It was a terrible car accident. The injuries were severe and I was transported to Enloe Medical Center.
Somewhere in that haze of time I remember the doctors explaining the surgery needed to save my life. I would die within hours without surgery. I would probably die with the surgery.
The doctors say I died twice during the surgery and was in a coma afterwards. They asked my parents for permission to disconnect me from life support. While they were deciding what to do, I woke up. One doctor simply said he could not explain it, I should be dead. I survived, but was paralyzed and lost most of my memory.
The first six months or so at home were an attempt to return to normal. I tried to keep a positive attitude and keep it light around family and friends. Secretly, all I could focus on was the loss. All I could see was a wheelchair. I would never walk or run again. Never hike back into my favorite fishing holes. l stared at pictures of me fishing in the canyon, marching in the school band, doing cool things in the Army only months earlier.
As hard as I tried not to, more of my thoughts were consumed with the things I would never do again. Every day I would think of something else. Even worse, was thinking about things that you had not yet tried that now you can never do. The list grew longer every day. My spirit was spiraling down. I didn’t want to be a burden to my friends and family. I began to think perhaps they would be better off if I was gone. The list both haunted and taunted me.
I was getting close to making a decision. One day as I thought about the list and the decision, I decided to make a second list of what I still could do. I needed to prove to myself that when I compared the two lists the decision would be justified. Maybe I wouldn’t burn in hell. I started with obvious things on the list of things I still could do, accomplish, or experience. I can still see. I can still hear. I can still drive (with hand controls). Unfortunately, I can still get speeding tickets too. I sure wish that one was on the other list.
Over the next few days and weeks, I would think of something else I could still do. I might have to make some modifications or do something a little differently, but I still could do it if I wanted to. A few years later I became a certified SCUBA diver and even went sky diving in Paradise. My mom didn’t like the last one. I told her it was not like I was going to break a leg or anything. She sarcastically replied, “well you can still break your fool neck.”
One day I had an epiphany. The list of things I could still do had grown so long that I realized I would never be able to accomplish all of them in my lifetime. Almost immediately I had a second epiphany. Everyone has two lists. Everyone has a list of things they will never be able to do, participate in, or accomplish.
Over the years, occasionally someone will say they don’t think they could handle it if something like that happened to them. I often reply, you don’t really know what you can really do until you really have to. Don’t sell yourself short.
Is the glass half empty, or half full? You are correct either way. You can either dwell on the list of all the things you can never do in life and be a miserable person; or you can work on the list of things you still can do and love life.
Ken Rensink is a high school teacher. He enjoys travel and spending time with family and friends.
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