S.H.E. Anthology... Something Special Filled With Heart

We can think of many book by many authors on many subjects, but what I have to share with you today, is something I think is special and filled with heart. Things are told that are born of pain and blossom into hope and healing in the S.H.E. Anthology. This is a book of many authors each telling their many stories. This is a book involving a subject of grief and healing, hope and survival, children and their hearts filled with fear and pain who go beyond that and grow sharing it with others offering empowerment and hope.

A majority the proceeds from the sale of this anthology will go to mental health institutions that address grief factors especially in children- our next generations of hope! Written by those who know first hand the pain of grief reaching out to others with their words. My blog is titled More Than Just A Story In A Book but this collection truly is more than just the stories in the book. This book is a story from the heart.

 

SPECIAL NOTE to the reader:

Each blog about the S.H.E. Anthology has a unique excerpt to keep things fresh.

A book without a reader is like a day without sunshine.

Newton, Connecticut? Where is that? A massacre? Please, tell me you’re joking! At school? You have got to be kidding! Dumbfounded! I listened to the news about Sandy Hook Elementary! Who didn’t feel disheartened by that story?

Due to my experiences with many deaths in our small community within a short period of time, I felt that the kids and folks in that area might feel less alienated and alone if they were shown the light at the end of their tunnels. I wanted to help find a way to be empower the children and their community while revealing to them a HOPE that things can and do get better. I thought that town might enjoy rhetoric from kindred spirits. PLUS, I felt others including health care professionals might enjoy the same types of stories.

After pondering a bit, God illuminated my next step. Thinking of three books that I had partial copyrights to, I began compiling a book. Plus, I immediately had the title of an anthology in my mind- the S.H.E. Anthology. It’s NOT a romance anthology but it was written by females. In this book, the girls recollected traumas, mostly related to death, that they faced while in elementary school. Their stories reveal their path out of mourning along with many minor miracles that they encountered. Their tales of hope and inspiration are true accounts from those children turned authors. This book is meant to empower Newton as well as others that read it. The authors hope that this anthology sheds some new light on grief recovery in the minds of teachers, mental health professionals, and adults handling major life changes.

The abbreviation ‘S.H.E’ also refers to Sandy Hook Elementary. Isn’t God the best at setting up coincidences?

In one part of this anthology, there is some great insight into being the victim of death and childhood loss. Stacey’s Song is an intimate look at a ten year old girl’s personal story about the results of her mother’s cancer death. She, also, deals with the aftermath that includes her dad going crazy and committing suicide. Obviously, tragedies, such as the Sandy Hook Massacre, touch home with her. Stacey talks candidly about overcoming her PTSD. Her honesty in her writing is only surpassed by the miracles and guidance from God.

In the excerpt that follows, God taps into the young girl’s anger and pent-up grief. In the book, near the end of her teen years, an unexpected person brings closure to Stacey’s mourning. She meets the man that tried to save her father from his suicide mission, which turns out to be another blessing from GOD.

…while at work, I met a man, a police officer. His name is John. As we discussed orphans and life’s ups and downs, I discovered he raised and orphan, too. That is not what caught my attention. We actually shared a different bond.

“How long have you been a cop?” I chimed into the ongoing conversation at work.

“About twelve years!”

“Oh, then you would not know!” I spoke thoughts.

“Know what?” He prodded.

“About my dad!” I added.

“What happened to your dad?”

“He committed suicide in 1991.”

“Oh?” My coworkers and he questioned rhetorically.

“Yeah, put the car on fire and died!” I finally spoke it aloud.

“Where?” The policeman showed interest.

“In this town!” I answered.

“When?” He pursued. “I used to be a fireman!”

“In 1991?” I questioned.

After a strange pause, he calmly stated, “I pulled his body from the car that night, then.”

