Don't tell me it will be ok
that's not what I need to hear,
tell me of your love for me
that you'll always hold me near.
Don't tell me it will be ok
when you can't walk in my shoes,
just understand the fear of things
and that it's so brand new.
Don't tell me it will be ok
when things get so much closer,
just hold me when I cry at night
reassure me your love's not over.
Don't tell me it will be ok
when you don't know how I feel,
just understand that something's wrong
and for me the pain is real.
Don't tell me it will be ok
that one day I won't walk,
just tell me that you understand
and that you're always here to talk.
Don't tell me it will be ok
when I'm feeling overwhelmed,
remind me of my many blessings
and that I do not live in hell.
Don't tell me it will be ok
when I feel that all is gone,
sit next to me and pray with me
no matter how short or long.
Don't tell me it will be ok
when nothing good seems near,
just help me build my faith and strength
remind me God is here.
Don't tell me it will be ok
when I only want to cry,
remind me of your love for me
and hold me forever tight.
Don't tell me it will be ok
when this you do not know,
let me deal in my own true way
cause soon my pain will go.
I only ask for your love and strength
to help me through this life,
but don't tell me it will be ok
because I feel that is a lie.
Don't tell me it will be ok
when my pain is so very real,
just tell me of your love for me
and that you will help me heal.
S.R.W.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
The way it all began
I was raised in a small town in Ohio, population-not a lot(lol)! It was a town where everybody knew everybody! Two small churches, one store, one gas station, two bars, one with a restaurant and one with just a grill. A grain elevator which we lived directly in front of, a post office and legion hall in the same building, a school with a playground and two baseball fields in the back, Mom and Dad's ceramic shop, a fire station and a bank on the same property, the towns very own 'junk shop', and a 'one man band' police station. O ya, and our very own telephone company, who'd a thunk it? The town was four miles square and there are two main state routes that run through town, one is east and west, one is north and south, intersecting right smack dab in the middle of the town! The small town life was awesome! There really was not a lot for the kids to do in this town, but the community did their best to keep us busy and keep us out of trouble. I think most of that was due to there only being one town cop, a lot of hiding places, and knowing where to go to not get caught! We had our own softball and baseball teams during the summer, with practices every day, for as long as we wanted! It was so much fun! As kids, we rode our bikes all over the place when we were not busy playing ball. It was plain out AWESOME!
As a child, I had an awesome upbringing! With the best parents a kid could ask for, I wanted for nothing. We weren't rich, but my parents made sure we never went without. They were awesome parents and awesome providers! I could only wish to be more like my parents! My Dad was a sheet metal worker, and my Mom owned her own Ceramic Shop. On the weekends, my Dad worked in the shop with Mom to help her out with the pouring of molds. I spent a lot of time in that Ceramic Shop with my Mom and Dad. I learned to paint, pour small molds, clean some of the smaller greenware, anything that I could do that I wouldn't destroy. I was always a clumsy kid, and that hasn't changed one bit! I may not be a kid anymore, except for at heart, but I am still clumsy! When my Dad would get laid off from time to time, he would be in the shop helping my Mom and giving her a much needed and very well deserved break. He was also a registered Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) on the town's Ambulance (ya, we had one of those too!). If he was laid off or not working for one reason or the other, he stayed on call around the clock! I couldn't even begin to tell you how many nights I was woke up to his pager going off and Dad hustling out the door to tend to a call. The things my Father saw, you couldn't even fathom unless you have ever been an EMT on a Life Squad. I think what made it worse, was that most of the calls he went on were for people which he has known most of his life, or kids he watched grow up over the years. You know that had to have been difficult for him.
I remember the summer of 1983 pretty well. My parents had got me a brand new bike for Christmas the year before, my very first ten speed! It was a bright red girls bike, a Huffy Scorcher! It was awesome and I loved it! My parents had put one stipulation on me with this bike and that was to take the bycicle safety course that the town police was putting on at the beginning of the summer. Not only was it my first big bike, but it was my key to freedom, so they wanted to make sure I knew the safety rules so that I did not hurt myself (which never happened, I was clumsy,lol). One of the men that my Father was friends with decided he was going to be a police officer that year to help the 'one man band' become a 'two man circus', to say the least!
I remember one of the rules they taught us very clearly. When you do not have the option of a sidewalk, always ride AGAINST the traffic. How well do you think that flew with a bunch of young kids? (LOL) I can rememeber a day that this man was at the shop talking with my Dad and I decided to go to my friends house who lived on the very far end of town. When I left, I rode WITH the traffic instead of AGAINST it. I'll have you know, before I even got a block away, the man yelled for me to come back, so I did. Only to get my butt chewed out because I had just been through the class and was taught to ride against the flow of traffic, not with it. Needless to say, I took his words and ran with them, I always rode against the traffic after that. When I would leave the shop, there was one area that used to be a sidewalk. The town had tore the sidewalk up and replaced it with a thick layer small stone and pebble. On a ten speed bike in those days, that was rough terrain, especially for a beginner, so I would ride in the parking spaces next to the curb. Seems safe enough, right? Not riding in the road where I could get hit, and not riding in the gravel where I would wipe out and get all skinned up. Fair enough! Or at least I thought so anyway.
