“I Will Live Again”

January 8, 2014
Dear Diary,

Today isn’t going to be any better. I can already tell. By now it should be. Everyday I feel like a broken record, “I’m fine, thanks,” is all I seem to say. But nothing is fine. I might explode if another person asks me if I’m okay. My career, my life, my whole future is destroyed. Life has no purpose, no path anymore, not after the accident.

“Meredith, darling! Rise n’ shine! Ready to get out of bed? It’s a new day, let’s make it great,” Mom said, entering my bedroom.

I have to go, Diary.
Love always,
Meredith.

Mom had really been there for me. She greeted every day with a smile, and it’s her smile that kept me from drowning in my own pity. She placed my arm around her shoulder, and held a firm grip around my waist,
“1..2..3!,” she said, hoisting me out of bed, and into the wheelchair. She pushed me down the hall and into the kitchen where the scent of eggs and bacon welcomed me. Good thing our house is a ranch. It makes wheelchair-life a lot easier. Our house is small, but it’s perfect for two. Low ceilings and fireplaces make it feel cozy. I looked out the kitchen window, over the lake. The lake reminds me of my childhood, a much simpler time. Every morning before school I would wake up extra early, walk around the edge of the lake, and feed the ducks. Walking isn’t really an option for me anymore. I chuckled quietly to myself. Except, it’s more of a sad chuckle, than a funny one. I snapped out of my daydream when Mom told me the day’s to-do-list,
“First we have an appointment with Dr. Salvatore, then you have a therapy class with other prosthetic-users, and then...oh my! Look at the time! It’s 10:12, we have exactly eighteen minutes to get to the doctor’s appointment.”
“I guess sleeping in wasn’t such a great idea then,” I say.
“No time for talking, eat quickly! I’ll meet you in the car!”
***
Once I was in the car, they came flooding back. The flashbacks, the nightmares that had been haunting me for the past two months, yet it felt like just yesterday.
***
It was was November eleventh, my Juilliard audition. Possibly the best, most important day of my entire life. Juilliard extended an invitation to me to come audition for them. They said I seemed like “an outstanding ballerina”. Ballet is my passion, and Juillard was my dream school. This audition was the best thing that could ever happen to me. The accident was the worst. That day, my mom and I were driving into New York City, chit-chatting and gossiping, classic girl-talk. I was so excited, nothing could ruin that moment. But then, out of no where, blinding, bright headlights flashed through my eyes, into my soul. There was a bang, a screech, and a searing pain shot through my legs. Then everything went cold, and darkness swallowed me whole.
***
My eyes creaked open. Various beeping traveled through my ears. There were tubes in my nose and IV fluids being pumped into my arms. I feel as if I just woke up from a long nap. Tons of whimsical bears and dolls surrounded my bed. There were endless amounts of feel-better-balloons, and bouquets of flowers along the windowsills. I caught a glimpse of my mom sitting in the corner on a couch.

“Meredith,” My mother exhaled, “you’re finally awake.” The word ‘finally’ caught me off guard.

“How long have I been asleep?” I asked.

“Four days.”
Four days ago. That was my audition. Suddenly, my memories come rushing back. We were in the car. I was laughing and I was so excited, but then a truck came smashing into the passenger side of my mother’s car.. I remember the pain and the coldness that spread throughout my entire body. I remembered that searing pain in my legs. I reached down...but I feel nothing. Empty space. My legs were completely gone. I feel nauseous. My heart pumped, heat spread through my body, yet I was shivering and still cold.
“Mom…” I started to sob quietly, “Mom,” I exclaim, my voice rising in volume.
“Meredith...breathe.”
I can’t breathe. I’m panting, gasping for air. Tears pouring out of my eyes.

“Nurse! Nurse!” My mom yells.
Mom takes my hands telling to me to relax. I pull back from her. This isn’t happening. It can’t be.
***
Suddenly, I snapped out of it, shaking. I want to believe this whole scenario was just a very bad dream, but it’s not. It’s real life. I was paralyzed from the car accident, and both legs were amputated from above the knee. I can never be a ballerina again and I can never go to Juilliard. My life was crumbling before my eyes. I feel like I shouldn’t be living my life anymore. I pulled out my diary and start to write away my troubles.

