Rabble Rouser
06-19-2004, 02:44 AM
I've never liked how it always takes someone else's grave misfortune to make me realize that I have it pretty damn good, and that I really take a lot of things for granted.
Today at work, my coworker got a call from her daughter. Her daughter's best friend, Julia, who was in Colorado visiting her family, was in a horrible car accident two weeks ago, and is not expected to live (they waited until now to tell everyone of the accident because they didn't want the news flying around the high school where Julia is a senior). Julia's boyfriend was driving 90mph and lost control of the car. Julia's two stepsisters were also in the car with her. One of them was thrown from the car and has been in a coma ever since. The other sister sustained some injuries, but is okay now (she was the only one in the car wearing a seatbelt). Julia's boyfriend is in jail.
Julia broke her neck in the impact, and while rescue workers were trying to get her out of the car, the car exploded. She burned 100% of her body. All of her skin has been burned off of her. Even her face. They couldn't even recognize her when they got her to the hospital. Both her feet have had to be amputated. She is most likely blind, and it is very likely that she will be paralyzed from the neck down. And those are just the injuries I know about.
As callous as this sounds, I find myself hoping to hear of her passing. The life she would live should she survive is one I would not wish on anyone.
As I thought of the life she would have should she live, I found myself with a profound appreciation for my own. I'll be the first to admit that I complain a lot. But even my usual complaints hold abilities that I am very grateful for. I may be too exhausted or in too much pain to leave the house, but I can still clean, use the computer, or play with my guinea pigs. I may hear voices that no one else can hear, but I can hear them. I may see things no one else can see, but I can see them. I may feel things crawling all over me, but I can still move my arms and bat them away. I may feel alone, but I can survive on my own. I may be depressed, but I can do things to cheer myself up.
Even with all my physical and mental maladies, I can still live, and not merely exist. Unless some form of divine intervention takes place, Julia will never walk again. She will probably never see again. She may never be able to move anything below her neck again. She will have to undergo years of excruciating rehabilitation and reconstructive surgery, and she will still look horribly disfigured.
In most cases, when someone would IM me on a night like tonight, asking me what I was doing, I would be quick to say, "nothing." But I have done a lot. I held my guinea pigs. I went outside to close my car windows and just looked at my backyard and smelled the clean air. I read some books and watched some tv. I'm contemplating how to spend my weekend, since I'm able to do so much. I'm typing this post.
It really puts things in perspective. I truly am fortunate. I have so much.
And I take it all for granted.
Today at work, my coworker got a call from her daughter. Her daughter's best friend, Julia, who was in Colorado visiting her family, was in a horrible car accident two weeks ago, and is not expected to live (they waited until now to tell everyone of the accident because they didn't want the news flying around the high school where Julia is a senior). Julia's boyfriend was driving 90mph and lost control of the car. Julia's two stepsisters were also in the car with her. One of them was thrown from the car and has been in a coma ever since. The other sister sustained some injuries, but is okay now (she was the only one in the car wearing a seatbelt). Julia's boyfriend is in jail.
Julia broke her neck in the impact, and while rescue workers were trying to get her out of the car, the car exploded. She burned 100% of her body. All of her skin has been burned off of her. Even her face. They couldn't even recognize her when they got her to the hospital. Both her feet have had to be amputated. She is most likely blind, and it is very likely that she will be paralyzed from the neck down. And those are just the injuries I know about.
As callous as this sounds, I find myself hoping to hear of her passing. The life she would live should she survive is one I would not wish on anyone.
As I thought of the life she would have should she live, I found myself with a profound appreciation for my own. I'll be the first to admit that I complain a lot. But even my usual complaints hold abilities that I am very grateful for. I may be too exhausted or in too much pain to leave the house, but I can still clean, use the computer, or play with my guinea pigs. I may hear voices that no one else can hear, but I can hear them. I may see things no one else can see, but I can see them. I may feel things crawling all over me, but I can still move my arms and bat them away. I may feel alone, but I can survive on my own. I may be depressed, but I can do things to cheer myself up.
Even with all my physical and mental maladies, I can still live, and not merely exist. Unless some form of divine intervention takes place, Julia will never walk again. She will probably never see again. She may never be able to move anything below her neck again. She will have to undergo years of excruciating rehabilitation and reconstructive surgery, and she will still look horribly disfigured.
In most cases, when someone would IM me on a night like tonight, asking me what I was doing, I would be quick to say, "nothing." But I have done a lot. I held my guinea pigs. I went outside to close my car windows and just looked at my backyard and smelled the clean air. I read some books and watched some tv. I'm contemplating how to spend my weekend, since I'm able to do so much. I'm typing this post.
It really puts things in perspective. I truly am fortunate. I have so much.
And I take it all for granted.