October 15, 2009

•October 15, 2010 • 6 Comments

A year ago today, I was laying in a hospital bed after a pretty serious car accident. I don’t remember the exact events, but I remember snippets here and there. Mostly my memories have to do with the people who offered me a part of themselves that day (not to mention the coming weeks), who showed care and concern when I needed it most.

The unnamed Army guy who was the first to reach my car in the ditch. I heard he walked away at first, and told onlookers he thought I was dead, but he came back. He sat by me, talked to me, held my neck sturdy and tried to distract me from the intense pain while the ambulance was on it’s way. Two people from my church. They didn’t know me well, the most we ever did was shake hands and do the usual “how are you’s” during greeting time at church. They happened to be in the hospital when I was in the ER, not out of coincidence, but because the other car I had plowed into was driven by the husband of one of the women. They kept checking on me to make sure I was doing OK, they contacted the pastor and helped locate family to contact and let them know what had happened. The mother of a neighbor, who worked at the hospital and sat in my room for hours praying for me and making sure everything was being done that could be to make sure I got the best treatment. My husband. Even though we were in the middle of a separation/divorce, he was there supporting me and making sure details such as the kids, nurse, and my comfort were taken care of. An out-of-town friend, who worried when I wasn’t online and showed her concern and love. She talked to me for countless hours on the phone and online, kept my spirits up and eased my pain. My boss who was so patient and understanding, and gave me so much more than a boss is required to. The doctors, nurses, and hospital staff, some I remember and others I don’t, for making me better. My sister, who spent hours with me at the hospital and helped make sure the kids were OK. My pastor, who was so kind and concerned, who represented the church that also offered me so much unexpected love and support. My kids, who showered me with love (yes, even the teenaged ones) and gave me three big reasons to stay motivated. The man whose car I hit, for simply showing me kindness. Friends from the past and present who showed up and offered me their love, concern, and time, people I never met bringing meals and offering prayers, and those friends who prayed silently from afar. Each one of them was a blessing to me and I cherished every visit, email, chat, post, or phone call I received, and every prayer that was sent on my behalf.

I broke my pelvic bone in a few spots and injured my back in the accident, not to mention completely smashed up my car. A year later I have a lot to be thankful for. The shows of love came at a critical time in my life and no matter how small it may have seemed to those who gave, it was huge for me. I can walk, and even hike up mountains (sitting on bleachers, on the other hand, is not quite as easy). I’m closer to God than I’ve ever been before, and grateful that he gave me this life to live. It definitely is an adventure worth experiencing.

To all of you, thank you and I hope you know what a difference you made and continue to make.

Pics of my totaled car:

 

Everything crushed, except the driver's sitting area.

 

 

 

Where's the trunk?

 

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Puppies!

•July 8, 2010 • 1 Comment

It’s been a while since I blogged, lol. I could have just let this thing drop, but that’s not what the new me is all about. So instead, I decided to post something cheerful and adorable. I couldn’t find any pictures of me (drumroll please!), so these little furballs will have to do.

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Yes, they are available from adoption. You know you want one.

You’re welcome.

Back To It

•June 16, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Life is back to “normal” now. I brought my son home from the hospital and he is watching a movie, and texting his friends. My daughter is watching a movie and annoying him at every possible turn. And my other son is over at a friend’s house. There is comfort in the “same old” and at the same time a feeling of dread hidden just under the surface.

The hospital stay was a good move overall. My son was like a different person the day after he was admitted. So relaxed, so himself (which I rarely get to see). We were able to talk a little at family therapy, and he was able to get more of his anger out that he holds against me for the most difficult event in his life so far, the divorce. He’s angry at me and there’s not much I can do to change that, except hope that someday he sees it was the only decision I could make at the time, and that he can see how much I really love him.

I wish I knew what to do to allow that relaxed, happy kid I saw in the hospital come home. It didn’t happen last night, and I was pretty bummed out about it. I cried about it, leaned on a friend, wrote a little and slept. I woke up early this morning a bit more positive, ready to take on this battle along with all the other battles life brings, and enjoy what I can along the way.

Thanks to all who read my first blog entry, and the many many wonderful, heartwarming, understanding, empathetic, caring (I could go on and on…) responses. They meant so much to me.

One Tough Bridge To Cross

•June 10, 2010 • 3 Comments

I thought this was as good a time as any to start a blog, so here goes.

It’s about 3:00 a.m. and I’m writing because I can’t sleep. I just got back from doing something most parents don’t imagine they’ll ever have to do, and something I’ve been successfully putting off for about 10 years. Actually I don’t now how successful it’s been, but I have avoided it. I just took my son to a psychiatric hospital, or the more-politically-correct-less-scary term, behavioral health facility. He’s been struggling with a lot in his young life, thanks to genetics and, as much as I had hoped to prevent it, a difficult environment as well. He’s been diagnosed with so many things it is hard to keep them straight, but the most consistent seem to be ADHD, ODD, PDD-NOS, with the possibilities of Bipolar or a Thought Disorder looming.

Last night started out like your typical night with three ADHD kids. I gathered them up and took them home, and warned them that tonight we would be cleaning the living room. It didn’t go well. It never goes well. Whether it’s ADHD, my own failures as a parent, downright opposition to anything that involves work, or what, it is always a nightmare. Last night was worse. Less than 4 hours after we got home, I had a pretty good idea about what I needed to do. He was out of control, and needed help, or he was going to do something he would regret, something that could ruin the rest of his life.

We got to the hospital at 10:30, and had to wait until the new shift started at 11. It was a slow process, but not unexpected to me; see, I have some experience in this department. My mother was a paranoid schizophrenic, and I had to take her to way too many mental hospitals and boarding homes in her life. He tried to convince me to just leave, and everything would be better — he would control himself. He cried. He tried to guilt me into thinking that I was abandoning him, leaving him in this scary place with who knows what kind of people. It was a little eerie — some of the same words came out of his mouth that my mom used to throw at me. I didn’t give in then, and I didn’t give in this time — although I have to admit it was soooo much harder with him.

As parents we want so much to see our kids happy, and this definitely did not make him happy. But I’ve made a lot of recent changes, and one of them is my reactions to the way others treat me and treat those I love. I couldn’t just let it go this time, and let things continue to escalate, hoping beyond hope that he would come to his senses and turn things around. One of my favorite quotes – “If you always do what you always did, you always get what you always got” – kept repeating over and over in my mind. He needs help to get better, and it is my job to make sure he gets that help, no matter how difficult it is.

Still, there are doubts. I hope I did the right thing. I hope this is the beginning of a new, happier start for him. All I know is that when I wake up in the morning, and he isn’t under his covers, I will miss him. I’m putting my trust in God and the professionals, and I pray they don’t let him down.

 
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