Saturday, December 29, 2012
"Solvitur Ambulando"
One of my dearest friends handed me a piece of paper with the above Latin quotation a few weeks ago. She smiled as she handed it to me saying, "I have a present for you." I have thought about this quotation, credited to St. Augustine, ever since Mary Beth gave it to me.
Translated, it is simply, "It is solved by walking."
My friend knows me very well, and she also knows that even though St. Augustine said it first, I have come to the same conclusion as this great Christian thinker. I spend an inordinate amount of my time walking. Of course, given my druthers, that walking would take place on a mountain trail in Colorado, on a beach in the panhandle of Florida, through an old-growth forest in Alaska, along a rocky cove in California, you get my drift; some place that is really, really beautiful. But, if I am not in a picture-postcard environ, I will walk, anyway. I walk through my neighborhood, I walk on dusty, country roads, I walk in malls, airports- wherever I may find myself with time to put one foot in front of the other.
In the summer, when I am in the mountains, I walk with Babe, my Labrador Retriever, at least twice every day, usually more. We walk the Fish Road, at the ranch, every morning. That walk might be a mile-and-a-half, it might be four miles. Later, we will hike. Sometimes, we hike with friends. Sometimes, we hike alone. These hikes are might be filled with:
1. Gossip
2. Dirty Jokes
3. Laughter
4. Tears
5. Deep, Intense Conversation
6. Silence
7. Recipe-Exchanging
8. Complaining
9. Advice-Seeking
10.Advice-Giving
11. Venting
12. Future-Planning
13. Confessing
14. Soul- Searching
15. All of the above
16. None of the above
Then, after supper, Babe and I go for a quick hike or walk the Fish Road again. If this seems excessive, I am unapologetic. My sanity, my faith, my physical health are all better for this excess. When I am alone with my dog, not really thinking about anything, a problem will unwind and unknot in my mind and be resolved. It is through no great effort on my part, I may not even be consciously aware of the process that goes into the solution. There is something freeing, soothing, therapeutic and wonderful about walking that leads to peaceful resolution of many of my cares and worries. My best prayer time, my most profound encounters with my Creator and myself have happened as I have walked. My deepest fears are quieted, my best talks with friends take place, my heaviest burdens lighten significantly.
A couple of months ago, I read a book that involves lots of walking. The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, by Rachel Joyce , may be the best book I read in 2012. I read many books, and I will probably review some of them later. This book, I can recommend whole- heartedly. When I first read it, I had several friends, including Mary Beth, read it to determine it was really THAT GOOD, or if I was over-selling it by telling everyone I saw that they HAD to read it. Most of my friends were profoundly affected by the story. So, after taking almost a year off from blogging, I will close out 2012 with a whole-hearted endorsement of Ms. Joyce's book. I told one of my friends that I thought we should read it as part of a Bible Study group, and she pointed out that the profanity and cursing would probably preclude Pilgrimage as a study selection. Perhaps, but I still think it would be a great choice.
Love and Grace,
Paige
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Scars, Grace and Healing
When Baron asked me to write a guest blog telling "my story" of the past two and 1/2 years, I wanted to give the creative juices time to simmer before I started to write. Writing about one's own life experiences is not always easy. It is important to get to the heart of the matter, to try and tell the truth and to be somewhat succinct. What may be fascinating about my story to me could be a real yawner for someone who doesn't know me, or even someone who does. I have told my story many times, but there are always little snippets that strike me as being really important because I lived through it all. I will try to do my best, knowing that God knows my heart, as does Baron.
On August 19th, 2009, I was driving from Midland to southern Colorado after a quick trip to check on things at home. Our middle daughter was putting on her first horse show, our youngest daughter had just moved to Lubbock to pursue a second college degree, and Baron had been injured during football practice. The horse show was a great success, Laura Paige's apartment in Lubbock was darling, and Baron's injury was an imposition to him, but not at all catastrophic. I had made the drive dozens of times and was almost to the Colorado border, in northern New Mexico when I fell asleep at the wheel. Mind you, it was 2:00 pm, a
perfect day for traveling, and I had never even come close to falling asleep while driving. My last conscious thought was," Wow! I am really tired. I will stop in Antonito (CO) , walk the dog, get a diet coke and be fine." I was approximately 15-20 minutes from Antonito.
My next conscious thought was in the ICU of St. Vincent's hospital in Santa Fe, 10 hours later. My husband was standing over me, I was in intense pain from my head to my feet and very confused.
Paige: "What happened?"
Ed: " You almost died. You were in a wreck near Antonito. Do you remember anything?"
