I say that I guess, as a disclaimer. I'm not a particularly talented writer, and I sometimes make up my own words, and I use way too many commas, run-ons, and fragments. But. I believe that God is leading me to start writing out what has happened to me in the past week so that it may be a testament, (proof & evidence) of his faithfulness, love, and plan for not just my life, but yours.
You see, one week ago today, at the time I am writing this, I was on my way to Froedtert Hospital - a transfer patient from Community Hospital in Menomonee Falls, WI. (I have slowly morphed into a cheese-head, so all flatlanders out there - you don't need to know where that is. There may be a lot of foreign words in my writing. Sorry. They sucked me in.) The reason that I was being transferred to Froedtert was because Community was unable to operate on legs as severely broken as mine. Three hours prior to this exchage of goods (via AMBULANCE! : ), I was at an indoor rock climbing gym. I've been wanting to work on my guns, and P90X is not appealing to me. So I met a friend at the gym & off we went. I had been there a few times before, and she is a seasoned climber, so we grabbed our gear, paid for our 5-time visit, and went to put on our harnesses.
I went first, and I picked a route that was fairly easy because it's been a while. She climbed a couple of routes, and then on my second or third (I can't remember), I jumped up onto a route, and headed on up. What I didn't realize is that I had not clipped my carabiner onto my harness. I got about thirty feet up into the air when my friend noticed that I wasn't clipped in. I was able to come down about ten feet*, and then I fell.
My feet were elevated right away, the paramedics arrived about fifteen minutes later, and off I went. My friend & another Christian climber came with*. I had no idea what would unfold in the night, but I had this sense of peace throughout the entire experience*. I was so proud of my little body (something I never would have thought I would say, with allergies, asthma, chronic ear problems, and ear surgeries) - the adrenal glands worked*! I hadn't cried at all! The shock of everything kept the pain level down, and the deep-breathing excercises I've learned in yoga kicked in. I was so suprised!
The pain was the worst about an hour later at Community (like a 12 on the 1-10 scale) because I didn't really understand that you have to request drugs after the initial doses, and I waited and waited like an idiot. My parents had arrived*, but I had asked them to wait outside for a little while because I didn't want them to see me writhing in pain. Little did I know that they could hear me yelling. Having my bones set soon afterward (some anesthesia, but still felt), I felt like I could face anything. One lady said to me later, "I'm so sorry that this is happening to you. You are so nice." I was able to say back, "You know, bad things happen to good people (not that I'm a good person), but I believe that God has a plan for me, and I trust Him." Isn't that cool!? To think! God can use people even when they are in so much pain*!
I was transferred to Froedtert after X-Rays and CT scans (I almost got a babysitting gig...hee hee), and it was an intense arrival. They are all business. They cut shirts there. No messing around, you know? So I think they were a little freaked out when I cracked jokes & said thank you every ten seconds. I found out that my orthopedic surgeon was one of the best in the U.S. Like, he's put ballerinas back on their toes, and people come to watch him operate from around the world. RIGHT THERE*! Operating the next morning*. Which is good because, come to find out, my ankle wasn't just swollen, my talus bone had been broken. It's dangerous & can affect blood flow. It's also connected to arthritis. But it had only slightly shifted, making it possible to operate the next day*.
Dr. M walked in, looking fresh as a daisy. Later I found out that he had not felt overly hopeful about my feet, but then he went on and on about how great of a job he and his team had done*. I will have to learn how to walk again, I have a high risk of arthritis, and I can't bear weight on my feet for 3-6 months, but it was an amazing start.
My nurses were amazing, my friends came from all over the midwest, and my parents were by my side the entire time. I'm home now, with a pain level between 1-2, and I cannot be more thankful for the way that my story has unfolded. I'm able to move to a commode (and nice term for "the pot), and into a wheelchair. I still get tired pretty fast, so no basketball just yet. People have brought us dinner every night, someone went and got my car from the gym, and drove it to IL. And filled the tank. I have dozens of books, beautiful flowers, and a journal with my name on it. I have parents who have not made me feel like an intrusion, and are amazing servants of Jesus.
The hardest part of the entire journey? Giving myself grace. I'm not good at that. You know, I'm the first-born-people-pleaser-ENFP-I hate making mistakes-perfectionist. Grace isn't my thing. But God has given it so freely. I need to allow it for myself. Not clipping in: big mistake. Learn from it? Yes. Excited for the journey? Yes. Deeply embarassed? Yes.
2 Timothy 1:9 says, "By the power of God who has saved us and called us to a holy life- not because of anything we've done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time." God knew you and I before we were even born and He knows every move you're about to make. Every move. You choose it, but he knows it. My dad said to me, "God's not suprised by what happened, Catie." He's right. God didn't look down and say, "Wow! Did you see that? Catie just fell off of a wall! Whoops! Catie, Catie, Catie..." Every. Single. Move. is for the glory of God. Even a fall.
