July 11, 2009. Five years ago today. Wow! It doesn’t seem like 5 years has passed.
Sometimes it seems like yesterday. But then I remember all the pain and the rehab,
and I know it’s been a lot longer.
I had just gotten my racing license and was out for a training ride that Saturday
morning. I hadn’t even make it once around the 15 mile route I was on when I was
hit from behind by a large dark pick-up truck that sped away quickly, leaving me
lying on the pavement. A cyclist behind me saw the accident and some walkers on
the other side of the road heard the impact. Both called 911. A fellow cyclist, who
was also the EMT on duty, was the first to arrive at the scene. Amazingly, I hadn’t
lost consciousness and was able to give my name and Van’s name and number while
on the way to our local trauma hospital. It was bad. Very bad. I was in shock. My
husband arrived, and even though I’m the one who told the EMT all the info, I had no
idea what was going on. My eyes must have been closed, because I only remember
his voice, “Barb, you’ve been in a bike accident.” His voice was calm, but that’s
when it became real. And that’s when people started praying.
I was bleeding severely and needed to be x-rayed and given a CT to find out what
was going on. I had over 15 broken bones including 4 vertebrate (3 were burst
fractures), my left femur which was sticking out, 5-6 ribs, my right wrist, my right
tibia, both shoulder blades, and an acetabular fracture which occurs when your
femur jams up into your pelvis, fracturing it. This was causing my pelvis to bleed
profusely. I was also bleeding where my liver had been punctured, and I had a
small head bleed. I had been wearing my helmet and actually had a 3-4 inch chunk
taken out of my helmet on impact. In addition, both of my lungs had bruises. I had
been put on the vent when I first arrived, and I would eventually get 6 chest tubes as
well. Basically, that is a small plastic tube with a sharp point that the doctors ram
into your lungs through your skin on the outside. Thankfully, I was not aware when
that happened.
After it was determined that I needed to go outside of Corpus to have my acetabular
fracture taken care of, I was stabilized, given 7 units of blood and put on a helicopter
for a 30 minute flight to the Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio. Van went
home to tell the kids what was going on, make phone calls, and get ready for a 2 ½
hour car ride with no idea how long he would be staying. When I arrived at the ER, I
was almost dead. My body temp was well below normal, by blood pressure was
very low, and the bleeding from my pelvis had intensified and was not stopping.
Over the next 48 hours I was taken into surgery 3 times to stop the bleeding and
was given an additional 23 units of blood. They also monitored my head bleed very
closely and took multiple x-rays and CT’s to make sure they were seeing everything.
One thing that showed up was a bruise on my spinal cord where one of the burst
fractures had taken place. The doctors couldn’t tell from the CT how bad it was or if
it would eventually heal, but they warned my husband that it might cause a spinal
cord injury. And people prayed.
My first orthopedic surgery was also done on that first day I arrived in the ER. After
packing my pelvis and doing the laparotomy, they repositioned me to work on my
femur. I now have a long titanium nail the length of my femur in my left leg. My
right leg was put in traction but had to wait til Thursday to have surgery since they
had to make sure the bleeding was completely stopped. I now have a titanium plate
and screw in my right pelvis. During this time, I was still on the vent, and talk began
of possibly having to give me a tracheostomy if my lungs did not improve soon. My
trauma doctor normally didn’t like to keep his patients on the vent for more than a
week and it had now been 6 days. He decided to delay until at least after my back
surgery on Monday because I would have to be turned over on my stomach, and it
would be better for me to be on the vent for that. And there was more praying.
On Monday, my neurosurgeon took over. He would have preferred to do 2 surgeries
with the first one having me on my back. My burst fractures had left so many
scattered pieces of bone that he wanted to clean me up first before going in from the
back and putting in the rods. However, my lungs were in such fragile condition that
he couldn’t do that. He could only do one surgery. Not being able to clean up the
pieces first has left me with more pain than I might have had. After the surgery, I
had and still have 2 rods with many hooks keeping them in place. I was given a back
brace that I had to wear for 3 months anytime I was over a 30 degrees incline.