Now, "almost dying" is a phrase my family has taken license with for years. As Ed says, no member of my extended family has ever had the flu without "almost dying." My family is very dramatic and illness/injuries are always described as being life-threatening. It is one of the things that has irritated and amused my husband for over 35 years in his association with my nearest and dearest relatives. Apparently, in this case, it was finally true. It took several days of Ed's detective work to figure out what had occurred at 2:00 pm on that highway in northern New Mexico.
After visiting the scene of the wreck, talking to the highway patrolmen who worked the accident, as well as hunting down and thanking all the people who stopped to render aid, Ed was able to piece together what had happened. I fell asleep at the wheel. I woke up and over-corrected as the car was going off the highway to the right, the car flipped over sideways and then rolled over eight times in a pasture before finally stopping its sideways progress. As it rolled, all the windows broke, my left shoulder, arm and hand flopped outside the window and the car rolled over that part of my body several times. How everything stayed attached to me is remarkable. No one actually saw the wreck, a truck driver found me shortly after it happened. When he called Ed from my cell phone, he didn't even know if I was alive. Now, that is telephone call no loved one wants to get. Things apparently happened very quickly after that. People began stopping to render aid. Not just random people, but people who were uniquely qualified to help. An off-duty EMS technician from Antonito and a holistic doctor and his wife from Denver assessed my condition after I was dragged out of the broken windshield, fashioned a splint out of car parts for my shattered arm, bandaged my degloved hand and stabilized my crushed shoulder. A vet tech from Taos stopped and took my mortally wounded Labrador Retriever, Honey, to the veterinarian clinic in Taos. Honey was thrown from the car as the windows broke and broke her back. All these people were essential to my subsequent recovery. It was no accident that they all arrived within minutes of the crash.
Oh, perhaps I should mention that I have almost no memory of any of this. Ten hours are completely gone from my life, which is a blessing in itself. According to everyone there, I was conscious, I was coherent, and I was in excruciating pain. How wonderful that my mind has erased all of that terrible time from my consciousness! I do have one memory from that 10 hours. I am being loaded into the ambulance or onto the helicopter, not sure which one. I am looking into the eyes of a man who is Native American. He has a long, grey braid, high cheek bones, bronze skin and piercing blue eyes. He is holding my good hand as I am being loaded-up and says, "Don't worry, Paige. I promise you are going to be fine." Now, whether he was a doctor, nurse, paramedic or angel, I cannot say. All I know is that he was real, he comforted and calmed me, and I am eternally grateful that he was there for me. I believed him then, and his words have stayed with me through almost 2 and 1/2 years of surgeries, physical therapy, set-backs, triumphs and pain.
We will skip most of the next three days in Santa Fe. It was a nightmare. The hospital was dirty, noisy and understaffed. I have never been to Bangladesh, but I would not be surprised if the medical facilities there were very similar. My husband spirited my away with the help of our oldest daughter, who had flown in from Los Angeles, and my sister, who had driven in from Amarillo. I spent the car trip leaned full-back in the passenger seat surrounded by pillows, blankets and oxygen tanks. Although we would not know the full extent of my injuries for quite awhile, I can now catalogue them perfectly:
1. concussion and vertigo
2. cracked ribs and punctured lung
3. de-gloved hand, crushed thumb, broken finger(s) crushing injuries to all my fingers that resulted in it looking more like a catcher's mitt than a hand.
4. both bones in my forearm were crushed.
5.shoulder dislocated, crushed, rotator cuff and bicep stripped off.
All of the really serious injuries were on my left shoulder, arm and hand. When the windows broke as the car commenced its eight rolls, my shoulder and left arm ended up outside of the car. Why my arm remained attached is just one of the puzzles and miracles that no one can explain.
I could write about my experiences these past couple of years and fill a book, but Baron has asked for a blog. I could tell about the doctors, the nurses, the physical and occupational therapists who have saved my shoulder, arm and hand- but they have done so much more for me. They are my heroes, my cheerleaders, my prayer partners and friends. The friends I made in Wound Care (excruciating, by the way) I will never forget. My hand therapists who took me from zero to 100 percent are angels. My hand was a non-functional catcher's mitt when I started my therapy and they gave me back my ability to write, type, make jewelryand play the guitar. Oh, yes, I am left- handed, so their task was not easy. My plastic/reconstructive hand surgeon in Austin is a genius surrounded by an amazing staff. Two of his team are ladies I have known my entire life- Midland girls who I grew up with and have been delighted to reconnect with after many years. I walked into his office with no knowledge that they worked there, and the comfort and encouragement, plus expertise at their jobs made my recovery infinitely easier. Again, the right people at the right time, to make a horrible situation not only tolerable, but full of grace. This is beginning to read like an over-long acceptance speech at the Academy Awards. I need to cut to the chase!