My mind wandered around my first playground. The rope swing rested motionless because my soul decided to ignore its pleas to escape my current life, this time. My dungeons and their caretakers evaded my sight as well, which revealed my level of maturity and growth. Then, somewhere in the distance, fire engine sounds rang out. As a child, I’d run to grab the candy thrown from this Christmas decorated truck. That vehicle arrived, once a year; and I loved its sound. After dad died in the fire, his suicide method, I avoided all firemen, trucks, toys, and thoughts. Nothing convinced me that there existed any goodness in anything associated with fire. Today, life revolved full circle once again because this policeman witnessed it all. It never jaded him. At that moment, I thought about my mother’s last smile as Santa approached her window. The present is definitely the gift.

I called Cindy immediately with my news. She wasn’t as surprised as me. Nothing sent from God surprised her anymore not even my chance to share my feeling about Dad’s death with another participant from 1991. It’s cathartic!

Is Stacey’s Son a mournful tune or an upbeat journey out of mourning? Read her full story in Stacey’s Song or in the S.H.E. Anthology.

Also, in that anthology, The Evans Terrace Girls give their account of what happened when 7 or more parents died within a year or 2 of each other in a small subdivision of about 110 homes. People started saying their land was CURSED. The children heard those rumors about their subdivision and were scared to death. Some of the children formed a group that became a club and led their neighborhood out of grief. An excerpt from their story follows.

This next excerpt from The Evans Terrace Girls shows how good intentions encourage most people to noble acts that spawn random acts of kindness.

     As the first members arrived at my house to be car pooled to the
  
 shopping plaza, my mother pulled out the flyers as well as a poster.

 Secretly, she made us a poster with huge black and blue letters stating,

 “FREE POOL.” In smaller letters she wrote “safety flyers.” Her

 homemade concoction was hilarious but potentially embarrassing. At

 first, we expressed reservations about her artwork.
 

      “This will get their attention!” She explained. “Who will pass up a 

free pool?” My mother was serious about it being a useful tool to

 attract people away from the video store long enough to offer them

 the rest of the message or safety pamphlet.

    “Don’t laugh,” Joy defended. “She is right! I’d stop for a free pool!”
 

The morning proved to be slow. Mia, Ann, and I sat on the sidewalk

 discouraged. Suddenly, Mia began to sing her boredom away. “Drown

 do be do drown drown,” She sang to the melody of a real song.

      “Come on. Come on. Drown do be do drown drown.” Ann and I

 hummed along at first, “Come on. Come on. Drown do be do drown

 drown. Waking up will be hard to do....” 
  

      After that song, we made up other lyrics to popular melodies, “Um
 
 bop, don’t drop, into your pool, stop...in an um drop their gone...” and

 so on. Making up the best new words became a competition as

 crowds from church finally started arriving for their brunch. 
 

At that point, we begged people to take our flyers. Some people

 humored us but then left the flyers of their tables as part of the

 waitress’s tip. Others avoided eye contact as we presented out

 pamphlets. One man got down right mean. After a conversation

 begging him to take the paper, he said, “I work for a charity and can

 get anything I need. So, I don’t need your flyer. No, thank-you.”

     As he left, my mother muttered, “You may head a charity but you

 have no kindness in your heart.” We heard her but he was too busy

 wearing his lopsided halo to turn back.

   Cars started arriving in the parking lot, which also serviced a grocery

 chain. We held our poster high and tempted cars to come to

 screeching stops as people read the words free pool. This prank did

 attract attention. Some crowds did gather until they read the rest of 

the poster. In the end, we handed out fifty flyers on our shift. Then, Joy

 and Nicole arrived to relieve us.

     Joy tempted fate by standing as close to the video store as legal. She

 harassed people until they came closer to hear what her poster was

 offering. Nicole asked how we did; she decided her group’s goal was

 to meet or match our number. It was about that time that two people

came by to offer us money towards our cause. Since our flyers were

 free, we declined the money.

    As we stood hassling people, a manager from the grocery walked

 right up to mom. We thought this meant that she was being scolded.

 Watching for a minute, we noticed my mother was laughing. As he

 left, we found out why this man went out of his way to leave his post

 and greet our adult leader
.

