On June 21, 2008, I was finally transferred to Edwin Shaw Rehab Hospital by ambulance. My mom followed, already burnt out from the entire ordeal. She'd given my life to God, praying for things to work in His path. She had no more answers. She was at a loss, and still feared losing her only daughter.
I was given a room across from the nurses' station, and a net bed, to make sure I would not get up on my own. The goal to removing the net bed was that I had to make progress in all of my therapies and to show significant signs of improvement, according to my doctor.
There I had two doctors; a regular physician who took care of my wounds, mainly the one where I'd hit the concrete. The other doctor, Dr. Hayek, was my rehab doctor. He read the notes from what the therapists documented, and made judgements based on those notes.
For the first week or two, I remember little. I remember sleeping. Nurses would come in, fill my feeding tube, give me my medicines, and gave me a stop smoking patch on my shoulder, so I wouldnt remove it. My mom came to visit everyday. Pastor Tom came to visit, as often as he could. Because my mom was out of work from a recent surgery, the church had graciously given her gas money, to drive back and forth. Edwin Shaw was easily an hour away from our house.
And still, I slept. I would wake up when visitors would come, and then I'd sleep again. People brought flowers, get well cards and gifts of encouragement. I had a roommate; an elderly lady on her way home in a few weeks. She gave me a few silly cards that I still have to this day.
And, I slept. All I remember for the first few weeks was sleeping. I barely remember any of my therapies. Eating wasnt an option, so obviously I didnt have anything to remember. I still couldnt walk, so I used a wheelchair.
I do remember one morning, after the nurses opened one side of the net bed, I sat at the edge of the bed, my legs hanging down. I remember telling myself, I used these legs. I used to run with these legs, I was in cheerleading years ago; I was in track...I used these legs. I asked myself, why arent they moving now? I got into my wheelchair, and went to the bathroom to wash up. I noticed a motorized toothbrush my mom had gotten for me. I looked into the mirror at the stubbles on my head. I saw the massive scar, healing from the surgery. I tried to smile, I couldnt. I tried to close my right eye; I couldnt. For the first time since the accident, I got a good look at myself. I doubt any words could describe what I saw that morning. I doubt any words could describe how I felt, besides maybe confused.
Now, up to this point, I still hadnt known what had happened to me.
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