Making peace

Today is the six month anniversary of my car crash.

I made it.

For many now it's old news. Joanna was in a car crash, yeah I knew that, but she's alright now.

I suppose physically I am "alright" now. I still have some pain.

Running has been phenomenal for my ankle. I'm pretty sure I'd still be limping and walking slow if I hadn't been so determined to start running again. That's something I'm glad I did and I'm proud of myself for it too. Physical exertion was always something I avoided up until a year ago, so to come back from a broken ankle and get back into running is a big deal for me. Running after a broken ankle is a big deal for anyone, but for me it's a serious personal triumph. Go me!

My chin is still numb, but not as bad as it was. I have some sensation and that gives me hope that my nerve wasn't permanently damaged. In all honesty I'm kind of glad that I was numb. I know for certain that helped shield me from a lot of the pain I would have felt otherwise. Small blessings.

Something I haven't talked about on here is how badly my nose and sinus cavity were injured. It's not something I knew right away. My family shielded me slightly from how severe my injuries were. Rightly so. It took me a week to look at myself in the mirror and they waited until after that to tell me just how bad it was. If they'd told me from the beginning I don't know when I would have been able to face myself again. Once I did look things weren't as bad as I'd feared. I was very swollen of course, but another small blessing is that my injuries were mostly internal. I came out of it with only one facial scar that is quite long, but mostly hidden under my chin.

About my nose and sinus cavity. The surgeon told my family that my nose wasn't just broken, but it was no longer attached to my skull. Likewise, my right sinus cavity suffered the same fate and was also torn away from my skull. Miraculously, these two injuries have caused me the least amount of pain. Only really bothering me when I touched them. The same holds true now, six months later. Occasionally my sinus will hurt, like my ankle, with a change in the weather and it's aggravated if I smile and talk a lot. But for the most part they both seem to have reclaimed their rightful place and are happily reattached.

My teeth are straight again! I can't honestly say they are back to their original glory, but they are straight and that is a huge relief to me. The braces are supposed to come off next week, but I'm a little concerned that they won't remove them when I go in for my appointment. There is a space that wasn't there last time they adjusted the wire and I'm pretty sure it needs to close and won't do it on it's own. Really, it's not a problem if I have to wear them a bit longer. I've only had to suffer for six months. Just a drop in the bucket for most braces wearers.

Of course I lost a tooth and have to have that replaced and I may lose another, but I feel like I've gotten over the biggest hurdle with my orthodontia.

My bite is finally back! During this whole long process my molars have not been touching until recently. Once I was able to start eating real food again I had to teach myself a new way of chewing. My tongue came in really handy since my molars couldn't do their job right. Now that they're touching again it's like another chewing lesson every day. But I ate a salad for the first time since the accident this week! Trying to chew greens is an impossibility if your molars can't break them down, so salad was out for a long time. I really missed salad.

When I look in the mirror now I see me again. There is still swelling, but only the kind that I can see and those very close to me that know the contours of my face like I do. My nose always had a little bump halfway down the bridge, but now it's visible whereas before I could only feel it. Like I said, my scar is mostly under my chin and the tiny bit that curves up towards my mouth is nearly invisible. That mederma, it's miracle serum!

So while my physical ailments are slowly fading into the background I've had more and more time to work on the emotional trauma. As with any healing process there are good days and bad days. I'm happy to say that I haven't had a flashback of the accident in over a month. I'm not really sure what I did to make them stop, but they have, for now anyway.

There are a lot of questions I've asked myself. Also I often find myself doing something very mundane and wondering what would be happening right now if the accident had never happened. What would life be like? Something I wondered a lot while I was stuck on the sofa was why it happened to me. Since I've been on my feet again and been able to live life I wonder, "Why not me?"

I don't wonder anymore why it happened, but why it happened the way it did.

In the past six months I've heard stories of other accidents. Of people who didn't make it out alive. And I find myself questioning why those people died and I didn't. In the past month there have been two young men, in two seperate accidents that both passed away. They both had families and lives and futures. So why them and not me?

My mother is going to read that last paragraph and tell me I need counseling and that I shouldn't feel like my life wasn't worth saving. To which I will reply that perhaps I do need counseling, but I'm not wishing I had died.

There is no end to the gratitude that I feel for surviving. At odd moments it overwhelmes me and takes my breath. I know all too well how things could have turned out. The accident could have happened differently or I could have had irreparable internal injuries. It's hard to face your own mortality at 27, and to begin with I flat out refused to. It's taken me a long time to admit to myself that I almost died and it's something I'm still not able to say outloud. If someone else says it I usually do my best to minimize things or sweep the statement under the rug. But it's time to be honest with myself.

So this is where I am six months later. I nearly lost my whole life and miraculously God decided to give it back. It's a wonderful and terrifying feeling to know that. I can't explain why those other people weren't given the same opportunity, and that's something I struggle with. But I know for certain that I wouldn't still be here if there wasn't something left for me to do or be. I'm not sure what it is, but the amazing thing is that I'm still here to figure it out. Even if it's nothing more than being the best daughter, grandaughter, sister, wife, aunt, friend (and someday mother) that I can be. That is totally worth living for.

My accident was eleven days after my 27th birthday.

My life was my gift.

What a spectacular gift.

Beads, baby bumps,and toenails

I guess last week wasn't technically vacation, because I don't really consider our state capital a tourist destination. But getting off my mountain and away from my regular life for any amount of time constitutes a vacation in my book.

I drove down on Wednesday to spend some time with Julie and Frank and little bunny (that's what they call their baby).

We didn't do a whole lot besides lounge by the pool. Our last day we got rained out of the pool though, that sucked. I did, however, manage to make it back home with a great base tan. I'm rip, roarin' and ready to go to the beach in a little over a week for my actual, factual vacation.

By the pool on Friday,
before the thunderstorm

Julie asked for my help to make a necklace
for her to wear at her shower
The finished product
We also made a single strand as a
hostess gift, but in different colors
I painted Julie's toes for her
because she can't reach them,
and I painted mine because freshly painted toes always
make me feel prettier

I ended my vacation time with Julie on Saturday. Her older brother and sister-in-law are also expecting their first child this fall and both of the mommies-to-be were given showers on Saturday. It was a very busy end to my relaxing week, but it was so much fun. I always enjoy spending time with Julie's family. I can't wait to meet baby Giada and little bunny in just a few, short months!

