My world changed a year ago on January 13, 2016. That was the day one of my former Personal Assistants (PAs) did not follow my instructions, resulting in her dropping me to the floor during a transfer and fracturing my left femur.
I’ve written many posts about my progress this past year. I explained how it all happened in this post, then provided an update from the rehabilitation hospital in this post. I blogged about my transition home, and the challenges I faced as I struggled to prioritize my needs as I continued to heal.
There have been many gains this year. After months of therapy, I was able to successfully transfer into my driver seat in my van in April. Granted, performing that transfer requires such a high amount of my limited energy so I only drive when absolutely necessary. And I still can’t independently transfer back into my wheelchair when I arrive at my destination, which means I must have someone meet me so I can get out of my van.
That’s not entirely accurate. I CAN transfer out of my driver seat if I am parked on an uphill incline. Gravity still works, and when parked uphill, it gives me a boost when I slide back to my wheelchair. However, if I’m parked on an uphill incline, I can’t get back into my driver seat so I can drive back home. Stupid gravity – who said it was a good thing?!
I am still pursuing a new vehicle which will be modified with a high tech driving system. This will allow me to drive while seated in my wheelchair. The evaluation process is stalled for the moment, thanks to matters that deserve and will get their own blog post. But, eventually I will be fully independent for driving again and it WILL happen in 2017.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. Anyone who is a fan of the musical Rent, written by Jonathan Larson, knows a year contains 525,600 minutes. But as the opening song in the show tells us, time is just one way to measure a year.
I can measure the past year in the number of hospital admissions (2), the number of new internal permanent screws in my leg (8), the number of new PAs I’ve hired (4), the number of months absent from work (4) and the number of address changes (1). I can also measure the number of new great nieces and nephews born (2), the number of visits with my best friend (5), the number of blog posts (72) or the number of funerals (thankfully, only 1).
But when I think about this past year, the one word that keeps repeating itself in my head is the one thing Jonathan Larson encourages us to measure most – love. This year, I have been blessed to be the recipient of so much love from friends, family, and readers. When I first started writing about my fracture and rehab, I received cards and letters from around the world. I had at least five visitors every day for the month I was hospitalized. People called, sent Facebook messages and Skyped when I was unable to leave my house.
Although I need assistance every day in order to survive, I am bad at asking for it. I would rather do just about anything else than ask someone to help me when a PA has called in sick or has quit. However, this year I had to repeatedly ask the people in my support network for their assistance and you know what happened? Almost 100% of the time they said yes! Whenever I asked for help, I received it. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.
So while 2016 was full of more challenges than I’ve had to face in quite some time, it was also full of love. I’d rather measure the love.
I searched for a good video of this song and was overwhelmed at how many hits came up. Then, I stumbled on this one with ASL interpretation and knew this would be the one to share.