Born To Survive

It all started on a very cold day, December 21, 1971.  My parents were at the hospital visiting my new born cousin, Michael, who as they tell it, was so adorable, they fell in baby love, and so, nine months later, I was born.



I never questioned it until I got older, my parents were already pregnant with me, as I am actually 8 months younger than Mike, and I arrived later than expected.  But, the difficulties had only just begun, a few months into the pregnancy.  There was a whirlwind of doctor visits for Mom, who got the terrible news that her body was fighting my temporary home within her. You see, Mom has RH negative blood, which doesn't combine with other blood types.  Dad is O positive, and so am I. Therefore, Mom's body was trying to rid the virus it believed I was, but to no avail.  Back in those days, doctors were just finding out new information about the RH negative factor and the effects it had on unborn children. 



Mom was told that with each child born to her, there is a greater risk of severe retardation and death because of the blood types not mixing correctly.  I am the baby of four, having two older sisters and an older brother.  Mom was told to abort the pregnancy because of the negative issues surrounding her pregnancy, but she felt that I was going to be just fine.  She knew then, I was going to be a fighter, if I could survive.  And so, on a hot, humid day, August 30th, 1972, a fighter was born. 



I had jaundice very bad, so the nurses taped my tiny eyes closed and laid me, with only a diaper on, under a life saving light, in hopes of correcting that issue.  I spent my first week or two of life, under that light.  The doctors and nurses had been preparing to give me a transfusion with new blood, since my blood counts were not where they should be.  Mom and Dad were prepared for the worst, and at the last moment, ever ything turned around and I was going to be just fine.  They were finally allowed to take me home from the hospital.



Life growing up was pretty normal, but we were poor.  We didn't know we were poor.  Mom made clothes, Dad worked hard every day and we just enjoyed being family.  My oldest sister Barbara got married when I was 5.  It was strange to not have her around, but I loved going to visit with her and my brother in law.  I was like their toy child.  I was spoiled with junk food by Tom, and I got to stay up late when I was at their house, which was never allowed at home. 



At the age of ten, I had alot of friends.  I was known to my teachers as Little Miss Sunshine.  I was always happy and smiling.  I enjoyed life itself, and I was just determined to live it!  I was on my way to a friend's house on the other side of town, one of the few times I was allowed that far away without someone helping me get there safely.  Well, I wished I had someone there with me.  While riding my bike across a parking lot driveway of the local Catholic Church, my bike tire was hit by a car driving into the church lot.  The bike was hit with such force, that it knocked me off and my back slammed hard, onto the bike seat.  When the person realized they hit me, they smoked the tires and had them spinning so close to my head, I was scared.  I had long hair, that I could feel just ever so slightly, getting tugged by the car tires. I was fortunate that the tires didn't grab hold of my hair and rip my scalp apart!  l collected myself and continued on to my friends' house.  When I got home, I told my parents what happened, and the police got involved.  Mom and Dad didn't feel it necessary to press charges, since I was ok. It wasn't my time to go.



At 12, I was on my way home from cheerleading practice, when I got struck by a car coming up a hill I didn't see.  The corner of the car clipped me but it didn't hurt me.  I never told anyone since I wasn't hurt.  But I chalked it up to, it just wasn't my time to go again.  Through the next several years, I had been in fights at school, been picked on and my whole demeanor changed.  I was no longer, the happy go lucky child I once was.  I was replaced by sadness, anger and a stranger I didn't know.  I didn't do drugs or drink, but I was acting like I did.  I no longer brought books home from school, and I had no respect for my parents or family or even myself.  I didn't do normal activities I would have done, no more sports.  I did, however, decide I liked music and art.  I surrounded myself in music and art at school, mostly so I could get out of doing real work.....but I enjoyed it. 



