My drive home from church on a sunny Mother’s Day afternoon changed my life forever. Almost two years have passed since the collision with a high-speed driver caused severe, potentially life- threatening injuries. After three weeks in the hospital I was released—just a day before my son’s high school graduation. While I was thrilled to move home again, moving on was not that simple. Months of rehabilitation, more surgeries, and a painful adjustment to the reality of a body and mind that functioned differently lay ahead. I was grateful that I had survived, but wondered:
I love this. I had a freak stroke that took my left peripheral vision- so no driving. I too search occasionally for words snd facisl recognition has decreased. To everyone. I look “normal”. The journey painful and yet unexpected joy and to experience the depth of people’s compassion.
I am glad my words resonated with you. Having "invisible" wounds which are in process of healing or have reached their limit can be frustrating. Your last sentence points to the hope and transformation that lingers in the midst.
I love this. I had a freak stroke that took my left peripheral vision- so no driving. I too search occasionally for words snd facisl recognition has decreased. To everyone. I look “normal”. The journey painful and yet unexpected joy and to experience the depth of people’s compassion.
I am glad my words resonated with you. Having "invisible" wounds which are in process of healing or have reached their limit can be frustrating. Your last sentence points to the hope and transformation that lingers in the midst.