    “The store offered us free cookies. All we have to do is tell them

 that manager sent us,” My mother explained. 

 

“Go get them now,” I yelped.

“We are hungry,” Joy added.

What other minor miracles happened (free cookies) when these girls join forces with others to make good things happen in this world? Read The Evans Terrace Girls or their section in the S.H.E. Anthology.

The eBook copy of the S.H.E Anthology is available

as a KINDLE @

http://www.amazon.com/the-S-H-E-Anthology-ebook/dp/B00B6C4NQ8/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1361303178&sr=8-2&keywords=the+S.H.E.+Anthology

in other eBook formats @ SMASHWORDS.com @ http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/278511

The paperback version comes in BLACK & WHITE on AMAZON @

http://www.amazon.com/S-H-E-Anthology--In-Black-White/dp/1482076225/ref=sr_1_19?ie=UTF8&qid=1359383172&sr=8-19&keywords=mchanson714

Plus, the S.H.E Anthology is in color paperback format @

http://www.amazon.com/S-H-E-Anthology-Cynthia-Meyers-Hanson/dp/1481987100/ref=sr_1_18?ie=UTF8&qid=1359382582&sr=8-18&keywords=mchanson714

So, come on buy to be inspired and help grieving children. It’s a WIN-WIN.

By the Way, a copy of this anthology went to Newton’s public library as well.

Other contact information follows.

E-MAIL @ mchanson714@yahoo.com

TWITTER @ www.twitter.com/mchanson714

FB @ www.facebook.com/meyershanson

My generic Blog is @ http://mchanson714.blogspot.com

My SMASHWORDS generic link to all my eBooks is (they distribute to Sony, IBooks, etc.)

http://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=mchanson714;

This is the AMAZON generic link to all my Kindles and paperbacks

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=mchanson714

My generic YouTube link to find my book trailers is http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=mchanson714&oq=mchanson714&gs_l=youtube.3...515.2012.0.2231.11.11.0.0.0.0.125.842.9j2.11.0...0.0...1ac.1.8x1pyvuQsOY

New year, new day and a new book on the way…..

New year, new day and a new book on the way…..

YOU CAN CALL ME DANNY

By Linda Nance

It is a new year with new projects to do and new ideas to try.  There are so many resolutions I wish that I could make, but do not want to fail in accomplishing what I set out to complete.  I do not refrain from setting goals and things I want to accomplish and one of those is to turn another story I have written into a novel…a book…an eBook. 

You Can Call Me Danny is well on its way.  I will soon be working on the cover for it.  I have no idea what it will be but will share it an more soon.  Right now I want to share what the book will be…..here it is…..

YOU CAN CALL ME DANNY

            A young child trapped in a nightmare life had a special friend.  His friend told him, that he could call him Danny.  Danny was his only friend.  No one but Steven could see or hear Danny.  Was Danny a friendly ghost there protecting, or was there more to this entity than anyone might suspect?  Steven began to think Danny might be a Guardian Angel but angel or evil…only time would tell….. because Steven would tell no one and betray his friend and that friend was there to stay.

          Steven eventually made two new friends at school who shared so much in their disturbed and distraught family lives.  They were about to share more as things began to occur beyond their control.

           Sneaking through the darkness of night, Steven went to his friend Jimmy’s house.  The drama that occurred at Jimmy’s house was mild compared to the conclusion of the activities he had left behind.

          Tragedy and chaos, murder and an end to life as Steven had known, erupted in his household in the dark of night. 

           They found themselves speeding down the highway with a man of questionable character as they left a life behind that felt like a nightmare with no hope.  Where they would go was a question only the future and life could answer.  The real life nightmare they left was more than they could imagine as the night of changes swiftly developed in all directions. 

         Three young boys fled in the night.  It was a night that would change their lives forever.  If it was a new beginning or a new nightmare of a different kind, only time would tell….and we can not forget Danny.  He would not want to be left behind.  “You can call me Danny.”