Julie's brother, Shawn,
and her sister-in-law, Amanda
at their baby shower

Julie with her mother-in-law, Martha
who hosted Julie's shower
Me, Julie, Amanda and
Amanda's friend Leanne

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Update!

This past Monday I had a visit to the ear, nose and throat doctor for my post op check up. Everything looks good and he said he wanted to see me back in a year. A year? Really? I don't have experience with this type of thing and I'm not sure if this is routine. I have an inkling that he would have released me if I were just a "regular" patient. But I'm still tender and somewhat swollen and I guess he wants to make sure that everything has healed up like it should and we don't need to do anything else. I'm guessing that this appointment a year from now is purely precautionary.

My ankle continues to improve. I have started running again, hip, hip, hooray! It's certainly a work in progress, but I usually feel pretty good after my workouts. Any shift in weather causes me some discomfort and spending a great deal of time on my feet leaves me a little swollen. I wore heels for the first time this past weekend and it really wasn't that bad. I was proud of myself. I also took advantage of my pool time last week to do some laps and try to help strengthen my muscles some more. That really seems to have helped. It seems my biggest obstacle is going to be working on flexibility.

My teeth continue to move and I go back to the orthodontist next week. That always stresses me out. My last appointment was pretty horrible and if this one is at all similar I'm going to really appreciate our beach vacation the next week. I visited a periodontist a few weeks ago and he didn't seem as negative as all the other oral doctors have been. I know it's a possibility that I can still lose more teeth, but I don't need them to remind me of it every time I visit their office.

I do have some bad news. Apparently, during the accident, I cracked a molar on my right side and a piece of the tooth chipped off a few day ago. We think maybe the stress that the brace is putting on my tooth made the crack worse and that's why it chipped, but it looks like there is another piece that could come off. It hurt just before it chipped, but it doesn't bother me now, so I'm not really sure what the problem is. If it's cracked though I'm pretty sure they'll have to remove it. I'll let you know what the orthodontist says next week.

Things that make me smile

• Walking without a noticable limp
• Eating spoonfuls of leftover cake icing
• Sitting on a bench swing at the park and watching kids play in the creek
• Pretty cupcakes
• Shiny, colorful toenails
• Sunny days with mild temperatures
• Cream cheese burgers
• Andy's laugh
• Milton and Brunswick snuggled up in front of the screen door
• Visiting with some old friends
• Waking up surrounded by luscious, green mountains
• Looking at our wedding album
• A fresh box of crayons
• Cook books

What makes you smile?

Photogenic Friday: Hard to look at

What I'm showing you today doesn't really need an explanation.

These photos of me were taken the day before I came home from the hospital.

I didn't see myself until a week after the accident, and I didn't look at these pictures for a few weeks after that. I'm told that this isn't the worst of it. After I got out of the ICU and went to a regular room the swelling in my face started going down considerably. My mom tells me that for the first twenty four hours I was unrecognizable. I'm ok not knowing what that looked like because I still have enough trouble looking at these. Some of the doctors took pictures for their records and as far as I'm concerned they can keep them to themselves.

Posting these isn't so much about the people that will see them. I'm not trying to be brave. It's helping me close a chapter on this whole process. These photos remind me how far I've come even though there is so much further to travel.


I'm still not quite ready to show a more recent picture of myself. I have them, but there aren't many and they aren't very good. In the past couple of weeks the swelling in my chin has finally gone down enough that I recognize my whole face. But there are still a few things not quite right and my vanity just won't allow me to show the world my crooked smile. I'll get there eventually.

Photogenic Friday: Cast art

**I think Photogenic Friday is going to be a new tradition around here. Input?**

When I got my cast in the hospital I didn't get a choice of what color it should be. You know how you see all these people out with brightly colored cast and you think how cool it is and if you ever have need for a cast you'd want a purple one? Well, maybe you wouldn't want purple, but I would.

Instead I got white because I was in the ICU and my doctor didn't think I'd care about trivial things like what color my cast was. Also, I'm twenty seven, not seven. So I guess he thought white would be better.

As I laid there in my hospital bed looking at my shiny white cast I couldn't help but think how boring it looked and I needed to fancy it up. I thought the same thing about my crutches.

So when I got home I kept my stash of permanent markers next to me and whenever I got a new visitor I had them add to my cast decoration. No one was allowed to just sign their name; they had to draw a picture. Anything was allowed as long as it wasn't obscene.

By the time I had my cast taken off it was completely decorated.


Every side had something on it.


Even the bottom.


I got the most compliments on this one. My friend Robert was the first person to draw on my cast. He was just going to draw a bike, but then he got carried away with all that blank space to fill. Robert is a professional level cyclists. He likes bikes. A lot.


But my favorite by far was this memorial to my Jeep drawn by Andy. People constantly mistook it for a fire truck. I think because it was a big red vehicle, but we didn't have a burgundy colored permanent marker, so he had to use red.

I knew what it was though, and I loved it. That's what matters. He wouldn't let me see what he was drawing until he was done and when I did see it I cried. I've cried a lot over my car.


I hope you all have a great weekend.

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Update:

I went to the doctor to have the stints taken out of my nose today. It was so nice to get them out. I can breathe so much better now. It wasn't as painful as it was to take them out in the hospital, but it wasn't a pleasant experience either. Just to give you an idea, they are two inch long rubber tubes that run the length of your nasal canal. It's crazy to think that they actually fit all the way in there.

I still have a lot of drainage and a headache from that. It feels like a really bad sinus infection at this point. I'm hoping that will stop soon.

Next week I'm visiting the orthopedists to maybe get rid of my boot (fingers crossed) and I have more adventures with the orthodontist.

Back on the sofa

I'm sleeping on the sofa again so it's easier to stay upright. I've really come to hate our sofa. It's a beautiful piece of furniture, but it's been my home for nearly two months now. I'll be glad when my crap isn't strewn all over it and I'm not tethered to it by doctor's orders.