My last surgery for my wrist was scheduled for Friday. My doctor would not let me
go into that surgery still on the vent. At the same time, he kept giving me another
day, and then another day to allow my lungs to heal to avoid giving me the
tracheostomy. This was an answer to prayer. Finally, on Thursday, they took me off
the vent. I could finally talk! The first week after my accident, I had used my fingers
to try to write words on the bed sheet. When Van could tell I was very frustrated
because no one could read my misspelled, words he bought a child’s ABC board so I
could just point to the letters. It helped, but I still couldn’t spell very well because of
all the meds I was on. Now I could finally communicate!
After my last surgery where I got a pin in my wrist, I could finally start physical
therapy. The doctors still didn’t know if I had a spinal cord injury and if so, how
severe it might be. I had been laying in the same bed for 2 weeks, unable to move on
my own. It is amazing how fast a person loses muscle. I had been in the best shape
of my life, and now I couldn’t even lift my leg an inch off the bed. All my muscle was
seemingly gone. I stayed at BAMC for 2 more weeks in ICU trying to get to the point
where I could be upright (with my back brace)without fainting and to where I could
lift my legs enough so I could move to a wheelchair. After leaving BAMC, I headed to
Corpus in an ambulance to another hospital for rehab. I would be there 3 weeks and
would learn to walk with a walker without putting any weight on my right leg. (I
wouldn’t be able to put any weight on it for 3 months. ) At the time, I knew that
walking felt a little funny, but I just thought it was because of the way I was having
to walk.
At the end of 6 months, I finally learned the extent of my spinal cord injury. I
already knew I was going to have to catheterize. I had had a foley catheter for 6
months before finally starting to do it myself. There were also physical intimacy
issues. Not only did this accident hurt me, but it affected my husband as well. But I
thought that was all. I was looking forward to getting back on the bike. I was
looking forward to running again. I was looking forward to getting strong again.
Then I went to an outpatient physical therapist. Ever since I had gotten home, I had
been having a therapist come to my house, but I was finally ready for outpatient
therapy where they hard work would really get started. I was still walking with a
walker but could put weight on both legs. The PT asked me to stand on my toes. I
couldn’t do it. I couldn’t come close to doing it. No one had asked me to do that
before. I could move my toes and feet, but I couldn’t lift them to stand on them. My
nerves connecting the muscles in the balls of my feet to my brain had been bruised
severely enough that they died. I wasn’t going to be able to ever run again. I wasn’t
going to bike with any strength again. My walking would always have a small limp.
I remember being more upset after that PT appointment than I had at any other
point since my accident. Up to that point, I felt like I had some control over my
recovery, and I would be able to recover fully just because I had will power. That
wasn’t going to happen now. I cried. I was angry. But I knew who was in control –
my God. He had been from day 1 of my accident. I had chosen at the age of 8 to
believe the Bible where it said that I was a sinner and that because of sin I was
separated from God and could never get to Him on my own. I couldn’t do enough
good things. I couldn’t go to church enough. I couldn’t pray enough. I chose to
believe that God sent His son, Jesus Christ, to take my sin on himself and then die in
my place on the cross. Someone had to die for my sin – either me, or someone else
who was worthy in God’s eyes. Christ was worthy because he was sinless. He died
in my place and then rose again and conquered death. This made it possible for
anyone who believes this and repents of living life his own way and chooses to live
life God’s way, for him to become a new creation – a child of the King.
Because of living 35 years as a child of God and reading and studying the Bible and
experiencing life’s good and bad, I knew that I could trust Him that He was in
control. I didn’t like my new body. I didn’t like the pain. I didn’t like the struggle to
walk and how hard it was to do things. But I knew God was in control.
Now, 5 years later, I know God is still in control. I still can’t run but I can walk. I still
have constant pain on a daily basis if I’m up doing anything, but I can rejoice
because it reminds me of the new body I will have one day in heaven. I still deal
with all my spinal cord issues, but I can rejoice that I am alive and get to be Van’s
wife and a mom to all 5 of my kids. I don’t bike with any power or strength but I can
bike indoors on my recumbent bike to work my heart and burn some calories. I am
active and love gardening, painting furniture, and staying involved in ministry. Yes,
the man who hit me is still out there, but I can love him and forgive him because
Christ first loved me and has forgiven me. God has brought me to the point where
I would not change a thing. I am thankful for what God has done in my life through
the accident. My desire is to bring glory and honor to Him.