THE JOURNEY HOME WAITS FOR SOME SPECIAL THOUGHTS…BUT IT IS STILL MY JOURNEY…I WILL HAVE TO WAIT TO FIND HOME…If there is such a place for me.

I have said that this blog is a little of this and a little of that and a lot of me.  On a recent interview with Dellani Oaks I was asked about my blog.  Do I think it is better to separate the writer from the writing?  I think that each and every person is unique and different in their own way.  I think it would be wonderful and so much easier if I could do just that.  For some people it works beau

tifully.  I can not. 

To accomplish my dream of these books that are, and the ones that are soon to be….it has taken a lifetime worth of living and seeing life to be able to try to find words to create the characters, stories, people and places in them.  I wanted each and every book that I write to be more than just a story well told.  I want every book to be one that the reader can become a part of and feel with and remember.  The blog is not to promote the books or it would be filled with discussion about writing them, and publishing them and marketing them and other things about them.  I do post the reviews and am very proud of those.  Someone took the time to write something special about something that I wrote and share it.  I thank them from the bottom of my heart.

My books are a part of me.  They are my way of reaching out and creating.  They are my voice.   They are a reminder of the past…painful and depressing as well as wonderful and exciting.  All things we see, hear, think and feel, live and love become a part of us in one way or another.  For good or bad…if we survive we grow.  Hopefully we grow in a good way that makes us stronger but there are times that I wonder. 

They say that time heals all wounds but they lie.  I have wounds that never heal.  I have wounds of the heart that may have scarred over but they are there, none the less.  People may tell you…. to get over it…but then it is not them that had to do the getting over, is it?  If you repeat history and pick at that old scar you may find more underneath than you expect.  I am getting old now and have poor health.  I do not have the time left in life to look on the bright side and hope for the best.  I would like to.  I try to.  I am often thought of as a fool for even trying to believe in good and honest and trustworthy.  That is all right, because it is usually the very same people that will lie and betray, hurt and destroy, and prove in their lives how little trust you can place in them before you are a fool to love or believe.

All of this sounds a little harsh when you put feelings into words, life can be harsh.  Life can be hard.  What we do with the blessed gift of life is up to us.  I could have given up and just died.  It is not hard at all.  All I have to do is quit trying and working to live.  Things have been that bad for me.  I did not want to do that for many reasons.  I do have some family that loves me and I love them.  I do have hopes and dreams.  I have more.  The story of Journey Home is more than a story.  I believe that God does have a purpose for me.  He has a purpose for each and every one of us.  I believe it is my responsibility to try my best in life and no matter what others do I will have to do my best.  I will not give up…I will not give in…Not Today!  If  I say that everyday, then everyday I will have a tomorrow until the good Lord calls me home.

Now I know that some people do not believe in God.  They think I am stupid and deluded or brainwashed into the beliefs I have.  I understand your skepticism.  I understand your doubt.  I am not even going to try to persuade you to think otherwise because you are not listening.  My beliefs are mine.  You see things as you want to see them, but I wish you well.  I hope that life shows you wonderful and happy things.

Here I go…The last thing I ever wanted to do was talk about religion or politics.  If I want to tell you about my books and reach out so that others might even take notice ….the last thing I need is depressing or controversial….but……

That brings us back to the subject of the blog about only the books or mine that is…me.  I may not want to talk about religion, debate religion or discuss religion, but if I am honest it is a part of my very soul so much there is no way I could avoid it.

I believe no matter how hard life is…we can make it….but I could never have done it alone.  I have been very alone many times.  I have been very isolated many times and even in situations that were abusive and controlling.  I do understand that part of life too.  I understand it too well and remember.  When you get a reminder that old scar falls away and leaves not only the new problems but the old with it.  How can I survive?  How can I deal with life’s problems?  I do not know.  I hope with God’s help because I have no more answers.  Am I giving up?  Never….Not Today.

When I thought I was alone and I had no one I could talk to because I did not want to worry them or start any thing….you would not believe the outpouring of love, support and encouragement from friends on line and they only knew the surgery and cancer part of the story….but they cared.  They made a difference.  I wish they really knew how much.