I ate my words. Not about the suppositories. I'm still refusing to take those. But I did throw up last night. I wasn't allowed to eat before my surgery and then after I felt so bad I didn't want to eat. This surgery causes a lot of drainage, both out of my nose and into my stomach and it isn't just sinus drainage, there is a lot of blood. That combination just isn't good for an empty stomach. I kind of new it was coming and I felt a lot better after so I ate a little something and I haven't been nauseated since.

I'll say this for Andy though; I wasn't fast enough to get to the bathroom with my bum ankle so I had to use the small trash can next to the couch and he didn't give away a single notion that he was grossed out by anything. He sat and watched me do it and then had to clean it up. Not once did he gag, or if he did he made sure he kept it from me. Bless him for that. He really is a wonderful nurse, but I know he'll be just as glad to have me back to normal as I will.

The pain in my nose comes and goes. It's like a constant burning that sometimes gets stronger. I also have a sinus headache like I've never experienced before, and I've had some major sinus infections in my life. Hopefully that will subside in a day or so.

Otherwise everything else seems fine. I feel kind of weak all over from the anestesia and pain medication, but since recovery is supposed to be a quick turnaround I shouldn't feel this way too long.

Friday I have to go for my post-op appointment and he'll take out the stints in my nose. I'm not looking forward to that. I had them when I was in the hospital and they were quite painful coming out. I'll let you know how that goes.

My mom is keeping me company today. She doesn't sit down much when she's here which stresses the bunnies out. Milton worries over her something awful. I wish you could see the look on his face. It's like he's saying, "Nana, why don't you give it a rest, so I can rest?!"

I think I'm going to make her sit and watch a movie with me later this afternoon.

Recovering

I got home this afternoon.

Everything went well except for the time. I was there longer than I was supposed to be because of the procedure before mine taking a little longer than expected.

Otherwise it all came off without a hitch and my nose is still the same, it just works a little better now. Or it will when it heals.

I'll post a bit later with details when I can.

I wasn't nervous...

Not until I got the call from my doctor's office today.

The woman who organizes surgical procedures for my doctor is a complete mess. At least her office is anyway. It looks like her filing cabinets exploded onto her desk and floor. I'm not sure the woman has filed a single piece of paper work the entire time she has worked there and from the looks of all the nick-nacks in her office that is a very long time.

She called me this afternoon to tell me what time to be at the hospital tomorrow. During our one minute and thirteen second conversation (I know, I checked my phone) she had to "double check" my file twice because she had incorrect information.

First she wanted to confirm my pain meds because apparently I'm allergic to codeine. I'm not. I noted that on my paperwork last week, but I told her again, just as a reminder you know. She checked my file, "Oh, no, you're not allergic to codeine." Yes, I know.

Second she made sure she was calling in to the correct pharmacy. She'd already called in two of my medications - to the wrong pharmacy. The thing is, I sat in her office and watched her write down the name of my pharmacy! In her own writing! While she spoke the name aloud!!

We got everything sorted out and she told me what pain medication she was calling in: lortab. I had taken it after my accident as prescribed by the doctor she works for, so that was no problem I told her.

I'll be there tomorrow. Thank you. Goodbye.

This afternoon I had a few things to do around town and swung by the pharmacy to pick up my medications for tomorrow. They were there, she had corrected that mistake at least.

I had three.

One was an antibiotic, something I expected, just a precautionary measure.

The next was a SUPPOSITORY for nausea and vomiting. A suppository? To go along with the two ORAL medications I will be taking? What the eff? I'm fairly certain my doctor didn't prescribe a suppository, not to me anyway.

I can promise you this; I will not be taking a suppository. I'd rather throw up than take a suppository. Also, considering that I haven't blown chunck since 2002, including during all the crazy from my accident, I don't plan on getting sick. Now watch me eat my words, at least on the throwing up part, not the suppository, I'm not backing down on that one.

So, guess what my pain medication was...

Not lortab.

Vicodin.

Yes, that's right, vicodin. What the eff, again. I've never taken vicodin. Granted I've also never had any allergic and/or bad reaction to medication, but what happened to the lortab?

I'm a little concerned that there is a person scheduled for surgery tomorrow with a weak constitution and an allergy to codeine that is in big trouble. I wish them well.

I'm also a little concerned that I'm going to get there tomorrow and she is going to have screwed stuff up so bad that I'll wake up with a completely new nose.

Now, plastic surgery is something I've never seriously considered. If I had rhinoplasty would be low on my list. I like my nose the shape it is. I just need to be able to breath. That's all.

My game plan is to not allow them to put me to sleep until everyone knows what's being done to my face. I don't want any surprises. I've had enough of those for a while.

Also, I'm taking my meds with me to show to my doctor and confirm that they are all for me. Like I said, no surprises.

Please say a little prayer, meditate, send some ju-ju, stand on your head and think hard in my direction. Whatever it is you do. I'd appreciate it.

Surgery

I'm having my nose fixed on Tuesday. My pre-op appointment is set for tomorrow.

I'm not terribly upset or nervous.

Though I have to say when I did this surgery thing back in April I only had a few medicated hours to mull it over and I didn't know exactly what was going to be done.

I could have done without the "here's what I'm going to do to you" conversation yesterday in the doctor's office. I know that's policy, but it would have been fine with me if I'd left the room and he'd just told Andy.

Ask me again on Monday night if I feel anxious. I'm willing to bet the answer will be yes and that I'd like to go ahead and throw up.

Insomnia

It's two a.m. and I'm still awake. I've been in bed for a while, but I just lay awake, unable to shut my brain down. I could take something to help me sleep, but I've always hated taking unnecessary medication and I've taken so much necessary medication lately I'm hesitant to add anything to the mix. I feel like I'm slowly killing my liver and kidneys.

I've had a lot of sleepless nights recently. Andy says it's because I eat so much sugar and usually have some ice cream before bedtime. I disagree, but only because I've always had more sugar in my diet than a regular person and I've never felt the effects before. I know my insomnia is because I can't stop wondering what's going to happen next. I worry about everything and there are endless unanswered questions that usually surface when everything is quiet and I give myself time to think. I don't want to bother Andy with them because he has enough to worry about himself and I'm sure some of my own questions have occurred to him too.

Every day is a giant question mark. How will I feel? Will my swelling have gone down or back up again? Is Andy too stressed out? What can I do to make his life easier? When will I be able to work again? Why did this happen? When will I be me again? The questions are endless and largely unanswerable.

