Nineteen years ago:
I got ready to go to one of the few parties I went to in high school, despite my overwhelming desire to stay home and watch hockey on television.
I wore a new outfit, which at the time seemed super cool but in hindsight was probably incredibly dorky. White jeans... um, hello?!
My friend came to pick me up, and while it seemed odd that she wasn't driving, I didn't question it.
Three high school girls got into a car to go to a party on OSU's campus. Although I'd been to lots of parties at another local university, this would be my first OSU party.
I zoned out in the car while my friends talked in the front seat. I wondered who was winning the game.
Looking ahead and to the left, I saw a car approaching the upcoming intersection a bit too fast. Glancing forward, I saw that our light was red, but the turn light was green, meaning that the oncoming car should probably be going a lot slower. We should have been going slower, too.
I yelled "stop," but we didn't. Quite the opposite... it felt like we accelerated.
I put my hands up to shield my face, but through my hands I saw a Mercedes hood ornament crush into me dead on. This is perhaps the biggest reason why I will never own a Mercedes.
I reached out to try to hold onto the back of the driver's seat. I missed.
I woke up on the sidewalk, face down. People were standing around me, staring. I didn't know why, and wondered what I'd done at the party, and just how embarrassed I should be.
My face was wet, and I felt heavy. The wetness turned out to be blood. The heavy feeling I felt was the effects of shock, multiple fractures and internal organ damage.
I tried to lift my right leg, but only part of it left the ground. With my right foot, I could feel the grass next to the sidewalk. This was oddly reassuring to me, because it meant I could still feel things, and I was probably not paralyzed. Woo hoo?
I tried to get up, but wasn't able to because moving my upper body was immensely painful, even through the heaviness and shock.
I asked my friend if I would live. She said "yes." I asked her if I would ever walk again. Silence.
The paramedics arrived, and brought out the backboard. I panicked.
In the ambulance, the paramedics started to cut my clothes off. I asked them not to cut my socks off, because they were my father's. They still cut them off, the bastards.
In the emergency room, I vomited on the doctor's shoes when they intubated me.
On the way to the operating room, I saw my parents, and told them I was sorry.
In surgery, doctors fixed a crushed femur, torn spleen, and inserted a tube into my chest cavity to help keep my lung from collapsing again after it had been punctured by one of five broken ribs. There was no treatment for the broken fingernail. Modern science had failed me in that respect.
Nineteen years ago:
I learned about friendship and strength from the myriad people who came to see me in the hospital, including those I never expected.
I learned about devotion from the teachers who worked with me to finish my senior year during my recovery, who overlooked clearly-drug-induced sentences (and probably entire paragraphs) in my final papers, and from the very special teacher who came to my house on prom night to keep me company on the assumption that I wouldn't be able to go. (I did go... perhaps a first glimpse of the party girl who would emerge a few months later?)
I learned that there really are awesome guys out there from my prom date who, by all objective accounts, should have ditched me in favour of someone more fun, but who didn't.
I learned that the ability to pivot and find other paths forward in life are critical not only to success, but sometimes to survival.
Nineteen years ago, my life changed. As a result, today I know about gratitude - to the doctors, to my friends, to my family, and to everyone who has helped me deal with the immense life changes the accident brought and has continued to bring me over the last two decades.
Thank you.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Working from Home - A Diary
5:40 am: Alarm goes off at usual time. Remember that I'm working from home today. Reset alarm for 6:20.
6:20: Alarm goes off. Decide to wear hair in piggy-tail braids for doctor's appointment. Snooze.
6:30: Alarm goes off. Again. Debate whether I can skip shower and rely on post-spinning shower from night before. Decide this is sub-optimal. Position body so I can stare at clock and get "just five more minutes."
6:37: Damn it. That was more than 5 minutes. Get up and get into shower. Skip shaving legs - no need to look cute (or well-shaved) today. Promise myself not to let anyone touch or look at my legs. Should be easy - it's 40 degrees out.