I can not run a marathon.  I can not hold a job.  I can not get disability because I could…I am not going to give up.  I have two novels, two ebooks and the children’s book that I wrote and illustrated.  I have more.  I have so much more.  I am going to share many things here.  I want to share stories, poems, pictures, thoughts, feelings and more.  I hope you come with me.  I hope that you understand.  I hope you share my journey.

I will be back to the ongoing blog I swore I could write about the Journey to Journey Home.  I might later regret being so honest with things in life but then again life is what is it.  If you do not want the world to know about it, do not do it, and do not do it to someone you say you love…..especially if she has a blog.

I CRIED PART 3

I had to share one of my paintings for this part of the blog.  It deals with a very traumatic time.   Seeing that path to lead me on, was in my heart... now here to see.  I had to stop writing but will be back soon.  It is titled I CRIED and I did...then  and now, but Life really does Go On and I am alive and living life to the best of my ability.

I CRIED

When you suffer a serious injury or trauma or even illness time is experienced differently.  The staff was not only capable, knowledgeable, efficient and competent, they were caring and compassionate.  They were exceptional.  I had the maximum amount of pain medication and excellent care.  A person could not ask for any better, but still the pain was almost unending…except when I had drifted away completely.  The problem was that it was all so hard.  I hurt so much and was so tired.  Just to be awake was an enormous effort but to drift away would be so easy.  I believed there was and is a place waiting that is so wonderful there are no words to describe…or stay here in pain with a future I chose not to think about.  I did not need a mirror to know that a broken windshield could do a lot of damage but living with it would be something I would have to think about later or I just might be too tired…..Every breath I took hurt.  Everything on me hurt.

My family and friends came to visit and I could not leave.  I had to keep trying.  They kept telling me they loved me, believed in me and knew that I could do it.  Everything would be fine….It would NOT BE FINE…but it might work out.  I had no idea how to make it work out but then again I was to sick and hurt and tired to do much of anything.  I just put it in the Lord’s hands and then drifted back away where it hurt no more.

The first thing I said was about time and time did come and go.  Time also passed and I grew stronger and more alert.  At first I puzzled that there was nothing in the room that could reflect an image.  As I became more alert I understood they were protecting me but I had to know.  I was so sure that I could handle it no matter how bad it looked.  I had to know so that I could try to find a way to work it out in my mind and begin to deal with it.

I demanded a mirror.  The staff dealt with it beautifully explaining there was nothing to worry about…a lot of the bedside trays were the same as mine and I should relax….and so on.  I understood that there are medical orders and they could not discuss or do anything that might cause a severe reaction or cause me to become distraught. 

I told my husband I had to have a mirror.  He tried to persuade me not to worry.  He finally told me no.  He did not feel like it was something I should worry about.  I should worry about getting stronger.  He was not going to budge an inch. 

I tried to explain that I could not deal with what I did not know.  If they want me to find a way to deal with all that had happened then I had the right to know the truth.

“The truth is that you do not need a mirror.  It will not help you right now.  What you need to do is get stronger and know that we love you.  Everything will work out.”

Before he could say much more a visitor was outside the door talking to the nurse and getting the usual instructions not to mention my appearance or show shock.  The woman assured her that she had seen things about as bad as they could be and it was not problem.

Now I admit that I was hurt beyond description especially if you try it from the inside out but even I had to keep a bit of a sense of humor.  There had just not been anything I found too funny at that point…until….then and for some reason the situation struck me funny.  Maybe the stress and all played an emotional factor or maybe I am just a little bit warped.

I need to explain about the art stuff.  I have always loved arts and crafts.  I like to make sculptures and even playdoh flowers.  I like to paint a path and sunsets.  I might take a piece of charcoal from the bag for BBQ’s and do a sketch.  At Halloween there were dozens of people that would come by the house and ask me to do their makeup.  I can do

a great witch face.  This woman had always compliment my little art projects.