So, my seventh and last (fingers crossed) surgery took place in San Antonio, December 14, 2011. It was my birthday. My birthday present was a reverse shoulder replacement. (Laura Paige, with a wink," So, Mama, does this mean your hand is going to be backwards now?" Laughter is the way we have coped with much of the drama.) I am, after almost 2 and 1/2 years, free from pain. That was the real birthday present.
Before that fateful day in August, I thought I had a grateful heart. I thought I appreciated my life, my family and friends. I thought I woke up up every morning with a thankful spirit for the beauty of this world, the gift of every breath and experience that came my way. But there was a shift in my attitude and my relationship with my God that changed everything that day. Since then, I have spent so much time, awake and hurting, day and night; but always incredibly aware of God's presence and care. I understand, as much as I am able, the reason the Holy Spirit is sent to be the Comforter. Through all of the pain, tears, wakefulness and worry, He was there. My husband, my children, all of my family and friends who have been faithful and loving supporters, sounding boards, counselors, prayer partners- I can never thank them adequately or love them enough for seeing me through. God has used them, each and every one of them, in a mighty way through this journey of mine. I can honestly say, and this is impossible for many people to understand, I am grateful for the accident. Pain, uncertainty and vulnerability have brought me to my knees, to my Lord and to a deeper spiritual walk.
So, as the song says, "It's a long and winding road that leads to Your door." I can't wait to see what happens around the next bend! Whatever reason I was spared on that northern New Mexico highway, I am thankful for the opportunity to spend just a bit more time here, surrounded by Love, held up by Grace. Am I worthy of it? Of course not! But, as Baron knows, scars are reminders of the healing we experience, inside and out. These scars keep me cognizant of all I was, all I am, all I am yet to be. We are weak, but He is strong.
Love and Grace,
Paige
On August 19th, 2009, I was driving from Midland to southern Colorado after a quick trip to check on things at home. Our middle daughter was putting on her first horse show, our youngest daughter had just moved to Lubbock to pursue a second college degree, and Baron had been injured during football practice. The horse show was a great success, Laura Paige's apartment in Lubbock was darling, and Baron's injury was an imposition to him, but not at all catastrophic. I had made the drive dozens of times and was almost to the Colorado border, in northern New Mexico when I fell asleep at the wheel. Mind you, it was 2:00 pm, a
perfect day for traveling, and I had never even come close to falling asleep while driving. My last conscious thought was," Wow! I am really tired. I will stop in Antonito (CO) , walk the dog, get a diet coke and be fine." I was approximately 15-20 minutes from Antonito.
My next conscious thought was in the ICU of St. Vincent's hospital in Santa Fe, 10 hours later. My husband was standing over me, I was in intense pain from my head to my feet and very confused.
Paige: "What happened?"
Ed: " You almost died. You were in a wreck near Antonito. Do you remember anything?"
Now, "almost dying" is a phrase my family has taken license with for years. As Ed says, no member of my extended family has ever had the flu without "almost dying." My family is very dramatic and illness/injuries are always described as being life-threatening. It is one of the things that has irritated and amused my husband for over 35 years in his association with my nearest and dearest relatives. Apparently, in this case, it was finally true. It took several days of Ed's detective work to figure out what had occurred at 2:00 pm on that highway in northern New Mexico.
After visiting the scene of the wreck, talking to the highway patrolmen who worked the accident, as well as hunting down and thanking all the people who stopped to render aid, Ed was able to piece together what had happened. I fell asleep at the wheel. I woke up and over-corrected as the car was going off the highway to the right, the car flipped over sideways and then rolled over eight times in a pasture before finally stopping its sideways progress. As it rolled, all the windows broke, my left shoulder, arm and hand flopped outside the window and the car rolled over that part of my body several times. How everything stayed attached to me is remarkable. No one actually saw the wreck, a truck driver found me shortly after it happened. When he called Ed from my cell phone, he didn't even know if I was alive. Now, that is telephone call no loved one wants to get. Things apparently happened very quickly after that. People began stopping to render aid. Not just random people, but people who were uniquely qualified to help. An off-duty EMS technician from Antonito and a holistic doctor and his wife from Denver assessed my condition after I was dragged out of the broken windshield, fashioned a splint out of car parts for my shattered arm, bandaged my degloved hand and stabilized my crushed shoulder. A vet tech from Taos stopped and took my mortally wounded Labrador Retriever, Honey, to the veterinarian clinic in Taos. Honey was thrown from the car as the windows broke and broke her back. All these people were essential to my subsequent recovery. It was no accident that they all arrived within minutes of the crash.