My frustration reached a peak tonight and I wished aloud to be whole again. Today was the first day in six weeks that I've been allowed to put any weight on my broken ankle. I guess it's technically not broken anymore, but until it functions as it once did I'm considering it to be broken.

I had this grand vision of myself rising on both of my feet, with my boot on of course, and "toddling" across the room like a one year old taking their first steps; somewhat unstable, but independent nonetheless. It didn't happen that way. Not even close.

I stood, but my boot has a thick sole so it isn't possible to evenly distribute my weight. Then I took a step, and nearly fell down. My leg refused to hold me up. The atrophy I've experienced has come as a complete surprise, and seemed to happen almost overnight. One day my legs were equally yolked, and the next day my right was half the size of my left. I have a real problem with this, not just because my strength is so deteriorated, but also because my legs have always been a great source of pride for me. They have always been the strongest and most able part of my body.

It's kind of ironic that my legs are so strong and my ankles are so week and so prone to injury. They've always twisted easily and growing up I could be seen regularly sporting an ace bandage shoved down into my keds. Now my weakest part has taken my strongest part down with it. While allowing my ankle to heal my leg has suffered. I know I can work towards making them both stronger than they were before, but looking at my shrunken limb makes my heart hurt. Having it look so frail makes me feel weak all over.

It doesn't just loo frail though, it is frail. After that first step I quickly realized that I would not be giving up my crutches entirely. I refuse to still be completely reliant on them so I'm compromising and using one with my right leg. I hope by this time next week I can build my strength up enough to not need it at all. I suppose I'm more like a toddler than I'd hoped.

Along with my leg and ankle there are all the other things that need to heal. As far as I can tell I'm making progress, though it isn't at the pace I'd like.

I go back to the ear, nose and throat doctor tomorrow. I haven't seen him in a month. A lot can happen in a month, but I feel like very little has. My hope is that I'll see him and he'll tell me how wonderful everything is and that I won't need that extra surgery after all.

In reality I know that my sinuses are still swollen and nearly as tender as they were a month ago. I can feel and see the physical difference between my right nostril and my left. I know my breathing isn't what it should be. While my doctor would like to prevent further surgery if possible I know the liklyhood of coming home with a surgical plan is high. I suppose I can live with that. I would prefer that he'd go ahead and do it rather than wait until all the pain goes away and have to relive it. I'm a "rip the band aid off" kind of girl.

I'll let you know what happens. I'm going to go try to conquer my active brain, but before I surge into battle I'm going to say a little prayer that tomorrow holds good news and some answers with which to fight off the insomnia of nights to come.

Back to normal

Yesterday I took another trip to the orthodontist. It wasn't bad; not at all like the last time.

It was more like a well visit than an actual doctor's appointment. They cleaned up my teeth a little bit and then did some x-rays to see how my jaw is healing. It's right on schedule and we're taking out the stabilization wire in three weeks.

But that's not why I'm writing. I writing because when the doctor came over to look at my teeth and x-rays one of the first things he asked me was, "Feeling like things are getting back to normal?" My response was that while I was not back to normal, I was indeed feeling better.

That's what I verbalized. Internally though I had about one thousand other things going on. Something about the orthodontist's office brings all those negative feelings to the surface for me. Maybe it's because that is my least favorite office to visit. Not because I don't like the staff or the doctor, but because my teeth and my mouth are going to take the longest to heal and I'm very resentful that my perfect teeth are no longer perfect. I know they will be again some day, but at least one, if not two of them, will not be my original teeth and who knows what I'm going to have to endure before I get back to "perfect".

So the flood gates opened and I thought of all the ways things are definitely not normal.

Normal would mean that I didn't have to see the orthodontist or the plethora of other doctors I see on a regular basis. I would have my regular dentist visits and my yearly physical and that would be all.

Normal would mean that my right leg muscles wouldn't have atrophied to the point of looking like it belonged on a ninety year old. My ankle wouldn't hurt or be bruised and predominantly immobile. I would still be running. I would have run in a 5k this past weekend and then stayed at the park to play with my niece and nephew at their joint birthday party. As it was I skipped the 5k and sat on a bench at the park after my niece asked me to come play and I had to tell her I couldn't.

Normal would mean being able to clean my house and do my laundry. Cooking a meal would be a treat; hell, eating a meal would be a treat regardless of who cooked it. I could make beautiful baked goods to give to my friends and family and to eat myself. I could take care of my bunnies and they wouldn't feel neglected or forgotten. Their little world would not be turned upside down and "Mommy" would still get down on the ground and play with them.

Normal would mean that I could plan small day trips for myself and I would hop in my Jeep and we would take off together. I'd crank up the radio and roll down the windows and let my car flex it's big six cylinder muscles. The roar of the engine would make me feel invigorated on these beautiful spring days that I've been watching pass from my couch. I can't take my Jeep for a drive and even once I'm well I still won't be able to.

I don't even know what normal is now. One day, when I look and feel like me again, there will be a new normal. I'll eventually be able to go back to doing a lot of things I haven't been. I realize that and it's a day I look forward to, but "normal" will never really be again.

Because the accident happened. I can't erase it or forget it. Andy and I will find a new routine; one I'm sure I'll settle into and love. New things will take the place of old things, at least physically. I'll be whole again.

For now though, I can't help but lament what was lost. While I didn't lose anything in the traditional sense, I'm still going through a grief process. If nothing else I'm grieving for what could have been. What should have been but isn't.

Have you ever eaten a cheese burger with a fork?

I did. Last night.


Chewing was difficult and could only be accomplished on the left side of my mouth. I also took off the bottom bun because that was too much bread to get stuck in my braces.

But I did it, and it was the best thing I've eaten in a month.

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PS. As soon as I get my cast off next week and can stand on my own two feet I'm going to make this from The Pioneer Woman. Oh mercy! I had to stop myself from drooling when I read this post this morning.

Freaky Friday

Andy is not so good at doing the laundry. He can do his just fine, but he seems incapable of reading tags and has messed up one too many of my things. So we've come to an understanding in our marriage that he isn't allowed to do laundry. It's totally my responsibility to make sure we have clean clothes to wear every day. Just like it's his responsibility to rescue me from gigantic bugs.