I discovered boys and work.  I became a workaholic and worked as many hours as I was able to.  I had two jobs in the summer, working from 10 am to 4pm at one place in the mall, then eating a quick meal at the local Roy Rogers, and then it was off to my second job from 5pm to 9:30.  I worked 5 days a week.....until I got caught.  You see, at 13, I had working papers stating I was able to work. I had them signed and was legal to work at one shop.  I was clearly not old enough to legally work in the food court.  The area manager went over my work information and discovered a mathmatical error.  Math was my worst subject.  I lied on my application and said i was 16, but I put the wrong date for my birth year on my application, it said I was 15.  He acknowledged I was a very hard worker and allowed me to stay on as long as I kept my mouth shut about my age.  He said it was unusual to have such a strong work ethic at such a young age....then he found out I was not just working under him, but also at another store in the mall upstairs when I wasn't working with him.  He asked me why I didn't want to be a kid and why I was working so hard.  My only answer I could give him was, "I like money".  I worked my entire way through high school.  I even quit band, because my boss at another store I worked for wouldn't allow me to have Saturdays off for the football games I was required to be a part of.  I saved my money and bought anything I wanted.  I really felt like I had some freedom......except I still had to answer to my parents.



At age 15, I was very interested in guys.  I had a low self esteem.  Apparently it was noticeable, because the lowlifes came out in droves to hang out with me.  I did have some friends that were good, respectable people, but I was not in a good place and wasn't really able to be who I wanted to be, or who I should have been.  I went to a party at a friends house, and I was having a great time.  But the guy I was seeing was bored, and not surprising, he was much older than me.  He was 21.  I had my parents permission to date him, since he was in my school as an exchange student of sorts.  He came from another country, and I found him to be funny, interesting and different.  I wasn't in love with him, I just thought it was cool to be around someone so different. I ended up leaving the party early and went back to this man's house.  I didn't notice that everyone had left by the time we had been there for about half an hour.  We were watching Dirty Dancing, it was a great movie and had just come out on TV and I loved the music.  About half an hour in, he asked me to go upstairs with him to check some new stuff out that he'd gotten.  I complied and never thought anything about it.  After all, I was tough and could handle anything that came my way.....or could I? I was shocked when he pushed me down on the bed, and the look in his eye was frightening.  He held me down and had his hands around my throat as he had his way with me.  I ended up pregnant.



When all was said and done, I never told my parents what happened.  I was scared and ashamed.  I had been humiliated and violated in the most horrific way, and since I was experienced in sex, I felt maybe I had asked for it in some way.  When my mother realized I was pregnant, she was infuriated, and so sad.  My brother, who I looked up to the most had a severly broken heart.  My entire family was turned upside down from this, and I still didn't feel safe enough to tell what had actually happened to me that night.  Given my age, my parents pushed for an abortion, which I had, but felt guilty for to this day.



Immediately after, I had still been fighting at school with basically everyone.  I fought at home with my family.  My mother taunted me out of anger and hurt and I had no choice but to take it.  It was a struggle to just be home.  With the fighting at school, my parents understood, I wasn't starting the fights, they had been told by the school who was responsible.  I was enrolled in karate.  I didn't want to take the classes because I didn't want to hurt anyone, but my parents were fearful for my life.  The school called the police to sit across the street and watch to make sure I was safe on my way to and from school.  Of course I wasn't the only kid who had problems, or got into fights, but back then, the threats the girls were making were not to be taken lightly.  Guys would get involved in fights between girls and it was just capable of becoming a free for all. 



I excelled in karate and found a sense of self.  I started gaining some confidence and I was more comfortable being me.  My family noticed a difference in me, but I still felt something lacking. I was looking for something, I just didn't know what.



At 17, I had my wisdom teeth coming in and I needed braces.  I had an appointment with the oral surgeon to have 4 teeth removed along with my wisdom teeth.  But, I let my fear take over, since I had never had any kind of surgery, and I started to shake and tear up.  The nurse was so sweet, she offered to hold my hand while they put me under the influence of sodium pentethol otherwise known as truth serum.  What we didn't know, is that I am allergic to that particular drug.  I had a very negative reaction, and I ended up squeezing the nurses' hand so hard, I broke bones in her palm.  Remember, I was used to working out daily with the karate, and I was very strong. 