Oh, perhaps I should mention that I have almost no memory of any of this. Ten hours are completely gone from my life, which is a blessing in itself. According to everyone there, I was conscious, I was coherent, and I was in excruciating pain. How wonderful that my mind has erased all of that terrible time from my consciousness! I do have one memory from that 10 hours. I am being loaded into the ambulance or onto the helicopter, not sure which one. I am looking into the eyes of a man who is Native American. He has a long, grey braid, high cheek bones, bronze skin and piercing blue eyes. He is holding my good hand as I am being loaded-up and says, "Don't worry, Paige. I promise you are going to be fine." Now, whether he was a doctor, nurse, paramedic or angel, I cannot say. All I know is that he was real, he comforted and calmed me, and I am eternally grateful that he was there for me. I believed him then, and his words have stayed with me through almost 2 and 1/2 years of surgeries, physical therapy, set-backs, triumphs and pain.
We will skip most of the next three days in Santa Fe. It was a nightmare. The hospital was dirty, noisy and understaffed. I have never been to Bangladesh, but I would not be surprised if the medical facilities there were very similar. My husband spirited my away with the help of our oldest daughter, who had flown in from Los Angeles, and my sister, who had driven in from Amarillo. I spent the car trip leaned full-back in the passenger seat surrounded by pillows, blankets and oxygen tanks. Although we would not know the full extent of my injuries for quite awhile, I can now catalogue them perfectly:
1. concussion and vertigo
2. cracked ribs and punctured lung
3. de-gloved hand, crushed thumb, broken finger(s) crushing injuries to all my fingers that resulted in it looking more like a catcher's mitt than a hand.
4. both bones in my forearm were crushed.
5.shoulder dislocated, crushed, rotator cuff and bicep stripped off.
All of the really serious injuries were on my left shoulder, arm and hand. When the windows broke as the car commenced its eight rolls, my shoulder and left arm ended up outside of the car. Why my arm remained attached is just one of the puzzles and miracles that no one can explain.
I could write about my experiences these past couple of years and fill a book, but Baron has asked for a blog. I could tell about the doctors, the nurses, the physical and occupational therapists who have saved my shoulder, arm and hand- but they have done so much more for me. They are my heroes, my cheerleaders, my prayer partners and friends. The friends I made in Wound Care (excruciating, by the way) I will never forget. My hand therapists who took me from zero to 100 percent are angels. My hand was a non-functional catcher's mitt when I started my therapy and they gave me back my ability to write, type, make jewelryand play the guitar. Oh, yes, I am left- handed, so their task was not easy. My plastic/reconstructive hand surgeon in Austin is a genius surrounded by an amazing staff. Two of his team are ladies I have known my entire life- Midland girls who I grew up with and have been delighted to reconnect with after many years. I walked into his office with no knowledge that they worked there, and the comfort and encouragement, plus expertise at their jobs made my recovery infinitely easier. Again, the right people at the right time, to make a horrible situation not only tolerable, but full of grace. This is beginning to read like an over-long acceptance speech at the Academy Awards. I need to cut to the chase!
So, my seventh and last (fingers crossed) surgery took place in San Antonio, December 14, 2011. It was my birthday. My birthday present was a reverse shoulder replacement. (Laura Paige, with a wink," So, Mama, does this mean your hand is going to be backwards now?" Laughter is the way we have coped with much of the drama.) I am, after almost 2 and 1/2 years, free from pain. That was the real birthday present.
Before that fateful day in August, I thought I had a grateful heart. I thought I appreciated my life, my family and friends. I thought I woke up up every morning with a thankful spirit for the beauty of this world, the gift of every breath and experience that came my way. But there was a shift in my attitude and my relationship with my God that changed everything that day. Since then, I have spent so much time, awake and hurting, day and night; but always incredibly aware of God's presence and care. I understand, as much as I am able, the reason the Holy Spirit is sent to be the Comforter. Through all of the pain, tears, wakefulness and worry, He was there. My husband, my children, all of my family and friends who have been faithful and loving supporters, sounding boards, counselors, prayer partners- I can never thank them adequately or love them enough for seeing me through. God has used them, each and every one of them, in a mighty way through this journey of mine. I can honestly say, and this is impossible for many people to understand, I am grateful for the accident. Pain, uncertainty and vulnerability have brought me to my knees, to my Lord and to a deeper spiritual walk.
So, as the song says, "It's a long and winding road that leads to Your door." I can't wait to see what happens around the next bend! Whatever reason I was spared on that northern New Mexico highway, I am thankful for the opportunity to spend just a bit more time here, surrounded by Love, held up by Grace. Am I worthy of it? Of course not! But, as Baron knows, scars are reminders of the healing we experience, inside and out. These scars keep me cognizant of all I was, all I am, all I am yet to be. We are weak, but He is strong.
Love and Grace,
Paige
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