I had my glasses so I could actually see her.  She strolled into the room full of love, enthusiasm and a mission to cheer and show she cared.  Stopping midway her mouth fell open with a gasping sound as she clutched her chest and staggered a step backward.  I thought for a moment she would actually pass out.

Finally drawing in a deep breath she spoke softly almost like a person suffering some great shock.  “Oh my God, it even knocked off her eyebrows.  Her whole face is gone!!!!”

She did not intend it to sound mean or hurtful at all.  She was so shocked she could not contain the emotion.  My husband instantly reacted with a protective and almost angry outburst….but before he could even get started……..

I started to laugh.  It was the first time since the accident that I had laughed.  It struck me funny even though it was so sad.  She was so sure she could handle anything, but this must be really something…it knocked my eyebrows off.

I told her not to worry.  “It will not be that bad.  After all these years messing around with art I will just draw them back on.”  She regained her composure somewhat.  She saw no humor in my statement but realized the intense look from my husband showed his protective nature.

After she left I explained I was not trying to be stubborn or difficult but I had to be able to see for myself.  He became angry at the reaction and comment from my visitor but I told him it had done me no harm.  She was upset because she cared about me.  She was shocked by what she could see that I could not.  It was my face and I had the right to see it.

He would not give in until I threatened to climb out of bed and go until I found a mirror.  He knew that there was no way I could climb or get out of bed with all of the tubes and all but he did not want me to try.  He calmly explained that he did not feel that I was ready for that yet and because he loved me he wanted me to give it more time.

After talking he realized that I had to see or it was all I could think about.  He agreed to bring a mirror the next time he came because they had orders not to allow anything that would show my reflection in the room.

During all of this time I have to say that the nursing staff was so diligent and caring.  I never needed to call a nurse because there were there.  Maybe it is always like that in acute care but they were outstanding.  The doctor was the same way.  He was so patient and there in and out at all different times.  It was not the daily visit.  He cared.  He was and is amazing.  He also is very good at avoiding the discussion of a mirror.

***********

Albert came into the room looking depressed.  He silently sat in the chair with shoulder drooping as he stared at his hands.  I knew what it was.  He had promised to bring me a mirror and did not want to.  He wanted to protect me.  He also had promised.

I asked and he handed it to me.  I did not use it right then even though I wanted to grasp it and see what was left of me…see what had happened…see it all.  I did not want to risk getting upset and have him see it.  I reassured him since I had a mirror I was satisfied.  I would look later when I was ready. 

We had a nice visit but strained as I wanted to use that mirror and he wanted to snatch it back and take it away.  When the time neared he would have to leave he finally told me that he had to be there when I used the mirror.  He was not leaving me there alone to see something that he was sure would get better and he thought I should quit worrying about.

“It’s no problem.  I am sure no matter how bad it looks it will be a lot better when all of the stitches are out and swelling.  I can handle this.  I have to.  It is my face and I have to wear it the rest of my life.”

Before he could answer or argue, I opened the mirror and held it before me.  At first I felt confusion.  I peered into the mirror but could not find my face.  I could not see any face.  There was a mess of horrible colors similar to a modern art horror piece with eyes filled with pain, confusion and sadness that gazed back at me.

I could not breathe.  For long moments I could not breathe.  I realized that Albert was watching with concern waiting to see what would happen.  “WOW….I….ah..ah…wow.”  Emotions were building with such intensity I could barely hold them in let alone act as if all was going to be fine.  He looked as if he was ready to call for medical back up.

Breathe…breathe…a little deeper…long…slow…breaths….I can do this.  “I understand now why there were no mirrors.  I understand why you worried, but I am going to be all right.  I may never be fine, but I am glad that at least now I know.”  The eyebrow thing did not seem quite so funny anymore.

He stayed for a little while longer watching me closely.  When he was finally convinced I was as good as I might be expected to be he kissed me gently and told me he would be back as soon as he could.  I think he went straight to the nurses’ station.  I could hear people outside my door and knew they were there if I needed them.