Dear Diary,

It’s come to my mind again, the thought of disappearing. But I can’t do that to mom. Dad died when I was one. Grandma and Grandpa died when I was ten. I’m all she has left. My only other option is to look ahead at my new life. What my new path will be is something I don’t want to find out. I’m a dancer. God made me a dancer, and now I’m a failure. Dr. Salvatore is making prosthetics for me so I can walk again. But I’ll never be able to dance again. Today I’m going to a therapy class with other prosthetic-users. I’m really not looking forward to this because it’s just another way for me to sulk with other failures just like me. We’ve arrived.
Talk soon, Diary.
Love always,
Meredith.

Once I’m inside Dr. Salvatore’s office, he started to lecture me on how to take care of my prosthetics, how to put them on, how to use them...blah, blah, blah. I couldn’t listen to him without feeling bad for myself. So, I tuned out.

“Meredith! Pay attention!” My mother snapped.

“Next we are going to go down the hall so you can interact with other people that have been through similar situations. I know you probably aren’t looking forward to this, but you are strong. You can get through this with their help. I promise that your life isn’t ruined, you just have to stay strong and remain open to new ideas. Come this way.” Dr. Salvatore said, motioning me out the door and down the hall. We walked past a few doors and then turn right. There are about thirty people, of all different ages, and using all different prosthetics. He walked me towards an older woman who was also missing her legs. She had strawberry blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, the kind that my grandma had. She looked happy. How can someone in my situation be happy? Dr. Salvatore introduced me to her.

“Meredith, this is Mags. Mags, this is Meredith. I think you two will have a great connection. Meredith, when Mags was about eighteen, your age, she was a professional figure skater. Her life revolved around skating. She won a gold medal in the Winter Olympics, and placed first in all rounds of her skating competitions. I’ll let her finish the rest.”
I sat down in front of Mags.

“Hello, love how are you adjusting to your new life?”

“Um...hi. Not well, I guess. Would you please finish your story?” I ask her.

“Of course, darling,” she smiles at me with warmth and tenderness, “The night after one of my skate competitions I had been in a serious, almost fatal, car accident. My parents, who were in the front seat, died, but I survived. It was tragic and I grieved for twenty, almost thirty years. Now I have these amazing prosthetics and I’ve moved on. Life is a rollercoaster, there ups and downs, sharp turns, and unexpected drops, but we can’t let it scare us.”

“But how? Everytime I think about my accident, I feel like I’m suffering all over again. It haunts me. I feel pain, and coldness wash over me. I don’t want to think about it, but sometimes I can’t help it. Sometimes I want to forget, and sometimes I want to disappear altogether.”

“The only way to face your fear and your grief, is to deal with it. Crying, anger, depression...it all comes. But you need to accept this new situation, deal with it, and move on. The road to recovery is a long one. I still struggle with this everyday, but I try not to let it define who I am. That’s why I still come to these sessions. Seeing all these friendly, happy faces fills me with content. Take it from someone who has been around for a long time. Don’t let this life-altering experience take your life away. God didn’t give us life for no reason He gave us life to live it. So Meredith, darling, live it.”

“But Mags,” I started to say. Mom interrupted mid-sentence, “Sorry to cut in, but it’s time to go.”

“Thank you, Mags,” I said with a large grin.
***
After the doctor, when I was back at home and sitting at the kitchen table, I pulled out my diary and started to write:

Dear Diary,

I was wrong. Today was better. Shocking right? I met this wonderful old woman named Mags. She taught me all about living life to the fullest, and I believe her. If a ninety-something year old woman, with two missing legs, is happy as ever, then I think I will be too. I’ll survive this. Now when I say, “I’m fine, thanks,” It will come from my heart, and I will truly mean it.
Love always,
Meredith.

I closed my diary and looked up. The sun was shining, the lake was glistening, reflecting the light like a mirror. It was a perfect day, I grabbed my sunglasses and went outside. I put on my glasses, looked out over the lake, and my life was never the same again.