Doing laundry on crutches is not exactly an ideal situation, so for the past few weeks I haven't been able to hold up my end of the bargain. Andy has cranked out a couple of loads, but the majority of the laundry detail has been picked up by some of our very generous relatives. Most recently the laundry do-er is my mom.

She knows how particular I am since she lived with me for twenty something years and if she's unsure about a garment she asks rather than try to figure it out on her own. It's a good system we have worked out. I appreciate it a lot.

Still, it's not the same. Things get folded that are usually hung. Hanging clothes find themselves in drawers. Really the only problem here is that it takes us a couple more minutes to get dressed in the mornings. I'll take that over a pile of dirty clothes any day, and I can't say it hasn't been nice to not do laundry. At this point I'm tired of being useless and I'd love to go throw a load in the wash, but for a while I enjoyed having it done for me. (Thank you all so much. It can't be fun touching other people's underwear.)

Anyway, my mom came up to stay with me today. Normally Andy is on invalid duty, but he had some things he needed to take care of so my wonderful momma came to take care of her little girl. Generally to make sure that I ate and that I didn't stumble into something on my crutches and hurt myself further.

While she was here she did a couple loads of laundry; like she does every time she comes. As per our system she had several questions about our clothes. Can this go in the wash? Does this hang dry? Is this garment yours or Andys? I answered her questions, no problem, but there were several times when she would thrust a shirt on a hanger in front of my face to ask who it belonged to and my answer was, "That's Andy's and he likes it folded instead of hung." You see, I hang about 90% of my wardrobe when Andy folds about 90% of his. The only things he wants on a hanger are his pants and dress shirts. Everything else goes in a drawer.

Momma didn't seem to have a problem with this, she just went back to doing the laundry. But then something changed. She showed me another shirt on a hanger and my answer was the same; that is should be folded because it was Andy's.

There was something different this time. She didn't just jump back into action.

She stopped and looked at the shirt.

And then she looked at me.

And she looked at the shirt.

And she looked back at me and slumped her shoulders and screwed up her face and hopped up and down a little and said, "But I don't want to fold it! I hate folding shirts!" with something of a whine in her voice.

I swear to you I was looking in a mirror. I was looking in a mirror at myself ten years ago.

I stifled a laugh and told my newly adolescent mother to just bring me Andy's t-shirts and I would fold them from my position on the couch.

In the end I guess we were both happy. She was able to help her crippled daughter without folding t-shirts, and I was able to feel useful even though I couldn't do the laundry by myself.

It's too bad we couldn't compromise like that ten years ago.

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P.S. How do you like my new background? Festive, no? I've been jonesing for a cupcake lately, and also to get back in the kitchen to crank out something delectable. I decided that since I can't eat them right now I could at least look at them on my blog.

Time together

For the last two and a half years that Andy and I have been married we have always had long periods of time where we don't really get to see each other. Usually this is caused by our employment situations. Schedules not matching and whatnot. It isn't something we mind so much. I like my alone time and Andy likes to be busy. So we've been ok with finding a day or two here and there to spend as a married couple.

I guess the majority of our relationship has been this way. We've never clung to tightly to one another and always been happy to give the other person the space that they need. I think it's how we survive. We love one another very much, but even the most solid couples need some time apart once in a while.

Lately though, it seems like our time apart has taken over our marriage. One of us always had something to do that didn't include the other. I didn't realize how much I was missing time with my husband until recently.

Since the accident we've had nothing but time together. I'm not very independent with constant pain medication and crutches. It took me a while to convince Andy that I could do anything by myself. For the first week he was afraid to go anywhere if there wasn't another person here to look after me. That was stressful. There were things he needed to do, but we each knew that he was stuck here at home until some relief came.

As I have healed we have managed to work out a schedule. I'm more steady on my crutches and I even worked out a system so that I can shower without assistance. The main thing I can't do is prepare food for myself. Since the ski shop is just up the road Andy can pop in and get me food and check on me. I know he's been glad to go back to work. It takes his mind off of all the stress that has come from the accident. It also gives me some time to myself, which is something I have always treasured.

But these last couple of weeks, evenings have been reserved for just the two of us. Before the accident if we found ourselves home together too often at night we would get bored really easily and argue about what to watch on television. We've even been known to make up excuses to drive to town and break up the monotony of it all.

Now though, we enjoy each others' company. We always have something to talk about. The other person's television preferences are interesting rather than boring. Last night we sat on the couch for a couple of hours looking at recipes on The Pioneer Woman and laughing at the decorator disasters on Cake Wrecks. It was the most fun we've had in a really long time. Including before the accident.

If anything good has come from this whole debacle it's this. Our relationship seems to be on a totally different level now. I know taking care of me, the apartment, the bunnies, the legal matters and his job have been very stressful for Andy. I'm still trying to figure out a way to thank him when this is all over. In return he's thankful to see me healing; to know for sure that his wife will soon be whole again. I haven't been in Andy's shoes before; not yet anyway. I hope to never be on the receiving end of a situation like this. I can only imagine what was going through his head when he got that phone call three weeks ago. A stranger on the other end calling to say that his wife had been in a head on collision and he needed to come to the scene of the accident. What did he think when he saw me? How alone he must have felt before our families got to the hospital.

He's my love and my best friend. When all this is over and our lives return to normal I'm going to do my best to remember this feeling. To remember how much I appreciate him right now and to never take our time together for granted again.

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A small update:

• I get my cast off on May 18th! That's two weeks before we originally thought. I'll still have to be in a boot, but I can take a shower without the "cast condom" and put my designer crutches away, hopefully forever.
• Right now I can't breathe out of my right nostril. This could be because there are still some stitches in there that are clogging it up. It could also be because I'm still slightly swollen on that side. Or it could be because of my deviated septum and will need to be corrected with surgery. I won't know until I go to the doctor on the 27th. Until then I'm praying for either of the first two options.
  

Produce

My good friend Shannon lives in Brooklyn with her fiance Khuong. I've talked about them before. This morning, while I was farting around on facebook, I saw that Shannon had posted some new pictures. Some of them were of their sweet little fire escape garden they planted for the summer. They are growing herbs and tomatoes. They may be growing other things, but she didn't post pictures of the "other things" so I only know about the herbs and tomatoes.

