Just a quick note: this post is here more to help me get through today, a little bit easier. I have to express my feelings somehow, and since I’m not yet allowed to go for a jog, cuddle up with the person who is on my mind, or jump on a motorcycle and go for a ride, I’ve decided to type it all out, hoping it will help to calm my nerves . If you’re going to read this, be prepared to be here for a few minutes, I have a feeling this will end up being quite long.

A year ago today, my life was drastically changed. In a matter of seconds I went from a happy, goofy, energetic, 21 year old who was full of life, to a 21 year old who wasn't so full of life; whose doctors were telling her family, “Due to the amount of trauma she received to her head, it is very likely that she will not remember any of you, it is also very probable that she will need to learn to read again. Start off small with books like “Go dog Go”, or some Dr. Seuss books and progress from there.” A few hours later the orthopedic surgeon stopped in to check on me and inform my family of the limits that were to be set, such as extreme limited range of motion for my right leg, absolutely no weight was to be put on it, no picking or lifting me up…etc. (I basically wasn’t allowed to be touched) and that I would be in my wheelchair for quite some time. He also gave them an estimated time frame on how long it would be before I should be able to ease my leg into walking again and then told them that I needed to continue to see a specialist when I got home to Florida, so that he can keep an eye on my hip and leg and make sure all was healing properly. I also needed to see this specialist to make sure that the ball of my hip doesn’t die, because if it did, it would need to be replaced. (supposedly this is quite common in hip dislocations).

Thankfully my mind and body decided they didn't want to go that route, my internal injuries eventually started to heal on their own, and later on in the day, after the doctors had told my family that bit of information, I was slowly beginning to read small sections of the local Knoxville newspaper, and to my family’s relief I remembered the name, middle name, maiden name, surname, and birthday of every member of my family that was in the room. They said I just went down the line and gave off the information I knew, as if I were taking a test. The doctor said he was quite impressed with how much I could remember, and then 5 months later…I was walking! Slowly… and with much assistance from a walker and a foot brace, but I was on my feet, and so relieved to know that my hip was showing some improvement. So I had my 1 year check up with my orthopedic doctor yesterday, he took another x-ray, the ball of my hip is still alive, but I do have bad arthritis in my hip now. No surgeries are scheduled for me yet, for now it’s just another MRI and some medication, but a hip resurfacing may come soon (if I choose to have it done), and a hip replacement may come in the later years of my life if needed. (hopefully not!)

It is still very difficult for me to accept that there are three weeks of my life that I will never remember. Part of me is obviously very thankful, as the memories would do more damage than help; however it is hard to know that during that period of time, I had absolutely no control over my life, and what happened to me while I was in the hospital. I was in ICU for two and a half of the aforementioned three weeks, and the final days were considered my ‘recovery week’. I can remember certain parts of the last day that I was in the hospital, but nothing before that. I remember waking up, seeing my mom sitting on the floor next to my bed, and when I realized where I was, I asked her what happened, and why was I tied down? She simply said “There was an accident; don’t worry your brother and Bryan are fine, (the drivers of the jet ski’s) and your fear of needles has obviously not subsided, because you keep pulling your IV out.” That day fades in and out, I remember eating fruit (as that is all I would allow to be put into my body for 3 months), I remember getting my bed wheeled down to the area where I was given another MRI, however I remember a much more violent version of what happened (due to head trauma), than what I've been told. I’m however still a bit skeptical on this. After I calmed down from my MRI, my physical therapist wheeled me down to the first floor, gave me a walker and had me hobble myself to my Papa's van (which was about 400ish feet away from the lobby), and then back to the lobby using only my arms and my [left] leg; so that I could gain as much strength in my arms as possible, because I would have to climb into the van to get home, without using my right leg. I could not be picked up or lifted in any way, so I had to rely on my own strength to get me in the van, which was extremely difficult, not to mention exhausting. You think it would have been pretty easy seeing as how I weighed only 84 lbs, but I had lost most of the muscle in my body because of the trauma, and lying in a hospital bed for about a month sure didn’t help. Once I was released to go home, I was a completely different person than I was 3 weeks before. The old Erin was missing, and although I was desperate to find her again, I had to push forward.

I’ve been told so many times, that the phrase I used the most, while in the hospital, even months after I got home, was “Troy and Tina, get them, I need them!”

These two are the only people who can bring back the spirit of the ‘old Erin’ in a matter of seconds. They know how to make me smile, and they never fail to do so. Tina drove from New Mexico to see me for a few days after I got home, but that was no where near the amount of time I needed her to be here; as for Troy I had no way to get in touch with him. (the Army probably wouldn’t have let him come anyhow) So I had to wait until he either came home for a visit, or started to play WoW (a computer game we play) again. Ah, the day I saw the phrase ‘Mercalio has come online’; I let out a high pitched squeal, I had tears in my eyes, and I probably would have jumped up and down like a 13 year old girl at a NKOTB concert, had my body been capable of doing so. This may sound lame, but talking to Troy while killing characters in a computer game helped to bring my spirit back enough, until he was finally able to come home in February. The day I was finally able to see him again just happened to be my birthday. What an incredible birthday present right? Even though it wasn’t necessarily meant to be a birthday present, it made my day, week actually! A whole week spent with the two people who mean so much to me, (although at separate times), was just what my mind and body needed; love and tons of laughter.

So here I am a year later, and I’m still in the recovery process. I have been told it will probably be a few years before several things are back to normal. There are still some restrictions as to what I can physically do, and there are still large amounts of pain, dizziness, etc., but that is all a part of healing, and will hopefully subside with time. I have grown and learnt so much from this experience. Yesterday I was told of some problems that I have now, and what may come in the future, but I refuse to let them phase me, I’m only 22, I have plenty of things left to do! Get into the University of Tennessee’s college of Social Work (crosses fingers hoping she’ll be accepted), graduate with my BSW (bachelor of social work) and then my MSW (masters of social work); begin a career as a child welfare social worker, marry the love of my life, hopefully have a child or two in a few years, enjoy life, grow old and be very happy (while continuing to dress stylish and sexy, so that all the old grandpas try to whistle through their dentures as I strut by! o_0 Hey, who said you can’t be attractive and have some fun when your old and gray! :P ) So for now I’ll continue to manage my ‘PTSD’ the best I can, live life as it comes, and just enjoy it as much as I can.

To be honest, I didn’t think that writing this would help very much, but surprisingly I feel less stressed out than I did earlier this morning. There is so much more that I could say, but I will end it here as this has already ended up much longer than I had expected, and I’m sure that if there is anyone who has even gotten this far, is probably very tired of my rambling. So I am off to get some of my social work homework done, so that I can prepare for a test.

6/2/07 The day before.

The big mistake.

The result. (The day I was released from the hospital)

The Beautiful flowers.

The cat who enjoyed my wheelchair more than I did,(silly Luci)