Monday, August 20, 2007

F is for Fall

By fall, I mean "accident" and not the season. A little over four years ago, I took a tumble that in retrospect had quite an impact (no pun intended) on my life. Tom and I often recount the things which that particular event changed. For one, he was living in Las Vegas at the time, not knowing if he would return to our marriage. I didn't know if I cared. When I got home from the emergency room, I called him and he returned to Tulsa for a month to take care of me. He went back to Vegas when I was able to go back to work. Odd as it is, my fall ended up being a wake-up call for him and I believe saved his life. He did come back to our marriage, we went to counseling, and here we are. Had he not come back, he wouldn't have gone for a physical (at my insistence) which unveiled early diagnosis of colon cancer. That's a big impact.

The six weeks during which I recovered was one of the most peaceful times of my life. I had to recognize that there was nothing I could do to correct things. I gave up control. I put aside vanity. I still remember how peaceful I was during that time. That acceptance is still present when something happens and I start to question why. It's a constant reminder that we are not in charge -- no matter how much we want to be or think we are.

I remember the day of the accident laying in bed and praying "If there's something I'm supposed to get out of this, don't let me miss it." I hope I got the point.

These photos are from the day of accident and 2 days after surgery, about a month later. It still gives me chills to look at these.

3 comments:

Teresa J. Wilber said...

After reading "E" post, and this post, I am sorry to say that someone keeps dragging out my bowl and filling it up for me....or do I allow them to do it? I must think it gives me worth and a purpose to be so busy, like it's important or something. Then I was reminded of your accident. In trying to analyze my fears of the things that go wrong, I realize that I worry I won't get "it" all done, forgetting that if I was unavailable, it might get done anyway...without me. Keeping the bowl empty for me means letting go to give myself the peace I need, before some other force does it for me. Thanks, Connie, for sharing your heart and soul!

Sarah said...

An amazing experience. It sounds like you 'got it': )

Jennifer said...

and it changed my life, too. I remember opening those pictures at work and bursting into tears. Never had I felt so helpless and so far away from where I wanted to be and who I wanted to be with. It was shortly after your "fall" that I did some soul searching of my own and began the long trip home. Today, it is my cup and not the bowl that is constantly filled and I pray I don't have to have an accident to wake me up. You, dear, are an amazing woman.