people that can't honestly admit this, so I feel blessed to be so happy.

Some people think it's weird that I celebrate the day that my life changed so tragically, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It's just another excuse to eat good food and have fun! I celebrated my day by having a special dinner. I requested chicken Caesar salad with garlic cheddar biscuits and triple chocolate mousse cakes for dessert. My sister Kristin kindly obliged my desires and made my dream dinner become a reality. (Thank you, Kristin!) I didn't do anything special other than my dinner, but that was enough since I was surrounded by my loved ones. I'm having a special get-together with my friends this weekend, so I look forward to celebrating with them.

It's so good to be alive!

The Evidence

Over the past year I've written a lot of blog posts about the car accident that changed my life. I thought people might be interested in seeing a few pictures of my car after the accident. I can't exactly remember why, but my mom asked one of our family friends to go to the impound lot to take a few pictures of my car the day after the accident. I'm so glad that she did, because these pictures are priceless to me. I still have so many unanswered questions about everything that happened in my accident since I don't remember anything about it. I love that these pictures give me a glimpse into what happened and the extent of the damage.

Here are a few pictures:
In the picture above you can see just how smashed the car was on the driver's side. I try to imagine my body sitting in the driver's seat and what must've happened to it when I was hit. The thing I like most about these pictures is that I can show them to people and say, "I survived this!"

My car might not have been mauled as severely as some, but I still find the pictures sobering to look at. It truly is miraculous that I survived.

So close to reaching my goal

[In my last post I wrote about leaving the rehab hospital and coming back to Barnes Jewish Hospital in St. Louis for several days so that my family could receive ventilator training.]

When I got to my room and was transferred from the stretcher to my hospital bed, my nurse came in and asked my mom if she should cut my clothing off of me. (I was wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt; not a hospital gown.) My mom emphatically said, "No, we will undress her like a normal person." I wasn't in the ICU like I had been my first seven weeks at Barnes, so I was starting over with a whole new group of nurses, and none of them them knew anything about caring for someone with a spinal cord injury. When my mom would tell them specific things that they needed to do for me, they treated her like "who was she to tell them how to do their job."

I absolutely hated being in the PICRU. On that floor each nurse had about six or seven patients to care for. That might be all right on a normal basis, but when they were caring for a patient like me—a person who can't do anything for themselves. I really needed to be on a floor where the nurses only had two patients to care for, like in the ICU or observation unit, so that they could be there if/when I needed help, which I often did.

I wasn't cared for well at all. Here are a few examples: It's very important that people who are bedridden get turned and repositioned every few hours so that they don't develop pressure sores or bedsores. One night I was lying on my back just waiting for someone to come in and reposition me. I'd been lying in the same position for hours, far longer than I should've been, and I was starting to panic because no one had come to check on me all night. Finally a man came in to do something on the computer in my room. Relieved, I clicked my tongue several times (my only way to call for attention since I couldn't speak). However, the man just kept doing what he was doing on the computer. I started clicking more frantically, but the man started humming, finished up his business on the computer and walked out of my room. I was so insulted at being ignored, especially when I really needed help.

Frustrated tears filled my eyes and I was consumed with rage. "Did he know who I was?!" I was a human being! He wouldn't have dared ignore me a few months earlier when I was a normal, beautiful young woman. I was so angry at being ignored, but there was nothing I could do about it because I was trapped in a broken body and I couldn't even talk. The next day when my mom arrived I told her what had occurred, and she told my day nurse what had happened, and that it wasn't acceptable. It didn't do any good, though.

The next afternoon I started feeling sick to my stomach. My mom had just left for the afternoon, but prior to her leaving she had given me a big drink of grape juice. It really wasn't sitting well in my stomach, and I started dry heaving and I thought I was going to throw up. Luckily, my friend Lacee was visiting. She went out to the nurse's station and told them that I wasn't feeling well, but the ladies at the nurses station scolded her and told her it wasn't her place to call my nurse in. I was so disgusted that the people who were supposed to be taking care of me were doing such a poor job. When I did start spitting up stuff from my stomach, Lacee was the one wiping up my mouth, and my nurse was nowhere to be found.

There are a lot of other stories I could share, but I don't think it's necessary to go into so much detail. The point I'm trying to get across is that I wasn't taken care of the way I should've been, and it was infuriating. When my mom did speak up and say something to the nurses, they weren't very kind or respectful to her. They treated my mom like she didn't know the first thing about taking care of me, even though we'd just spent the previous seven weeks in a rehab hospital learning how to care for the needs of a person with a spinal cord injury. They were the ones who were incompetent and didn't know how to care of the needs of someone with a spinal cord injury!

I spent several days getting acclimated to the kind of ventilator I would be on when I went home. One day my mom came up with my two younger sisters, and the three of them spent the afternoon learning the ins-and-outs of the ventilator. Richard, the man teaching my family the art of the ventilator, was a very thorough teacher, and after several hours my mom and my younger sisters felt fairly confident that they knew enough about the ventilator to feel comfortable taking me home.

I went home on Friday, February 27, 2004, after being in the hospital for 15 weeks. (Remember, my accident had been on November 17, 2003.) It had been such a long road, and I was so happy to be going home to live. My grandparents had driven down from Minnesota a few days previously so they could assist my mom in getting all of the last minute details in order, and it was a huge help to her.

I was so excited when the ambulance transporting me home showed up to the hospital and loaded me into the ambulance. When we pulled into the driveway of my home, I was so happy to be home that I didn't even care that my grandpa was busily snapping pictures of me as the paramedics unloaded me from the ambulance and wheeled the stretcher I was on up the newly built ramp in my garage and into the house. As the paramedics transferred me from the stretcher to my brand new hospital bed, my mom looked at me with tears in her eyes and whispered, "You're home." It was such a wonderful feeling.

I couldn't wait for three o'clock to roll around because I was so excited for my younger sisters, Laura and Chandra, to get home from school. All of my friends wanted to come over that afternoon and evening to wish me well. I felt so happy and so loved.