6:50: Out of shower, digging through laundry to find track pants. Wrinkled! Work from home or not, they need to be ironed. Damn it!
6:55: Dry hair, brush teeth. Put on some makeup so as not to frighten the townspeople. Hair under pink baseball cap, piggy-tail braids... check! Anticipating that child's doctor's appointment will run late, send email to organizer of 8:00 call to let her know I will be dialing in late. Hope she gets it before meeting starts. Simultaneously hope other attorney on call will be on time - cc him to be safe.
7:10: Carry still-sleeping child downstairs, wrap in blanket, put on Timmy Time.
7:15: Dress sleeping child.
7:25: Stand still-mostly-asleep child up in front of toilet, and pull his pants down. Walk out of bathroom hoping he is sufficiently coherent to hit the potty.
7:32: In car on the way to doctor. Fingers tightly crossed there is no traffic!
7:41: Check in for 7:40 appointment. Sit patiently with child dozing in lap. Smile kindly as strangers comment on how wonderful it would be to cuddle up in mommy's lap, while wondering whether that's really an appropriate statement to make to a perfect stranger. Finally... called back into the office. The second wait in doctor's office purgatory begins.
7:55: Doctor arrives.
8:18: Finally done with checkup. Time to dial in for 8 am call. Only 18 minutes late! Yay for Bluetooth!
8:50: Earned first bitchy badge of the day! Only minimal interruptions to conference call - two dog barkings, one request from the child for Despicable Me. Overall, a good showing. Listen to voicemail. Receive message asking whether I or my colleague plan to dial in for the call. Voicemail time? 8:10. &%#! Make mental note to talk to more junior colleague about importance of being on time for calls (or at least to send email saying you would be late). After feeble attempt to find normal Despicable Me DVD, commence attempt to get clearly obsolete Blu Ray player to load Blu Ray disc of movie.
9:00: Second call of the day - on time and back on track! Continue efforts to get Blu Ray player to load Despicable Me. Consider ripping player out of entertainment unit and throwing it off of deck. Decide against this, on basis that we are on budget and can't afford to replace because child is going to private school in fall. Continue loading efforts during call, periodically updating colleagues of status of movie.
9:59: Second call finally ends! Call Byron to ask how to get Blu Ray player to load - is there some sort of magic incantation? Explain to child that it is better to be Gru than a Minion. Reminded by Byron that PS3 is also a Blu Ray player. Give up on Blu Ray player and move disc to PS3 and begin efforts to start movie... again.
10:02: Success! Child watching Despicable Me. Admit to myself that the minions are pretty cute.
10:15: Call with junior colleague who was on 8:00 call. Decide against pointing out he shouldn't be late, since it isn't likely to be productive (and might prematurely earn me a second bitchy badge of day).
10:28: Return voicemail from person asking if I would attend 8 am call. Yes, yes I will!
10:40: Phone tag, I'm it!
10:42: Revise document that was supposed to go out two days ago, but which I only last night got comments on. Woot!
11:45: Send email to person asking the same question for the n'th time this week. Must... go... to... my... happy... place... Bitchy badge number two safely tucked under my belt. Child now on second showing of Despicable Me.
11:51: Start lunch - soup for me, and mac and cheese for child. Theme: orange food.
12:20: Finish soup. Realize I need medical form for child's second doctor's appointment of the day. Begin looking (futilely) for form. Go online to find form; venture to basement to print. Tell child I am going to basement for a few minutes. Repeatedly respond to child's calls asking where I am.
12:55: Plenty of time before we need to leave! More emails. Bitchy badge number three... check! Look at clock, and discover it is now...
1:17: Shit. Have to leave! Put child and Lego rocket ship in car - on the way to doctor!
1:33: Check in for 1:30 appointment.
1:58: Finally, our turn! Read books to child while checking and responding to email. Email organizer of 2:00 call to let him know it's not looking good for me to make it (on time or at all), and that I'll circle back later in the day. Debate going out to hallway to look for doctor. Decide against this, as an angry pediatrician is not a productive pediatrician. Patience, grasshopper. Realize therapy is helping. Go me!
