Road to Recovery

I finally cried. It was Thursday, several days after my accident. Mom drove me to work--my first day back since the week before. I was feeling okay, although I hadn't ventured much from the house at all that week. The only quick way to get to my office is to drive through the intersection where I was hit. I wasn't really thinking about it, but my chest started getting all constricted as we passed through the intersection. I briefly glanced around, and nothing looked familiar. That's probably understandable, since I was just biking through, and only had a good look at the pavement and the sky, but not all the other buildings or the layout. Little bits and pieces come back to me--the feeling of helplessness as the car crossed into my path. sirens. the yellow jacket of an emergency responder firefighter. so many names and faces. the feeling of my hair velcroed to the neck brace. the bluest blue sky. And there were so many things and people I didn't see. It's a busy part of town. Was someone directing traffic away from the area? Did this accident create a late Sunday afternoon traffic jam? How many people saw or gathered at the scene? What were others thinking and feeling?

So during my lunch break at work, I took a little walk to try and stretch my achy joints and body. I couldn't help but flinch at every noise and cringe as I gingerly walked along the sidewalk. Why were all the cars going so fast? What prevented all those cars from crashing across the sidewalk and into me? Why were those random sirens in the distance so loud? Why were people playing music so light-heartedly from their windows?

On the outside I look almost back to normal. You can only see the purplish-green tint of my kneecaps if you get up close. No one can see the road burns and bandages tucked under my clothes, the pressure inside my bruised chest, the tiniest bones and muscles that scream at me when I move or drive, the feeling that something has been taken from me, the extra effort it takes to look people in the eyes or to concentrate in a conversation, the sadness that I can't dance or run for a while...

The car insurance lady will meet with me this week to discuss my claim. How will I manage to be calm as the company assigns a monetary value to what happened? Last Sunday and Monday I just felt so thrilled to be alive and not paralyzed. I appreciated all of the prayers, phone calls, flowers, and visits. Now I feel frustrated and sad, trying to heal and also just feeling pretty scarred on the inside. It took me several days to finally cry, but now it seems like I could burst into tears with nearly every slightly raised voice or benign look.

Yes, every day I get better inside and out. Soon the memories will dull. I don't want to pity myself, but for now I think it's okay to grieve in order to move on with the rest of life soon in a healthy way. I'm so thankful Mom could be here for a week, mostly for moral support. Every day I make progress. Today I drove for the first time again--who knew how many little itty bitty muscles it takes to drive? I don't want to be bitter or reclusive. Instead I want to have a brave and thankful soul that encourages and uplifts others! I could definitely use your continued thoughts and prayers as I try to do that with God's grace. I know I will especially need those prayers as I begin to deal with bills, insurance, etc...

I've left you with a couple of interesting pictures as a reward for reading this whole post. :)

Hanging out with some close friends the night before the accident. We sang hymns together and shared a great meal. Several of them were little angels to me right after the accident.

I apologize if this isn't classy to post pictures like this on blogs or if you're trying to eat your breakfast. A fun snapshot of my colorful kneecap as of a couple days ago.