I did reach my goal, which was being home in time to watch the Academy Awards with my friends. We had our dinner of Chinese food, and I was so happy to be in my own home with my friends around me. And to make things even better, we were able to see The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King sweep the Oscars, winning all 11 Academy Awards it was nominated for, including best picture, something that had never been done before in history.

Although one part of my journey was over, the real work was just beginning. My life had changed so drastically and it would never be the same. Creating a new normal would take some time.

Preparing to go home

As I got closer to being ready to go home, there were a lot preparations that had to be made and things that had to be arranged. Renovating my house so that I could have a comfortable place to live was one of the most important preparations. However, my mom was in Atlanta, Georgia, so she had no idea how she would get the house ready. The members of my church congregation stepped up and helped with everything.

First of all, a ramp had to be built in my garage so that I could get in and out of the house. I also lived in a two-story house, and prior to my accident my bedroom had been on the second story. This bedroom would no longer work for me since there was no possible way I could go up and down stairs. Fortunately, the living room in my house was big enough to be converted into a new bedroom for me. However, this was a huge undertaking. All of the furniture had to be moved out of the living room and dining room, and all of the carpeting in those two rooms had to be torn up so that new flooring could be laid. (A member of my church worked for a flooring company, and he was able to get all of the laminate flooring donated. This was a huge blessing.) A lady from my church also came in and painted the living room and dining room, as well, just to make it look really nice.

It was such a relief to my mom that the members of our church worked so hard to get the house ready for me, since she was hundreds of miles away and couldn't easily coordinate the renovations herself. We received updates on the progress of the renovations every few days, and it was exciting because the possibility of going home was finally becoming real.

There were also many other things that needed to be arranged, as well. We needed to find a medical supply company that would be able to supply all of the things I needed, like a bed, wheelchair and other important things like that. We also needed to find a medical company who provided services in the area where I lived since I was dependent on a ventilator to breathe for me. It wasn't just a ventilator that I needed, either. There are a lot of other supplies that go along with the ventilator, and I also needed a respiratory therapist that could make home visits and help regulate my respiratory needs. My caseworker at Shepherd Center was good at helping my mom get everything in order, which was another big relief to my mom since she had absolutely no idea where to start when it came to coordinating all of the services and supplies I would need when I got home.

I had been at Shepherd for seven weeks and I was ready to go home. My mom and I had learned all of the essential things that we needed to know about taking care of a person with a spinal cord injury. I was only 19 and the prospect of living the rest of my life as a severely disabled person seemed kind of scary and daunting, but there wasn't anything I could do to change my situation, so I knew that I just had to look to the future with a positive attitude and hope for the best. I knew the Lord was aware of my situation and He would be with me and would help me.

I received a devastating blow about a week before I was scheduled to go home. My case manager found a medical company in St. Louis that was going to manage my respiratory needs, but I was required to spend another five to seven days in the hospital in St. Louis after coming back from rehab. This was so my family and caregivers could get training about my respiratory needs, the ventilator, suctioning and things like that. I know another week in the hospital after I'd already been in the hospital/rehab for 14 weeks probably doesn't sound like much of a setback, but it was to me. Going home had been my goal for so long, and I was so close to reaching that goal, but now a roadblock had been put in my path. I was so disappointed at the thought of having to spend another five to seven days in the hospital! There was no getting around this, though, so I had to make a new goal, and this was to be home by Sunday, February 29, so that I could watch the Academy Awards with my friends and eat Chinese food for dinner. (Through my experiences I've learned the importance of having goals, no matter how small or simple the goals seem, like watching the Academy Awards and eating Chinese food.)

My mom and I left Shepherd Center about 4 PM on Monday, February 23, 2004. Our flight was on a small commuter plane and it took about 2½ hours. Instead of going straight home to my house like we'd originally planned, I went back to Barnes Jewish Hospital for the week of ventilator training for my family. Something else that disappointed me was when I found out that I wouldn't be going back to the ICU. I'd had such a good experience in the ICU and I was really hoping that that's where I would be. Instead, I went to the PICRU (post intensive care rehabilitation unit). I didn't look forward to starting over with a new group of nurses—nurses who didn't know me, my family, my situation, how to read my lips and things like that. As disappointed as I was, I was just glad to be back in St. Louis. It was nice to be in a place where my family and friends could visit me again.

More about rehab...

The patient census at Shepherd changed often, but for the most part when I was at Shepherd there were usually between eight and 10 patients in the young adult group. (There was an adult group of patients and a young adult group. Shepherd didn't really accept patients who were younger than 12.) I was the only girl and the only quadriplegic for most of my seven weeks at Shepherd. The rest of the patients in the teenage group were boys who ranged in age from about 14 to 17. They were injured in various ways; one was injured in a bicycle accident, another was injured by a gunshot wound and I know there was at least one other car accident. Another girl was admitted about a week before I went home, and she was a C1 quadriplegic (that's as paralyzed as you can get...I am a C2). She had been stabbed by her boyfriend. She was 21 and had a little girl; I remember feeling so badly for her and her daughter.

My favorite part of the day at rehab was when the mail cart came through...usually between 4 and 5 PM. My family and friends were so good about remembering me and keeping in touch with me. I got lots of mail/packages, and it made me so happy to have my mom read the cards and letters to me. I also had a speaker telephone in my room, and although I couldn't talk loudly enough for my friends/family to hear me, I could talk to them through my mom, and hear their responses. (I would mouth things to my mom for her to tell the person on the other end of the phone, so I was able to talk to people that called in a roundabout.) The sound of their voices was so heartwarming!

I got so sick of eating the same hospital food every week. I was still getting supplemental feedings via my feeding tube every night, so if the food on my dinner tray didn't appeal to me, then I just ate however much or little I wanted, and I knew that I wouldn't be under nurished with the nightly tube feedings.