2:15: Doctor materializes, 45 minutes after appointment time. Perfect record of being on time for her appointments is officially shot. Sad, but not unexpected.
2:48: Finally done with doctor! Child is healthy. Woo hoo! Just enough time to get home before 3:00 call, even driving at the speed limit. Success!
2:58: Dial in for 3:00 call, while hitting play on remainder of Despicable Me.
3:03: Despicable Me is over (thank GOD!), and child wants another movie. Colleague on the phone does an amazing Gru impression for child. Child invites "Gru" to visit and sleep over at our house. Female colleagues on phone think this is "just the cutest thing." Wondering whether we now have an obligation to actually invite Phil-as-Gru for a sleep over. Hmm. I hope not, as this would probably make meetings with Phil-not-as-Gru fairly awkward.
3:05: Child selects Sleeping Beauty as his new movie. Once movie is loaded into PS3, he sits on couch holding Despicable Me case - so excited for his sleep over with Gru! Yikes.
3:07: Two minutes in, I am wishing I had a spindle I could prick my finger on to make this call end.
3:46: Earn diplomat of year award from one half of call participants; possible subject of fatwa by other half of call participants. Oh yeah... I'm living the dream.
4:13: Call is finally over. Or rather, it appears they randomly disconnected from the conference, since the call ended mid-sentence. Either way, time to dial in for my 4:00 meeting. Better late than never, right?
4:14: Listening to conference call discussion, answering emails, reviewing a document, prying Lego pieces apart, and making chocolate milk and a "snicky snack" for the child. In other words, multi-tasking.
4:22: Sleeping Beauty is over. New movie? Ratatouille. (Rat Patootie?) Thank you, Mr. Disney!
4:58: Call ends "early." Wonder whether it's possible to punch person who said "wow - you get two minutes of your day back" in face through phone. Alas, it is not.
5:04: On my last call of the day. Woot!
5:19: Call is done. Hmm... that was too easy. Anticipating how this will blow up in my face tomorrow.
5:20: Sitting down to watch Rat Patootie. What's for dinner? Spaghetti and sprinkle cheese? Or cold cut sandwiches? So many choices.
5:27: Forgot to check voicemail. Seven messages! Back to work!
5:38: Done (again)! Rat Patootie, here I come!
Just another day in the life of a working mommy.
6:20: Alarm goes off. Decide to wear hair in piggy-tail braids for doctor's appointment. Snooze.
6:30: Alarm goes off. Again. Debate whether I can skip shower and rely on post-spinning shower from night before. Decide this is sub-optimal. Position body so I can stare at clock and get "just five more minutes."
6:37: Damn it. That was more than 5 minutes. Get up and get into shower. Skip shaving legs - no need to look cute (or well-shaved) today. Promise myself not to let anyone touch or look at my legs. Should be easy - it's 40 degrees out.
6:50: Out of shower, digging through laundry to find track pants. Wrinkled! Work from home or not, they need to be ironed. Damn it!
6:55: Dry hair, brush teeth. Put on some makeup so as not to frighten the townspeople. Hair under pink baseball cap, piggy-tail braids... check! Anticipating that child's doctor's appointment will run late, send email to organizer of 8:00 call to let her know I will be dialing in late. Hope she gets it before meeting starts. Simultaneously hope other attorney on call will be on time - cc him to be safe.
7:10: Carry still-sleeping child downstairs, wrap in blanket, put on Timmy Time.
7:15: Dress sleeping child.
7:25: Stand still-mostly-asleep child up in front of toilet, and pull his pants down. Walk out of bathroom hoping he is sufficiently coherent to hit the potty.
7:32: In car on the way to doctor. Fingers tightly crossed there is no traffic!