Looking at Shannon's pictures reminded me of a few things.

First it reminded me that I was supposed to be leaving this coming Thursday to go see Shannon and Khuon in the big city. Then I had my accident and had to postpone my departure. This is something I have allowed myself to be a little bitter about. One, because I love New York. Two, because I love Shannon (and Khuong) and I don't get to see her nearly enough, and three because this trip was supposed to be my birthday present from my wonderful husband, and now I don't have a present.

The next thing I thought of was that Andy was planning on making a little garden at the ski shop this summer. There isn't a lot of business at the shop this time of year and there is a perfect little garden spot on the side of the building. This is something else that my accident has put on hold, but now that I'm a little more self sufficient and can be left alone for a while; maybe Andy can plant his little garden. Warm weather comes a little more slowly here so it's probably not too late. I really love tomatoes, especially home grown tomatoes. As soon as Andy gets out of bed I'm going to remind him of his garden plans.

Lastly, I was reminded of the summer we spent at our previous apartment, and like Shannon and Khuon, we attempted to grow a little garden out on our porch. Mostly we just had flowers, all of which died except my hydrangea plant. It went into hybernation mode for the winter and our landlord dumped it out in the trash. He thought it was dead and that he was doing us a favor. I was ready to kill him, but I didn't because I realized he was just trying to help and after all, I could just get another plant in the spring. I did get another plant, but not until we moved into our current apartment where there is a little flower bed outside our door. My hydrangea is in the ground now, where no one will mistake it for a dead potted plant. It needs to be pruned so it will sprout this year.

The only food item we tried to grow in our little potted garden was tomatoes. Have I told you how much I love home grown tomatoes? If I could get my hands on an heirloom tomato plant I'd guard that thing like my life depended on it. Have you ever had an heirloom tomato? YUM!

But I digress.

Our tomato plants didn't do so well. They needed a lot more space and soil than we were able to give them in our meager terracotta pots. We were terribly dissapointed in our bounty, or lack thereof. We only managed to produce one tiny cherry sized tomato. It was the most beautiful shade of red. We let it stay on the vine a little long in hopes that it might grow larger, but it stayed cherry sized. But it didn't, so we picked it and ceremoniously cut it in two equal parts. Then we each ate half of our harvest.

That was the best damn tomato I've ever eatten. Andy agrees. Seriously. When we were done eating our halves we looked at each other and said, "I want some more" simultaneously. I can still remember how it tasted.

We took a picture for posterity's sake.
This is almost fully grown,
but it did turn red, like I said

My hope is that this year we will produce that same wonderful flavor, but in much larger quantities. I'll be sure to update you.


*This totaly random post brought to you today by a highly medicated blogger. Sorry...

The pitty party's conclusion

In case you missed part one; here it is.

Mom and I arrived at the orthodontist's office a little early. We were greeted by an overly chipper woman who handed us some paperwork and directed us to the waiting room. Maybe she wasn't overly chipper and I was just in a bad mood at this point, whatever.

I filled out the same paperwork that I had completed five times in the last week at different offices, turned it back in and waited to be called back. This particular office was surprisingly swift and I only had to sit there for about ten minutes. I told my mom to just stay put this time. She had gone back with me at the oral surgeon, but I had known there would be a procedure and sometimes I don't always absorb what the doctor says in those situations. I was sure though, that this appointment wouldn't take long. I hadn't seen this doctor yet. He hadn't had a chance to survey my injuries so I thought he would pop something in to stabalize my jaw and then form a plan of how to proceed the next time I was in his office. After all, how could he do something with my teeth if the bones in my jaw still hadn't healed?

I was totally off the mark.

The woman who took me back and put me in my chair had no idea why I was there. She was clearly confused by my swollen & bandaged jaw, healing facial bruises and cast. So I had to tell her what was up. Telling the people in doctor's offices is really awful. I don't mind so much to tell others, but when I tell the women in the medical field they get this look of pity mingled with horror on their faces just before they tell me how awful they feel for me and offer words of encouragement. Don't get me wrong; I appreciate their kindness, but the pity that they have for me is sometimes too much. Especially since I've been trying hard not to go there in my own head.

She took a moment to process and then she looked at my teeth. She really didn't say a lot, but got up to get the orthodontist. He, of course, knew I was coming in, so he got right to work looking at the damage and my x-rays and forming a plan. He wanted to fix my teeth immediately. Meaning that not only was he going to stabilize my jaw that afternoon, but he was also going to put braces on my bottom teeth. That was a word I was not at all prepared to hear. I knew I was going to have to eventually have braces, but I never, ever thought that they would put them on before my bones had mended.

The first thing that popped into my head was how much pain I was going to be in. My mouth still hurt, despite all the Novocaine, from having the arch bars removed. I could not believe that he was going to put me through another procedure in the same day. I was torn between hatred and gratitude for this man. Gratitude because he was going to fix me. The one thing I wanted done most the night of the accident was to have my teeth back where they were and here I was two weeks later and they were still screwed up. So there was some relief there that I was finally going to get my biggest wish. But the hatred was fighting that feeling because I knew it was going to hurt, a lot.

Something you should know about me is that I have never had braces. My adult teeth came in perfectly other than a small over bite. This has been a source of pride for me ever since all my friends and even my brother were walking around with heads full of metal and all I had to worry about was brushing and flossing and taking regular visits to the dentist every six months. Having my teeth jumbled in this accident has been a serious blow to my ego, and then needing braces to fix the problem has been like pouring salt on the wound. Braces at twenty seven. Who would have ever thought?

I thought for a second laying in that chair that I might hyperventilate. Instead I started to cry. It took every ounce of energy I had left not to let myself be reduced to sobbing. Just a few small tears escaped the corner of my eyes before I made myself smile and say everything was fine. Internally I was fighting a war with myself. I hated everything about the situation I was in and all the" why me's" and "what if's" came flooding out of my psyche to the forefront of my consciousness.

