The 3rd Mile

Mile 1: Surviving physical & emotional tragedy

Mile 2: Completing Rehabilitation

Mile 3:  Reconnecting with the world

I feel as if I'd made a food dish without love, passion.  I've added all of the right ingredients,followed every step of preparation, employed all the right methods, temperatures, and proportions, but because it was something just "put together", it doesn't feel right.  The desire and excitement aren't proportionally right and I think I just need to scrap the dish and start over.

Take a breath.

I started work on January 18th, 2010.

Though this (to me) isn't a huge deal, it was.  I hate the spotlight being on me whether it be photos, attention, special treatment....I don't know why, but it embarrasses me. 

Ironically, I like people to know who I am.  I like to be a presence in all of your lives.  Who doesn't want to be known or heard for something good?

I did everything right as far as paperwork, e-mails, phone calls go, but something felt off.  Thankfully the transition was seamless, the work was easy, and oddly enough it was the rest of the day that was off.

The women's restroom on our floor has a VERY heavy door.  There's a small 1/2 inch lip in front of the door.  Going from a dead stop to rolling over an object requires a lot of strength, opposed to just being able to roll over with momentum as your strength.  I open the door and let the bolt , that locks the door in place, rest on the frame so that I can pop a wheelie and charge at the door to open it.  Sorry door.  Once I'm in, I usually get chewed up by the door's weight and have to maneuver carefully using both arms in order to prevent injury (more injury I should say) to my hands, arms, and chair.  After that obstacle I proceed through the interstitial area to another door which thankfully swings open.

Then comes the social interaction, the stares, the awkward meetings with the other women in the restroom.  In life you tend to be insensitive towards situations until you're forced to engage them.  In the first month back at work I've encountered 3 separate women who purposely used the Handicap Restroom while I was in there.  Once while washing my hands prior to going to the restroom a woman passed me up while doing the "pee pee" dance and rushed into the handicap stall, bypassing the 2 regular stalls.  She spent 5 minutes in the restroom, 4 of which she repeatedly blew her nose and flushed the toilet, about 8 times I'd say, until I just couldn't stand it.  With a stern voice I said, "Excuse me, are you done in there because I'm in a wheelchair.".  She assumed I was done and about to leave because she saw me washing my hands.  EEHHR ::game show buzzer::   WRONG ANSWER!

I get it, maybe you like having elbow room or maybe you like feeling elite by using the biggest stall in all of Wonderland.  I confess, I've used the handicap stall myself prior to injury, but if you're going to use "that" stall, please be quick and don't assume that someone is done because they're not in the stall.  For heaven's sake, just open your mouth and ask!

Common sense, I know, but for some reason, a specific group of people in high management positions seem to lack it.

As for the door situation, I've contacted the building's management office and was told by some intern or desk assistant that the building's policies were to have the doors shut that hard in order to prevent "peeping" into the women's restroom.  Even after explaining  that there was an interstitial area, the parrot echoed that it was policy.  I doubt he passed the message on so I have to follow up.  I don't want to get ugly, nasty, manipulative, I don't want to pull out trump cards like "worker's comp", but if I have to, I will.

One thing I've learned through the last year was how to advocate for myself.  I will call back again and again until it gets done, even if I have to pull a few strings.  Two snaps and a swivel of the neck, THAT'S RIGHT!!!

So, I guess frustration seems to be the wrong ingredient in my dish, yet perseverance seems to correct the situation.

I've received all of your prayers and well-wishes and am grateful to know that a motley little crew that I call friends are there to encourage, push, and wish me onto better things.  :)

Family Roots?

One thing lacking in my life is blood-related family, roots.  The topic of family saddens me especially when I meet people that are close to their families.  I get a little bitter and spiteful because I feel like my dad prevented me and my brother from being a part of something out of purely selfish reasons.  I hate the ego.  I prayed a lot that God would let me meet my family, and it's started to happen.

The long story short is that my dad has 8 brothers and sisters, and my grandfather (my lolo) has 8 brothers and sisters.  I have 4 half-siblings from my dad's previous marriage as well as a million cousins.  What Filipino doesn't?  It's a staple like Spam, Vienna sausages, parties with karaoke, rice, soy sauce...etc. lol.

Prior to my accident, I had always longed for family.  My father never talked about his roots and never invited us to family functions.  Apparently, we're the black sheep on my father's side.  We're estranged.  

But now, in the age of online communities, I've taken it upon myself to search them out.  I'm too cheap to pay for "family tree-building"/"people locating" websites because I know that I could probably do it myself.  It would only cost me time and tenacity.  Luckily for me, networking sites have made it impossible NOT to find family.  My last name, Almalel, makes the task even easier because ALL Almalels are related.  Every single person I requested on FB (that would accept) verified that in some way we were related.  The Excel sheet I started is getting out of hand so I just jot down facts now.