All of the straps were broken that were supposed to keep my arms and legs from falling off the chair or flailing.  I broke equipment and tools and started flipping out and screaming.  My mother could hear me out in the waiting area.  The doctor got a hold of me and held me down until I calmed down.  I had no knowledge of anything that had gone on, or what i had done.  I awoke in the recovery area to my mother stroking my hair back saying it's ok.  She had tears in her eyes.  I asked her if the teeth had been pulled and if it was over, and she told me no, the doctor couldn't work on me in the office.  I would have to go to the hospital to have my teeth done.  When I started to really come around and was able to understand, my mother looked at me and told me I had relived my rape in the office and told me what I had done.  I felt horrible for what I had done to the nurse, and all of the doctors' equipment, but I was relieved to know that my mother knew my deepest secret.  I was finally able to start healing mentally from the torture and my mother felt terrible for tormenting me, which was not her fault.



By the time I was 18, I found a great guy who made me feel like no other.  I had known him since I was 6, and we fell pretty quickly for one another.  We were great together. We decided to get engaged at Christmas, and had encouraged each other to do our best.  He got an apartment, and I helped him fix it up.  He was accepted into the family and I was so happy.  I loved him with everything I had, so I was thrilled when I found out I was pregnant.  He was attentive and caring, and we had decided to get married as soon as the baby was born.  I didn't want to walk down an aisle in church with a big belly.  My pregnancy went fantastic.  I felt great, I looked adorable, and my baby was healthy.  I was on top of the world! Then, in my 7th month, Rob stopped speaking to me out of the blue.  He denied the baby was his, he called off our wedding, and I was left with such an empty feeling. 



My family filled in and helped out when they could, and they were so ready to accept my baby with open arms.  My father, was hurt and angry, but eventually, he came around and loved my baby from the day he was born.  It took me about a year to get over losing the love of my life.  I went out with friends on occassion and took care of my son while I went to school and work.  My son Nicholas was my whole world.  He was all I ever wanted to love and take care of.  But I wanted a family for him. 



When I met George, I thought I found happiness.  He had a home, a 4 year old son that he seemed to adore, a dog that was his buddy, and he was responsible.  I quickly felt comfortable with him, and I saw flaws, but I knew I could encourage him to be different.  He went to a Christian college for 3 years and transferred to a local college in Philadelphia, and I respected that.  He was married, but his wife didn't love him, they got married for the wrong reasons.  I saw only good in this man.  Nick and I moved in, when he was 2.  We got married when Nick was 4.  I was so happy, I had a family and love and I finally could settle down and be me. 



We got pregnant, and I was so happy.  I finally did it right. We were ok and I was feeling really good.  Then at the end of my pregnancy, I developed a problem.  My left leg had grown to twice the normal size, throbbed in pain and it was purple.  I was rushed to the hospital where they discovered I had deep vein thrombosis.  I was kept in the hospital under several doctors care from upper respiratory to cardiology and of course my obgyn.  My ob came in and explained to me that they were certain they were going to lose one of us, my daughter or me, they just didn't know which one of us at that time.  My parents were living in Florida and I was in New Jersey, they didn't know what was going on.  I had tubes going in, tubes coming out and a terrible feeling in my gut.  I knew something was going to go wrong, I just didn't know what.  I begged my mother in law to go home and get my son, I wanted to see him and hug him, in case I didn't make it through the birth.  I wanted him to know how much I loved him and that I didn't know what would happen, but that everything would work the way God wanted it to.  I requested to allow my baby to live if they had a choice as to who would be lost.  I had a life, I knew I was loved and I signed the papers to allow the doctors to save her and let me go.  Just after I signed the papers, the minister came in and read me my last rights.  I prayed so hard, because I knew if I lost my baby, I would never be able to live with myself.  This was the start of the end for my husband and I.  Not 5 minutes went by after the minister left, and my husband asked me if 6 weeks would be long enough. "Long enough for what", I asked.  "Long enough to grieve before I get a new girlfriend".  He said it with such sincerety and honesty.  I had just signed my life away and he mocked me.  My doctor threw him out of the room and allowed me time to cry alone.