They set to work. I had things shoved in my mouth to hold it open. It hurts to even smile right now with all the stitches still in there so at that point I was saying a silent thank you to the oral surgeon for all the Novocaine he'd injected into my gums. She had to clean my teeth and then the doctor came to glue on the braces. As a whole that process wasn't as awful as I'd anticipated. I'm sure the fact that my mouth was numb helped tremendously and after the whole thing was over the hygenist (dental assistant?) told me she'd never been that easy on anyone. They were not entirely oblivious to the pain that I might be in so they worked as swifly and lightly as they could. I was grateful for that. In the past I've met some dentists that are real bastards and just don't give a rat's ass if you were in pain. This man (nor the oral surgeon) worked off that train of thought. That definitley made the whole situation easier to manage.

I was beginning to wonder how he was going to fix my jaw. Were the braces also intended as a reinforcement for my broken bones? Nope, not at all.

After they got everything wired she sat me up and said we were going to go take some x-rays. Then we were going to put in the wire that was going to stabalize my jaw so it could heal. The orthodontist was hand crafting something. I couldn't decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but at the moment I didn't care because I wasn't laying down with other people's hands in my mouth.

When I got back to my chair they had let my mom come back which I was glad of. I'd known she'd been sitting out there the whole time in agony wondering what was going on. I might be twenty seven, but I'm still her baby. She gave me my medicine and we waited for my brace to be finished. Finally they were back with a wire much thicker than the one on my braces and with little pieces of metal saudered to it. The plan was to attach this thicker wire to my braces with thinner, more pliable wires, so that my teeth could move independently, but the bones in my jaw would still be imobile. I'm still not sure that it makes sense to me, but he's the orthodontist and I'm not.

This was clearly something that they didn't do often, if ever. How many people need to let their teeth move without causing further damage to their broken jaw? This was the orthodontist's brain child and he attmepted to relay the message to his assistant, but she was clearly nervous and unsure of what she was doing.

I laid back down and she attempted to follow his directions. I'm still wondering why he didn't just tie on the first wire so she could get the idea, but he didn't. It took her several tries to really grasp what she was doing and she was trying her hardests not to hurt me. I could tell she wanted to hurt him for throwing this in her lap and walking away. He did come back periodically to check her progress, but he really should have stayed with her for a bit. Tying on this one little wire took an hour. About half way through the Novocaine was totally gone and I was very close to going crazy. My internal battle was still raging in my head and it was on the verge of breaking out for everyone to see and hear.

Finally, God bless her, she perserveerd over her task and it was finished. I'm not sure which of us was more relieved. My positive attitude was completely gone. I had been in that chair for over three hours, and I needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. Which is exactly what Mom and I did after some discussion with the doctor and some more paperwork.

Once I got home I crashed. I was exhausted and I was in pain; the most pain I'd been in since I left the hospital.

Some good did come from the whole ordeal though. A lot of good actually. Within moments of having the braces on my teeth had changed, and they have been moving back into place more and more each day. You can tell a difference in their placement from sun up to sun down.

I also have been cleared to eat soft solids a soon as I'm comfortable chewing, which means my teeth have to move a little more because the displaced bottom teeth are currently blocking my top teeth and not letting my molars touch. That is a problem when you're trying to chew. But if they keep moving at this rate I'll be able to chew in no time. I did have a sweet potato for lunch today which is a huge step up from the "all liquids all the time" diet that I have been living off of.

These are all just baby steps to full recovery, but each step is worth celebrating.

You'll be glad to know that my pity party is over and my positive attitude has resurfaced. I'm sure that won't be the last bad day I have on this journey, but I'll take whatever kind of day I can get. I wake each day with the knowledge that being alive right now is a gift meant to be treasured.

Pitty party, table for one

Over the past two weeks it has been my philosophy that this is just something that happened to me. It wasn't a good thing, but I couldn't do anything to change the situation and being bitter about it wouldn't help me get well any faster. I've done my best to keep a positive attitude and I feel truly blessed that I came out of the accident alive along with everyone else involved. So much more could have happened and I feel like, in some ways, I've been given a second chance at living. Also, I couldn't let myself feel ungrateful for what I have been given when so many other people are suffering more than me. Sure, I sustained a lot of injuries and it could take a year or more for me to be my old self, but I have a huge network of people to support me through this process. I have so much to be thankful for.

For two weeks I've done my best to take it one day at a time and keep any negative thoughts at bay. To find whatever silver lining I could in my situation.

Until yesterday.

I knew going in that it was not going to be a pleasant day. Dental work is never something to look forward to. I kept telling myself it would be over soon and with each little hurdle I reminded myself that was one down and just a few more to go until I could go back home and rest.

When I was in the hospital and I was being poked and prodded and prepped for so many different procedures it helped to tell myself that it wasn't going to be that bad compared to what I had already endured. They were working to make me better. I'd already reached the height of my injuries and any injury I had to endure further was for my own good.

That mantra doesn't work so well anymore. With each new day I feel better. My pain is slowly ebbing away as my body heals itself. I'm forgetting the horror that was two weeks ago and it isn't so much a comfort when I know more pain is coming. Yesterday it didn't work at all.

My mother took me to my appointments because Andy gets really grumpy in doctor's offices and it stresses me out which doesn't help me if I'm feeling distressed anyway. So we left him at home with promises to call and update him.

When we got to the oral surgeon the receptionist told us that we might want to go find something to do for a while because they were that far behind already. Not a good sign. Then she checked her chart and it turned out the wait wasn't going to be so bad after all, so Mom and I hunkered down and entertained ourselves with fashion magazines. Finally it was time and they took us back. I think the practice of making patients wait in the exam room should be outlawed as a torture device. I spent a lot of time in that chair listening to the bad office music and sweating like a whore in church.

Finally it was time for the Novocaine which was not exactly pleasant, but I took with a smile because I didn't want to know what it felt like without medication. Then we waited some more while the Novocaine had time to work it's magic. Taking the arch bars out wasn't so horrible. It's like having heavy duty dental floss in your teeth. The doctor took out two then spent what felt like an unusual amount of time poking his fingers around in my mouth. The more he poked, the more I worried. Then he finally said that he needed to go call the orthodontist I was seeing later in the afternoon. The break in my jaw had not healed as much as he'd hopped and they had to decide who was going to re-stabilize it. Distressed at the thought of having the arch bars put back in; we waited some more. After several excruciating moments the doctor came back and told us that the orthodontist would be able to fix it. That wasn't exactly comforting because that still meant having wires put in my mouth, but I was promised that they would be easier to deal with.