I held the little mirror in my hand but did not feel the desire to look again or any closer.  What I had seen was etched in my mind and heart.  It was so horrible and it was me.  It almost seemed to be someone else….with sad frightened eyes.  I can still see those lost eyes looking back at me in that mirror.

I cried.  It poured out in gasping tortured sobs.  The nurses came in and it was time for my meds and I slept.

I can write no more right now but will be back soon.

THE JOURNEY BECOMES A NIGHTMARE

THE JOURNEY BECOMES A NIGHTMARE
PART 2

I am back.  I have been unable to leave comments but will figure that out eventually.  I thank each and everyone here and on the Fan Page.  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Linda-Nance-Fan-Page/162224753802546

Trapped in a car after a head-on collision is not a memory one wants to relive and in part there is no memory.  I faded in and out even with the best efforts of those helping me.  I do not know how they got me out and have not asked. 

I remember the paramedic asking me if I was on drugs.  I thought that was silly…I do not take drugs.  You also are not thinking clearly.  He seemed emphatic and asked several times if I was sure I was not on any drugs.

I could no longer see but I could hear.  It sounded as if he was talking on a telephone and I heard him say “dad.”  I was so confused.  I thought I was dieing and he is making a phone call…until more words penetrated the haze that threatened to consume me.  “I think she‘s going to be a bleed out.  I’m doing everything that I can but she has a real problem and will need the best that she can get if I can only get her in.  Would you take her if I can get her there?  I’ll meet you there.”

I was still confused.  Why would his father meet him there and why would he want to take me to his father?  BLEED OUT!  I had worked in an ER years ago and knew what that term meant.  It was bad and they were talking about me and then I remembered…

I have had problems with my back and arthritis for most of my life.  I live with the pain but take BC’s which is powdered aspirin.  Later in life I developed a heart problem and they wanted to put me on blood thinners.  Some in our family have had some severe side affects so I chose to continue with the aspirin since it was a somewhat high dosage everyday for years.  I was able to manage to say BC’s.  I remember only brief sensations of the trip to the hospital.  I could hear the siren wale and feel the sensation of speed in our travels and then it all faded away.  There was nothing.

***************

Far away I could hear voices again.  There were many voices.  Tones and sounds of urgency but I could not focus to listen to what they said.  They were still so far away.  It was so hard to hold on to even be that close but then I heard another voice.  I knew that voice.   I had to come back from my far away place to reach that voice.

My husband’s name is Albert.  He was talking to me.  He did not yell or shout to me.  He spoke with more than his voice.  He spoke from his heart and I could feel his words and hear him.  He told me what I wanted to hear.  He knew what my question would be.  My daughter was doing fine.  She was going to be all right.  She may think that she is grown but she will always be my little girl.  I wished I could hold her, comfort her and let her know momma says it will be ok.

He continued to speak to me.  He was there and would not leave me.  He would run back and forth between my daughter and I but would not leave me.  I had to hold on.  The doctor was working on me and sewing me up and they needed me.  He said that he loved me.  He told me that the children loved me.

I was hanging on.  I was trying.  I could see a glimpse through all that was left of my face and the doctor was sewing me back together.  Oh what a nightmare.  How could it all be true?  It was true.  I had to hold on.  Then they all faded away.

The paramedic that worked to save my life took me to the hospital where his father waited.  His father was and is such a talented and good hearted doctor.  My life was in his hands and the good Lord above.

I could hear Albert’s voice.  There were undoubtedly others talking but I could only hear Albert as he comforted, reassured me and explained what was going on.  Then I heard a loud voice filled with its own authority demanding that Albert leave.

Before anyone could answer the doctor replied curtly “He’s not going anywhere and you need to leave…and leave now.”

The police officer said that he had authority and he decided Albert needed to leave the room.

“I am the authority in this room and the only authority.  He will not be going anywhere.  He is her only link right now and if he leaves we could loose her.  Her death would be on your hands and I would see to it you get the credit.  Now, get out!”