This leads me to another part of the day that always cheered me. Like clockwork, every evening around 7 PM, a lady would come down the hall with a cart of snacks and yell, "snack cart!" At first I wasn't really interested in eating anything from the snack cart, but as my appetite returned, I looked forward to getting some sort of treat...usually chips. Knowing that the snack cart would come around every evening gave me something to look forward to, especially if dinner hadn't been appealing!

I had an hour of physical therapy and an hour of occupational therapy every weekday. My mom and I were taught different stretches for my arms and legs called "range of motion" exercises that we needed to do on a daily basis so that my muscles would stay limber and not get contracted. Another thing that I'd sometimes do during my hour of occupational therapy would be to paint with my mouth. The purpose of this was to be a form of exercise for my neck so that I could gain more strength in my weak neck muscles. A paint brush was taped to a mouth stick (something I held in my mouth) and then I would gently glide the paint brush over paper. My occupational therapist obviously had to be right there with me so that she could reposition the easel that held my paper, and also dip my paint brush when it ran out of paint. The pictures I painted were quite amateur, but painting did force me to stretch my weak neck muscles. My occupational therapist, Rashida, and myself with one of the pictures I painted

My occupational therapist, Rashida, and myself with one of the pictures I painted.

Painting of Shepherd Center's "helping hands" logo (left).

Recreational therapy was another thing I was required to participate in while at Shepherd Center. The purpose of this was to take outings into the community so that the patients could learn how to tackle the logistics of go out in public as a disabled person, which is easier said than done. The first outing I took was to the mall, and had lunch in the food court. After lunch I went to see Cheaper by the Dozen at the mall's movie theater. My mom came with me, as well as my entourage of nurses and therapists. (It truly was an entourage, because five or six Shepherd employees accompanied my mom and me.)

I hated my outing! I wasn't used to being stared at and being so different, so it was a horrible feeling to have all eyes on me. It wasn't until I was in the dark movie theater that I started to relax. I realized that this was my new reality, so I better get used to it, but I didn't like it, and was so relieved to get back to my room at Shepherd. 

My first venture into the world as a disabled person.

Leaving for Shepherd Center

After my accident my body had changed in so many ways, and it was imperative that I go to a rehabilitation hospital that specialized in spinal cord injury so that I could learn to live as a paralyzed person, and so my mom could learn how to care for me. At that time there were two model facilities that specialized in the kind of care I needed: Craig Hospital in Denver, Colorado, and Shepherd Center in Atlanta, Georgia. I've already written about the battle my mom faced with our health insurance company, since the insurance we had at the time didn't want to have to pay to send me to a specialized facility. They basically told my mom that I could get the care I needed at any rehab facility or nursing home...not true! Although it was after open season for switching insurances, my mom was able to switch health insurance to a company that was willing to pay to send me where I needed to go for rehab. That was such a blessing and made all the difference.

I really didn't want to go far away to rehab, but I knew it was a necessary step that I had to take to achieve my ultimate goal, which was living at home. Since each case is different, I wasn't sure how long I'd have to stay at the rehab hospital, either, but my mom was coming with me, so I knew I'd be okay with her by my side.

I dreaded leaving my friends because I didn't know how long it would be before I would see them again. Leaving my friend Adam was especially difficult. He and I were both managers at the movie theater and had worked together for a couple of years. We'd started dating in 2002, and dated for several months, but ultimately broke up in February of 2003. We were different religions, and neither of us were willing to compromise what we wanted when it came to religion, so we broke up. It was initially very painful, but after the awkward romantic feelings lessened, we were able to maintain a friendship. We'd known each other for several years, and had became each other's best friend. We usually worked the same shifts at the theater and would hang out with each other when we weren't working. We saw each other nearly every day and we talked on the phone every night.

Adam was devastated when I had my accident, as I would have been if our situations had been reversed. I was in the ICU at Barnes for seven weeks, and Adam came to see me every day, with the exception of two days. He was an amazing source of support, and his visits did so much for my spirits. Having my two best friends (Mom and Adam) there with me every step of the way was one of the things that kept me emotionally strong. As much as I dreaded leaving my friends and family, Adam was definitely the person I was going to miss the most. Knowing that it would be weeks or even months before we would see each other again was excruciating. I still couldn't talk, so telephone conversations weren't even an option, either.

I was flooded with visitors the day before my mom and I left for rehab at Shepherd Center. Everyone wanted to come see me off and wish me good luck. My mom left early that afternoon so that she could go home, pack, and finish the other preparations and arrangements she was making so that she could come with me. My friend Lacee (from nursing school and the movie theater) went over to my house that evening to help my mom pack the things I would need for rehab. I gave my mom a list of some of the things I wanted to take, and she and Lacee did the rest.

Most of my friends that came to visit me that last day in the ICU left around nine in the evening, but my friend Adam and our friends Rick and Kelly (who we had worked with and often hung out with) stayed later. Rick and Kelly left around 11 and although I would miss them a lot, I was glad they left so that I could have a little alone time with Adam to tell him goodbye. As soon as Adam and I were alone we both started crying. The thought of leaving my best friend made me so, so sad. Adam stayed with me for a couple more hours, but then he left around 1 AM, since he had school the next day. Watching Adam walk out of my hospital room was terrible, and our friendship would never be the same from that point on.

My mom arrived at the hospital early the next morning—Wednesday, January 7, 2004. At nine o'clock the flight team that was taking my mom and me to Shepherd Center arrived. I was moved from my hospital bed to a stretcher, and then I was bundled up because it was very cold outside. The hallway was lined with different hospital employees who'd cared for me the past seven weeks, and came to see me off and wish me luck.

It was cold outside, but since it had been seven weeks since I'd been outside, I welcomed the fresh air on my face. It was very refreshing! My mom and I took a 20 minute ambulance ride to the airport hangar where the small commuter plane that would take us to Shepherd Center was located. Before no time at all my mom and I were packed into the plane and we took off. I'd only flown on an airplane one other time in my life, and that was when I went to Washington D.C. for a one day class trip my junior year of high school. The flight to Shepherd Center took about 2½ to 3 hours, and then there was a 45 minute drive by ambulance to get to Shepherd Center.

