This Was My Today

As I opened my eyes I realised I was laying on my side. I saw grass, bush, green shrubs and craning my neck, the tall tree. Confused I looked down at my legs, seeing something white coming through my denim overalls. I was laying in the grass in a pool of blood. My legs were swollen to double their normal size, filling the size of my baggy pants. I told myself to not look down there again or I'd make myself feel sick.
Barely conscious I tried to help the person who was bandaging my leg. A thick, warm, fuzzy feeling enveloped my thighs as I bled into the grass. A numbness spread down my legs.

My eyes were closed to block out the sights I didn’t understand, magnifying the sounds of my fellow grade nine classmates who had gathered around me, crying hysterically. Keeping my head resting on my left arm, I lay there, pain pulsating through my body at every tiny touch.

I revisited in my mind the sights I’d seen. My body had flown upwards as planned, but instead of being caught by the bungee cord I’d seen it laying on the ground in front of me while I was still in the air.

 

Falling.

 

Falling.

 

Pain.

 

The most intense pain you’ve ever felt.

 

Apart from the noise of crying and the instructors on their radios making the appropriate emergency calls, no one knew what to say. Time was crawling. Every second that passed the pain intensified and the pool of blood spread. I opened my eyes periodically and saw the red, tear stained faces of my friends, clinging onto my left hand, outstretched on the ground at their knees. I told them I would be ok.

 

Breaking the silence, a friend boldly spoke out, “We need to pray!” Voices rose immediately, intermingled petitions to God, mine among them. God take away the pain. Thank you that I am alive. Please take away the pain.

 

The place of escape I’d built in my mind was disturbed by the ambulance who arrived 20 minutes after my body had hit the ground and smashed. They immediately set to work putting in an IV and giving fluids and what I most desired, pain relief. Never enough, the paramedic continued to ask what my pain was out of ten. Always a ten or nine and a half out of ten, the pain was hardly dulled, instead it filled my mind, pushing out all thoughts of confusion or darkness, immersed in pain.

 

Barely able to listen to the words being spoken around me the paramedic was asking me all sorts of questions. The effort to open my mouth, form the words with my thick, dry tongue and project them from my throat was almost too much to ask. Through the fog of my pain, I answered her questions and did as she required me to do, meanwhile thinking that my sister standing by my side holding my IV bag could have answered them much quicker than myself.

 

“Is your back sore Deb?” one of the ambulance officers asked. I slowly thought about it. I had moved my head and neck around, I could wiggle my toes, or could I? Who knew where all that pain was coming from? And so the ambulance team decided to roll me from my original position on the dirt and grass onto a spinal board.

“On my call. Ready, brace, move!” And all at once every broken bone moved and shifted and grated against each other. My muscles revolted against me as they began to spasm, shooting the most intense pain throughout my entire being. Over and over again, despite my deep breathing and telling myself to relax, the spasms continued. Torturous spasms.

 

Pain.

 

Pain.

 

Pain.

Thinking I may have spinal injuries, the ambulance personnel decided to send me to a hospital in a nearby city. At that exact period of time there was an RACQ CareFlight Helicopter about to fly overhead.

While I lay on the spinal board, tortured by muscle spasms, I was covered in blankets to keep the debris off and the helicopter landed.  The spinal board which I was tightly strapped onto, neck brace holding my head stiffly in place, was picked up and carried onto the helicopter. My sister Sarah, hopped into the cramped space holding me and the machines and equipment that would hopefully keep me alive. Tears rolling down her cheeks she managed to choke, “Bye Deb, I love you.”

 

They didn’t expect me to survive that night. There were too many risks and complications which my body faced for the doctors to have high hopes of a good recovery.

 

The people continued to pray.

 

All night long, from before I went into surgery at 10pm, until after they had closed me up at 7am, too tired to continue, I was lifted up in prayer.

Exactly 14 years ago this was my today.

Sometimes I write about miracles. The creation of each of our lives is one, but some, like me have had more. That day I fell 15 metres (45 feet) from a sling shot bungee. It was an accident. It was one of those things that never happens to you, only the unfortunate person on the news. I survived the unsurvivable. Bilateral complete fractured femurs, (Right femur compound- I could see one half of the bone sticking out through my jeans), a terribly fractured left humerous (almost severing the nerve to my whole arm, the one I write with) and about 13 dislocated and fractured bones in my left foot. In short, my whole body was quite a mess for a time.

I could write pages and pages more of what procedures I had, how long it took to recover physically and emotionally, how it impacted my friends who were watching and heard my bones snapping, how my family coped and on and on, but the end result is this: Jesus saved my life that day and walked with me closely through my recovery. Prayers were answered, big prayers. (If you want to know specific answers just ask!)

And the result? Not only did my faith develop in incredible ways but through my time in hospital as a patient I gained a deep appreciation for my nurses and decided I wanted to be one. I wanted to model the kindness and compassion they had shown me in my weakest, most vulnerable moments.

During my recovery, particularly in the first days when I was barely conscious, people were praying for me. The word was spread not only around the whole of Australia thanks to the National News, but to the United States, the Philippines, Canada, New Zealand and perhaps countries I didn’t even know about. I have actually met countless people who once they have heard my story, they’ve turned to me and said, “Oh my gosh, that was you!? I prayed for you!” And to those who I’ve never met and perhaps never will, Thank you! Your prayers truly made a difference. I don’t know who I would be without them.

May 2000- A school in Brisbane who had never met me sent this beautiful bunch of flowers while I recovered.