Thoughts on an Accident, one year later

Its been exactly one year since I was totaled by a semi and left severely injured for life, so I'd like to just share some thoughts as they come into my head. I've been collecting these for the last year, and waited for today to post them.

1. I've replaced my Focus with another car, but I'll never replace my Focus in my heart. It may have been a tiny little car with crappy seats and tiny wheels, but it was mine. In a few year span with few friends, it was with me for so many happy memories. It was like a faithful dog, always by my side. I still miss it terribly.

1.5. I am warmed by the thought that the ONLY reason I was able to walk (hobble) away from that accident was because the car took so much damage. I mean, simple physics. F=MA. Something that big, going that fast is going to either kill me or the car. She sacrificed herself for me.

2. I've gotten used to having to walk with a cane. I instinctively go for the elevators now, and using the handicap ramps instead of the stairs took some time. I've also gotten used to the stares from people. I used to wonder what people thought when they look at me. Do they think, "my, that's terrible, how does someone so young end up on a cane", or do they simply think its decorative? Some version of a pimp cane? I hypothesize most don't care or notice. I don't think I'll ever get used to people pointing.

3. The lifetime vicodin prescription is a definite double edged sword. Yes, having suburbanite heroin around on demand is nice, but the fear of addiction haunts me constantly. Moreover, the vicodin comes at a legitimate price, namely, being in constant and real life pain.

4. Its hard to imagine what being handicapped is like until you're here. To look at a fire escape like its a Himalayan peak. To think of all those careers you might have one day wanted to do and know they are now infinitely far out of reach. I'm always looking around for something to lean on, or someplace to sit, because I never know when my back will simply give out without warning.

5. I really don't know how I would have been able to make it without my amazing wife. She's been staggeringly understanding and supportive. Believe me, having to have your wife carry you to your car at SeaWorld because your spine has collapsed tests your marriage. She's never even blinked. I love her so much.

6. Someone asked me an interesting question. If I had a time machine, would I go back? Take a different way home that day? Leave five minutes earlier? Five minutes later? To be honest, I don't know. I've begun the process of redefining my identity around this idea of being a handicap so its hard to extricate myself from it. Again, its impossible to understand until you're here. Moreover, I believe firmly that everything happens according to a divine will, so to question it is just to invite more questions than answers.

7. I think the worst part is that in the back window of my car was my signed, personalized copy of the presidents book, "Audacity of Hope". I've looked for it. It vanished. Probably still buried in the grill of that fucking semi.