While driving the lengthy trip home from my doctor’s office yesterday after my regular follow-up visit, I was trying to sort my emotions related to our discussion. My doc is “real people” … a man who understands that I need him to help enable me to do as much as I can without hurting myself. We really talk, and he really listens. He takes good care of me ... when I follow orders.
One never dreams, when climbing into a vehicle as a passenger, that it could be a life-altering experience. Our mind is on where we want to go, and how to get there. I never thought about how a slight movement of the steering wheel could cause a vehicle to hit the edge of the pavement wrong and tumble over a mountainside. But, it happened. I sustained nerve damage to my neck and arms, and I lost the use of my right arm and hand. Surgery restored most of the function to my right hand … most of the time … but I will always have severe nerve pain.
My doctor just told me that I will be having tests next week to confirm or rule out yet another medical issue. The trauma from that accident ten years ago set off a chain of progressive medical conditions that I still struggle to manage, and I don’t think I am ready to cope with another. I seriously never want to hear another diagnosis. On the way home I was thinking, “I just want my life back.”
The day exhausted me, so I lay down to try and rest. I just couldn’t get my mind off the doctor visit, and couldn’t rest. It was then that I realized I was feeling more than a little bit sorry for myself!
My mind went to our military personnel who are physically injured or psychologically traumatized while serving our Country – for ME – and I was embarrassed by my earlier thoughts. I can only imagine how much each of those service members wants his or her life back. Some will recover completely, and hopefully get that life back. Most will never be quite the same, and many more will have their lives changed in ways that their present doesn’t even resemble their former lives. As a result, some will experience far worse than I have or will.
The memory is still fresh of how I was so scared when I ‘came to’ and couldn’t feel my hand. How relieved I felt when the paramedics arrived on the scene. How frightening it was to be strapped to a board with a brace around my neck to immobilize it. This experience is one of the reasons that I became involved in Operation: Quiet Comfort. It is important to me that I help support and comfort our injured at their first stop for medical care.
While I can’t guarantee that I won’t indulge in another bout of self-pity, I am certain that my thoughts will always return to my concern for those who are putting it all on the line for me. And I will try to endure whatever comes with more grace than I did yesterday.
Please join us in demonstrating that a grateful Nation TRULY thanks our wounded warriors and the amazing medical professionals who care for them. www.operationquietcomfort.com
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