Learning to Move Forward: Novella #3.5 by Cynthia P. O'Neill Read Free Book Online
Authors: Cynthia P. O'Neill
repair. They’d attempted several hours of surgery to put them back together, but the tissues were already starting to die and the decision was made to amputate.
I remember thinking my world had stopped. I must have been so shocked by the news that I passed out and came to sometime later. The doctor explained that it was my body’s way of dealing with things and was not uncommon.
My parents tried to reassure me that they’d do everything in their power to get me any kind of therapy I needed and the best available prosthetic they could afford, but for some reason the way they looked at me had changed. Before the accident they held their heads high and shoulders back and talked about me with pride. Afterwards, their expressions were almost unemotional. It made me feel like I had failed them.
I’d only been awake a couple of days when a few of my friends dropped by while Laurel was visiting. I refused to ask her to leave, just because she didn’t fit the clique’s standards, but I did ask them to leave when they started telling me how I was now “sub-par” in their ideals.
To say I was furious at my so-called “friends” was an understatement. I asked them to leave and never come back if they couldn’t treat me with respect. Their parting comment was, “Respect is given to those with perfection. You aren’t even a whole person now, so how can we admire someone disabled?”
Laurel was usually quiet and reserved, but she took them by the arms, led them to the door, and told them to never come back unless they could talk to me with compassion. I was so proud of her actions, but despite them I fell into a deep depression.
I began to wonder what purpose my life served. Why was I left alive? I felt inferior to everyone.
A week later, my vitals were stable enough, despite my mood, that I was moved to a rehabilitation facility to try and regain strength in my body, particularly my left arm. All the muscles from the accident had atrophied and needed to be worked on.
Laurel had to return to school, but she came back on weekends and pushed me to talk with some of the other patients who’d lost an appendage. I was shocked to learn that we all felt unworthy of living and wondered how we could manage in life with a piece of us missing.
My parents coddled my every whim and need. They made sure I had my pajamas, my favorite foods, and pretty much anything else I asked for, but it still hurt that I couldn’t get them to look at me the way they’d done prior to the accident.
I was shocked to hear Laurel giving her aunt and uncle the riot act about the way they were treating me. She pulled out all the punches, even going to the extremes of getting a couple of the EMTs and firemen to come in and show me the pictures from the accident, showing me just how severe everything was. Her words were, “There’s a reason why you’re still alive. I know I need you in my life. You’re one of the few people who understand me.”
I remember one of the firemen shaking his head in disbelief. “When we came across the accident, we all thought the driver of your vehicle had to be dead. The side of the car was completely crushed and the frame was bent in half. Had your dad not grabbed hold of you, trying to pull you to his side, you wouldn’t have survived.”
They’d all told me about how they had to use the Jaws of Life to cut me out of the car, because my legs, while intact and only scratched up, had been pinned under the dash and steering wheel. They’d all cringed remembering how my hand and wrist had looked. “We’ put a tourniquet just under your elbow to stop the bleeding and tried to bandage your hand, hoping they could save it, but…”
I’d been offered the chance to see the photos of my hand and wrist, but declined. The sight of blood always made me nauseous. Just hearing how my bones were sticking through the skin was enough to make me sick to my stomach.
I enjoyed talking with the team who saved me and asked
I remember thinking my world had stopped. I must have been so shocked by the news that I passed out and came to sometime later. The doctor explained that it was my body’s way of dealing with things and was not uncommon.
My parents tried to reassure me that they’d do everything in their power to get me any kind of therapy I needed and the best available prosthetic they could afford, but for some reason the way they looked at me had changed. Before the accident they held their heads high and shoulders back and talked about me with pride. Afterwards, their expressions were almost unemotional. It made me feel like I had failed them.
I’d only been awake a couple of days when a few of my friends dropped by while Laurel was visiting. I refused to ask her to leave, just because she didn’t fit the clique’s standards, but I did ask them to leave when they started telling me how I was now “sub-par” in their ideals.
To say I was furious at my so-called “friends” was an understatement. I asked them to leave and never come back if they couldn’t treat me with respect. Their parting comment was, “Respect is given to those with perfection. You aren’t even a whole person now, so how can we admire someone disabled?”
Laurel was usually quiet and reserved, but she took them by the arms, led them to the door, and told them to never come back unless they could talk to me with compassion. I was so proud of her actions, but despite them I fell into a deep depression.
I began to wonder what purpose my life served. Why was I left alive? I felt inferior to everyone.
A week later, my vitals were stable enough, despite my mood, that I was moved to a rehabilitation facility to try and regain strength in my body, particularly my left arm. All the muscles from the accident had atrophied and needed to be worked on.
Laurel had to return to school, but she came back on weekends and pushed me to talk with some of the other patients who’d lost an appendage. I was shocked to learn that we all felt unworthy of living and wondered how we could manage in life with a piece of us missing.
My parents coddled my every whim and need. They made sure I had my pajamas, my favorite foods, and pretty much anything else I asked for, but it still hurt that I couldn’t get them to look at me the way they’d done prior to the accident.
I was shocked to hear Laurel giving her aunt and uncle the riot act about the way they were treating me. She pulled out all the punches, even going to the extremes of getting a couple of the EMTs and firemen to come in and show me the pictures from the accident, showing me just how severe everything was. Her words were, “There’s a reason why you’re still alive. I know I need you in my life. You’re one of the few people who understand me.”
I remember one of the firemen shaking his head in disbelief. “When we came across the accident, we all thought the driver of your vehicle had to be dead. The side of the car was completely crushed and the frame was bent in half. Had your dad not grabbed hold of you, trying to pull you to his side, you wouldn’t have survived.”
They’d all told me about how they had to use the Jaws of Life to cut me out of the car, because my legs, while intact and only scratched up, had been pinned under the dash and steering wheel. They’d all cringed remembering how my hand and wrist had looked. “We’ put a tourniquet just under your elbow to stop the bleeding and tried to bandage your hand, hoping they could save it, but…”
I’d been offered the chance to see the photos of my hand and wrist, but declined. The sight of blood always made me nauseous. Just hearing how my bones were sticking through the skin was enough to make me sick to my stomach.
I enjoyed talking with the team who saved me and asked