Since I was a ventilator dependent patient I had to spend my first two days in Shepherd Center's ICU, just to make sure I was stable. Two days later on Saturday afternoon I was moved to the regular patient floor. I was in a two person room, but luckily I was the only patient in the room. Shepherd Center owned a few small apartments where the family members of the patients could stay for free, and that's where my mom stayed during my time in rehab. When my mom left that Saturday evening to go to the apartment, I was overwhelmed with loneliness. It was a Saturday night and I should have been working at the movie theater or hanging out with friends, but instead I was lying in a hospital bed in Atlanta, Georgia, unable to move and so far away from being and feeling normal. I started to cry for one of the first times since my accident. My nurse came into my room and demanded to know why I was crying. I tried to tell her that I just wanted to be left alone, but I still couldn't talk, and she couldn't read my lips. The frustration of not being able to communicate just made things worse. That was probably one of the worst nights of my life.

I couldn't wait for Mom to arrive at the hospital the next morning. She usually arrived every morning between 8 and 8:30, and would stay with me all day until about 6 or 7 in the evening. If I would've had it my way, I would've wanted my mom to stay with me 24/7, but I knew how important it was that Mom have some time to herself so that she could keep her strength up so that she could continue spending each day with me. A few days after that lonely Saturday night I was moved to a different room—a single patient room. Most of the rooms in the hospital held between two and four people, but I was one of the lucky few who got my own room.

I didn't like having to be away from all of my friends and everything I knew and was used to, but I was grateful to be in a good rehab facility. I knew that I was going to have to stay for anywhere from four weeks to three months, so I decided that I would continue to have a positive attitude so that I could get the most out of rehab that I possibly could so that I could go home as quickly as possible.

Celebrating New Year's

I had lots of fun celebrating New Year's Eve this year. Most of my friends were either still out of town or busy with other plans, so my younger sister Laura and her husband Brett came over to celebrate with Chandra and me. Laura brought chicken wings and a cheese ball -- homemade cheese ball is one of my favorite things to eat on New Year's Eve! After we had our unhealthy dinner of wings, cheese ball and other snacks, we played two games of Phase 10. The game consists of 10 rounds, so it took us several hours to play the game twice and we didn't finish until about 11:30. We watched TV and saw the ball drop in Times Square. This makes me sound old, but this was the first time I've stayed up till midnight to ring in the new year on New Year's Eve in many, many years! (I don't think I've stayed up till midnight on New Year's Eve since before my car accident, so it's been at least six years!)

Laura and Brett spent the night with us and then the next day we went to the movies to see Avatar. We saw the movie in 3-D and it was so neat! I've never seen a movie in 3-D before, so I decided to buck up the three extra dollars, even though I could've seen the regular movie at the regular price just a few minutes later. To be perfectly honest, $10.25 seems outrageous for a movie, especially when I saw free movies for years and years when I worked at the movie theater, but oh well... sometimes the cost is worth the experience.

I actually went to the movie theater where I used to work, and this is only the second time I've done this since my accident. (The first time was actually just last month when I went to see New Moon with my friend Lacee.) When I was going to see New Moon my mom asked me if it was going to be emotionally difficult for me to go back to the place where I used to work. It wasn't... I was excited. It was good to see my old theater again, but the one thing that did make me sad was that no one there knew me anymore. The people working there just saw me as an ordinary patron, when in fact there's a good chance that I knew more about doing their jobs than they do. My feelings might sound silly, but that's nonetheless, that the way I felt.

You might be wondering why I hadn't gone back to see a movie at my theater before now. Three reasons.
#1) I didn't go out in public very much at all the first several years after my accident. Although I was happy, I didn't like leaving the house because it was so much work for my mom to take me out. Home was my favorite place to be and I really didn't have the desire to go out and do things in the community. A couple of years ago I started making what I call my "social return to society." I started going to a religion class every week, and it was there that I had the opportunity to make new friends for the first time since my accident. Making new friends made me want to go out again and do things that normal people my age do.
#2) When I started seeing movies in movie theaters again I did not want to go to the movie theater chain that I used to work at... Wehrenberg Theaters. I worked for the company for 3 1/2 years and during that time I found out what the owners were like. Employees were and are paid terribly. At the time of my accident I was working as an associate manager, but I only made an insulting $6.90 an hour. Movie theaters are open 365 days a year and employees are expected to work holidays at our regular wage... no holiday pay, even for managers. I don't feel like the owners respect their employers very much, so I prefer to give my business to other companies instead of Wehrenberg Theaters.
#3) Wehrenberg Theaters has terrible seating accommodations for people in wheelchairs. Not only do I have to sit in the very front of the auditorium, but I also have to sit on the side, so it hurts my delicate neck. There are other movie theaters in my area that have cutouts for wheelchairs in the middle of the row of seats, so it's much more comfortable for me.

Well, that's how I spent New Year's Eve and New Year's Day, as well as some of my thoughts about movie theaters!

Continuing my story

Continuing on in the story of my accident...I was still in the ICU at Barnes Jewish Hospital and I was slowly and steadily getting stronger. One exception was that I started having problems with my heart. My heart rate would slow way down, and as a result of the injury to my spinal cord, my nervous system couldn't tell my brain to make my heart speed up again. I would pass out as a result of not getting enough blood to my brain, which was very frightening, because although I could feel myself starting to black out, there wasn't anything I could do to prevent it. Long story short, my doctors thought the best solution would be to put a pacemaker in my chest to regulate my heart rate.

My pacemaker surgery was scheduled for December 15, nearly one month after my accident. I still was wearing the halo vest, which had been put on three weeks previously when I had my neck stabilization surgery. I'm not sure why, but I couldn't go into surgery to get the pacemaker with the halo on, so it had to come off early, even though I was supposed to wear it for three more weeks.

