Time flies when you are having fun, huh? 
I certainly wish that was the case for this past year but it certainly is hard to believe that on this day a year ago, the event that would change our lives forever happened. At this time last year, Lang was fighting for his life after falling off a 30 foot cliff and landing on his face. Flown to the hospital via helicopter after being revived at the scene, his survival looked very dark. I remember the phone call that his sister made to the doctor before Lang was wheeled into emergency brain surgery. “If you want to see your brother alive, you must come now.” That is what the doctor said in a very matter of fact way. I remember thinking, “I don’t like her. She is cold.” But now I know that in order to do that job, you must be able to stay disconnected from the emotional tornado that surrounds you each day. I admire her now. Dr. Franklin. That is her name. I couldn’t remember it until just now. Petite, blond, in her late 30’s…
That night I waited in the waiting room with people that loved Lang but I had just met. People that were loving me because Lang loved me. “What can we do?” “What do you need?” I remember I had a massive headache. (Probably not as bad as Lang did…I can laugh about this now.) “I need some Aleve.” Moments later, I had a bottle of Aleve in my hand. “Food? Water?” “No. I am cold.” I couldn’t stop shaking. Without regard to her own comfort, a jacket was given to me. Literally, giving me the clothes off her back. Holding my hand. Hugs and handing me tissue, this is what these almost strangers did for me. But they did more then they know…they gave me comfort that I wasn’t alone. They did not let me be alone in a foreign city without a familiar face insight. I am eternally grateful for their kindness and company.
Waiting for Lang to get out of that surgery…the one that even the doctors didn’t think he would survive, tortured my soul and spirit. Sullen faces surrounded me in the Trauma ICU waiting room and then a man stood in front of me. His hair slicked back, dressed in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt, he introduced himself to me as the neurosurgeon. Really? Dr. Smith. The man who saved my husbands life. He was early. The surgery must of went well…or…maybe not. He calmed my heart with words that Lang was going to survive through the night. He explained that Lang was extremely lucky to be alive and that he was in really, really bad shape. They would be watching the swelling of his brain closely and the pressure in his head was being monitored by an ICP machine (Inter Cranial Pressure). He shook my hand and told me to keep praying and to be strong. He had a very strong handshake.
My cell phone rang alot that night. I can’t remember who I talked to or even answering the phone but I know I did. I know I spoke with Lang’s sister when they called to tell me they were on their way to the airport to get to Lang as fast they could from 4 states away. I still had a few hours until they would get there and then the social worker came…”You can see Lang now.” I hesitated because I didn’t now what I was going to see behind those locked double doors that were heavily guarded by men in tan uniforms and indifferent faces. A button was pushed and the doors snapped open with force and purpose. The amount of intent and focus I had walking through the cold, sterile hallway must have been of great magnitude because I don’t remember seeing anyone else back there. I know there were patients in each room and medical staff as well but all I could see was the number above each room. Fourteen. I was looking for room fourteen. The last room down the hall.
I can’t believe the amazing things that Lang and I have been able to accomplish this year. After a night like that, you wouldn’t believe it either. A night of such fear and uncertainty has bred such love and light in both of our hearts. We love each other more today then we did yesterday. We love people more than we did the day before that. We both see the world differently and long for others to see it’s infinite possibilities as well. We seek knowledge and truth. We appreciate the quiet, unspoken moments. We see the tremendous amount of good that this world has and how the people in it are demonstrating that each day. Regular people, of whatever religion, whatever background, whatever circumstance, with or without trauma or drama in their lives…just doing good.
I hope that in the course of our journey that we are able to bring joy, hope or desire into the hearts of those around us. Not just because of Lang’s accident…I refuse to let that define us. We are more than that. We both were on this road before the accident, this has just helped us build a stronger foundation along the way. This past year was a year of survival and recovery. This next year will be one of reclaiming and rejoicing.
For every person that either gave me (and family) a place to lay our head, food to eat, a shoulder to cry on, a distraction (bowling, movies, hockey game) to reflect on, an encouraging word, gifts, cards or money, paying our bills, packing up our houses, decoding military phrases and ways of doing things, a hand to hold, a ride, a tissue to dry my eye, a laugh, loyalty to the blog, and prayer…Lang and I will never forget your generosity. You are good people and we have never felt so loved. This anniversary is just as much for you as it is for us.
Thank you will never be enough…regardless…Thank you!
Happy Anniversary to my sweet Lang who was saved this day last year and through his recovery has saved many others along the way! I love you and will never forget what we have done this year.
Carla
