I posted something without realizing that it was an epiphany. A flash of insight of my marriage and who I am... now. It is hard to help people understand the struggles I face, day in - day out, when they have no basis for relativity. Even my relatives!!
"sat there listening to my wife answer the questions where I don't have memories of my accident."
My wife, my partner, has had her life drastically changed. And not for the better. What she must endure for, and from, her husband is of almost epic proportions. She shared with me some memories from my trauma room stay. Her initial perspective was covered in blood.
My clothing, which had been cut away from me, was saturated in blood. I was naked and had IV's running in and out of my body. Life support was being pushed into places it need to be pushed into. I could not be laid horizontally so they splinted, as much as they could, my forearms and used what IV points still existed. Eventually they had to use my legs for all of that but that came later in the day. This is what my wife drove 2 hours to come and see.
The struggle to keep me alive.
I have memories of my own struggles to stay alive. Jumping from Airplanes, working around helicopters, Desert Storm, purple heart, North Philly, memories galore. However, I have no memories of my accident nor of my initial recovery. And that being the first 3 months after I slammed my head into the asphalt at 30 mph.
Each day I go through my day struggling with the dichotomy of self-actualization and remembering I am not who I was. The pain of that realization hits me several times a day. And pain it is, truly painful down to the bottom of my soul.
I will be going along thinking myself sufficient to the task(s) in front of me and >BAM< I realize that perhaps I am not. And OMG what she went through and endures with. The feelings wash over me like waves from the ocean seeking to reduce the island of calm that I so desperately need. Calm so I don't sound annoyed, so I am not annoyed, and depression is held back as far as it can be.
The guilt, and I do feel guilty on several levels all at once, is almost more than I can bear. No, I am not suicidal - not even close. But I must confess that in my prayers, sometimes, I ask the Lord why? So many fine opportunities to call me home has passed but this one is the hardest patch I have ever had to hoe.
Why Lord? Why?
"sat there listening to my wife answer the questions where I don't have memories of my accident."
My wife, my partner, has had her life drastically changed. And not for the better. What she must endure for, and from, her husband is of almost epic proportions. She shared with me some memories from my trauma room stay. Her initial perspective was covered in blood.
My clothing, which had been cut away from me, was saturated in blood. I was naked and had IV's running in and out of my body. Life support was being pushed into places it need to be pushed into. I could not be laid horizontally so they splinted, as much as they could, my forearms and used what IV points still existed. Eventually they had to use my legs for all of that but that came later in the day. This is what my wife drove 2 hours to come and see.
The struggle to keep me alive.
I have memories of my own struggles to stay alive. Jumping from Airplanes, working around helicopters, Desert Storm, purple heart, North Philly, memories galore. However, I have no memories of my accident nor of my initial recovery. And that being the first 3 months after I slammed my head into the asphalt at 30 mph.
Each day I go through my day struggling with the dichotomy of self-actualization and remembering I am not who I was. The pain of that realization hits me several times a day. And pain it is, truly painful down to the bottom of my soul.
I will be going along thinking myself sufficient to the task(s) in front of me and >BAM< I realize that perhaps I am not. And OMG what she went through and endures with. The feelings wash over me like waves from the ocean seeking to reduce the island of calm that I so desperately need. Calm so I don't sound annoyed, so I am not annoyed, and depression is held back as far as it can be.
The guilt, and I do feel guilty on several levels all at once, is almost more than I can bear. No, I am not suicidal - not even close. But I must confess that in my prayers, sometimes, I ask the Lord why? So many fine opportunities to call me home has passed but this one is the hardest patch I have ever had to hoe.
Why Lord? Why?
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