My parents spoke with my doctors and found out exactly what took place and they were furious!  I gave birth to a beautiful little girl, and I brushed the rude comment aside.  After her birth, George made reference to the weight I had gained.  He would tease me and tell me I was too fat for this or that, and that he couldn't find the remote, could I lift up a breast to check and see if it was there.  I was a size 8 and had just given birth weeks before.  My parents came up to meet their granddaughter and spend the holidays with all of us kids.  Mom pointed out things I didn't even realize until much later, that George had said or done to me.  He had cut my communication off between my mother and I because I had too high of a phone bill for his liking.  I needed my mother.  I was sleep deprived, emotionally a wreck with a screaming baby that wouldn't stop no matter what I did.  I had a step child repeatedly try to harm the baby out of jealousy. (He put tacks, pin up, in her playpen) and I had a husband who neglected me physically and emotionally.  The comments became harsher, and then they turned into fights. The fights became physical. He started to abuse my son, to the point that my son was afraid to be seen when George came home.  I didn't see this because I was too busy trying to please him.  I cooked and cleaned the best I could.  We had an old house that I couldn't keep from getting dusty, it would come through the floor boards when George would be in the basement "wood working". 



He was a hunter, so he took several hunting and fishing trips alone throughout the year.  I was tired of being alone and felt very unloved.  I was sinking deeper and deeper in depression.  I wanted to go back to school and he would not allow it.  He would tell me we didn't have the money.  He kept the checkbook, all credit cards and cash.  I was left many times with nothing.  He would drink the last of the milk and orange juice or eat all of the cereal so there was nothing for my son to have for breakfast before school.  Many times I went to his parents for help because he was controlling.  He manipulated me and had me afraid to be anything but a servant to him.  Nothing I did was good enough.  George has always been the type of man that a woman should not have equality, but should only do for the husband and family.  I was never allowed new clothes, or time to just shop on a whim.  I had to account for every penny that was spent and I was only allowed to go to approved friends.  On one hand, I was told I was no good and not worthy, on the other, I had better have my butt out working to provide food and clothes for the bratts.



It took me three times before I had the courage to leave him and stay gone for good.  I took my children, on his direction, and moved to Florida where my support system was.  I had a good job with Miracle Ear and was well on my way to becoming a hearing specialist.  My children were taken care of by a neighbor that I paid, and I was not receiving child support.  I had an apartment and a car and took care of myself.  I was 45 minutes away from my parents so I wasn't relying on them like my family was afraid I was doing.  I would work during the day and study at night.  My daughter was 2 and my son was 8.  Sarah wasn't easy, she was looking for mommy all the time.  She loved her sitter, Sarah, but when I was home and it was quiet and Sarah and her brother were supposed to be sleeping, she would be wide awake and just scream and carry on for hours. 



Nicholas would get home from school and check in with the sitter.  He called me and was allowed to go play in the playground with the kids til 5pm.  He would come back and wash up, and take the dinners I had made on my lunch hour out of the refridgerator and start putting them in the microwave to be heated up. By 5:15 I had picked Sarah up and we headed upstairs for dinner.  I would wash her up and we'd sit down to eat.  As a treat, since we were only about 15 minutes from the beach, we would go play in the surf until the sun went down.  Then it was icecream at the local icecream place and then home to shower.  Nick would do homework and Sarah and I had some mommy and baby time.I had Sarah call her daddy every night to say good night, then it was off to bed for the kids and I was studying for my boards. I was happy again, and I felt good I was doing something for me where I could care for my kids without worry.



