'I beg your pardon. I never promised you a rose garden.
Along with the sunshine, there's gotta be a little rain sometime...'
Oh, my goodness! We both loved the rain...even the storms. Just not a storm of events that began happening and turning our little happy world upside down. We weren't ready for that storm, but really, is anyone ever?
Things had been going well for us. Odell's business was growing at a slow but steady pace. We were enjoying being out in the country...well, all but the long drive down Highway 75. It quickly became monotonous. All in all, though, we were definitely happy on Happy Camp Road.
Odell and I were in the mood to look at new cars. Trading our nice Mazda in became a priority when the transmission went out on us. It didn't take long to settle on a 2002 Chrysler Concorde. We both loved it...all silver, shiny, and new...for one weekend.
That's all. I drove our new car home on a Friday. My Odell was
That's all. I drove our new car home on a Friday. My Odell was
home sick in bed that day. In fact, he was sick all weekend. He never even sat in this new car. I was driving home on the boring Highway 75 on Monday evening. I had just called my hubby. 'Hey, sweetie! I'm on my way home. Should be there in about half an hour.' We talked a couple of minutes before I laid my phone back on the seat beside me. I was smiling. I always smiled when I was on my way home to my Odell. That's the last thing I remember until I was slammed into by a drunk driver, who had exited onto the highway at a high rate of speed. Although I never lost consciousness, I felt in a state of shock. Everything around me seemed very surreal. I was aware of my car door opening and a lady asking me if I was all right. Did I look all right?
My head was hurting so badly. My right knee was burning and throbbing. This nice lady told me she was a nurse and she wanted to hold my head still in case of a neck injury. I later learned that a coroner, on his way to a fatality, saw my car, and pulled over...thinking the worse. Thankfully, I wasn't another fatality. I would say I wasn't in too bad of shape...considering the sad shape of my new car. My new, shiny, silver car sure didn't look the way it did when I drove it off the lot only three days earlier.
Actually, neither did my face.
Look quite the same, I mean.
The wailing of sirens...police,
firetrucks, and EMSA, were heard
and soon I was being carefully loaded
onto a carrier and placed in the care of the Paramedics. I'm not sure when my husband was called.
I believe one of my attendants made the call for me. The crazy
thing was that at first he thought I was pulling a joke on him. I wonder why? (smile). As if we ever played jokes on each other! He was called just a little later than I should have been arriving home. I was so happy to see his face when he got to the ER. And even happier to go home with him after being thoroughly poked, prodded, and determined not to be seriously injured.
I left there on crutches with instructions to rest and see my personal physician early the next week. Sounds
fairly simple. You would think. Not for this girl. You see, I have always had this bad habit of trying to do
three or four things at a time with two hands. Add crutches into the mix and for me, it spelled disaster. It was a couple of days later I stood up with my crutches with a load of our folded laundry to put away. Suddenly, with no warning, the crutches were flying away from me. The laundry was thrown here and there.
Me? Well, I was right in the middle of it. On the floor. Thankful, while at the same time embarrassed, I looked up to see
my guy standing over me. All concerned. Almost laughing. I know I must have looked hilarious! He helped me up from the floor and proceeded to pick up the crutches and the scattered unfolded clothes. I remember him saying something like, 'Honey, WHAT were you thinking, anyway?' Should it have ended there?
Yes. Did it? No. Mostly my pride had suffered. At least that's what I thought. By the next day cellulitis had set in...both legs. It wasn't good. My legs swelled terribly. Out of control. I could barely walk. I ended up in the hospital. That in itself wouldn't have been so bad had it ended there. It was a drizzly, cold day, with a sleet/snow mixture when I was transported to Meadow Brook Rehabilitation Center. For the next six weeks, I was learning again how to walk. To add to the misery, Gout set in. Unfortunately, my doctor prescribed the wrong medication for a patient in the midst of a full blown attack. This made it unbelievable. My sweet, adorable, and patient Odell stood by my side while I was given pushes of Demoral through my IV...every twenty minutes to relieve the excruciating pain this 'wrong medication' brought on.
