“Mishaps are like knives,
that either serve us or cut us,
as we grasp them by the blade or the handle.”
~ James Russell Lowell
I have grown to appreciate that quote during the past twelve months. I can hardly believe it has been a year since my “mishap”.
The photo over there was me, one year ago today — long around 10pm or so — in the emergency room. It was a Saturday night, the night before Easter as a matter of fact. I was baking a variety of things to take to the family dinner the next day. A double-chocolate bundt cake was in the oven; my wheat bread was completing its second rise. While I was waiting for the cake to finish the last few minutes of baking, I hopped on Facebook and updated my status about what a perfect day it all was.
You can read the details in my post from a few days after the accident. But in the course of just a few minutes, chaos erupted like the Pyrex glass pan that I shattered.
So here I am, exactly one year later. Two hand surgeries, three months (plus) off work to heal, eight months of physical therapy, a stunning total in medical bills, and a new appreciation for excellent health care and insurance.
It could have been far worse than simply slicing through both tendons in my right-hand ring finger. I could have lost the finger, or even just the use of it. I could have hit and damaged the nerves, which my hand surgeon still calls a miracle that I didn’t damage any permanently.
I had excellent care from a phenomenal surgical team and hand tendon specialists managing my physical therapy. They quickly became a part of my daily life, and I owe my recovery to their care.
I had incredible support from family and friends. For all those that drove me and my husband to and fro, made dinners and brought food and entertainment, who sat with us, laughed and cried with us, and were simply there whenever we needed something, and even when we didn’t, there are no words to capture the depth of my thanks. There is, literally, no way we could have survived without each of you.
One year later, time has healed. Not perfectly, not as much as I would like, but more than I thought during those frenetic minutes and long hours sitting in the ER wondering what was coming.
And to those who shared the journey with me, whether near or far, in word, deed, or prayer, I once again say “Thank you!”
Gratitude is the memory of the heart. ~ Jean Baptiste Massieu
[Note: This post is #20 of 26 of the April A-to-Z Challenge. Please see the button at the right of the page for more information.]