I asked George to take Sarah for a few weeks so I could finish studying, thinking it would be good for her to be with her daddy since she hadn't seen him since he came down to spend his vacation with us.  He agreed and I was able to get some studying done without Sarah getting into the refridgerator and breaking jars of food, turning on the stove and breaking my computer.  Sarah was the type of child that if I had to use the ladies room, someone had to watch her or she would run out the front door.  She would just leave a path of destruction everywhere and I needed help if I was going to keep studying for the next 3 weeks.



Since George bought the house before I ever met him, I didn't feel I was entitled to half of it and I left the home.  He refused to send Sarah back to me until I signed the house over to him, which I said I would.  I asked him to please have a lawyer draw up the paperwork and make sure I wouldn't be held responsible for the house payments should he get sick or worse.  So, he turned that request into an arguement and refused to give me back my baby.  I didn't know he had already filed for custody of our daughter and he lied and said he had no knowledge I was leaving him.  He told the court that I took the children and emptied the house without him knowing......yet, in reality, he helped me load my truck and had been in constant contact with me until I got to Florida while my brother drove us.



I have not had my daughter for the last 12 years.  She has been lied to about me, made to be afraid to talk to me, told I am trash, and she was told I abandoned her.  I have proof of every email and court paper and have caught her father in lies, but the courts would not over turn the ruling because I live in another state.  My daughter has been living with a man who does not believe in equality, is emotionally detatched, and is not there for her in a nurturing manner. 



In a time I should have given up and had my life fall apart, a time when alot of others would turn to drugs or alcohol, I tried to remain positive.  I have fought with everything I have in me.  I have sacrificed everything I have and taken alot of time to grow. 



When I was about to turn 33, and I was back in Florida.  I had a great job.  I had gone back to school for cosmetology and became an instructor.  I was on the right track and I was so thrilled to be taken seriously.  I was in a position where I was going to affect the lives of others and I had something to offer that no one could take away.



I loved my job and was getting to know the people I worked with on a level of respect.  Granted, I was a young teacher, but I knew what I was talking about and I was even a little cocky when it came time to show what I know.  I was excellent at my craft and at the top of my game!  I felt great, and I didn't need a man to help me or keep me down. 



On my 33rd birthday, a former boyfriend had planned on taking me to the Florida Keys as a celebration.  I was excited to see him, and excited to take a mini vacation.  I just wanted to have a little time to enjoy my birthday and my new life.  I picked Steve up at the airport and we stopped at the motorcycle rental shop, where he picked up a nice Harley Cruising bike.  He rented 2 helmets, mine was an open face, his was a half shell.  We spent the night at a nice hotel to start our journey to the Keys early.  We went on a long stretch of highway 75 for an hour or 2, when the sky opened up on us.  It poured for about half an hour, so we parked under an over pass and waited it out.  We enjoyed the time to just talk and be together, and we were so excited to get back on the road.  It took us about 10 hours and several stops before we made it to our destination.  Key West is a very interesting place.  They say New York is the city that never sleeps, but Key West can keep up with them.  We got something to eat and rested for the evening so we could start exploring the town early.



We got up early and got breakfast.  We enjoyed coffee on the small patio just outside our door before we started visiting the sites.  We took pictures of everything and places that we had been.  We took photos of the butterflies and unique fish and birds, so we would always have those memories.  Steve found a coconut on the ground and carved our names and the date into it as a momento.  We had so much fun, and we ate well, swam and just had a great time.  Throughout the weekend, we each contacted our families to check in.  My mother was very upset with me for leaving over a holiday, on my birthday, and she just had a very bad feeling.  She wasn't very responsive to me when I did call, but she knew I was ok.  Before we left our room to go back home, Steve told me to call my children and tell them I loved them.  I asked why, and he said, "Just do it, because you love them".  So I called both children and told them I would see or speak with them soon.  We went to breakfast and it was some of the most wonderful food I had ever eaten.  The fruit was so fresh and good tasting, the orange juice fresh squeezed, and the eggs, light and fluffy just how I like them.  The sun was warm, and the air was cool from the breeze blowing in off the water.  It was such a perfect day and we didn't want to leave. 