One of the things I loved to do, was go to the far end of the town and go cray fishing with my friend in the creek by his house. We had a lot of fun and served no purpose other than to catch crawdads! We weren't hurting a soul! I would carry my bucket on my handlebars and the old shoes that I would use were tied together hanging from the handlebars as well. I was going to play in the creek! When my Dad got laid off in late July 1983, he mounted a basket on the front of my bike so that it was safer for me to carry my bucket and shoes, and anything else I may have had to carry with me! I was in Heaven!
On Monday, August 8, 1983, at 7:20 pm, my life changed, forever.
My Mom was home doing her normal canning for that time of year and my sister was there helping her. My sister was married and pregnant at the time. My Dad had opened the shop up that evening, every Monday and Thursday night they would open up for a few extra hours. I had asked Mom if I could go cray fishing for a couple hours and she was fine with that, but I had to stop at the shop first and get my bucket from Dad. I remember leaving the shop, passing the gas station, crossing the small intersection, riding against the traffic like I was instructed to do, then riding next to the old sidewalk. The next thing I knew, my back was burning, I looked up, and realized I was laying on the ground looking up at a lady who was also on the squad with my Father. I looked around and saw people looking at me from behind, then I saw my Father running towards me. At that point, I was not sure what was going on except that the ground was extremely hot, I was thirsty, and I was being held down. A man approached the lady who was crouched over me before my Dad could get to us and asked her what happened. She tried to turn her head so that I could not see what she was saying, but I saw her lip the words to him, "She was just run over by a semi, I need the Ambulance, NOW!" It was at that very moment that I remembered what had just happened, I started to freak out, fighting to get up, but couldn't. There were 3 adults holding me down, I was 9 years old.
My dad came to my side and reassured me that I would be ok if it was the last thing he ever did.The next thing I knew, my Mother was on her knees at my left side, crying. I lifted my left arm to hug her and told her that I would be ok because I knew Dad would help me and asked her to please not cry because I was fine. My left arm was the only thing I could move except for my head. I did not realize just how bad the situation really was, all I knew was that my Dad was on the squad, and that I had full and complete trust that he would make sure I would be ok, just like he said. While the EMT's, my father included, were trying to get shock pants on me, an inflatable sleeve on my right arm, and a brace around my neck, I had both my Mother and my Sister right next to me talking to me. I remember that it seemed as though the EMT's were having problems getting those pants on me, but I didn't know why, I just knew I had to keep my Mother and my sister from crying. At that point, I was more worried about them crying so bad than I was worried about what they were having to do to me just to get me off the road. Finally, they were able to get me on the stretcher and load me into the ambulance. I gave my Mother and my sister a hug and kiss and told them that I would be fine because Dad was going with me. My Father was so awesome, he was involved with all the medical care just as he would have been with a stranger. Can you imagine?
In the ambulance, I remember my Dad on my right side, a close friend of the family's who was also on the squad to my left, and a two of the lady's who were on the squad and friend's of the family at my knees, one on the right, one on the left. The man who decided to be a police officer that year was also an EMT and he was sitting behind my head. He was the one communicating with the hospital in the town 20 miles away to let them know the injuries, stats and ETA, which is when I found out that not only was I crushed, but I was not all completely in tact either. I think the only thing that kept me calm at that point was my Father who kept telling me that he was going to make sure I would be ok. I beleived him because I knew that he would make sure that I was, and he did! I remember trying to go to sleep on the ride to the hospital and my Dad kept telling me that I would have enough time for sleep later, but for the moment, I had to stay awake and talk to him. So I did, the best I could. I was so thirsty that they had a wash cloth that they were putting in cold water and putting an edge of it in my mouth so that I could suck the moisture off of it.
We arrived at the Hospital and into the Emergency room I went, surrounded by doctors, bright lights and white curtains. I do not remember a whole lot about being at that particular hospital except my sister coming in and asking me if I remembered what happened. Ya, I remembered! So I began to explain, I was riding my bike along the sidewalk and a semi looked like he was pulling over, but before I could get out of the way, he hit me with the grill on the hood of the truck, I saw a bunch of tires coming at my head, so I turned my head and the next thing I knew, I was being held down on the ground. Come to find out, I had flown airborne thru half of a block, across a small intersection, landed in front of the gas station, where all nine tires on the passenger side of the truck ran over my entire body, except for my left arm and my head, by the Grace of God. I had nine sets of tire tread on both legs, my stomach, my chest, my right collar bone and shoulder, and on my right arm. I was literally crushed.
