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“The only person I’m trying to be better than is the person I was yesterday.”

Yesterday I stopped at Biggby for a coffee treat after my husband’s follow up doctor’s appointment.
This was my cup cozy message.

My husband had a serious car accident on Tuesday, requiring an ambulance ride to the hospital in a neck brace.

Praise God he is ok with no internal injuries, no broken bones, no head injury. He does have back and neck pain from whiplash. And, he has some muscle pain in his braking pedal leg.

I’m well aware and don’t need to be reminded of how thankful I need to be that this wasn’t worse.

I cleaned out our oh so likely totaled van Tuesday afternoon.

Our van debris picked up off the street by….someone. I found this when I went to gather our personal belongs and our new mailbox post out of the van later Tuesday.

Believe me.

I need no reminders.

This is the least alarming post accident photo. It says enough.

I don’t know how they got my husband safely out of the van. The driver’s side door barely opens. The windshield is bowed and is not actually in the window frame. The van body shape is no longer a rectangle shape, more like a parallelogram,trapezoid or rhombus. Not that I got the tape measure out and analyzed angles or anything. I mean, it’s not like I use geometry in my every day life, right? <insert sarcastic but healing humor here>

For the 48+ hours after the accident we’ve been in a literal brain fog, for two different reasons. His fog because of the literal accident, mine because of his accident and the realization of what worse could have looked like.

It was enough that I got called to the scene of the accident and where the fog began to crowd my peripheral vision. It’s where I began to pretend I was strong. A fireman asked me if I was ok when I climbed out of the ambulance where hubby was waiting for me with the police and EMT’s. I said “I will be. I have to be. Yes. I’m ok.” and tried to convince myself that I’d be strong.

In the ER my mother in law was talking about how strong I was, how much peace was in my countenance. Inside I was thinking “What is she talking about? I can barely think.” It was an out of body experience. A tunnel visioned fog with no peripheral vision. I could only tunnel in on one minute at a time.

Inside my head and hurting heart was turmoil, not peace.

On Tuesday we took “things” minute by minute as we ticked through the day…neck brace, ambulance ride, traffic citation, calling family, employment, and our pastor, CT scans and X-rays, and the results of those. Getting pain meds filled, coming home to comfort children, more phone calls to family, follow up doctors’ appointments made, cleaning out the van, and answering messages and offers of help.

Fog.

Tick-tock…minute by minute.

Once home, my focus was only on making sure my husband was ok, and making sure my children were ok.

None of us were ok. Yet we were.

We were home together, we were on the phone with our oldest in the Boston area.

There was some laughter. We did crack jokes.

We were <mostly> ok.

Wednesday we took it hour by hour as emotions began to flood and we left room for processing events and comforting each other, planning, insurance calls, finishing our taxes believe it or not, answering more messages, the list of things to do got long but things were being checked off in spite of the continued, but slowly dissipating fog. Hour by hour…

Thursday the day formed into compartmentalized sections. I could think a little more ahead and make plans. I even could begin to think about Friday and Saturday.

“Do I have a show Saturday? I wasn’t sure. I should find out. I should begin to pull stuff together if I do.”

The Thursday morning doctor’s appointment brought some reassuring and good news results! Yay! I brought hubby to work to teach his class (poor guy!), stopped for coffee, did some mental health processing, and finally had a good cry alone in the Biggby parking lot. We had to reschedule pick up of rental car, and I had to be home to clean up our bedroom for a mattress delivery that was actually scheduled two weeks ago! (GOD!), take care of more things, and go to our second follow up appointment. I don’t mess around with getting those health and healing affairs in order, even in fog and fatigue.

I intended to come home, make said new bed and fall into it after that second appointment.

But our chickens had gotten naughty and created a new plan. And that was God too. It was therapy to go enjoy the fresh air and their antics, and I’m thankful for that. I also enjoyed an unplanned visit from a sweet friend who dropped off dinner, which I also didn’t know I really needed (more God!), and I enjoyed a two mile walk listening to peeper frogs and singing birds.

By Thursday night the fog was lifting. I could feel strength returning in the ending day, in spite of fatigue. And I know the fog lifting is from the prayers of others.

Friday morning I awoke on my new mattress, having slept like a rock, and finally not quite so tired. I’d dreamed about chicken antics, some of them featherless and looking rough.

Kind of like how I had been since Tuesday.

After my good cry alone in a Biggby parking lot.

Every day, I’m a bit better person than the day before.

Every day we’re a bit stronger as a family.

Every day, my sweet husband has healed a little more.

We may look rough. We may feel rough. But every day is a bit better than the day before.

And it had only been a little more than 72 hours.

We know.

This could have been so much more.

Praising God for protection, healing, and for where we are.

Praising Him for His strength in each new day.

Praising Him that I only need to be better than I was yesterday.

Blessings,

Deb

2 Corinthians 12:9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.