We got the bike and started to head home.  I was excited to see my son and was ready to get back to work and all of my students.  The sun was shining and I was warm.  I had my sunglasses on and had been taking in all of the beautiful seascapes I could.  The next thing I know, I screamed, "STEVE!" Everything went black and quiet.  It was very peaceful, just dark.  I felt no pain, only love.  As the light started to come into sight, I was told to go back it wasn't my time.  My maternal grandmother, who passed away years before I was born, told me to go back.  She was just as I had always seen her as a child, or when I was in pain, or scared.  My grandmother was always with me when I needed her.  She was there when I had my children, my teeth pulled, after my rape, during physical fights with George, when I lost my daughter, and now when I had almost lost my life again.



A man that I didn't know, rolled my battered and bloody, blue, body over.  He cut the chin strap I had tightened earlier to keep my helmet on and I at once felt my body get slammed hard.  I had an immense pain in my chest  where I felt the slam. I drew in a huge breath and started coughing and crying.  I wasn't in pain, I was scared.  The man tapped my cheek to gain my attention, and when I focused on him, he asked me if I knew where I was.  I thought hard for a moment before answering, and I knew I would be fine, I was in New Jersey.  He told me I was wrong, I was in Florida.  Then I started to freak out because I wanted to know where my babies were.  I didn't know who I was with or where I was or how I got there.  Then it hit me, searing pain and sirens......were they coming for me?  I passed out.  I awoke to a fireman in uniform moving my left arm from over my head and he placed it on my chest.  My grandmother was holding my right hand telling me it's ok. I screamed in pain and she was gone.  I passed out from the pain and awoke to the sound of sirens.  I was inside the ambulance, and I could hear myself answering questions, but I don't feel anything but pain.  I pass out again, and reawaken in the hospital as the staff is cutting my clothing and jewelery off.  I smell blood, it's sickening.  I try to move my body, but my shoulder is broken in multiple places at the ball and socket.  My palms and knees have no skin.  They tell me I'm lucky to be relatively uninjured".  They ask me for insurance information, but I have none, so I am released.  I was given a prescription for a pain killer and sent on my way.



A nurse took pity on me and escorted me to Steve's room.  He's in bad shape.  He had a collapsed lung, broken scapula, broken clavical, 6 broken ribs and he was missing a chunk of the back of his scalp where his helmet didn't cover his head.  He asks me what happened, but I'm not sure.  The last thing I remember is a truck towing a boat passed us. After that, there is nothing.  I try to be brave and he asks me what happened to me, and I tell him I'm ok. 



I picked up the phone as best I could, and start the conversation, "Mom, we're ok".  Her heart sinks and her worst fear came true, we were involved in a horrific accident.  I tell her I broke my shoulder, but I'm going to drive back home as soon as I can.  I have no idea that my body is in as bad a condition it is.  It takes me a week and alot of help from a hospital liazon to get a plane ticket back to Tampa.  My mother and sister picked me up from the airport.  I was wheeled in a wheelchair to their car.  My mother took one look at me and overted her eyes.  When my sister got in the car, she asked me all kinds of questions.  I couldn't answer, I didn't know the answers and I was in so much pain, I didn't want to answer.  I felt every bump in the road.  I think it was the longest ride home in the car from the airport I've ever had.



I get home and I'm in my bed.  My sister and mother tried to make me comfortable.  I called my job at some point while still in the Keys to tell them I was in an accident and I would let them know when I would be back.  They understand.  My son saw me, and started to well up. It's the worst he's ever seen me, and I assure him, I'm ok.