The beginning attempts to relate to my past have been interesting.  I have relatives all over the world.  I met my dad's 1st cousin who lives in AZ and it was cool talking to her because she was my dad's childhood crony.  She dished out a lot about my dad.  It was as if I found a book that detailed Jesus' life between the ages of 12 and 33.  Okay, that's a bit extreme, but I was equally as interested.

Searching for my family has ups and downs.  I now know that I have a 3 year old sister who's mom is probably my age....gross...., but I found my half brother on FB and was so glad to reconnect because apparently, he's a black sheep too. (He's gay and was disowned by my father in '97)  Today I met my 25 year old niece and we chatted a bit.  We decided to get together for lunch.  I feel weird meeting family in this stage of my life and honestly I feel stranger meeting them while in a wheelchair.  It's my own deal, I know.

But this is yet another answered prayer "post-accident".  I'm meeting family left and right and won't let my fear keep me from knowing them any longer.  Before, my dad kept my immediate family from knowing the whole family, so I'm taking the opportunity to meet them, whether it's odd or not.  I'm odd, so I'll be fine. :)

Christmas Reflection

This was a note that I posted on FB entitled "Tis The Season".  I wanted to share this with everyone I know that's followed my journey on a more public platform, though it's important for me to keep these things documented here, where my private thoughts lie.

Thanks to all who've supported me this last year.

Tis The Season

What if I told you that tomorrow your life would change drastically? You'll be hospitalized for 4 months and will have to relearn how to do things for yourself again. Your bladder and bowels will no longer respond and you can forget about sex for awhile. Independence will have to be put aside as well as pride because you will need help with everything. Pain will be a daily obstacle, yet not one that you cannot overcome.



Now, what if I told you that you would be given strength, peace, patience, and a TON of love while the change happens? That all your financial needs would be met and that you would be inspiration to other people? That your family would reunite, and that amazing friends would come out of nowhere, and that your path would be clear to you?

In 4 hours I will be celebrating my 1 year anniversary. I've survived and it's thanks to all of my family, friends, and obviously God.

The journey has begun and life is now perceived through a different mindset. A paradigm shift if you may. I'm much less negative and make an effort to be a better human everyday.

Remember what's important. Let the little things go. Time is short.

What's the old adage?

Live, Love, Laugh

God bless you all and Merry Christmas.

"Have You Ever Seen The Rain".....

"Someone told me long ago, there's a calm before the storm.

I know.  It's been coming for some time."

Do these lyrics ever resound in my heart.

I'm a little put off by the rain, especially in December.  It's been almost a year, and I remember the rain coming down (lightly) the morning I was hit by a car.  I couldn't imagine the day when rehabilitation and pain would give me a break.  I prayed that the first 6 months would be over, and they finally are.  The year started off slow and grueling and has sped up according to tradition.  

 You know, the post-Halloween parade of holidays that seem to be about a week apart?  Christmas songs in every store around the 1st week of November, the anticipation of "Black Friday", which has grown into "Cyber Monday", and "Wednesday's Deals", the traditional sayings, which resound like clockwork:

• "Wow, can you believe Thanksgiving is here again?  Before you know it, it'll be New Year's Day"
• "What are you looking to buy on Black Friday"
• "I'm not even ready for Thanksgiving, let alone Christmas"
• Where did the last 3 months go?
  

It's such casual dialog with such hidden stress and expectation behind it.  I've learned to simplify my needs, celebrate what I have (not wallow over what I've lost), and have agreed to grow while consciously pushing fear to the side.  Because I'm human, I'll have days that SUCK and days that are great, but now the perspective has changed.  I do get crazy, everyone knows I'm a nut, but I try to imagine myself in 10 years reflecting on who I was today.  I want to be proud of the person who got up everyday and fought the good fight while maintaining temper and grace.

 And......

Here's a recap of my Thanksgiving.  Ollie and his girlfriend went to her families while me and mom had a nice quiet dinner at home provided by one of her customers.  A Gelson's dinner for 2, and no clean up = a happy mom.  

Political and historical opinions aside,  I'm simply thankful.  Everything that God, my mentors, and friends have given me, prepared me for the hardest time of my life.  You've made me a good person and in turn you were there to visit me in the ICU (while in the rotisserie bed), you took time out of your schedules and made your way to "The Valley" to bring books, stickers, cards, music, conversation, hugs, kisses, tissue for the tears, and a TON of prayers.  You even gave me an "O.K." to pass gas because I never knew when my body was going to act up.  LOL.  These things are priceless.  And as it happens, thanks to ALL of you, my needs have been met.  All of them.  I've cried less, worried less, and have smiled more. Thank you

Gosh, this all reminds me of a song we used to sing in church.  There was a bridge which said:

I'm pressed but not crushed persecuted not abandoned
Struck down but not destroyed
I'm blessed beyond the curse for his promise will endure
And his joy's gonna be my strength

Though the sorrow may last for the night
His joy comes with the morning!

This is where my strength arises from.

Have you ever seen the rain?