One thing that I can talk about with some legitimacy is pain and suffering. No, I
don’t think I have been through genuine pain and suffering. My children, husband,
and parents and siblings are all still living. I have food to eat every day. I have a
home to live in and clothes to wear. But I have been asked why would a loving God
allow me to go through this. Why did he not answer your prayer to completely heal
you? This question gets asked everyday by people who look at the world we live in
and can’t understand how a God who is supposed to be loving and kind would allow
the kind of suffering that is experienced by the millions in poverty and the millions
who suffer at the hands of evil and wicked people. Why?! How could God allow
this? If He is loving and in control, then why not just stop it?
You know, God did make the world a perfect world. There was no sin and there was
no suffering. But man and woman had a choice and they chose to disobey God. Ever
since then, the world has been on a downward spiral. God is a holy and righteous
God, and none of us deserves to or can stand in his presence. None of us deserves to
go to heaven. We are all sinners. We have all made the choice to disobey God at
some point in our lives. But God is also a loving God, so he made another way for us
to reach Him. We can’t reach Him on our own, so he sent his Son, Jesus Christ, to die
in our place. The Bible says He is the only way. “ I am the way, the truth, and the
life. No man comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14;6)
So why not have many ways to God? Why aren’t these other religions just as
legitimate? All other religions are work based. In other words, they are based on
what you do. They are attractive because they give you some control – at least you
think you’re in control. No other religion has a founder who even claimed to be God.
They never said they would rise again. They are still in their grave. Only
Christianity has a God who conquered death. But Christianity is a religion of grace.
God’s grace. Therein lies the problem. You are not in control. “For by grace are you
saved through faith, and this not of yourselves. It is the gift of God, not works, so
that no one can boast.” In fact, it means humbling yourself, repenting of sin and
living life your own way, and believing Jesus Christ is who he says he is. He is Lord!
You’re not Lord. No other god is Lord. If there had been any other way to reach
God, then God would not have sent his only Son to die on the cross. We cannot
comprehend the pain and suffering that God the Father and God the Son
experienced that day 2000 years ago when the Father turned his back on the Son
while he was on the cross. We can’t understand it because we aren’t God. The Bible
also says nothing of having another chance after death to choose Christ, which so
many are choosing to believe today. “ Whoever believes the Son has life, but
whoever rejects the Son will not see life for God’s wrath remains on him.” John 3:36
Only Jesus Christ is Lord, and he will return one day. There will be a new heaven
and new earth where there will be no more suffering and no more pain. This is the
hope we have in Christ.
Some people ask questions to really find answers. I challenge you to get into God’s
Word to read Truth. But others keep asking questions to avoid making a choice.
Some people’s questions are really excuses. If there is a true God, then I must deal
with Him. I really want to live life my own way, so I will choose to believe there is
no God.
I’m not claiming to have all the answers on this subject. I don’t think anyone does.
This side of heaven, we’re not going to know it all. One thing I do understand is that
whether one chooses to believe in God or not believe in God, they are both a matter
of faith. Faith is believing in something without seeing it. Is your faith in Jesus
Christ, Darwin, Muhhamed, or yourself? Is your God big enough to save you or have
you put him in a box so you can understand him? Made him much more palatable to
the western way of thinking? Made him less holy and righteous? Whichever one
you choose to put your faith in, you’d better be willing to die for it, because that is
the one thing I am sure of. You will die. But there is hope in Christ. I’m thankful
that one day in heaven I will be able to run and bike and have no pain. I will see
Christ at last.
If you have made it to the end, thank you for reading. It’s a lot longer than I
thought it would be. But I have not written this long story to gain sympathy or to
gain praise. It’s not about me. It’s about what Christ has done in me. Until He
comes or until I die, I will proclaim His name. God is good!
©
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