I was lucky enough to be air lifted by Life Flight to St.Vincent Hospital in Toledo, Ohio where my brother was a surgeon at and also the first person I saw when we got there and the helicopter door came open. My parents had to drive from where I started, to there which was about 35 miles. Needless to say, it only took me 7 minutes to get there. My brother never left my side, even into the surgery room where they told me to count backwards from 100. My brother told me he loved me very much and that I was going to be fine, and then he started counting with me. I remember asking him if I was going to wake back up. He sort of snickered and told me yes I would and that I had the best doctors in the world to take care of me. I know the count didn't take long, I fell asleep looking at my brother who was counting with me. During surgery, the surgeons literally had to put me back together. My right leg was attached to me only by mere threads. I was literally torn apart, on top of being crushed. My right foot was crushed and the bones broken to peices, left leg crushed but broken in two places, right hip was crushed and broken in different places, my pelvis was crushed and broken in different places, my entire right arm was crushed but somehow not broken, hair shaved from the right side of my head, only because I turned it to keep the tires from running my head over, which I can still remember seeing and doing to this very day.
After a lengthy surgery, the surgeons told my parents that they had put dozens, times dozens, times dozens, times hundreds of dozens more stitches in me to put me back together, but the operation was a success! Thank you Lord! They also told my parents that there was a good chance I would never walk again and a better chance that I would never be able to carry any children to full term, if at all. I remember waking up in ICU and my Mother was standing next to me at my bed side. She kissed me and reassured me that she was right there beside me, Dad was there and so was my brother and sister, but they were in the waiting room waiting to be able to see me. I was so happy to see my Mother that I thought I was going to get up out of bed to hug her, needless to say, that didn't happen. I couldn't lift my right arm which looked bruised from top to bottom, and I couldn't lift my butt, which really really hurt. I looked at my Mom and started crying, " My butt is glued to the bed!" She told me I wasn't glued to the bed, that I had some really bad injuries and my butt was one of the areas injured.
I spent two and a half days in the ICU unit, which was a miracle in itself. They finally put me in a normal room where I was able to start eating food and drinking water. My food consisted of jello, jello water, and water for a day or two before they started giving me food with a little more substance, a little at a time. I had tubes and IV's running every which way out of my body, doctors and nurses were in and out constantly, and I honestly can not remember a time that my Mother left my bedside for more than 5 minutes for the first week. She had to teach me all over again how to hold a spoon to feed myself, how to hold a pencil and learn to write all over again, but within just a few days, she had me doing it on my own, God Love Her!
One week after the accident, the doctors had both of my legs casted, and they finally started putting me in a wheelchair a little bit at a time, and then to physical therapy where I had the most awesome therapist. He taught me how to lift my legs in the air, he taught me how to sit up on my own, and then he tauht me how to have wheelchair races down the hospital hallways and how to pop a wheely in the chair, which about gave my Mother a heartattack! Two weeks to the day of the accident, I was checking out and going home with my parents! My Mother had to pick me up out of my wheelchair, casts and all, and put me into bed, get me out of bed, to go to the bathroom, to get in and out of the car for doctors appointments. If I had to leave the chair for anything for the first month, I had to be lifted by my Mother or Father. A month after the accident, I was learning how to get in and out of the wheelchair on my own, which meant my Parents did not have to do as much work except when I would over do it and didn't have the strength to do it anymore. Eventually, I was scooting around the house on my butt, going to the bathroom, finally able to get to my bedroom and into my own bed. I was finally able to scootch my butt into a normal kitchen chair so that I could eat with my family like normal, instead of in the wheel chair. I spent my 10th birthday, which is in September, in a wheel chair. My parents took me to an awesome Mexican Restaraunt for my birhday, where the waiters sang Happy Birthday to me and made me cry. I went through a lot of emotional changes during this time in my life. Happy when I was able to accomplish something, but sad, angry and crying when I could do nothing on my own. I went throuh massive stages of depression. There were moments I wanted to just give up because I didn't think I could do it, but my family kept supporting me and told me to keep trying as I felt I could and that I would find eventually it would get easier, and it did!
Two and a half months after the accident, my casts were being taken off my legs, I was given a set of crutches to use when I wanted to try and walk, and in therapy, they were teaching me how to walk all over again! I only used the crutches for less than a month before I was able to stand and walk on my own, three and a half months after being crushed and ripped in two! Nine months after my accident, I was back on a brand new bicycle. Nine months after the accident, the coach of the towns girls' softball team invited me to come play with them, so I did. I had 10 successful years of playing softball. Less than 7 years after my accident, I gave birth to my first child, Leon. I carried him full term, but was unable to have a natural childbirth, he was taken by emergency ceserean.
This is why, 27 years later, I am diagnosed with the many issues that I have been diagnosed with. O, and so you know, I spent ten successful years behind the wheel of a semi as my profession! We never did find the truck or the driver who hit me. He fled from the scene of the accident and left me lay for dead. Sad, but true! As I sit and write this blog for the rest of the world to see, memories and flash backs bring back a lot of emotional pain, but it also takes me to the most grateful feeling a person could ever have! My Lord has blessed me with a normal and full life, I can not and will not complain about any of it. Instead, I will hold on and cherish what my life has become until the day I die. I would be lying if I told you that none of this ever bothers me, because it does. I still cry, I still get angry, I still get weak, and at times, I still give up. But I have my Lord and my Family to whom I am grateful for, for keeping my head afloat, even when my chin has dropped to my chest and my face drownding in my own tears.