7:41: Check in for 7:40 appointment. Sit patiently with child dozing in lap. Smile kindly as strangers comment on how wonderful it would be to cuddle up in mommy's lap, while wondering whether that's really an appropriate statement to make to a perfect stranger. Finally... called back into the office. The second wait in doctor's office purgatory begins.
7:55: Doctor arrives.
8:18: Finally done with checkup. Time to dial in for 8 am call. Only 18 minutes late! Yay for Bluetooth!
8:50: Earned first bitchy badge of the day! Only minimal interruptions to conference call - two dog barkings, one request from the child for Despicable Me. Overall, a good showing. Listen to voicemail. Receive message asking whether I or my colleague plan to dial in for the call. Voicemail time? 8:10. &%#! Make mental note to talk to more junior colleague about importance of being on time for calls (or at least to send email saying you would be late). After feeble attempt to find normal Despicable Me DVD, commence attempt to get clearly obsolete Blu Ray player to load Blu Ray disc of movie.
9:00: Second call of the day - on time and back on track! Continue efforts to get Blu Ray player to load Despicable Me. Consider ripping player out of entertainment unit and throwing it off of deck. Decide against this, on basis that we are on budget and can't afford to replace because child is going to private school in fall. Continue loading efforts during call, periodically updating colleagues of status of movie.
9:59: Second call finally ends! Call Byron to ask how to get Blu Ray player to load - is there some sort of magic incantation? Explain to child that it is better to be Gru than a Minion. Reminded by Byron that PS3 is also a Blu Ray player. Give up on Blu Ray player and move disc to PS3 and begin efforts to start movie... again.
10:02: Success! Child watching Despicable Me. Admit to myself that the minions are pretty cute.
10:15: Call with junior colleague who was on 8:00 call. Decide against pointing out he shouldn't be late, since it isn't likely to be productive (and might prematurely earn me a second bitchy badge of day).
10:28: Return voicemail from person asking if I would attend 8 am call. Yes, yes I will!
10:40: Phone tag, I'm it!
10:42: Revise document that was supposed to go out two days ago, but which I only last night got comments on. Woot!
11:45: Send email to person asking the same question for the n'th time this week. Must... go... to... my... happy... place... Bitchy badge number two safely tucked under my belt. Child now on second showing of Despicable Me.
11:51: Start lunch - soup for me, and mac and cheese for child. Theme: orange food.
12:20: Finish soup. Realize I need medical form for child's second doctor's appointment of the day. Begin looking (futilely) for form. Go online to find form; venture to basement to print. Tell child I am going to basement for a few minutes. Repeatedly respond to child's calls asking where I am.
12:55: Plenty of time before we need to leave! More emails. Bitchy badge number three... check! Look at clock, and discover it is now...
1:17: Shit. Have to leave! Put child and Lego rocket ship in car - on the way to doctor!
1:33: Check in for 1:30 appointment.
1:58: Finally, our turn! Read books to child while checking and responding to email. Email organizer of 2:00 call to let him know it's not looking good for me to make it (on time or at all), and that I'll circle back later in the day. Debate going out to hallway to look for doctor. Decide against this, as an angry pediatrician is not a productive pediatrician. Patience, grasshopper. Realize therapy is helping. Go me!
2:15: Doctor materializes, 45 minutes after appointment time. Perfect record of being on time for her appointments is officially shot. Sad, but not unexpected.
2:48: Finally done with doctor! Child is healthy. Woo hoo! Just enough time to get home before 3:00 call, even driving at the speed limit. Success!
2:58: Dial in for 3:00 call, while hitting play on remainder of Despicable Me.
3:03: Despicable Me is over (thank GOD!), and child wants another movie. Colleague on the phone does an amazing Gru impression for child. Child invites "Gru" to visit and sleep over at our house. Female colleagues on phone think this is "just the cutest thing." Wondering whether we now have an obligation to actually invite Phil-as-Gru for a sleep over. Hmm. I hope not, as this would probably make meetings with Phil-not-as-Gru fairly awkward.