On the morning of my surgery a doctor and a nurse who I'd never met came into my room at 5:30 in the morning and began to dismantle the halo. I thought the halo would be taken off in surgery after I'd already been put to sleep, but this wasn't the case. The doctor had a wrench and he just went to work without even acknowledging me, even though I was obviously awake. Since the halo was attached to my skull with four long screws, it was excruciating to have the doctor jerking my head back and forth as he took the halo apart. When the halo was finally off, the doctor and nurse dumped all of the pieces for the halo onto the floor in the back of my room, and then they left without even putting my head on a pillow. I was stunned at what had just happened, and I remember feeling very vulnerable since my weak neck was left unsupported. I was insulted at not even being acknowledged, and the doctor/nurse's total lack of bedside manner and courtesy.

My pacemaker surgery went well and it solved the problem of me passing out because the pacemaker would take over and make my heart beat faster if my heart rate dropped below 60 beats per minute. I was so relieved to have the halo off since it had been so big and bulky. It also made it very difficult for the nurses to wash my hair, so when I got back from surgery it was finally time for a decent hair wash! It had been about three weeks since my accident, and my hair hadn't been washed the entire time. It felt good to have it thoroughly washed. After my shampoo the nurses would French-braid my hair in pigtails to keep it contained and as neat as possible. I'd never liked myself in braids, but I didn't care, so long as my hair was relatively clean and out of the way.

My neck was still very weak, so I wore a hard cervical collar after my surgery. I liked wearing the collar because it supported my neck really well and made me feel more secure. Sometimes I would get uncomfortable and I would ask my family or friends to readjust the position of my head. I think it made everyone understandably nervous to move my furniture neck, but they would do their best to try and help me be more comfortable.

It was mid-December by this time, so that meant the Christmas season was in full swing. A couple of my friends from the movie theater collected money from the different employees so they could bring me a few Christmas goodies. They bought me a little fiber optic Christmas tree and some little Christmas ornaments to decorate the tree. I loved that little Christmas tree so much and I never turned it off. It cheered me and helped to remind me that it was Christmas, even though I was stuck in the hospital.

Now that my health was relatively stable I knew that the next step would be going to rehab, but setting this up was easier said than done because my mom's insurance did not want to pay to send me to the kind of facility where I could get the level of care I needed. There were two model spinal cord injury rehab hospitals: Craig Hospital in Denver, Colorado, and Shepherd Center in Atlanta, Georgia. It was imperative that I go to either of these hospitals, but my insurance wanted to send me to a cheaper facility which was basically a nursing home. The doctors at this facility didn't specialize in spinal cord injuries and the facility really wasn't designed for people with the complex type of injury I had. They sent a representative to talk to my mom, and she told my mom, "I hear you'll be sending your daughter to our hospital." It was clear to my mom that this nursing home-type facility wouldn't be a good fit for me. After the meeting my mom emphatically told the woman, "I will not be sending my daughter to your facility."

To make a long story short, my mom switched health insurances to Blue Cross Blue Shield. This proved to be an inspired decision, because they would pay for me to go to a specialized rehab facility. My mom called Shepherd Center on Christmas Eve and started talking to some of the people there. It sounded like a great rehab hospital, so we started the ball rolling so that I could go to rehab as soon as possible. Mom and I definitely weren't looking forward to leaving town, but we knew that this was a necessary step to take in our new life, and it also meant that we would be one step closer to our ultimate goal, which was going home.

That's all I have time to write about today, but I'll write more soon!

The road to recovery

After my accident there were so many things that I had to “re-learn.” Actually, it was learning how to do things in a different way. I wasn't able to speak after the accident and I had to mouth all of my words. As you can imagine, this was extremely frustrating most of the time when people couldn't understand what I was trying to say.

One thing that helped me speak was an electrolarnyx. This is a small device (cylindrical and about 7 inches tall) that provides a voice when you are trying to speak. When it is pressed against the neck of someone who is trying to talk, it catches the vibrations your voice box is making, and it produces a low, mechanical sound that amplifies what you're trying to say. (It's really difficult explaining this to someone who doesn't know how it works, so it's probably confusing.) I loved the electrolarnyx because when my friends and family held it against my neck I could actually communicate with them! The only downside would be when the battery ran out and we had to charge it. I was back at square one when it was charging.

Another thing I had to learn how to do again was swallow so that I could eat and drink. I'm not sure of the exact medical/technical reason it was so difficult to swallow now, but my muscles used for swallowing may have been slightly paralyzed, or at the very least, they were extremely weak from several weeks of not using them. Before I was allowed to eat and drink anything, I had to go through several swallow studies with a speech pathologist. This wasn't a pleasant procedure. The speech pathologist inserted a lubed up fiber-optic camera in one side of my nose and fed it down the back of my nasal passage until it got to my throat. This camera was hooked up to a TV monitor so that the speech pathologist could watch me swallow and make sure everything was going down my esophagus, and not entering my airway. The speech pathologist had me eat blue applesauce (the blue dye made the applesauce more visible) and then he would watch to make sure I could swallow it correctly.

As I reflect, it's hard to remember why it was so difficult to swallow and what it felt like, but it was difficult, and I could only eat soft things, like popsicles, Jell-O, pudding, etc. I had to undergo three or four of these awful swallow studies with the fiber-optic camera down my nose and I hated every one because it was terribly uncomfortable, not to mention the fact that I've always hated applesauce. However, this was a necessary means to an end, because it meant that I was swallowing well enough to be able to start eating again. (It was neat to see the inside of my throat, vocal cords, trachea and things like that.)

The first "real" thing I ate after strengthening my ability to swallow again was the hospital's spaghetti and meatballs. I've never been a huge fan of spaghetti, but it tasted so good! I remember not eating much of it, though, because my stomach filled up so quickly, and slowly chewing and swallowing was a lot more tedious and time-consuming. Sometimes I'd get bored/tired of eating, so I'd just quit. I wasn't eating much at all at first, so I was still receiving supplemental feedings via my feeding tube.