The voices were gone again.  I could hear Albert now and then, but was at peace and far away from all of the trauma.

*************

I do not know how long they worked sewing and doing all that they could to save me.  I could hear bits and pieces, here and there.  I must have been in a room but still could not see.  I heard Albert explaining to someone that it would be hour by hour.  It could be several days before they knew if I would make it.  I drifted away for a while.  How long??? I do not know. 

I could hear Albert again and he was telling me that he loved me and I could do it.  He explain he understood how hard it was but they needed me.  They needed me.  The words echoed in my mind.  The kids were grown.  He said they needed me and loved me.  You can hear songs sing about love can carry you through or make the world go round or a dozen other things…but they loved me?  They needed me?  I could do it?  And then it was all gone again.

Time is a relevant thing.  It is relevant to the one experiencing it at the time.  That may sound strange, but for me time would stop and start.  I was not having dreams or even felt a sound sleep.  There was nothing.  There was not even the void of nothing.  Time stopped and then resumed again.  I came and went.

I do not know how much time passed but I was able to be there more.  I was able to hear more and then see some.  My glasses were broken and I can never see much other than light and dark and blurs of color without them.  I complained I needed to see.  What had happened to my face?

My hands were damaged and sewn back but I found shredded tissue and glass shards with every touch of my face.  Pieces of my face were like ground beef.  My family became concerned as I frantically pulled bits of glass and other things from my head and face.  The nurses assured them if I did not seem overly upset to let me work things out in my own way and that it would hurt nothing to remove as much as possible.  They mentioned it would be years if ever before all of the glass was out.  They were right.  I still have bits and pieces work their way up.

Albert brought me glasses so I would not feel so helpless and blind.  The room was always so dim.  I asked for them to open the curtains but he said they were supposed to leave them closed.  Little by little I began to notice things.  There was no mirror in my bedside table.  There was no mirror over the sink, but there were holes where there had been one.  There was nothing in the whole room that would reflect an image. 

I did not realize that they were protecting me and allowing me time to gain in strength to survive and endure not only the broken bones, cuts, and pain but the loss of something very personal…my face as I had known it.

They were allowing visitors but they were approved and cautioned before they came into the room not to discuss my face or show a reaction to my appearance.  I had not seen my face but in my heart feared I no longer would even appear human.  I had a small pile of pieces of pink shredded flesh in with the broken glass.

I would like to find words to explain what I felt at that time but there is such an intensity and confusion mixed with fear, and pain, and morphine there are no words.  I kept hearing things though.  I heard they loved me and needed me and that they believed in me and I could do it.  I was going to be fine.

*******************

This next part will undoubtedly be something debatable.  To some it will be explained away by realizing the traumatic and stressful situation of enduring such an accident and the consequences to body and mind.  Some will mention the medication for pain.  Some will say it is just wishful thinking but even realizing all of the things that it could be I will tell you that to this day I believe with all my heart it was more.  It was so much more.

From the beginning as I drifted in and out I could feel a presence in the room and near me other than the people that were there or came and went.  I felt protected and comforted.  I felt a helping hand or force….there are no words.  If you ever thought about the possibility of an angel at your side….I did not see a glowing person or flowing white robes.  I did not see….I felt…..

I did not say anything because I did not understand or have the words or desire at that time to tell or explain.  It just was, but it was... for more than me.  There were at least 6 of the people that had worked with me that later told me they though they were crazy because they really did feel the presence of someone or something in my room and there was no one there…or was there?

What I really found amazing was when my sister-in-law visited holding her small grandson.  Babies will often reach out to be held or picked up.  This child was very shy and clung to his grandmother until he looked beside my bed and reach out as if wanting to be held so abruptly she almost lost her grip on him.  He smiled happily as if he were seeing something or someone that no one else in the room could see.

I believe that God reached out to help me in my darkest hour and there was someone there with me.  Did I have an angel at my bedside?  All I know is what I believe.

I would need all of the help that I could get.  I will be back again soon and continue sharing the journey of Journey Home.