I hurt my foot.
Worse, I hurt my heart.
My paralyzed foot got stuck in the front wheel of my wheelchair. I was stuck in the doorway of the shower. Unable to lower my wheelchair to the floor or I’d have to put the full weight of myself and the chair on a twisted foot. I was wet and naked having just come out of the water. My phone was out of reach.
I was alone, there was no one to call for help.
After twenty minutes of pain in my foot and not being able to move I decided there was only one way out.
If you’ve never had to make the decision to break your own bones, you should know that it’s mentally rushing .You are left with a desperation more painful than I’m able to explain.
When all options are gone, you just do it.
For whatever reason, my foot finally sprang free just in time. I was getting ready to make the break and I was able to wedge my foot free.
I sat and cried at what I’d had to ALMOST do. Psyching myself up to deal with a way my handicap trapped me.
A few weeks ago I was making my way to the living room when one of the front wheels came off.
My wheelchair lost balance and fully tipped forward. My wheels were in the air. I was stuck in the chair because of the seatbelt.
The kids panicked but Peter was able to get my seatbelt unlocked and released me from my chair.
All I could think about was “WHAT IF I’D BEEN ALONE?”
The kids could have come home from school to find me on the floor. It’s an hour for Peter to drive home frrom work.
I got out of both situations. Some pain, acme humiliation.
I felt weak and unsure of my ability to be home alone. I had some of the worst things in my imagination happen. It freaked me out.
I started to doubt all the things I felt confident doing. Each teeny step forward was replaced by a huge leap backwards.
These events that showed my physical weaknesses also highlighted the biggest of my mental weaknesses. They led to emotional weaknesses I don’t give myself the luxury of wallowing in.
After? I wallowed.
I’m still wallowing.
I’m fighting to stop. Wallowing blows.