Thank You Lord for Blessing my life the way you have! I know that your blessings will continue to shine, and when I am the weakest, I know that it is then, that you carry me! You are my life line and I could never ask for more! AMEN!
As a child, I had an awesome upbringing! With the best parents a kid could ask for, I wanted for nothing. We weren't rich, but my parents made sure we never went without. They were awesome parents and awesome providers! I could only wish to be more like my parents! My Dad was a sheet metal worker, and my Mom owned her own Ceramic Shop. On the weekends, my Dad worked in the shop with Mom to help her out with the pouring of molds. I spent a lot of time in that Ceramic Shop with my Mom and Dad. I learned to paint, pour small molds, clean some of the smaller greenware, anything that I could do that I wouldn't destroy. I was always a clumsy kid, and that hasn't changed one bit! I may not be a kid anymore, except for at heart, but I am still clumsy! When my Dad would get laid off from time to time, he would be in the shop helping my Mom and giving her a much needed and very well deserved break. He was also a registered Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) on the town's Ambulance (ya, we had one of those too!). If he was laid off or not working for one reason or the other, he stayed on call around the clock! I couldn't even begin to tell you how many nights I was woke up to his pager going off and Dad hustling out the door to tend to a call. The things my Father saw, you couldn't even fathom unless you have ever been an EMT on a Life Squad. I think what made it worse, was that most of the calls he went on were for people which he has known most of his life, or kids he watched grow up over the years. You know that had to have been difficult for him.
I remember the summer of 1983 pretty well. My parents had got me a brand new bike for Christmas the year before, my very first ten speed! It was a bright red girls bike, a Huffy Scorcher! It was awesome and I loved it! My parents had put one stipulation on me with this bike and that was to take the bycicle safety course that the town police was putting on at the beginning of the summer. Not only was it my first big bike, but it was my key to freedom, so they wanted to make sure I knew the safety rules so that I did not hurt myself (which never happened, I was clumsy,lol). One of the men that my Father was friends with decided he was going to be a police officer that year to help the 'one man band' become a 'two man circus', to say the least!
I remember one of the rules they taught us very clearly. When you do not have the option of a sidewalk, always ride AGAINST the traffic. How well do you think that flew with a bunch of young kids? (LOL) I can rememeber a day that this man was at the shop talking with my Dad and I decided to go to my friends house who lived on the very far end of town. When I left, I rode WITH the traffic instead of AGAINST it. I'll have you know, before I even got a block away, the man yelled for me to come back, so I did. Only to get my butt chewed out because I had just been through the class and was taught to ride against the flow of traffic, not with it. Needless to say, I took his words and ran with them, I always rode against the traffic after that. When I would leave the shop, there was one area that used to be a sidewalk. The town had tore the sidewalk up and replaced it with a thick layer small stone and pebble. On a ten speed bike in those days, that was rough terrain, especially for a beginner, so I would ride in the parking spaces next to the curb. Seems safe enough, right? Not riding in the road where I could get hit, and not riding in the gravel where I would wipe out and get all skinned up. Fair enough! Or at least I thought so anyway.
One of the things I loved to do, was go to the far end of the town and go cray fishing with my friend in the creek by his house. We had a lot of fun and served no purpose other than to catch crawdads! We weren't hurting a soul! I would carry my bucket on my handlebars and the old shoes that I would use were tied together hanging from the handlebars as well. I was going to play in the creek! When my Dad got laid off in late July 1983, he mounted a basket on the front of my bike so that it was safer for me to carry my bucket and shoes, and anything else I may have had to carry with me! I was in Heaven!
On Monday, August 8, 1983, at 7:20 pm, my life changed, forever.
My Mom was home doing her normal canning for that time of year and my sister was there helping her. My sister was married and pregnant at the time. My Dad had opened the shop up that evening, every Monday and Thursday night they would open up for a few extra hours. I had asked Mom if I could go cray fishing for a couple hours and she was fine with that, but I had to stop at the shop first and get my bucket from Dad. I remember leaving the shop, passing the gas station, crossing the small intersection, riding against the traffic like I was instructed to do, then riding next to the old sidewalk. The next thing I knew, my back was burning, I looked up, and realized I was laying on the ground looking up at a lady who was also on the squad with my Father. I looked around and saw people looking at me from behind, then I saw my Father running towards me. At that point, I was not sure what was going on except that the ground was extremely hot, I was thirsty, and I was being held down. A man approached the lady who was crouched over me before my Dad could get to us and asked her what happened. She tried to turn her head so that I could not see what she was saying, but I saw her lip the words to him, "She was just run over by a semi, I need the Ambulance, NOW!" It was at that very moment that I remembered what had just happened, I started to freak out, fighting to get up, but couldn't. There were 3 adults holding me down, I was 9 years old.