About two months later when I was in rehab, I actually got to the point where I was able to eat well enough that I decided I didn't need to rely on my feeding tube anymore. This was my goal all along so I could have my feeding tube removed before going home. I wasn't exactly sure how the procedure of having my feeding tube removed would work, since it had been surgically implanted, but I found out it was a really simple procedure—they just yank it out! One of the nurses wrapped the feeding tube (which stuck out of my body about 12 inches) around her hand. She braced herself by putting her other hand on my abdomen, and then she pulled it out on one, two, three! There was a stopper on the feeding tube on the inside of my body which held it in place (it was about the circumference of a quarter). It hurt pretty badly having it pulled out like that, but the burst of pain was over relatively quickly, so it was worth it to be able to ditch the feeding tube. Eating on my own was another step towards more independence.

What I was feeling at the time

Although I was fully aware of my condition, I wasn't fully able to comprehend how it would impact the rest of my life. This was a blessing because I think I would've been completely overwhelmed if I'd known then just how drastically different my life would be. One thing I remember thinking was, "Am I really never going to shower again?" Of course, this was the least of my problems, but it was hard to wrap my mind around the fact that I would never shower again.

I also realized my nursing career was over before it had ever really begun. I was now the patient! Although it had taken me a while to decide what I wanted to study in college and "what I wanted to be when I grew up," I was completely committed to being a nurse.

My ultimate dream was to be a wife and a mother. It's not a glamorous dream, exactly, but it's what I'd always wanted most out of life, and I assumed I would have it. I didn't think anything would ever get in the way of that dream, either. In my mind it was just a given. [The loss of this dream didn't really sink in until the following May when my sister Sharon was in town visiting. She had two girls at the time and when I saw her mothering her own children, I started to cry because I could see in front of me what I'd never have. Although I was devastated at the time, this is something I have accepted, and it really doesn't bother me anymore. It's given me a lot of empathy for any woman who can't have children, or who has fertility problems.]

If I can't have children of my own, truly the next best thing is being an aunt. I dearly love my nieces and nephews, and I'm so glad to have them as part of my life. All of my sisters understand the importance of families, and they are all on their way to having relatively large families.

Even though I knew my "normal" life was over, and I would forever be disabled, I was still happy and still in good spirits everyday. The nurses in the ICU were wonderful and they took such good care of me. My sister Sharon said that I had the ability to charm anyone who was around me long enough. I'm not sure if this was the case or not, but the nurses genuinely seemed to like me and enjoy taking care of me. The feelings were very mutual, because I enjoyed the nurses just as much as they seemed to enjoy me.

The thing I enjoyed most at this time were the visits from my family and friends. The outpouring of love from my friends was overwhelming and it truly sustained me at a time when I definitely needed extra support. I had a steady stream of visitors and I was never left alone. Visiting hours started at 11 AM, and I watched the clock and expectantly awaited the arrival of my mom each day. My face would light up with a smile when she walked into my room and it was wonderful to have her near me, even if we were only watching TV or sitting side by side. My mom would leave for home every afternoon around 4 PM because she still had responsibilities at home to take care of; most importantly, still being "Mom" to my two younger sisters, Laura and Chandra. I never liked it when Mom left, but I knew it was important that she have time to take care of her other responsibilities.

In the evenings is when my friends would take over. Most of my friends were in school and/or working, so they would visit me in the evenings. The visits from my friends made it bearable to be without my mom. (It would've been a lot harder for me to say goodbye to my mom every afternoon if I knew I was going to be alone all evening.) Spending time with my friends made me feel "normal" at a time when my life was quite the contrary. You are only allowed two visitors at a time in the ICU, but after the nurses got to know me and my family and friends, I was able to bend the rules and have a roomful of visitors. Friends and family made all the difference.

The aftermath

The day after my accident I was transferred to Barnes Jewish Hospital so that I could get the level of care I needed. (St. Anthony's Hospital where I was at, is only a level II trauma hospital, and I needed to be in a trauma I facility.) I was taken to Barnes in a helicopter and the doctor caring for me insisted that a nurse ride along in the helicopter with me to hold my head the entire time. My neck was that unstable, and even the slightest bump could have killed me or made my injury even worse.

I stayed in the ICU at Barnes for the next seven weeks and this started my road to recovery. So much happened, but I will just hit the highlights.

My neck was stabilized on November 19, two days after my accident. Dr. Riew, the surgeon that did my stabilization, was the best cervical spine surgeon in the world, and he only works on the cervical vertebrae in the neck. The surgery was only supposed to take four hours, but it ended up taking eight. After the surgery, the surgeon told my mom that he had never seen a person who's neck was so badly broken who was still alive. After my neck had been stabilized, I was put in a halo vest that I would have to wear for the next six weeks so that my neck could heal properly. (The halo was attached to my skull with four large screws.)

This is a halo vest

Since my neck was broken at the C2 level, I wasn't able to breathe on my own anymore. A tracheotomy performed a few days after my neck stabilization surgery. (A tracheotomy is when a tube is surgically implanted in your trachea, or windpipe.) A feeding tube was also surgically inserted in my stomach since I couldn't swallow food and water anymore.

I was kept in a drug-induced coma for about a week after my accident, but then the doctors started waking me up from time to time so that my family and friends could talk to me. One of the questions I get asked most often is what I thought when I woke up for the first time and I realized I couldn't move. Since I was really drugged up, I don't have one clear, defining memory where I remember waking up to find out the shocking news that I was completely paralyzed. However, when I was lucid enough to have coherent thoughts, I was fully aware of what had happened to me. It's hard to explain, but it's as if I had learned what had happened to me in my unconscious state, and I'd processed it and accepted it. I was just so happy to be alive that that is what mattered to me the most, even though I was paralyzed. I was also so relieved when I found out the accident wasn't my fault. I think it would've been/would be a lot harder to deal with if I'd done this to myself by causing the accident.

