Choosing the Option to Eat Crackers Changed Everything
How one snack led to learning how to walk again
You know that feeling where you are ready to give up? That surrendering is the only option?
It could be a mental health thing where your brain is telling you to toss in the towel. Or maybe it’s an overwhelming situation like unemployment. It could even be something as simple as wanting to quit the team because you don’t think you are good enough.
Self-esteem and self-confidence allow us to succeed, but I am lucky(?) and have an extra boost — I survived and learned how to walk twice.
Like most, I learned how to walk as an infant. I drug my body across the floor, eventually crawled, and before my parents knew it was up, walking, running, and crashing my bike everywhere.
I took off, a kid full of energy and ready to take everything on.
That all changed on an afternoon in September 2002 when I decided to ride in my Mom’s Jeep so I could eat my crackers. Who knew that this small decision would be a nexus point in my life?
My family had been out on a failed metal detector expedition, finding nothing but rusted nails and trash left behind, turned Civil War exploration.
As we were leaving the facility my brother and I had the option of two vehicles to ride in, our Aunt’s or our Mom’s. We were only allowed to eat in one vehicle and ran over to our Mom’s Jeep bickering over snacks.
The Jeep pulled out to cross two lanes planning on making a left and heading home to my Dad. We never made it.
Little did we know, but a race had started down the street and the cars came up the hill, our Jeep was a sudden surprise. The fist car, winning the race, passed by. The second car would never finish, it collided with our Jeep.
The Jeep spun in the air, the axel, wheels, and other parts littering the two lanes. I was pinned in the backseat of the Jeep. Strapped in by my seat belt, and sandwiched between a seat that bucked the wrong way. My legs running parallel to my ears.
My brother and I were airlifted to a hospital about two hours, driving time, away and I went into critical condition.
I had broken five bones — inner pubic, outer pubic, left pelvic, right pelvic, and tailbone.
I lost two pints of blood and was continuing to bleed internally.
Those crackers, that I never got to eat, took my mobility away from me, temporarily, and gave me a new outlook and perspective on life.
I woke up in a hospital bed confused about where I was and what was going on. I had no memory of the accident and had a gnarly realistic dream while I was out for a few days. The doctors came in and delivered the news -
YOU CAN’T WALK.
They were right, I couldn’t. I tried and failed. Not only had I broken bones critical to that mobility, but I had also lost the know-how. I couldn’t comprehend how to do it, I couldn’t even get my body to try to do it.
Eventually, I made it home but still had a long recovery road ahead of me.
I spent time on bedrest. For longer than anyone would desire. I had to use a portable toilet set up in the family room I made my home. I couldn’t shower on my own and had to sit on a stool while someone else bathed me.
Eventually, I was healed enough that I could leave bedrest and move into a wheelchair.
I spent a lot of time in the wheelchair and a lot of time learning how to walk again, at 12 years old.
While car accidents and fatalities from them are grossly common, I am not sure that learning how to walk a second time is. I am not sure how many of us can say, “just before my 13th birthday I learned how to walk.”
Since my wheelchair days, the experience has been there to be the extra boost, propelling me over the hurdles of life. It has made things more exciting, like running my first 5k or playing roller derby.
Dark days have loomed over my head as I struggled with thoughts of suicide. My rational mind knows the thoughts are lies and it knows I can overcome them. I mean, I survived that accident and I learned how to walk again.
As a runner I have always been tempted with giving up, walking back to the starting point for a shower. It is the easy option, to give up when it is hard. Then I remember, that I am only there and able to run because I learned how to walk again.
10 months of unemployment, a lot of job hunting, and what feels like failed soul searching is a real blow to everything. Follow that up with constant struggles with benefits you have the right to and other things that feel like kick after kick when you’re already down.
I want to surrender, give up. But I can’t, I’ll die and I know that I am stronger than that because I survived an accident where I could have died and was strong enough to learn to walk again.
Learning to walk a second time and surviving the accident empowered me. They showed me what embracing the moment, believing in yourself, knowing how strong you are, and what living really means.
Learning to walk again was hard and frustrating. It took a lot of physical therapy and practice at home. Various tension bands and a basketball hoop strong enough to hold them.
It took courage and strength I didn’t know was there and it left a forever-lasting impact reminding me that these things are always true.
You may fight to not give up, you may know that you are strong, but you’ll never know it in the way I do. You can’t understand, nor can I really find the words to truly explain the positive impact this terrible thing had on my life.
It made me stronger than imaginable. It is an anchor point that will forever reflect the strength a 12-year-old girl had. It gave me insight into life in a wheelchair. It made me a better person.
Selecting the option to eat my crackers gave me an unfair advantage for the rest of my life.