My dad came to my side and reassured me that I would be ok if it was the last thing he ever did.The next thing I knew, my Mother was on her knees at my left side, crying. I lifted my left arm to hug her and told her that I would be ok because I knew Dad would help me and asked her to please not cry because I was fine. My left arm was the only thing I could move except for my head. I did not realize just how bad the situation really was, all I knew was that my Dad was on the squad, and that I had full and complete trust that he would make sure I would be ok, just like he said. While the EMT's, my father included, were trying to get shock pants on me, an inflatable sleeve on my right arm, and a brace around my neck, I had both my Mother and my Sister right next to me talking to me. I remember that it seemed as though the EMT's were having problems getting those pants on me, but I didn't know why, I just knew I had to keep my Mother and my sister from crying. At that point, I was more worried about them crying so bad than I was worried about what they were having to do to me just to get me off the road. Finally, they were able to get me on the stretcher and load me into the ambulance. I gave my Mother and my sister a hug and kiss and told them that I would be fine because Dad was going with me. My Father was so awesome, he was involved with all the medical care just as he would have been with a stranger. Can you imagine?
In the ambulance, I remember my Dad on my right side, a close friend of the family's who was also on the squad to my left, and a two of the lady's who were on the squad and friend's of the family at my knees, one on the right, one on the left. The man who decided to be a police officer that year was also an EMT and he was sitting behind my head. He was the one communicating with the hospital in the town 20 miles away to let them know the injuries, stats and ETA, which is when I found out that not only was I crushed, but I was not all completely in tact either. I think the only thing that kept me calm at that point was my Father who kept telling me that he was going to make sure I would be ok. I beleived him because I knew that he would make sure that I was, and he did! I remember trying to go to sleep on the ride to the hospital and my Dad kept telling me that I would have enough time for sleep later, but for the moment, I had to stay awake and talk to him. So I did, the best I could. I was so thirsty that they had a wash cloth that they were putting in cold water and putting an edge of it in my mouth so that I could suck the moisture off of it.
We arrived at the Hospital and into the Emergency room I went, surrounded by doctors, bright lights and white curtains. I do not remember a whole lot about being at that particular hospital except my sister coming in and asking me if I remembered what happened. Ya, I remembered! So I began to explain, I was riding my bike along the sidewalk and a semi looked like he was pulling over, but before I could get out of the way, he hit me with the grill on the hood of the truck, I saw a bunch of tires coming at my head, so I turned my head and the next thing I knew, I was being held down on the ground. Come to find out, I had flown airborne thru half of a block, across a small intersection, landed in front of the gas station, where all nine tires on the passenger side of the truck ran over my entire body, except for my left arm and my head, by the Grace of God. I had nine sets of tire tread on both legs, my stomach, my chest, my right collar bone and shoulder, and on my right arm. I was literally crushed.
I was lucky enough to be air lifted by Life Flight to St.Vincent Hospital in Toledo, Ohio where my brother was a surgeon at and also the first person I saw when we got there and the helicopter door came open. My parents had to drive from where I started, to there which was about 35 miles. Needless to say, it only took me 7 minutes to get there. My brother never left my side, even into the surgery room where they told me to count backwards from 100. My brother told me he loved me very much and that I was going to be fine, and then he started counting with me. I remember asking him if I was going to wake back up. He sort of snickered and told me yes I would and that I had the best doctors in the world to take care of me. I know the count didn't take long, I fell asleep looking at my brother who was counting with me. During surgery, the surgeons literally had to put me back together. My right leg was attached to me only by mere threads. I was literally torn apart, on top of being crushed. My right foot was crushed and the bones broken to peices, left leg crushed but broken in two places, right hip was crushed and broken in different places, my pelvis was crushed and broken in different places, my entire right arm was crushed but somehow not broken, hair shaved from the right side of my head, only because I turned it to keep the tires from running my head over, which I can still remember seeing and doing to this very day.
After a lengthy surgery, the surgeons told my parents that they had put dozens, times dozens, times dozens, times hundreds of dozens more stitches in me to put me back together, but the operation was a success! Thank you Lord! They also told my parents that there was a good chance I would never walk again and a better chance that I would never be able to carry any children to full term, if at all. I remember waking up in ICU and my Mother was standing next to me at my bed side. She kissed me and reassured me that she was right there beside me, Dad was there and so was my brother and sister, but they were in the waiting room waiting to be able to see me. I was so happy to see my Mother that I thought I was going to get up out of bed to hug her, needless to say, that didn't happen. I couldn't lift my right arm which looked bruised from top to bottom, and I couldn't lift my butt, which really really hurt. I looked at my Mom and started crying, " My butt is glued to the bed!" She told me I wasn't glued to the bed, that I had some really bad injuries and my butt was one of the areas injured.