3:05: Child selects Sleeping Beauty as his new movie. Once movie is loaded into PS3, he sits on couch holding Despicable Me case - so excited for his sleep over with Gru! Yikes.
3:07: Two minutes in, I am wishing I had a spindle I could prick my finger on to make this call end.
3:46: Earn diplomat of year award from one half of call participants; possible subject of fatwa by other half of call participants. Oh yeah... I'm living the dream.
4:13: Call is finally over. Or rather, it appears they randomly disconnected from the conference, since the call ended mid-sentence. Either way, time to dial in for my 4:00 meeting. Better late than never, right?
4:14: Listening to conference call discussion, answering emails, reviewing a document, prying Lego pieces apart, and making chocolate milk and a "snicky snack" for the child. In other words, multi-tasking.
4:22: Sleeping Beauty is over. New movie? Ratatouille. (Rat Patootie?) Thank you, Mr. Disney!
4:58: Call ends "early." Wonder whether it's possible to punch person who said "wow - you get two minutes of your day back" in face through phone. Alas, it is not.
5:04: On my last call of the day. Woot!
5:19: Call is done. Hmm... that was too easy. Anticipating how this will blow up in my face tomorrow.
5:20: Sitting down to watch Rat Patootie. What's for dinner? Spaghetti and sprinkle cheese? Or cold cut sandwiches? So many choices.
5:27: Forgot to check voicemail. Seven messages! Back to work!
5:38: Done (again)! Rat Patootie, here I come!
Just another day in the life of a working mommy.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Rearranging
When I was a kid, I used to love to rearrange my bedroom furniture. I think the first time I did it - alone, mind you - I was about 9 or 10 years old. There I was, pulling my porcelain dolls off my dresser and my toys off of the little metal shelf in my room, piling everything on my bed, and doing my best to scoot the heavy wood furniture around the room. It wasn't easy (I had heavy wood antique furniture), but every time I did it, it always made me feel like my room was brand new... like life was fresh and new again!
One summer in high school, I found a spot on the carpet that had come loose from the trim. Lifting the hideous green carpet (which was a holdover from the previous owners, and which had just never been replaced) I discovered that it was covering finished hard wood, like the hard wood in the hallway, and in my parents' room, and in the guest room (in hindsight, it wasn't exactly shocking that my bedroom also had a finished hard wood floor). The green carpet had always bothered me immensely - it didn't match my wallpaper, and was pretty grungy - so the fact that there was a hard wood floor underneath was completely irresistible. I waited until a day when my mom was out of the house and my dad was at work. I moved the furniture to the middle of the room, then worked my way around the walls, pulling the carpet free from the trim. Once I had it completely freed along the edges, I moved all of the furniture to one side, and rolled up the carpet and underpad on the other side of the room; I then made enough space - piece by piece - to release the carpet from underneath the furniture. I had to use my dad's heavy scissors to cut the carpet into pieces so I could carry it, but I'll never forget the look on my brother's face as I dragged huge rolls of my carpeting and underpadding through the family room and out the door to the curb. Once I'd swept up the dust and cleaned the floors with Endust (literally spraying the floor then wiping it with a rag), my room felt so much more open, more airy... and decidedly less green.
I still find rearranging the furniture or making changes to the house to be refreshing, and even therapeutic. In our house in Cleveland, the master bedroom had grey (GREY!) wallpaper that looked like storm clouds, complete with little silver lightning strike accents. The master bath featured black and white prison-striped wallpaper (I had to wonder whether the previous owners used their bathroom wallpaper as a metaphor for their marriage). Getting up in the morning was like waking in a rainstorm then heading into prison to take a shower. It was horrible, and SO not a good way to start the day! The day that I finally tore the first strip of that appalling paper from the wall was one of the best days ever... the satisfying "whish" the paper made as it peeled free still brings a smile to my face. When we bought our house in Cincinnati, it featured the most hideous wallpaper known to mankind, and the faded, ratty-ass carpet smelled like mothballs and Aspercreme. Before we moved in, we hired a guy (nicknamed "Skinny Dude") to remove all of the wallpaper and repaint, and we replaced all of the carpeting. ALL OF IT. It was wonderful.