A day goes by, and my sister, who shares my apartment with me, tells me I stink.  She helps me get into the shower, and proceeds to wash me off on the areas I still have skin.  The road rash is insane!  The water hitting the rash is unbearable.  I'm still open and crying from the pain.  I make my way back to my room feeling a little cleaner, I hadn't showered in a week since the accident.  My sister tells me I still reak.  She said I smelled like death, and she asks me what's under the wrapping on my left elbow.  I didn't even know my elbow was wrapped.  She proceeds to start to take the wrapping off of my elbow, but it's stuck.  She and my mother take me to several doctors trying to get someone to help me.  I have no insurance, no one will look at me.  My sister calls an Urgent Care facility in Apollo Beach, where my parents live.  They will take me immediately.



Doctor Kahn comes in and introduces himself.  The look on his face tells me I am seriously grotesque.  He converses with my sister while I lie on the table trying to rest.  He opens the elbow wrapping and I have severe infection in an open wound.  He is unsure how deep the wound is, but knows it needs to be debried immediately.  He gives me a shot of morphine.  He tells my sister it's enough morhpine to put a horse down.  He starts to cleanse the area while I'm trying to hold my broken arm up where he can see what he's doing.  I'm screaming from the pain.  He discovers the wound is open down to the bone and I need some serious medical attention.  He recommends that I go to the local emergency room in the morning.  He debries the arm as best he can and tells us to come back in the morning for another cleaning and then go to the hospital. 



At the emergency room, I sat for 9 hours before anyone would acknowledge me.  I had no insurance so they were hoping I'd leave and go somewhere else.  Finally, my sister starts making a scene and they rush to take me back and be checked out.  The nurse in charge took me back at 9pm and wrote down that I was to be seen at 11pm.  No doctors checked me until the 11 o'clock hour.  I had several doctors look at me, and it wasn't until the head of infectious diseases looked at me did I really get attention.  He debried the arm again, and they sent a sample of tissue to be tested.  I had the bacteria, E coli in my elbow, and faced a definite posibility of losing my arm.  By now, it has been about 10 days since the accident, and my arm had started to turn color, not only from bruising, but also the infection eating away at the flesh.  I met my surgeon, Dr. Mile.  He approached me, and explained that I would need to have reconstructive surgery to my shoulder.  I had 5 breaks in the shoulder, pulled the muscle, ripped tendons and tore the ligaments.  There was basically nothing where it was supposed to be, everything was ripped from the bone.  He also wanted to fix the elbow as best he could, but he told me to prepare to wake up to the worst.  I would lose my arm from the elbow down, due to the infection.



I am wheeled down to surgery, where I am freezing, and scared.  The nurses are trying to reassure me, but I keep shaking violently with chills.  All of a sudden, I am met with a sense of calm.  My grandmother is next to me, and this time, she has someone with her.  My paternal grandmother is standing behind and off to the side where I can see her.  I am overwhelmed and I start to tear up.  I'm trying to be brave, and I ask them if I'm going to make it.  My grandmother smiles and says "Of course, that's why we're here, to keep you calm".  The nurse hooks up the medicine to put me under.  Before she puts the needle in my arm, I tell her I'm not crazy, but she needs to move, she is blocking my grandmother.  She smiled and said, "That happens alot in here, you're not crazy."  I drift off.



I wake up and ask if my arm is still there.  It is, but it's in bad shape.  The doctor is hopeful that I will be able to keep it, but it depends on the infection.  It's a wait and see game.  They give me a ball to sqeeze to regain strength in my hand.  I am put in a contraption that imobilizes my arm.  I have no memory of the Keys, or the accident or the events leading up to the accident.  I don't want to talk to familly, I just want to be left alone.  I am angry with myself, and I'm in alot of pain.  I'm on a morphine drip for about 4 days and then I ask to be removed from it.  They give me medication for pain and I'm just trying to detatch myself from what happened.