I spent two and a half days in the ICU unit, which was a miracle in itself. They finally put me in a normal room where I was able to start eating food and drinking water. My food consisted of jello, jello water, and water for a day or two before they started giving me food with a little more substance, a little at a time. I had tubes and IV's running every which way out of my body, doctors and nurses were in and out constantly, and I honestly can not remember a time that my Mother left my bedside for more than 5 minutes for the first week. She had to teach me all over again how to hold a spoon to feed myself, how to hold a pencil and learn to write all over again, but within just a few days, she had me doing it on my own, God Love Her!
One week after the accident, the doctors had both of my legs casted, and they finally started putting me in a wheelchair a little bit at a time, and then to physical therapy where I had the most awesome therapist. He taught me how to lift my legs in the air, he taught me how to sit up on my own, and then he tauht me how to have wheelchair races down the hospital hallways and how to pop a wheely in the chair, which about gave my Mother a heartattack! Two weeks to the day of the accident, I was checking out and going home with my parents! My Mother had to pick me up out of my wheelchair, casts and all, and put me into bed, get me out of bed, to go to the bathroom, to get in and out of the car for doctors appointments. If I had to leave the chair for anything for the first month, I had to be lifted by my Mother or Father. A month after the accident, I was learning how to get in and out of the wheelchair on my own, which meant my Parents did not have to do as much work except when I would over do it and didn't have the strength to do it anymore. Eventually, I was scooting around the house on my butt, going to the bathroom, finally able to get to my bedroom and into my own bed. I was finally able to scootch my butt into a normal kitchen chair so that I could eat with my family like normal, instead of in the wheel chair. I spent my 10th birthday, which is in September, in a wheel chair. My parents took me to an awesome Mexican Restaraunt for my birhday, where the waiters sang Happy Birthday to me and made me cry. I went through a lot of emotional changes during this time in my life. Happy when I was able to accomplish something, but sad, angry and crying when I could do nothing on my own. I went throuh massive stages of depression. There were moments I wanted to just give up because I didn't think I could do it, but my family kept supporting me and told me to keep trying as I felt I could and that I would find eventually it would get easier, and it did!
Two and a half months after the accident, my casts were being taken off my legs, I was given a set of crutches to use when I wanted to try and walk, and in therapy, they were teaching me how to walk all over again! I only used the crutches for less than a month before I was able to stand and walk on my own, three and a half months after being crushed and ripped in two! Nine months after my accident, I was back on a brand new bicycle. Nine months after the accident, the coach of the towns girls' softball team invited me to come play with them, so I did. I had 10 successful years of playing softball. Less than 7 years after my accident, I gave birth to my first child, Leon. I carried him full term, but was unable to have a natural childbirth, he was taken by emergency ceserean.
This is why, 27 years later, I am diagnosed with the many issues that I have been diagnosed with. O, and so you know, I spent ten successful years behind the wheel of a semi as my profession! We never did find the truck or the driver who hit me. He fled from the scene of the accident and left me lay for dead. Sad, but true! As I sit and write this blog for the rest of the world to see, memories and flash backs bring back a lot of emotional pain, but it also takes me to the most grateful feeling a person could ever have! My Lord has blessed me with a normal and full life, I can not and will not complain about any of it. Instead, I will hold on and cherish what my life has become until the day I die. I would be lying if I told you that none of this ever bothers me, because it does. I still cry, I still get angry, I still get weak, and at times, I still give up. But I have my Lord and my Family to whom I am grateful for, for keeping my head afloat, even when my chin has dropped to my chest and my face drownding in my own tears.
Thank You Lord for Blessing my life the way you have! I know that your blessings will continue to shine, and when I am the weakest, I know that it is then, that you carry me! You are my life line and I could never ask for more! AMEN!
Monday, September 27, 2010
My Life Today
My intent for this blog is to share my story, my fears, and my prayers, in hopes that I can help to inspire others who may be going through some of the same issues which I am facing. I know that for myself, I will find Inspiration from others as well. I have high hopes that this blog will turn into more than just a "blog". I would like to establish a support system for those who seek strength from others who walk, or have walked, a day in the life of pain, fear, emotional roller coaster rides, depression, and everything else which is caused from disabilities of any kind. I encourage you to share your story, whether you are seeking peace and strength, or wanting to offer peace and strength to those whose stories have touched your heart, or who's stories seem all to familiar to you. I encourage you to reach out, tell your story, seek support, seek prayer, seek strength, seek peace, seek whatever it takes to help you through your struggle, and by all means, seek a supportive friend!
I am a 37 year old proud wife and mother! My husband, Brad is 41, my children are Leon(20), Bradley(15),Shaelyn(14), and Grace (8). As you learn more about me, you will better understand why my children, my husband, and my life are all miracles by the Grace of God, and why I feel the importance of doing such a blog!
