Surgery 4/5

 

Surgery 1 (June 2011) – removal of bone shards from upper jaw and nasal cavity

Surgery 2 (August 2011) – bone graft

Surgery 3 (March 2012) – second bone shard removal, second tooth removal, second bone graft

Surgery 4 (December 2012) – implantation of the screws into the upper jaw

Surgery 5 (March? 2013) – placement of new ‘teeth’

 

Seriously can’t I just be done with it all and have my life back again?

 

I spoke with my mom in the car today, trying to explain to her why I’m struggling.

Everyone just expects me to “get over” the horrific event that occurred on the night of June 1, 2011.  They don’t understand why I can’t just laugh it off, why I still refuse to talk about the incident, why I’m still in counseling for PTSD.  Why I never feel safe walking alone.  Why sometimes, burrowed in my covers, I silently ask God why I wasn’t just run over by a train.

But as you can see, this is still a painfully real part of my life.  And honestly, I think I’m healing from it the best that I can.  I hope once all the surgery is over, and I no longer face a constant reminder of the trauma when I look in the mirror, I hope that then I will be able to move on.

 

Thank you all for your support.  Especially those that have been with me for every step of my journey.

 

I’m not giving up.  Just growing stronger.

 

May

Because I feel like all my posts have been uber depressing lately, I thought I’d share something nice.

I was elected Sigma Phi Epsilon Sweetheart at formal.

Formal was, first off, a super nice weekend hosted at a cabin in Breckenridge.  Friday was a “wild and crazy” party, Saturday was a lot of group bonding and exploring – followed by a formal dinner, hot tubbing, and more partying – and Sunday was just a great one-on-one day with Adam.

 

I always make an effort to bake treats for Adam’s fraternity.  I also participate in all the events I can, and help with recruitment.  Apparently, it hasn’t gone unnoticed.  Sig Ep can only honor one girl a year, and I felt so special that all my friends picked me.

 

At the formal dinner, they called me forward.  Adam read a speech and pinned me.  Then, all his brothers dropped to their knees and sang to me (super embarrassing!).  I then got a rose from each of them.

 

It’s nice that I can wear the “letters” around campus and at their events.  I can also go to every event, despite the fact I don’t belong to their sister sorority (this was a huge issue previously, since Adam is required to attend events).  I also now get free, unlimited meals from their Chef (who loved me anyway).

^ downtown with good friend, Josh

 

Really, it just felt amazing to be recognized by my friends.  To feel special for a brief moment.

 

I know it’s silly, but it made me happy, and I wanted to share it.

 

May

 

 

Of all the years of college years
There’s one that I’ve loved long
For me she wears a golden heart
For her I sing this song

My Sigma Phi Epsilon sweetheart
Wonderful SigEp girl
True as the heart that you’re wearing
You set my heart in a whirl

 

^ Adam on the left

Honestly, does no one have compassion anymore?

 

I was at Goodwill the other day looking for a coffee mug – I had seen some big, soup-sized ones there before with the old Cambell’s designs on them.  Adam came with me to look for a winter jacket.  We were in the men’s section, where I was trying to talk him out of a monstrous faux-fur lined coat, when I heard a loud thud and the breaking of glass.  I looked around, and in the back near the bookshelves was a very decrepit looking man.  I had noticed him before – he was confined to a wheelchair, and nudging a walker in front of him as a makeshift-cart.  It seemed he had nudged too hard, for all that was precariously balanced on the walker was now on the floor. 

The other people in the store were staring too.  Finally, a woman started laughing and turned away.  Others followed suit.  I was stunned for a few moments before I realized no one was going to help him.

I rushed to him, bent down and recovered his treasures – a few VHS’s, a wire dish-rack, some silverware, and a shattered glass bottle with “Hawaii” foiled on the front that had held an intricate glass pineapple.  After carefully arranging everything back on his walker, I offered to take the broken bottle up-front and pay for it.  He was embarrassed, quickly thanking me for the help and insisting he wanted to buy it anyway.  He nodded to me again in thanks, then scuttled away from me in a pathetic flurry of short wheel-turns and quick nudges.

I walked back towards Adam, who hugged me, took the mug from my hand, and took it to the cashier to pay for it.

 

I was still stunned at we returned to the car, which was now frosted over.

“No one was going to help him, were they?” I asked quietly.

“You did,” he answered.

“I wish there was more I could do.”

“I know.”

There was silence.

 

 

May