November 19, 2016

“I’m so hungry! I just want something to eat … I’m thirsty. I need something to drink. Why can’t I have anything to eat or drink?” My dehydration prevented my tear ducts from generating moisture, so I dryly whined as I laid in the hospital bed. After a week, a surgeon mended my broken wrist and ankle (the seven ribs and liver laceration, they couldn’t do anything about; oh well), and I could finally eat and drink.

I wondered, When will I be better and my life return to normal?  What will my new job think? The EMTs had cut off my jeans and Pizzeria Uno shirt in the ambulance. I failed to realize the gravity of the situation: Not only wouldn’t I be working for a good six months; I wouldn’t be walking, nor hopping, either!

Nobody plans to get hit by a car-- never-mind a Ford F-150. Evidently, it happens more often than you’d think.

Shame clouded my brain. I felt terrible about what happened, mostly because it was my fault. If only I hadn’t argued with my mom as she drove me home from work at 10:00 that night. If only I hadn’t stormed out of her car to walk the rest of the way, especially feeling so hungry and thirsty that I couldn’t think straight. One moral of the story? Don’t jay-walk, people!

Sitting on the pavement, screaming for my mom, I felt the pain, but it wasn’t so bad. When my mom arrived at the scene and first respondents announced that I would be going to Rhode Island Hospital, I noticed that it hurt to breathe. Have I punctured a lung? I later learned about my ribs, which relieved me.

My family and friends supported me the entire way, from that first week in the hospital (they brought me Thanksgiving dinner, for Pete’s sake!) through rehab at another. I cried because I missed my cat, so one of my aunts brought me a black cat stuffed-animal to comfort me in his stead. Yes, I got tired of re-telling my story and explaining myself, but it felt good to be cared for, regardless.

The next five-and-a-half months were challenging because I’d lost my independence. Forced to stay at home most of the time, I relied on others for transportation and assistance with everyday tasks. Using a wheelchair at 26 didn’t make matters better. Eventually, I got used to it, and one snowy January night, I proudly sat in the wheelchair as my mom pushed and accompanied me to my birthday dinner.

My recovery was not all good, however. How crazy is it that writing about this experience makes me upset, even now? The memories are back and I feel precisely how I felt at that time. I feel stupid, shameful, and worthless. I know now that I am none of those things, but it’s hard to shake the emotions when they were so real. I went from being car-less for a short while (which I’d already developed quite a shitty feeling about) to being crippled for a half-year.

I coped with the shame and boredom in part by self-medicating with pot and Percocet, but I quickly weaned off the pain meds that I’d been prescribed. Then, at my friends’ big Superbowl party in February, I drank so much wine that when I got home, I laid on the floor, slurring my speech, unable to get up. My mom was convinced that I’d imbibed something more sinister.  Naturally, I felt like a humiliatingly useless mess who everyone talked about...

Nearly three years have gone by, and I still haven’t completely processed this experience. I’m grateful to be alive and back to “normal.” With the daily support of my loved ones, many medical pros, and the smiles of the Today show anchors, I escaped the negative place I’d been in before and throughout my recovery. I passed a college algebra class and exam during that time, and I was able to prepare for my new venture- obtaining an elementary teaching degree.

It’s corny, but I believe that “everything happens for a reason,” and that chapter of my life is no exception. The memories and impacts will never leave me. I’ve become much more responsible and caring with myself and others since that fateful night. I hope that my family and friends no longer think of me as their “crazy” friend/daughter/sister/niece/granddaughter/cousin.

But I completely understand if they do. ;)