My husband, our children Bradley and Grace and I moved to an awesome town in Northern Utah in October of 2009. We found a beautiful house, on the side of a beautiful mountain, with a beautiful view across the top of the valley to the beautiful mountain on the other side! (Can't tell I think it's beautiful here, can you?) The snowfalls in the winter are often, and they are often great! During the winter, herds of deer come down the mountain and some often gather in the wooded area in our back yard and peek at us through the chain link fence that seperates them from us! Needless to say, it's the most beautiful and breathtaking thing I have ever seen in my life! I was raised in a small town in Ohio, a "flatlander", so this is very new and exciting for me. I was an over the road truck driver for ten years and have seen some beautiful sites, but none of them can quite compare to what I have surrounding me here!
I have known since I was 9 years old, that life as I knew it, would take a tumble. I never really quite knew when, but I have always hoped to live a full life and to not have to worry about it for many, MANY years to come. I worked hard, I played hard, and I challenged life's obstacles as though I was invisible. I may not have accomplished great things, but the things I have accomplished, have been great!
Two weeks after moving on to our new life, in a new place, a new town, a new state, knowing not one soul here, much less the first doctor, life started making it's change for me. Once again, the right side of my neck bulged out, only this time, it took my right side with it. After a week of massive pain, and a chiropractor who made the conditions worse, I was finally blessed with a doctor who I could afford to go to. Unfortunately, he did not have the answers, only a temporary fix. And it was just that, a temporary fix! I was grateful for the relief and the doctor was grateful for the trust I had put in him. Unfortunately, he knew my conditions were beyond his control as a family physician, the problems laid deeper than he felt comfortable enough to address. The second visit I made to him with the same problem was in less than a month. He then knew there was nothing he could safely do for me, other than to refer me to an orthopedic doctor. Anyone who knows what it is like to not have Health Insurance, understands why I did not visit the ortho doctor right away for this problem. Within yet another month, I was calling him again, crying and begging for his help. He was honest and let me know he did not want to waste my money again, there was nothing he could do for me and he was afraid he would only make for more problems by trying.
The third time put me down and in the emergency room. I was blessed with a compassionate doctor who understood my plea for mercy. He ordered the necessary MRI, then told me it was obvious that I needed to follow up with the Ortho I was originally referred to. At that time, it appeared to my husband and I both that the only answers or treatment I was going to get was to 'bite the bullet' and pay out of pocket to go see this doctor. So that is what we did.
Since that time, I have had to cut corners to get relief and answers, one doctor to another who were all afraid to see me a second time, much less touch me. Anyone who has gone through this process knows how very discouraging and scary this process is. "Is there that much wrong with me that doctors are actually afraid of me? What is the next doctor going to say? How am I ever going to make it through the pain before I can find any answers? WILL I make it through the pain before I find any answers?" The physical, mental, and emotional strain that this process puts on a person is very painful, draining, and by no lessor of a means, scary! There is no way to describe any of the above to anyone who has never experienced it other than to say, "You wouldn't beleive me if I told you, and I do not have the strength to help your disbeleif." The nights of laying in bed crying from the pain, from the fear of what tomorrow will feel like, the frustration of no one around you understanding, the frustration of not knowing what is wrong or where you can turn to find out, the anger of feeling that no one believes you, yet the pain is often so crippling, the anger of feeling like all is lost......it's more than any one person should have to withstand.
In the last four months or so, my family and I have been blessed with finding a church in which we love enough to call home, and a Pastor in Whom we trust to turn to for guidance. I can not emphasize enough just how this has had an impact on many aspects of our lives, not only as a family, but for each of us individually as well. We have been led to once again turn our trust and faith to the Lord, and beleive me when I tell you, for this, all Glory goes to God!
In the last three months, my physical condition has gone down at a pretty good pace. To the point that I now can not live a day without medication and stay intact both physically and emotionally. My body is now starting to immune itself to the medications I am taking, which is taking it's toll on my sleep, my mentality, my emotions, and my life. I have recently filed for disability with hopes and prayers of my application being accepted. I will be undergoing treatment for the rest of my life and facing paralysis and a wheelchair in my upcoming future. There are still more MRI's to do, one on my lower back, and one for my hips and pelvis. They are far from done with me.
The diagnosis' that has led to this point in my life and all of the medications are as follows: Cervical (neck) Degenerative Disease, Cervical Stenosis, Cervical Radiculopathy, Cervical Myofascial Pain, Lumbar ( lower spine) Degenerative Disease, C6-C8 Disk Protrusion, Associated Impingement of the Right 7th and 8th Cervical Nerve, Canal Stenosis at levels C5 thru C7, Multi Level Facet Arthrosis, Chronic Fatigue, Chronic Headaches, Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, and needless to say-Depression.
A 9 year old's trajedy, endless miracles from the Grace of God, now a young woman's fight.
My name is Shannon Wenneberg. Welcome to My Story!
*Alone we can do nothing, but with God all things are possible*
I am a 37 year old proud wife and mother! My husband, Brad is 41, my children are Leon(20), Bradley(15),Shaelyn(14), and Grace (8). As you learn more about me, you will better understand why my children, my husband, and my life are all miracles by the Grace of God, and why I feel the importance of doing such a blog!
