all of my dreams come true

I’m going to hate this post. I hate haphazard, out-of-order stories and pictures. But I’m just going back and collecting stories and pictures. It was this or nothing. So I chose this.

I’ll try to go in order as much as possible. Let’s start with the actual accident. After Jace ripped open my mom’s door, he encountered another problem. My mom refused to get out of the door without shoes in. And that, folks, is how you know it’s a true habit. So since her shoes were gone (probably tossed in the back or out of the car in one of the many rolls), she grabbed the first ones she could find. These:
The leather one is mine (two sizes too big) and the turquoise one is Emily Nunez’s. Yep. Two sizes too small.
Good job mom. Way to keep those feet clean.

Speaking of clean…Aria said yesterday that after the car stopped rolling she looked at one unshattered window, saw the Texas dirt on it, and thought 'man, we’re gonna need a car wash’. Way to go Aria. [Pictures of the car will come later. When I can get them all on one computer.]
Fasr forward past the actual stay in the hospital to the day I came home from the hospital. I needed a lot of help. My first encounter with the shower was a challenge. I had to sit on a chair with the nozzle shooting directly into my face and you better believe I got shampoo in my stitched up eyes. Even though I doubt I actually got any cleaner, it helped psychologically to take a real shower. Then it was time to get dressed. Let’s be real guys…I couldn’t do it on my own.
Luckily I had those trendy hospital gowns to keep me covered. And I’m eternally indebted to everyone [Val, Sierra, Vivian, Joy, etc.] who helped me perform basic tasks that I was/am too broken to perform on my own. They’re all awesome.

When I was home things got hard. Well, not so much for me. All I did was make an excessive amount of noise when I needed more pain medication. Val got to be the hard worker. I love her and her strong stomach [for clarification: I'm not talking about her abs of steel, though I guess those are cool too. I'm talking about her ability to not gag when working with huge gashes and floods of blood]. She got assigned the lovely task of dousing my arms, legs, and face [and ear] in hydrogen peroxide, slathering on neosporin, and wrapping it all up in bandages.
Let me tell you—it was no small task. It was a lengthy, involved process that happened at least three times a day.
And it worked. I’m practically healed already, only a few weeks later.

She was also gracious enough to let me go with her to Wal-Mart when I felt up to it. Wal-Mart trips were a daily thing. In fact I think it may have happened multiple times a day for the first week. I had to got to drive those little old person carts because I couldn’t walk. 813
Let me tell you something about these carts. They are HARD to drive! I’d never really thought about it, but someone told me that they’d always wondered if they were hard to drive or if their grandma was just a really awful driver. So let me clear this up. It’s not the driver, it’s the cart. They’re spastic and sporadic and really hard to turn. You can’t slow down, you just come to an abrupt stop. Also not a good idea if you have neck problems because you got in a car accident (oops). These suckers gave me worse whiplash than any car accident ever could have. Don’t use them. And, more importantly, don’t hate on the people driving them. Just get out of their way.

All our trips to the store resulted in the medical stash of the year.
Yes kids. We use all of that. And more. Actually I think it’s only half of our stash. The “organized” half.

We spend our days at various doctors appointments—Kenyan in one room with Julie, me in another room with Val, my mom bouncing back and forth between the two. We’re professionals. We schedule checkups back to back and know every floor of the hospital better than the doctors do. One of my first visits was to Demke, the surgeon who did such a lovely job piecing my ear back together. I went in to get my stitches out and have my first non-medicated conversation with him.
[Okay fine. Semi-medicated. Also I'm aware that that's a her, not a him. That was the nurse. I'm not that medicated. Sheesh.]

Here’s how part of the conversation went:
“So…tell me more about this accident.”
‘What would you like to know? What do you already know?’
“Well…you told me a little bit about it after the surgery. But I’m wondering—and you don’t have to tell me—but did you know the semi driver”
Uhh….what?! He was asking if we’d been RUN OFF THE ROAD by the truck driver. Evidently when I went in for surgery I was still freaking out about my dad coming to visit. And I’d managed to confuse everyone enough that they thought we were not just in a high speed car accident but a high speed car CHASE that just ended in an accident. Yep. I wish we were that cool. I think he was disappointed when I told him the real story. No car chase, no abusive man trying to catch me, and no mother throwing the car off the highway in a last ditch attempt to save us all. Sorry guys.

One doctor appointment last week was particularly fun. I went in with eighteen staples and came out with no staples and some bald spots! Just what I’ve always wanted.
I honestly thought I wouldn’t get bald spots until much later in life. Oh well.

Another word of warning: doctors lie. I’m sure people know this, but they’re especially lying when they say removing staples “just pinches”. They hurt like the devil.
[I know there are only 17 here. She dropped one on the floor and then threw it in the garbage can. So inconsiderate.]

I did my hair on Sunday for the first time. It wasn’t really worth the pain until I got a good look at the haircut they’d given me in the hospital.
Ladies and gentleman, I have a…semi mullet? Rebellious teenager haircut? I don’t even know. It’s pretty bad. But my hair grows fast and I can usually do a pretty good job of covering it. Those things considered, it’s pretty awesome.

Did I mention that Kenyan uses a walker? She’s pretty ashamed of it. I bet I would be if I were an 11 year old using a geriatric mobility device. Luckily Jace, Sierra, and the Merrill boys took spray paint and stickers and made it more hip.
She still hates it, but to a lesser degree.

What are we doing fun, other than doctor appointments? We’re baking, hittin’ up the library, and going on walks.
We’re playing pool with Val.
And I’m blogging, as always, with my dilapidated, patchy braid.
And sometimes I hang out with this girl, who I love.
[Title from Enchanted by Owl City]


  1. Elizabeth RichardJuly 12, 2011 at 3:27 AM

    I love your blogs, you are an AMAZING writer. It's funny that your mom did not get out of the car until she had shoes. I did the same thing in an accident I was in. I wound up with one shoe that was taller than the other and didn't match either. Keep up the blog, you are amazing.

  2. HI Bridian! I've been a lurker on your blog (this is Margaret B) and I'm so impressed with your strength and ability to handle what's been thrown your way. Our prayers are with you!

    I did, however, have to post about your mom and her shoes! When my leg was "blown up" and I first looked down to see the damage, I thought, "Blood is getting on my shoes." Yup, I took one off and hopped on one leg to the side of the road to sit down. Shock makes you do (and think) strange things!

  3. haha! oh Brid! So a few weeks ago Addison came with my family to Costco and my grandma needed one of the electric carts. Addison made me drive it out to her and laughed at me the whole time! I feel your pain! haha :) I LOVE YOU!!!

  4. Bridian, you are hilarious! It's fun to read your blog, even when its sad stuff sometimes. Anyways, I just wanted to say those staples look OOOUUCHH!! Glad those are out of you. And the peroxiding of your wounds looks so time-consuming. You are a trooper. I'm so glad you have had such great friends there helping. And I never knew your mom had such a clean-foot fettish. That is quite hilarious about the flip-flops...and that one was Emily's. I hope you guys are getting along and the drs visits get less and less for you. We think about and pray for you guys often. Love, Stephanie