Fabulous Firsts

Mile Marker 111:

I remember waking up in the ICU and uttering my first words.  I remember venturing out into the hospital hallway using a walker for the very first time.   And I remember spending the very first night back in my own home.

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A trauma resets your life. 

In what felt like one morning (but was actually a week), I found myself at the starting line again, with a world of “firsts” waiting to be discovered.

VICTORY!
Let's do it again!

Check out Mom's face during
MY FIRST RIDE DOWN
AN ESCALATOR!

Last Friday was my FIRST THREE-MILE DAY.

A “first” implies that there’s more ahead.  Good thing.  Because it's hope that drives me forward.

A “first” also implies that, although it’s a milestone in this journey, it is still very far from the finish line.

Take last November 9th, for example.    If the day had gone according to plan, I would have biked to and from school, a total of 9 miles.   I would have hiked almost 2 miles up and down the school hallways.  And later that evening, I would have rushed to meet friends for a quick 15-mile skate before bed.  It would have been a 26 mile day

Really, you say?   Ok, not quite.  Let's be truthful here….  A day like that would definitely require an afternoon Starbucks run ~ .2 mile.

There.  26.2 miles.  A marathon.  A typical Tuesday.

Instead, as you know, November 9^th turned out to be only a half-mile day.  Maybe a full mile if you count the ambulance ride.

So now, a three-mile day is progress!  From home to the mailbox.  On the treadmill at PT.  On the walking path at Prosthetic Innovations.  In the aisles of Shop-Rite.   

My steps on Friday measured three physical miles. 

But something even more important happened on my INSIDE.

See, most days aren't that smooth.   The night before that three-mile day, I’d put myself on the injured reserve list.  I was exhausted and uncomfortable.  Even before dinner, I retired upstairs with my crutches, "ankle-blades," and other painful friends.

That night, I fell apart on the phone with my good friend Bosco.  But she encouraged me.  ASK FOR HELP!  she said.  People need to know.

So, my three-mile day started with just that.  I told my PT Kate how my new socket was harder to walk in.  How I didn’t think my muscles were strong enough to operate it.  How I got tired after only walking to the mailbox.  She worked with me on strengthening and stretching.  With pacing on the treadmill.

FIRST ROAD-RASH
(proudly earned while
skating, of course!)

And in the afternoon, I moved those same concerns to my prosthetist Tim.  He did some all-important leg-tweaking (and attitude-tweaking!).  Then under his watchful gaze, I headed outside to walk again.  And even to skate.  

And that night, when I arrived home PUMPED UP but very hungry, I called my fellow foodie friend Jen.  And she drove to Shop-Rite with me – just to keep me company!  (She spotted the "111" label in the meat department too!)

MY FIRST HOMEMADE
CRANBERRY-CRUSTED
 SALMON :)

It was like a pep rally with the best trainers and coaches and cheerleaders money could buy. They propelled me forward with their ideas and support.  With the goal of getting my body back to center.  With visions of weight-shifting on my skates.  And with a very delicious dinner.

I traded in my fatigue for motivation and momentum – the energy that would push me to go just a little bit farther.  To jump another few hurdles.

If “firsts” could be bottled up, our nation’s fuel crisis would be over!

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In case you’re wondering, the first words I remember saying in the ICU were, “We’re being monitored today” (referring to the school’s special education audit we’d been working toward for months).  

And on the day I first hopped forward with that walker, I found myself awed by the bustling hospital hallways outside of Room 7206.  

And, on that first night back in my own home…. Well -- even with a sewer pipe leak -- there’s nothing quite like INDEPENDENCE!

Each "first" has welcomed me back to my life.  Like a doorway into that busy, fast-paced, world that used to be mine.  The one where I could focus my energy outward as much as inward. 

The one that enabled me to watch where I was going, rather than where to place my feet. 

That world where -- without even trying -- I’d do a marathon on a typical Tuesday.

3 x 9 = 27,  I tell myself.  So, just 9 three-mile days will surpass a marathon.

FIRST SKATE WITH BOSCO
(and first attempt at using the
 camera's timer with my skates on!)

That'll be ONE Tuesday down.  And many more “firsts” to go!