As the days went on, the doctors stopped giving me the drugs that would keep me sedated, and I began to learn more about what had happened to me and what my condition entailed. I loved hearing the details of the accident and everything that followed. I asked people the same questions over and over again, and I was just so amazed at what had happened to me. Up to this point in my life, I'd never broken a bone or even had stitches, so being a badly injured patient in the hospital was a completely new experience for me.

Here are a few thoughts about Thanksgiving 2003: My mom had originally planned to spend Thanksgiving in Texas that year with my oldest sister Miriam and her family. My younger sisters were going to be going with my mom, too, but I decided to stay home so that I could work. However, everyone's plans changed when I had my accident. My situation was very tenuous, and at first the doctors weren't even sure I would make it, so all of my family came home to St. Louis. Thanksgiving was just 10 days after my accident, so all of my sisters and their families were home for Thanksgiving, even though none of them had planned to be.

I don't remember all that much about Thanksgiving Day 2003, but I do remember all of my sisters being in the hospital with me, and someone had the idea of taking a family picture. I remember trying to smile for the first picture. It took so long to take the picture and it also took so much effort to try and smile that after the first picture I just laid there. I remember thinking, "No one's going to care whether I'm smiling or not." Here's the picture:

The only thing I wanted for dinner on Thanksgiving was a grape popsicle because I was so incredibly thirsty! However, I wasn't able to eat or drink anything since I couldn't swallow. (I'm not sure of the exact reason, but my muscles used for swallowing were very weak.) I also couldn't speak at all, not even a whisper. I could mouth words, but everybody found it difficult to read my lips, which was quite frustrating.

This picture is a picture of me wearing the halo vest that helped my neck heal in the right position. One of the nurses was wearing a Christmas hat and she put it on my head. One of the other nurses took a picture of me wearing it.

In this picture, the halo vest had been removed, and I was now wearing a hard cervical collar around my neck. 

I love looking back on these pictures because I can see just how far I've come since then.

November 17, 2003: part two

My mom arrived at the hospital around 4 PM, nearly four hours after my accident. My mom later remarked that she's probably the only mother in history to arrive at the emergency room with four chaplains! (Her friend Paul, in addition to the three chaplains she was working with that day for her school practicum that drove her to St. Anthony's Hospital so that she wouldn't have to drive herself.)

There was a police officer waiting for my mom so he could fill her in on the accident and everything that had happened. Then my mom saw the emergency room doctor and he told her about my injuries. My younger sisters, Laura and Chandra, were already at the hospital because the school secretary had driven them there. Mom, Laura and Chandra all went back to to see me in the room where I was being held. My mom noticed that I was hooked up to all sorts of tubes and different machines and that my neck was extremely swollen, but my face was totally unmarred. (It's amazing that all of my injuries were internal; I didn't have any superficial injuries, like cuts or scrapes.)

Later in the waiting room, my mom noticed that a large and ever-growing crowd of my friends from school and work, in addition to some of our friends from church, began to gather to keep vigil. Only family members were allowed to see me, but our friends came anyway. Every time the doctor would come out into the waiting room to update my mom on my status, a hush would fall over my group of friends as they strained their ears to hear what the doctor was saying. After a few times of this, my mom would motion for my friends to come closer so that they could hear what the doctor was saying so she wouldn't have to try and repeat it. "No sign of movement" was one of the only things my mom remembered the doctor saying.

My bishop and one of his counselors arrived that evening and they were allowed to see me to administer a priesthood blessing. My mom doesn't remember any of the words that were said in the blessing, but she did notice a small tear in my eye after the blessing was over. Although I didn't appear conscious, I'd obviously heard the blessing.

As the evening dragged on, most of my friends left for the evening. Around 11 PM my mom decided to go home to "not sleep" as she told the nurse. Although it was hard for her to leave me, she knew that she would need her strength. She came into my room one last time to see me. Although I appeared unconscious, I would wake up with a wild look in my eyes when people would loudly call my name. My mom didn't know if I could hear her or not, but she tried explaining the situation to me. "You were in a car accident. It was not your fault. You're in the hospital and the doctors are doing all they can for you." Mom also let me know her feelings. "You can't move and the doctors say that it's probably permanent. If you want to go to heaven with Dad, that's okay, but if you want to stay here I'll be here for you every step of the way and do all I can for you." After this my mom and my sisters said a prayer before leaving the hospital for the night. My mom asked Heavenly Father that my dad would be allowed to watch over me through the night. (I don't remember this, but the next day when my mom saw me she asked me if my dad had been there and I blinked my eyes to indicate "yes.")

November 17 was nearly over. So much had happened. I'd woken up that morning thinking it would be an ordinary day, but it ended up so differently. My life had drastically changed in a split second and it would never be the same. My old life was over and a new one was just beginning.

Happy anniversary to me!

Today is the sixth anniversary of my car accident. I definitely don't look at this day as a day of sadness. I look at it as a day of celebration. I celebrate because I'm alive, especially considering that I should have died in my accident. I celebrate because I'm healthy, especially for someone who is as disabled as I am. I celebrate because I'm happy—the happiest I've ever been.

I definitely consider November 17 to be my "second birthday." I survived on the day that I nearly died. Not only did I survive, but I feel like I've triumphed in the face of adversity. Physically speaking, my car accident was the worst thing that's ever happened to me, but spiritually, mentally and emotionally it's been the best thing to ever happen to me. I truly mean that. I feel like I'm such a better person than I used to be. I have better priorities, more empathy and compassion towards others, and a better perspective on life. For these reasons I can honestly say that I would never take back my accident if given the choice. The things I've gained far outweigh the things I've lost.

I love talking about my accident and my experiences. I love it when people ask me questions, although, usually people don't feel comfortable asking. That's why I've enjoyed talking about myself on my blog so I can answer some FAQs. It's a way I can share things about myself with people, without them having to feel uncomfortable asking. If you're ever curious about me and my life, please ask!