I know I must sound like a big baby. Actually, I'm pretty strong and have always had a high pain tolerance. This was ridiculous!
However, I never felt alone or abandoned. My sweet children came when they could. And my amazing Odell was there through these weeks of stress and chaos. Everyday. I would look up and sometimes see his face peeking around my door. And always that big grin I loved! It didn't matter how exhausted he was from a hard day's work, he was there with those strong arms to hold me.
Just to make me feel so loved.
It was a lovely Spring day when I was finally 'sprung' from the
Rehab Center. It felt incredible to walk out on my two feet. No wheel chair or crutches. Just my guy holding my arm and opening my door for me. After I was comfortably seated and he was behind the wheel, he turned to me, 'Ready to go home, honey?' I was very ready. Just not quite yet. I wanted to make a stop first. 'Baby, do you mind if we stop at Sears?' I asked. Hey! You gotta understand. I hadn't been shopping in ever so long! Of course he didn't mind. As long as it didn't take too long. I think he was anxious to get his girl back home where she belonged!
My sleepy guy...I knew I could wake him up!
My head was hurting so badly. My right knee was burning and throbbing. This nice lady told me she was a nurse and she wanted to hold my head still in case of a neck injury. I later learned that a coroner, on his way to a fatality, saw my car, and pulled over...thinking the worse. Thankfully, I wasn't another fatality. I would say I wasn't in too bad of shape...considering the sad shape of my new car. My new, shiny, silver car sure didn't look the way it did when I drove it off the lot only three days earlier.
Actually, neither did my face.
Look quite the same, I mean.
The wailing of sirens...police,
firetrucks, and EMSA, were heard
and soon I was being carefully loaded
onto a carrier and placed in the care of the Paramedics. I'm not sure when my husband was called.
I believe one of my attendants made the call for me. The crazy
thing was that at first he thought I was pulling a joke on him. I wonder why? (smile). As if we ever played jokes on each other! He was called just a little later than I should have been arriving home. I was so happy to see his face when he got to the ER. And even happier to go home with him after being thoroughly poked, prodded, and determined not to be seriously injured.
I left there on crutches with instructions to rest and see my personal physician early the next week. Sounds
fairly simple. You would think. Not for this girl. You see, I have always had this bad habit of trying to do
three or four things at a time with two hands. Add crutches into the mix and for me, it spelled disaster. It was a couple of days later I stood up with my crutches with a load of our folded laundry to put away. Suddenly, with no warning, the crutches were flying away from me. The laundry was thrown here and there.
Me? Well, I was right in the middle of it. On the floor. Thankful, while at the same time embarrassed, I looked up to see
my guy standing over me. All concerned. Almost laughing. I know I must have looked hilarious! He helped me up from the floor and proceeded to pick up the crutches and the scattered unfolded clothes. I remember him saying something like, 'Honey, WHAT were you thinking, anyway?' Should it have ended there?
Yes. Did it? No. Mostly my pride had suffered. At least that's what I thought. By the next day cellulitis had set in...both legs. It wasn't good. My legs swelled terribly. Out of control. I could barely walk. I ended up in the hospital. That in itself wouldn't have been so bad had it ended there. It was a drizzly, cold day, with a sleet/snow mixture when I was transported to Meadow Brook Rehabilitation Center. For the next six weeks, I was learning again how to walk. To add to the misery, Gout set in. Unfortunately, my doctor prescribed the wrong medication for a patient in the midst of a full blown attack. This made it unbelievable. My sweet, adorable, and patient Odell stood by my side while I was given pushes of Demoral through my IV...every twenty minutes to relieve the excruciating pain this 'wrong medication' brought on.
I know I must sound like a big baby. Actually, I'm pretty strong and have always had a high pain tolerance. This was ridiculous!
However, I never felt alone or abandoned. My sweet children came when they could. And my amazing Odell was there through these weeks of stress and chaos. Everyday. I would look up and sometimes see his face peeking around my door. And always that big grin I loved! It didn't matter how exhausted he was from a hard day's work, he was there with those strong arms to hold me.
Just to make me feel so loved.
It was a lovely Spring day when I was finally 'sprung' from the
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