Weekend

I have a hard time thinking about something interesting to blog about, but truth is, my life’s pretty boring.

My headache has been brutal the last couple of days. There were a few days last week where I had to start of the morning with at least 800 mg of Ibuprofen. It didn’t really give me the desired relief, so I ended up just toughing it out again for the rest of the week. My husband was out of town for the weekend, so it was just me and the kids. We didn’t go anywhere, besides the kids’ Track&Field competition on Saturday morning. That was the first time for me, since my husband always takes them. He warned me there was going to be a lot of walking back and forth, and he wasn’t kidding! Add the 85 degree weather with a burning sun to that, and it was severely exhausting! I was glad to have experienced it though, but I was DONE for the weekend. After we came home on Saturday afternoon, the kids jumped in our kiddie pool to cool off for a bit and after that we just watched a couple of movies, and ate  junk food. Actually, the kids watched movies, while I dozed off in the couch. My head was hurting so bad, I could barely move. Honestly, I don’t know how I would ever survive as a single mom, if anything was to happen to my husband!

On Sunday my headache was still ridiculous, but I was able to at least clean up our back yard while the kids where playing outside. Back inside we did some 3D artwork, which came out pretty neat. I’ll show you the picture of the best one, which was my son’s hand (which I colored). Stuff like that relaxes me… I love doing intricate things with my hands. I’m a certified watchmaker, for those of you who don’t know me. I really enjoy working on tiny wheels and screws, but unfortunately I can’t do it full time, because my pain just gets to be too much.

Sebastian's hand

Scars

As you can imagine, I’ve gathered some big ass scars over the years.

Luckily my facial scars diminished to the point where they’re no longer visible at all! The rest of my body can be covered up easily, so I look totally “normal”, when you see me, and nobody suspects anything is wrong with me.

My tummy and my legs are the worst. I’ve had 3 left femur, and 5 right knee reconstructive surgeries, so I’ve got those scars added to the scars from the crash. My spleen, and gal bladder were removed, and I have extra scars from skin removal procedures for “bad” moles, scars from feeding tubes and drainages, and my 2 c-sections. My left leg looks bad all over from cuts and scrapes, and my right knee is just plain ugly from the ACL surgeries. I wish I could say I totally don’t care…

I mean, I am not ashamed of them. They give me character… right?! But I hate to admit I will never wear a short skirt. I don’t mind shorts, because they look informal, but I feel my ugly knees just don’t go together with a pretty skirt. I also hate the fact my legs look so uneven. One is a lot thicker than the other one, and my upper left leg is totally misshapen due to the open femur fracture. Will anyone else notice? Probably not, but it bothers me. When I look in the mirror I don’t feel attractive. One thing I’ve got going for me, is the fact I’m very pale white, and my scars are mostly white as well, so unless you’re right next to me, you probably won’t notice them.

In a weird way I am kind of proud of the scars. They tell my story. A story of beating the odds. I’ve always been the type of girl who didn’t want to just fit in and go with the flow, so I guess my skin reflects that 😉

I’m going to share some photo’s of the most visible scars. One time I counted all the marks on my body and I believe it was close to 50, so I’m sure I’ve passed that number by now.

Scars2
This is right after they removed the pin and screw from my left femur.
Scars
Tummy and knees, today.

 

Turning back time

If I could turn back time, and avoid this accident from ever happening, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Who I am today, what I am today, and how I am today, is all thanks to the trauma and tribulations I had to overcome. My life would be so different if I didn’t have to endure the pain. I would’ve made different choices if my body would’ve been able, and the chance I would’ve met my American husband in that Belgian bar at a cold night in November, 2001 is zero to none. I wouldn’t want to change my life the way it is today, so I couldn’t change my past.

When the accident happened I was 2 days shy of 17 years old. I was in the prime time of doing everything the opposite of what my parents wanted. I was always very stubborn and head strong and I clashed with my mom constantly. From the moment I was hospitalized my mom and dad were there every minute visiting hours allowed. They didn’t leave my side. They had to face their worst nightmare when they saw their child clinging on to dear life with cuts, bruises, fractures, breathing tubes, IV’s, and connected to a bunch of beeping machines. They were there for me every minute of the way and I will be forever grateful for that. I went from hating my parents like a typical teenager to loving, and respecting them like no other. I don’t know what I would’ve become if it wasn’t for this realization.

My pain has become so much a part of me, that I’m not sure what I would do without it. I don’t know, or at least remember, life without pain. More than half of my life I’ve known no different. It is sad to think about it, but at the other hand, it doesn’t really matter that much to me. I don’t have a choice, really. I mean, I could choose to dwell only on the pain and feel even more miserable all the time, or I can choose to make the best of it. I chose the latter.

I know most people in this world have their own demons to battle. Everyone hurts, one way or the other. My pain isn’t any worse. Nobody’s winning here when it comes to suffering. We do at the other hand have plenty of people winning their own battles, when choosing life, love, acceptance, joy.

That one significant moment in my life defined me, and I cannot imagine today without it.