By: Emily Stepnowsky
Posted In: Opinion
Photo credit: Emily Stepnowsky
It all started with a bang. As I went to sit in a chair that was propped against a cement wall in my common room, everything suddenly went black and I could feel my body sliding to the ground. All I could hear was my friends’ voices escalating in terror as I lay immobilized on the ground, my eyes welded shut by the unexpected blow, the feeling in my arms slowly draining away. I can recall a constant snapping sound in my ear as people were trying to keep me conscious. Then I felt an uncomfortably restrictive feeling as I was being strapped onto a gurney.
When I arrived at the hospital, I had to make the dreaded 3 a.m. phone call to my parents letting them know what had happened. As my friend stood there holding the phone to my ear, I explained to my mother that I could no longer move my upper body. No sooner did the words leave my mouth when all I could hear on the other end was the sound of her vomiting because the reality of my words hit her like a brick wall. Who would think that the simple and seemingly benign act of sitting down could change your life forever? Although I doubt that many philosophers have ever pondered that question, some days it is all I can think about. Last November, while attempting to sit down in a chair to watch a movie in my dormitory, I accidentally smashed the base of my neck into a cement wall. That triggered the most surreal experience of my life: lying in a hospital bed and having doctors and nurses tell me that it appeared that I was paralyzed and there was a possibility that they would have to perform spinal surgery. How are you supposed to react to news like that when you are nineteen and are essentially told that your life might not ever be the same again? Apparently, however, all of those times that I had held the door for senior citizens paid off and God decided to have pity on me. After five days of paralysis, I woke up and was able to move the index finger on my right hand again. That alone blew out of the water the Christmas when I got an Easy Bake Oven. I was finally able to go home with the promise that I would be going to occupational and physical therapy for months in order to re-learn how to use my hands and arms. The doctors said that a few of the by-products of the paralysis would most likely never go away and thus far they have been correct. The hand tremors, constant headaches, and numbness I left the hospital with are a few of the constants that I know I can count on in life. But when I think of the alternative, I will gladly take them. On one of my return visits to the hospital for a check-up the doctor told me that if the nurses had not started the steroid drip that they used to slow the swelling in my spine when they did, I would have become permanently paralyzed. He said that it was literally a matter of minutes until it would have been too late. Since learning that, I have spent a lot of time thinking of how things could be, how thankful I am that they are not, and what destiny I am meant to fulfill since I was given this gift. At times it can be too much for me to wrap my mind around, so for now I am just living moment to moment as best I can, remembering to not sweat the small stuff, and trying to make my impact on the world.
