One Year Ago ….…..
Most anniversaries are celebrations: birthdays, wedding celebrations, perhaps holidays like Christmas or the 4th. Still, some dates are fixed in our memory that are not recalled fondly. These memorable dates are vivid because of some sense of loss or pain. Yet, there is something to be gained from loss.
Last Saturday was the anniversary of the most physically painful experience of my life. In a spectacular exhibition of clumsiness, panic and poor decision-making, I shattered my left heel (calcaneus) exactly one year ago. . It’s sobering how your life can change in a split second. Preoccupied and in a hurry, I missed a step coming down a staircase. Stumbling and fearing a tumble down a metal staircase, I attempted to jump to the bottom. The jump was successful, the landing…….not so much. My reeling dive resulted in all my weight zeroing in on my left heel like a dart trying to impale itself into a cement floor.
I don’t recommend this injury. It was very painful. (I commented on my experience with pain medication in the newsletter entitled, “What’s a Calcaneus” at snowmantherapy.com October 2011) . But this article is not about injury, meds, or spastic lack of coordination. It’s about lessons learned.
The first thing I realized may sound strange. It is simply this: Everyone lives the same 24 hours per day. What does that mean? It means that, whatever your situation, you occupy the same time space as everyone else. For several weeks I was in constant pain. I had to wear a glunky boot to bed for three months (not exactly an aphrodisiac)! You still must eat, and your appetite does return. Months later, it still hurts, albeit much less. But sooner or later, everyone sleeps. You get your mind off it briefly. It occurred to me that, basically, I occupied the same time space as healthier, pain-free people did. The lesson? You can tolerate anything, whether you like it or not. You might as well accept the situation, do your best to heal and recover, and move on.
The second, and more important, thing I learned was about people: the ones in my life. Events such as an awkward spill generate responses (or non-responses) from those around us. There are essentially three classifications for the other humans we associate with: acquaintances, friends, and family.
Acquaintances fall into two categories: positive and negative. Positive associates are those who attend the same church, participate in sports and other social activities, or do charity work. Negative acquaintances involve our sharing of behaviors that could be described as negative addictions: drinking, drugging, gambling, or gossiping (see the newsletter “Where have the feathers gone?” for more on gossip).
Real friends are a rare commodity. I believe that those who purport to having dozens of friends probably have none. This may be a simple matter of semantics, but, to me, there is a clear distinction between true friends and acquaintances. Friends are there for you under adverse circumstances. They provide support in all its forms: emotional, informational; even financial. They provide service upon request; or without even being asked.
My most significant insight resulting from my pratfall had to do with my family, however. My son stayed in the hospital with me for two days after the surgery. My California-based daughter (who had given birth to my granddaughter, Lucy, one month before) stayed in touch throughout my recovery process. I am proud and appreciative to have such honorable and attentive adult children.
So who is left to consider? Those readers who know me personally know that the answer is my beautiful, brilliant, and amazing wife, Anita. In over forty years together, she is the single positive constant in my life. My ill-advised venture into gymnastic-vaulting placed a burden on Anita that she bore without complaint. Aside from tending to my needs, she assumed all my responsibilities during my convalescence. No man ever had a more faithful, loving, or steadfast partner.
So a year after my accident, I have learned many things about those in my life. The experience has been both gratifying and disappointing. Mostly, it has been instructive. But more than anything, I have been reminded of my only true wealth: my wife. All that I have is because of her. I owe her everything and will spend the rest of my life in repayment of my debt to her.
My kindest hope for my readers is that they may have someone in their lives as good and kind as my Anita. If you have such a person, have the wisdom and prudence to cherish and nurture that relationship. Really, that is what matters the most.