Weeks go by and I still have no memory or answers for anyone.  I go back to stay with my parents so my mother can care for me.  The home nurse comes to the house each day for  2 weeks to check on my elbow and to take care of the pic line they sent me home with.  When the nurse is not there, my father diligently cleans my wound on my elbow.  He removes the 3, large, folded, gauze pads soaked in a bleach solution, and replaces them with 3 new ones.  Oh the pain of holding my arm up and the bleach in an open wound.......it was awful.  My son came to visit and would talk to me often.  For the most part, my family was angry with me for getting injured.  My mother uses her anger to force me to move around.  I was more afraid of her yelling at me, than I was the pain I was in.  She pushed me to move when I didn't want to. 



The doctor told my parents that my arm would only become a "pocket ornament".  I would never regain use of my arm and I should get accustomed to the idea of getting another profession.  My mother asked the doctor not to tell me anything negative.  She knew I have the will to prove people wrong.  So, he told me it was a posibility that I would not be able to use my arm. 



When my pic line was removed, I begged my parents to let me go back to work part time.  I contacted my boss, who told me my mouth still worked so of course they'd love to have me back.  I was out of work for 8 weeks and then I went back to work.  Here's what I didn't know. I had forgotten how to do hair.  I had no memory of what to do with chemicals, or reactions, and I didn't understand what the students were asking me.  After a week, I told my supervisor that I really had a problem.  She had already noticed.  I thought, this is the end for me.  I worked so hard to get this far and it's all going to fall apart here.  She took me into the office with our manager and they informed me that I would be teaching basic students.  These are the new students who don't know anything sincethey are just starting out.  This was for my benefit, this way, I could read directly from my book, and put the information into my own words so that not only could the students understand, but I would understand as well.  So, in the long run, I retaught myself cosmetology, and I had a much better understanding about it since I had to repeat the classes every few weeks for a year and a half.  I then moved out to the intermediate floor to teach more hands on and I was able to start getting some of my skill back. I was an instructor for 4 years.



By now, we are two years after the accident.  I have been recovering nicely and regained about 70% of the use of my arm.  I also had been seen and tested at a brain injury institute and had been informed that I had sustained a moderate degree of damage to my brain.  My short term memory was affected, my vocabulary was affected, and my ability to hear something and understand was affected, as was my attention span.  It used to be, I could concentrate on something and follow through until it was finished.  Now, I get distracted very easily, and I need frequent breaks or I get headaches.  My personality has changed as well.  I seem to not really find any good in things anymore, even though I try.  I am not trusting of people anymore and my family seems to think I can just be down right mean and cut throat.  I don't deny it, I am to a point, look at all of the things I've been through.  I suppose I can be quite cinical, but I try not to be.



The doctors were not optimistic about my brain injuries.  They did tell me to continue playing word games and read as much as I can to keep my brain active.  At work, I did the impossible for everything that was predicted. I became the director of the cosmetology school as well as lead instructor and I held that position for 2 years which means, I was a teacher and director for a combination of 6 years.  People who know me continually are amazed by my growth and determination.  I have since left the school to pursue my first love of practicing cosmetology.  I recieved an extremely wonderful compliment from the owner of the business I work for.  She informed me that she would only take graduates from the particular school I worked for because they have the knowledge, and the work ethic that is in demand.  They are professional and understand what is expected of them.  I was also sought out for my talent and knowledge.  My reputation supercedes me, and I get hired with companies without ever having to show what I know.  I believe that is something to be very proud of, and I am. 



After several years of failed relationships, and hardships with my arm and brain, I have met and married the most wonderful man.  We have been together for 4 years, married for 2 and he is my best friend.  He is patient with me, and understands me.  I finally know what happiness is, and I finally have the family I have always wanted.



Thank you for reading my story, I hope it inspires you to never give up.