November 17, 2003: part one

November 17, 2003 started out an ordinary day, but it would end up anything other than ordinary. My nursing class was already involved in clinicals (that's where you go to a hospital or nursing home to practice your skills) and I woke up before 5 AM so I could be at the nursing home I was assigned to by 6 AM. For the next six hours I worked at the nursing home learning the finer points about taking care of the different needs of the residents at the nursing home. My classmates and I were released from clinicals about noon, and then I was off to tackle the rest of my very busy day.

I would head home to change out of my white student nurse uniform, and then I would go to school to take my Dosage Calculations final. After this I would go to St. John's Hospital for the physical each new employee was required to get. (I'd just gotten a new job at the hospital as a patient care tech so that I could gain experience.) Finally, I would head to the movie theater where I worked as an assistant manager to work from about 5 PM to 1 AM. These were my plans, anyway, but I wouldn't even make it home.

Leaving the nursing home was the last thing I remembered that day, and would be the last thing I remembered for quite some time. (The rest of the events that happened that day have been told to me by my family and friends.) When I got to the intersection of 21 and 141 I was stopped at a red light and was the first car in line. When the light turned green, I started to make a left-hand turn onto 141. As I did this, a car going perpendicular to mine ran a red light and T-boned my car on the driver's side. That car was going approximately 50 mph, and it struck my car with so much force that I was immediately knocked unconscious. The force of the impact caused my head to swing to the right, breaking my neck at the second cervical (C2) vertebrae. It also collapsed my left lung, ruptured my spleen, dislocated my pelvis, broke several of my ribs on the left side of my body and caused severe internal bleeding. 911 was called by someone that witnessed the accident, and it was reported that I arrived at St. Anthony's Hospital in South County, MO, six minutes after the call to 911 was made. With my neck broken at the C2 level, I was no longer able to use my diaphragm muscle which is used for breathing, so it was a good thing that the paramedics arrived so quickly so that I could be intubated and put on a ventilator.

Fortunately, I was very close to St. Anthony's Hospital. I was taken to have emergency surgery soon after arriving at the hospital to stop my internal bleeding. (My mom later found out from the surgeon that my internal bleeding was so severe that I would've bled to death if I'd had to wait any longer for surgery.) My bleeding was stopped and my ruptured spleen was removed.

Meanwhile, the police officers were trying to track down my mom. They went to my house and there was no answer, but they'd found the number of the movie theater on a pay stub in my purse. They called the theater and talked to my boss, Bob. He didn't know where my mom might be, but he knew where my younger sisters went to high school. The police officer called the school and asked the school secretary to notify my sisters that I had been in a car accident. She did and drove my sisters up to the hospital.

To make a long story short, my mom was finally tracked down at Barnes Jewish Hospital where she was doing her practicum for school. (Mom was in graduate school at this time getting a Master's degree in pastoral care.) Mom was in a patient's room with a woman who was sick with cervical cancer when her instructor called her out into the hall. She then told my mom that one of her daughters had been in a car accident. It was 2 PM so that meant the high school hadn't let out yet, so Mom knew that I was the one that had been in the car accident. Her instructor gave her the number of St. Anthony's Hospital and my mom made the call. The nurse that answered the phone told my mom that I had sustained a cervical fracture and that I'd already undergone emergency surgery. My mom asked the nurse, "Please, I have to know, is Heather alive?" The nurse told her that my vital signs were stable, but that I was hurt very badly, and she needed to get to the hospital right away.

Lawrence, one of the chaplains my mom was working with, decided that she wasn't in a fit state to drive, so he drove her to the hospital in her car and a couple of the other chaplains followed so that they could take Lawrence home afterward. On the drive to the hospital my mom started making the necessary phone calls. She started by calling my boss, Bob, to let him know I wouldn't be working that night, but Bob already knew since the police officer had talked to him earlier that day when he was trying to locate Mom. Mom also asked Bob to get word to my dear friend and coworker, Adam, because she knew I would want him to know what had happened. Bob told her that he already had.

Next, Mom called her friend Paul (also a chaplain) because she knew she would need the support of friends. She also called a neighbor and asked her if she could find two men from our church who could come to the hospital and give me a priesthood blessing. After the calls were complete, Mom started thinking about what the nurse had said on the phone... a cervical fracture. Initially, my mom was thinking cervical referred to the cervix, but when she actually thought about it, she realized that I had broken my neck.

More about that fateful day in my next post.

It's that time again

I'm a nostalgic person and the simplest things can trigger memories in me. The scent of something, the taste of something, the weather, etc. November is the month that my car accident occurred in, and every November I think back to the time in my life when it changed in a big, big way. This is what what was going on in my life back in November 2003:

I was in my first semester of a two-year nursing program. I decided to do a two-year RN program, and had plans of getting my BSN later on after I was out of school and working at a hospital. (Hospitals usually pay your tuition if you are continuing your nursing education.) I loved what I was learning in nursing school and I was excited at the prospect of a career where I could help care for people. I went to school Monday through Friday, 8–4:30 PM. I usually had three or four tests a week, so I studied hard so that I could make good grades.

I was also working 30+ hours each week at the movie theater. I had a fixed schedule and I worked every Monday night, Thursday night, Friday night and some time on Saturday. Thursday nights were busy as we closed out one movie week and prepared for the next. Fridays and Saturdays were busy because that's when the new movies would come out and people would be out of work/school. Monday evenings usually weren't too busy. I'd make the employee schedule for the following week, but would usually have a little bit of time to study as I waited for all of the movies to end. (I was usually the last manager working, so it was my responsibility to shut down the projection booth after all of the movies let out. I'd also have to take the money we made that day to the bank and put it in the night deposit slot. I'd finally get home about 1 AM.

Although I loved working at the movie theater, that fall I'd started looking for a new job at a hospital as a nurse's aide so that I could gain experience and practice the things I was learning about in school. I applied at St. John's Hospital had gotten the job. As bittersweet as it would be to leave the movie theater where I'd worked for the past 3½ years—pretty much my first and only job—I felt it was the right move to make. Sadly, I'd never be able to start this new job at the hospital, or ever work caring for others.

That's all I have time to write about today, but I look forward to writing more about my experiences in November 2003.