Circling Forward

Mile Marker 146:

To my surprise, the sun poured into my bedroom on Tuesday morning.

November’s door had opened, and all was well…so far.

The day went well at work, too.   So well that my friend Chase and I decided to round out Mile 146 at the Gap Outlet on our way home.  

As we're parking on Chestnut Street, we see an older man lying on the sidewalk.  A young guy with a backpack is trying to help him up.  Chase hops out of the car to lend a hand while I finish parking.   When I walk over, they’ve got the man propped precariously on some cement steps.  He’s wobbling back and forth.   The three of us ask his name, where he was going, what happened.   He mumbles incoherently.   The young guy calls 911.

“It’s ok,” we tell the old man.  “Don’t worry.  Someone’s coming to help you.”

I offer him some water.  Chase picks up his broken glasses from the sidewalk.  The young guy supports his back so he doesn’t fall over.

Passers-by look at us.  Some of them ask if we’re ok.  If WE need help.

I’m looking into the old man’s wandering eyes.  What is he thinking?   Is he scared?  Confused?  Hurt?

Already, on DAY ONE, November has me circling back.  

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Last week, a friend asked me about the scene of MY accident.  So, I took her back to the beginning.

I described how a pedestrian on the sidewalk called 911.  And how I told him my mom's phone number, and he called her too.   I described how the driver and passenger of the truck got out and stood in the street a few feet away from my head.   And then I described how quiet it was as we all waited for help to arrive.   How my weak cries hung in the air like raspy moans.   And how my questions floated there, too.  “Where ARE they?” I asked.  “Is the ambulance coming?” “How much longer?”

“Didn’t anyone kneel down next to you or hold your hand?” my friend asked.  “Didn’t anyone tell you that you were going to be ok?”

No.   Everyone watched.  I guess they didn't know what to do.

In my mind, I go back to that scene way too often.  I feel the bystanders at a distance from me.  I feel every last ounce of power knocked out of me.  I feel the fright, helplessness, and loneliness of those long moments.  Waiting.

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Chase and I stayed with that man on Chestnut Street until the fire-rescue truck arrived.  For those long  moments, he wasn't alone.

   

It may not be possible to change the past.  But if Mile 146 is any indication, it IS possible to change the future.

Next Wednesday is November 9.  The first anniversary of my accident.

On that day, I’ll be circling back to the hospital.  Again.

But not for medical reasons. 

My nurses and doctors are going to WALK WITH ME! 

A year ago, they rescued and reassembled me.  They carried me through surgeries and pain, through bandage changes and sleepless nights.

And this year, by their simple invitation to WALK, they are helping me through yet another difficult day.

I find myself looking FORWARD to celebrating with them!

After all, if there's one thing I learned this year, it’s that I'm part of something much bigger.

That I'm really NOT ALONE.

I want this to be a year of circling forward.  Of putting a new spin on things -- one step at a time.

Mile 146 was a good start.

Will YOU join me, too??


Walk forward with me.  One step at a time.