What happened

A phrase you welcome during exciting times in your life. A daunting one when life hands you excitement in a not so positive form. Over the past two weeks, this question has popped up everywhere, and I’ve mostly been able to defer it to my parents or boyfriend. Now that I am no longer in the hospital, and feel like I can post without weeping (crossing my fingers), I think it’s time I tell you, my readers and loved ones, what happened.

{I bring you this post in hope, in high spirits, in thanksgiving, and in joy. I’m excited to see what God has for my life. He’s not done with me yet}

On Saturday, July 13th, I was headed to see my boyfriend Stephen, who had been gone for a week, and have dinner at my parents house, where he would begin house sitting. Food for an amazing meal..check. New dress…check. Oh wait, tortillas, I’ll have to stop by the store on the way.

They really don’t kid when they say most accidents happen close to home. With Katy Perry’s Firework filling up my Jeep, I began to drive through a green light intersection. The only thing I remember is seeing is a boxy car, in the left turn lane facing me, pull out to turn. And that’s it. I can’t tell you about the impact or how the car got into the Shell gas station parking lot.

What’s strange is, despite my lack of memory, I was awake. So awake in fact that I called Stephen frantically right after the impact. A conversation I have no recollection of. My first memories of the crash are auditory. People yelling outside the car about a fire, the sound of a fire extinguisher, myself saying, “baby, I’m scared” on the phone to Stephen. I don’t have any visual memories till much later, when EMS and the fire department were in the car with me.

They make the experience of a car accident victim in slow motion on tv or in the movies. For me it was the same. Slow motion scene of opening my eyes…seeing people taking pictures through a broken windshield…looking to my right at a large swelling bruise of my arm …looking to my left at my arm cradling my leg in the fetal position…listening to the EMS guys telling me they are going to have to pull the car apart to get my other leg out. The entire time someone was on the phone, be it my mom and dad or Stephen. It’s odd what you think to say first. “I’m fine.” “I can move my toes.” My neck and back don’t hurt.” “Please God let me keep my leg.” The latter was an exaggeration, but when you hear that they have to pry you out of a car, the thing that is struck becomes an immediate worry. My head hurt. It was bleeding.

All of that left my mind very quickly as I thought of the other person. “Are they ok? Please God let them be ok!” “Was it my fault?” “Did they go to the hospital?’

I learned that questions of most kinds don’t get answered at this point. The important stuff stays in focus and EMS, thank goodness, don’t have trouble with focus.

My leg is loose, and I pull it out. And the whirlwind begins.

Everything is pretty much a blur until I get to the Er. Pretty sure I flirted with the tattooed ambulance guy (sorry baby, I blame the morphine) and swore off the chaplain who was trying to distract me in the ER (Again, sorry, morphine, and I knew your tactics too well).

Amazing familiar faces began to arrive as early as the ER. And when they finally put me in a room, and wonderful people I loved were around me (mom and dad were still in NC and calling every moment), my man showed up, having been 2 hours away when he first got the call. You learn very quickly how much you love someone when the moment they walk in the room you feel like you can breath again. To be honest. Everything after that is a morphined haze. I had company. The right company. And I could finally rest.

I hope that seemed chaotic to read. It was kind of the point. It was utter chaos.

Over the next few days, the details formed.

Two broken ankles. One surgery to repair left ankle with 2 broken bones, a torn ligament, a torn tendon, and move bones back to proper place in foot. 4 Staples to repair laceration to the head. Doctors order not to walk for 3 months. Not driving for 3 months. Hearing the worst case scenarios. Not being able to go back to my apartment for weeks. A totaled Jeep. A charge of failure to yield was given to the other driver. Hiring a lawyer.

But those were the nitty gritty ones. The details that have the capability to leave me devastated and angry.

Here are the details that matter:

A boyfriend who never left my side. Neighbors who rushed to the ER and stayed with me consistantly over my hospital stay, and cleaned out my car at the junk yard. My pastor who rushed to the ER. Parents who packed immediately and left their vacation and have taken care of me every since. A congregant who took over my case to be the head anesthesiologist during my surgery. A best friend who left Macon and came to the hospital as quickly as she could and stayed in town. Being told I will walk again. Seeing the pictures of my car and realizing I’m lucky to have my life, and my leg. They didn’t have to cut off my new dress in the ER.

I have my life.

I have my leg.

No one died. (The other driver was fine, thank God!)

My parents have the ability to take care of me.

My boyfriend loves me enough to not only stick around, but come to the house almost every day.

A job that is letting me work from home until I can get back there.

I will heal

Life will go on.

I will walk again.

I’m grateful more today than I have ever been. It’s hard. It’s going to be hard. But it’s not going to be hard by myself. I guess God has some kind of plan for me still. (Definitely didn’t reach my goal of not weeping)

I want to thank you all so much for your love, the cards, the visits, the posts, the prayers. I need them all. You remind me of my faith with each one.

So, I guess, if I were to answer the question, “what happened” after writing this, I would say,

I lived. What shall we do today?

(Fun company from Stephen’s parents:) )

{Orchids and dinosaurs from my man}

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Truly,

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