This afternoon, I rearranged our living room to accommodate a new African drum that we bought from a friend who is moving to China (thanks, Em... I will seriously miss you!). Of course, the grand piano had to stay put, but I moved the chair and lamp to different spots, and brought a wicker and wrought iron set of drawers in from the foyer as an added touch. The room felt new, and by association, I somehow felt new as well.
I've been doing a lot of rearranging lately. Here and there in the house... here and there in my office... and here and there in how I think about things, too. I'm getting rid of as much of the mental grey and prison striped wallpaper and grungy green carpet as I can. When I find something that I just can't get rid of - something structural, or something that is too firmly fixed to completely jettison - I'm trying to find a new purpose for it, a new way to use it, or a new place to put it.
Sometimes you just need a fresh start. Sometimes you just need a little... rearranging.
One summer in high school, I found a spot on the carpet that had come loose from the trim. Lifting the hideous green carpet (which was a holdover from the previous owners, and which had just never been replaced) I discovered that it was covering finished hard wood, like the hard wood in the hallway, and in my parents' room, and in the guest room (in hindsight, it wasn't exactly shocking that my bedroom also had a finished hard wood floor). The green carpet had always bothered me immensely - it didn't match my wallpaper, and was pretty grungy - so the fact that there was a hard wood floor underneath was completely irresistible. I waited until a day when my mom was out of the house and my dad was at work. I moved the furniture to the middle of the room, then worked my way around the walls, pulling the carpet free from the trim. Once I had it completely freed along the edges, I moved all of the furniture to one side, and rolled up the carpet and underpad on the other side of the room; I then made enough space - piece by piece - to release the carpet from underneath the furniture. I had to use my dad's heavy scissors to cut the carpet into pieces so I could carry it, but I'll never forget the look on my brother's face as I dragged huge rolls of my carpeting and underpadding through the family room and out the door to the curb. Once I'd swept up the dust and cleaned the floors with Endust (literally spraying the floor then wiping it with a rag), my room felt so much more open, more airy... and decidedly less green.
I still find rearranging the furniture or making changes to the house to be refreshing, and even therapeutic. In our house in Cleveland, the master bedroom had grey (GREY!) wallpaper that looked like storm clouds, complete with little silver lightning strike accents. The master bath featured black and white prison-striped wallpaper (I had to wonder whether the previous owners used their bathroom wallpaper as a metaphor for their marriage). Getting up in the morning was like waking in a rainstorm then heading into prison to take a shower. It was horrible, and SO not a good way to start the day! The day that I finally tore the first strip of that appalling paper from the wall was one of the best days ever... the satisfying "whish" the paper made as it peeled free still brings a smile to my face. When we bought our house in Cincinnati, it featured the most hideous wallpaper known to mankind, and the faded, ratty-ass carpet smelled like mothballs and Aspercreme. Before we moved in, we hired a guy (nicknamed "Skinny Dude") to remove all of the wallpaper and repaint, and we replaced all of the carpeting. ALL OF IT. It was wonderful.
This afternoon, I rearranged our living room to accommodate a new African drum that we bought from a friend who is moving to China (thanks, Em... I will seriously miss you!). Of course, the grand piano had to stay put, but I moved the chair and lamp to different spots, and brought a wicker and wrought iron set of drawers in from the foyer as an added touch. The room felt new, and by association, I somehow felt new as well.
I've been doing a lot of rearranging lately. Here and there in the house... here and there in my office... and here and there in how I think about things, too. I'm getting rid of as much of the mental grey and prison striped wallpaper and grungy green carpet as I can. When I find something that I just can't get rid of - something structural, or something that is too firmly fixed to completely jettison - I'm trying to find a new purpose for it, a new way to use it, or a new place to put it.
Sometimes you just need a fresh start. Sometimes you just need a little... rearranging.
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