Being Alone and My "WE"

A friend of mine wrote, "My spiritual health is excellent when I realize that the better I get, the more I discover how much help I need from others."

I've been moving through some really difficult days and realizing that I've been trying to be overly self-reliant. I am awful at seeking help. I feel unsettled, queasy. Whether it's asking my husband to push my wheelchair when I get tired, contacting a friend for a ride, or getting a stranger to hold the door open, I dread the moment.

I was in a serious car wreck 3 months and 13 days ago. I remember lying there on the grass, hearing "oh, my God" and "don't move" from the people gathered around. There was a woman who came and held my hand. When she saw my lips moving and asked if I was okay, I responded that I was trying to remember a prayer. She squeezed my hand and said, "you're gonna be okay." I struggled to remember anything past, "God, I offer myself to Thee," so I just repeated that opening line over and over as I leaked blood and tears onto the ground, her steady hand holding mine.

That woman stayed beside me until the ambulance arrived. When I got moved to the spinal board I felt her hand disconnect from mine. In that moment, I felt so alone. She had been right beside me, but I never looked at her. I had no idea what she looked like or who she was. She was the first of so many people who have offered their time, comfort, skill and company through the duration of my recovery. I still regret that I don't know who she was, and I daydream about tracking her down somehow to say thank you.

As my pain intensified and I began to be really frightened, this woman's hand was replaced by the voice of an EMT, Andy. In the 5 minute ride from the accident site to the hospital, he was the first to tell me I was going to have to let go of the guilt I felt at having caused the wreck. He told me I could hold myself responsible without being guilt-ridden. He said "they're called ACCIDENTS for a reason." When we got to Seton Northwest, I heard him tell his partner, Rachel, that they should wait because he thought I would be sent to Brackenridge (a level 1 Trauma Center), based on the severity of my injuries. He was right. So I got to listen to that reassuring voice for another 20 minutes as we drove southbound through rush hour traffic. Rachel drove with the sirens on, earnestly apologizing every time we hit a bump.

We arrived at Brackenridge, and as I was wheeled into the emergency room I called out my thanks to Andy and Rachel. I had gotten their names and I knew what they looked like, but I felt that same disconnect as when my hand lost contact with the woman who held it at the accident site. 

The trauma team settled me in, and I waited in a small room, completely and utterly alone. From where I was, laying in a hospital bed with my neck immobilized, I could see a clock above my head. I watched the minutes, then the hours tick by, nurses or doctors occasionally coming in to check on me, relay information, or administer medication. My phone had not been retrieved from the accident site and the only telephone number I could remember was my husband's, but no one had been able to get in touch with him. Remarkably, as I lay there watching that clock, I began to feel a web of connectedness. I visualized strings of all colors attached to my body, with someone I knew at the end of each string. Some of those strings were iridescent gold and reached into the heavens above me, attached to someone I loved whose earthly life was over. Some strings were dull and tattered, barely connecting me to the person on the other end. Others were seemingly made of the strongest threads, multi-colored woven cords like climbing rope. As I breathed in and out, or tried adjusting my position, these strings moved with me. I imagined that even though those on the other end didn't know what had happened to me, cosmically there was good intention, love and peace flowing into me from them...from you. This web of my connections to my community, my WE, was being perfectly and powerfully maintained by my Higher Power. No strings were tangled, and each one offered the presence of someone who cared about me. It turns out I wasn't alone after all.

To the Spirit of the Universe, be with me this day as I struggle once again to find my connectedness in this world. Guide my heart and hands as I seek to serve, and make me gracious to receive the help that others offer me. Give me courage to find a voice for what I want and need, and be there in the moments that I become selfish, to help me find the fear that lies underneath these desires. Be with us all, as together we move through each breath, moment, minute, hour and day.