My husband, our children Bradley and Grace and I moved to an awesome town in Northern Utah in October of 2009. We found a beautiful house, on the side of a beautiful mountain, with a beautiful view across the top of the valley to the beautiful mountain on the other side! (Can't tell I think it's beautiful here, can you?) The snowfalls in the winter are often, and they are often great! During the winter, herds of deer come down the mountain and some often gather in the wooded area in our back yard and peek at us through the chain link fence that seperates them from us! Needless to say, it's the most beautiful and breathtaking thing I have ever seen in my life! I was raised in a small town in Ohio, a "flatlander", so this is very new and exciting for me. I was an over the road truck driver for ten years and have seen some beautiful sites, but none of them can quite compare to what I have surrounding me here!
I have known since I was 9 years old, that life as I knew it, would take a tumble. I never really quite knew when, but I have always hoped to live a full life and to not have to worry about it for many, MANY years to come. I worked hard, I played hard, and I challenged life's obstacles as though I was invisible. I may not have accomplished great things, but the things I have accomplished, have been great!
Two weeks after moving on to our new life, in a new place, a new town, a new state, knowing not one soul here, much less the first doctor, life started making it's change for me. Once again, the right side of my neck bulged out, only this time, it took my right side with it. After a week of massive pain, and a chiropractor who made the conditions worse, I was finally blessed with a doctor who I could afford to go to. Unfortunately, he did not have the answers, only a temporary fix. And it was just that, a temporary fix! I was grateful for the relief and the doctor was grateful for the trust I had put in him. Unfortunately, he knew my conditions were beyond his control as a family physician, the problems laid deeper than he felt comfortable enough to address. The second visit I made to him with the same problem was in less than a month. He then knew there was nothing he could safely do for me, other than to refer me to an orthopedic doctor. Anyone who knows what it is like to not have Health Insurance, understands why I did not visit the ortho doctor right away for this problem. Within yet another month, I was calling him again, crying and begging for his help. He was honest and let me know he did not want to waste my money again, there was nothing he could do for me and he was afraid he would only make for more problems by trying.
The third time put me down and in the emergency room. I was blessed with a compassionate doctor who understood my plea for mercy. He ordered the necessary MRI, then told me it was obvious that I needed to follow up with the Ortho I was originally referred to. At that time, it appeared to my husband and I both that the only answers or treatment I was going to get was to 'bite the bullet' and pay out of pocket to go see this doctor. So that is what we did.
Since that time, I have had to cut corners to get relief and answers, one doctor to another who were all afraid to see me a second time, much less touch me. Anyone who has gone through this process knows how very discouraging and scary this process is. "Is there that much wrong with me that doctors are actually afraid of me? What is the next doctor going to say? How am I ever going to make it through the pain before I can find any answers? WILL I make it through the pain before I find any answers?" The physical, mental, and emotional strain that this process puts on a person is very painful, draining, and by no lessor of a means, scary! There is no way to describe any of the above to anyone who has never experienced it other than to say, "You wouldn't beleive me if I told you, and I do not have the strength to help your disbeleif." The nights of laying in bed crying from the pain, from the fear of what tomorrow will feel like, the frustration of no one around you understanding, the frustration of not knowing what is wrong or where you can turn to find out, the anger of feeling that no one believes you, yet the pain is often so crippling, the anger of feeling like all is lost......it's more than any one person should have to withstand.
In the last four months or so, my family and I have been blessed with finding a church in which we love enough to call home, and a Pastor in Whom we trust to turn to for guidance. I can not emphasize enough just how this has had an impact on many aspects of our lives, not only as a family, but for each of us individually as well. We have been led to once again turn our trust and faith to the Lord, and beleive me when I tell you, for this, all Glory goes to God!
In the last three months, my physical condition has gone down at a pretty good pace. To the point that I now can not live a day without medication and stay intact both physically and emotionally. My body is now starting to immune itself to the medications I am taking, which is taking it's toll on my sleep, my mentality, my emotions, and my life. I have recently filed for disability with hopes and prayers of my application being accepted. I will be undergoing treatment for the rest of my life and facing paralysis and a wheelchair in my upcoming future. There are still more MRI's to do, one on my lower back, and one for my hips and pelvis. They are far from done with me.
The diagnosis' that has led to this point in my life and all of the medications are as follows: Cervical (neck) Degenerative Disease, Cervical Stenosis, Cervical Radiculopathy, Cervical Myofascial Pain, Lumbar ( lower spine) Degenerative Disease, C6-C8 Disk Protrusion, Associated Impingement of the Right 7th and 8th Cervical Nerve, Canal Stenosis at levels C5 thru C7, Multi Level Facet Arthrosis, Chronic Fatigue, Chronic Headaches, Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, and needless to say-Depression.
A 9 year old's trajedy, endless miracles from the Grace of God, now a young woman's fight.
My name is Shannon Wenneberg. Welcome to My Story!
*Alone we can do nothing, but with God all things are possible*
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