I still had three arch bars that needed to be removed, so he went about his business. When he made it to the right side and started to pull I felt a pain that I didn't even feel the day of the accident. I thought he was pulling my teeth out. He stopped and asked if I needed more Novocaine, but I thought that was the extent of the pain so I declined. Then he went back to work and within seconds I was in tears. He was having none of that, bless him, so he injected me with more medication and waited. It didn't stop the pain entirely, but it did help. After just another couple of minutes it was over, but I was on the verge of a meltdown. My mouth has never hurt that much. All the old injuries hurt and new ones had presented themselves and were throbbing with abandon.

I collected my tears and said thank you to the medical personnel. The doctor had a few parting words of wisdom before he sent us on our way.

It was off to the orthodontist; where all my walls came crashing down.

To be continued...

You'll have to wait until Wednesday

My appointments were worse than I had anticipated. I'm in a lot of pain and I'm exhausted.

I'll gather myself and my thoughts for you tomorrow.

Have a lovely evening.

An update

You would think that having nothing to do but take pain medication and lay on the couch would be a very boring existence.

Not so.

I've had so many visitors and doctor's appointments I haven't even had time to read the new magazine Andy got me early last week. Not that I'm complaining. At least I'm not complaining about the visitors. I have loved seeing everyone and it means so much that people came by. It has certainly helped brighten my spirits.

The doctor's appointments on the other hand, have been really tiresome.

Last week I had four in three days.

Last Monday I had my stitches out of my chin which made me look a lot less like Frankenstein, so I was grateful for that. But I got very nervous before hand and the combination of that with the pain medication and just all around feeling bad I almost fainted before he took the stitches out. I managed to hold it together, but I was ready to go back home for sure.

Wednesday was the Oral surgeon to do x-rays and look at how my teeth and jaw are healing. He said things were looking good and made an appointment for me to come tomorrow morning and have the arch bars taken out that are holding the bones together. Then he's sending me to the orthodontist. I'm hoping they are just going to look at my teeth and develop a plan of action rather than actually putting on braces or anything tomorrow. I don't know if I can handle two medical procedures in one day.

Friday first I went to the orthopedist for x-rays of my ankle. Everything still looks good there and he still thinks surgery won't be necessary. So that's a blessing. Until that appointment I hadn't really been able to see the brake in my ankle. It is so, so small and it really frustrates me that I'm going to have to start all over with my running because of it. It also really sucks that the weather is perfect for running right now and I'm stuck here on my couch with a big heavy cast weighing me down.

My second appointment on Friday was another visit to the Ear, Nose and Throat doctor to take the cast off my nose and make sure it was healing well. I was nervous about that one too. Not so much because I thought it would hurt, but because I had no idea what my nose would look like. I knew it had been really bad based on the descriptions my doctor had given me in the hospital. My surgery had been very long and extensive and the scrub nurse almost passed out from the severity of my injuries. So I was more than a little afraid of not looking like me. I almost passed out again, twice. They had to lay me back in the chair and get me a soda. But really it wasn't so bad. Taking the cast off was only slightly painful and my nose is only a little swollen. The good news is that if I don't develop breathing problems I don't have to have more surgery to finish repairing my nose. The bad news is that because of the extent of my injury my doctor thinks it more likely than not that I'll have to have the surgery. But he wants to give me ample time to make that decision rather than push me into anything more painful than necessary. I'm really grateful for that.

I feel a little better every day and some days do a little more than I should. It's hard to be so dependent on other people and I've been taking baby steps to become as independent as possible. Andy told me last night that he thinks he knows what it's like to be a single parent now. I didn't really know how to respond to that. I see his point, but that just makes things more frustrating for me. He has a lot on his plate and I try to give him a little "me time" whenever I get the opportunity.

I have managed to get my shower routine down to a precise science so I can do it without assistance. That is a big deal for me. The most difficult thing is putting on my "cast condom" so I don't get the cast wet. It's a heavy plastic bag attached to a ring and this stretchy rubber seal. It's really cool, but it's hard to get on. Once I finally did it myself I would have done a little dance; if I could put any weight on my right leg.

Something I have tried my best to hang on to through all this is my sense of humor. I try to make the most of the situation and have a little fun with whatever I can. Whenever I have visitors I make them draw something on my cast. My only rule is that you have to actually draw something and not just sign your name. Anything is game (so long as it isn't obscene) and so far everyone has done a great job. The most unique illustration so far is when my step dad drew a bug on the bottom of my cast and wrote "ouch!" out next to it.

I also decided that my crutches needed a little something. I had tied a really pretty silk scarf to one of them, but it just wasn't enough so I had Andy take me to the craft section at Walmart last night to pick up something to jazz them up. I had one idea in mind and then I saw the packs of fabric scraps they have and I was inspired. I spent the better part of this afternoon covering my crutches in modpodge and fabric squares. I'm really pleased with how they turned out.

From color coordinated fabric scraps...

To one-of-a-kind designer crutches(click the picture to get a better view)

I guess I haven't been updating enough. This post is a lot longer than I intended. I'll be sure to update tomorrow after all my appointments. Or maybe Wednesday depending on how good or bad my day goes. Have a great night!

I needed a new toothbrush anyway

Until yesterday my mouth has been too swollen to brush my teeth. Getting something in my mouth bigger than a straw is a challenge, much less moving something around and trying not to snag the stitches. So yesterday, after my visit to the oral surgeon, Andy went and picked up a children's toothbrush for me to use. The tiny head is small enough to maneuver around my top teeth. My jaw and bottom teeth are still too sore to try, so I just rinse it with a special solution.

At least it's festive. Andy also came back with a Dora the Explorer toothbrush because it was purple, my favorite color. I opted for the pink lady bugs to start.

Don't you love my halloween t-shirt? I laughed when Andy brought it into the bathroom tonight and promised him that from now on I'd go in the bedroom with him to help pick out my clothes before the shower.

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Compared to what Stephanie Nielson and her husband Christian have been through these last eight months, my personal trauma is inconsequential.

Read her, love her, and pray for her as she goes in for more surgery.