It was exactly what I needed.

As time passed, and my junior year of high school approached, I started to find myself hanging around a different group of “friends”. I put friends in quotes, because most of the people in this group of friends turned out not to be much of a friend, at all. I couldn’t trust most of them and I knew that, deep down, but I was desperate and I had fun with them when I was with them, so I held onto what I had.

Holding onto that group of friends wasn’t all bad. They didn’t seem to give a damn about my chair. They did what they had to do, so that I could be involved in whatever they were doing and my first real relationship developed with one of the few people in that group of friends that I felt like I could trust. Cody was his name.

As that relationship was just beginning to developing, I was kind of in disbelief, because the thought of “who’s going to want to date a girl in a wheelchair” always lingered in my mind. Lack of self-worth and confidence was where those kind of thoughts rooted from. My relationship with Cody continued to grow and he really did become my best friend. We did as much as possible together, we could talk to each other about anything without judgement, and we supported each other. We had fun together and enjoyed our time together. He even traveled to California with me, which is where I did therapy, for a while. We dated for about 3 – 3 1/2 years, I believe. At the end, things started getting messy. I don’t know why. Sometimes I wonder if we became too comfortable with each other and got bored or maybe he simply didn’t care about me like he used to. I still cared about him like I had over the years that we dated. Something else I’ll probably never know. We broke up the fall after I graduated, so 2011. Cody had gotten into some trouble. Out of respect for Cody, I’m going to leave the details out; they’re not important and it was nothing too serious, but it scared me, at the time, and I bailed. I ended our relationship right then and there. Without even thinking and without hesitation. Do I regret making such an impulse decision about something that involved someone I cared for SO much? Yes. They say to live life with no regrets and I can honestly say that I have very few, but my decision, that night, is one of them. I can’t help but wonder what could’ve been, sometimes. Nonetheless, my relationship with Cody is one that I feel so blessed to have experienced. I knew him in a way that many don’t and likely never will. He was my safe place, he helped me not feel lonely, he was one of my biggest cheerleaders, he made me feel “normal”, he gave me a boost of confidence, and he pushed me to be and do the best I could, everyday. He was exactly what I needed.

As you can imagine, after the reality set in that we actually broke up, I was beside myself and life went back to lonely.

I thought I was returning to my normal.

Pulling into my hometown, to a big wooden sign welcoming me home after spending 81 days between two different hospitals, I was excited. Excited to be back in the comfort of my own home, excited to be back with friends and family, to go back to school … excited to get back to what I’d known as my normal. At this point, I knew things would be different than they were before the accident, but I definitely didn’t realize to what extent they would be different, which is why things being different, yet still ‘normal’ seemed realistic, at the time. It didn’t take long before I knew the exact opposite to be true. Everything was different. And, when I say everything, I mean it with every part of my being. I can’t think of a single thing that remained the same. Everything from getting into a vehicle to getting dressed to my friendships – different.

After being home from the hospital, no more than a short couple weeks, my family and I were starting to get the hang of our new life. My mom encouraged me to go back to school, half days, and I was not about to argue with that. I felt ready. We had decided that I’d go to school in the afternoons, until I was ready to go back full time. Though I’d spent 81 days in a hospital recovering, I’d get tired, quickly, which is why we decided half days of school was enough, as I went back and got into the routine of things.

Returning back to school. Woah.

My first day back to school, after returning home from the hospital, remains pretty clear to me. Especially going into my first class, my first day back. I was a freshman in high school, and it was the hour that I had math. I remember my mom pushing me down the hall to where I was supposed to be and the nerves really started to creep in. By the time we reached the classroom I was so scared, so nervous. As I think back and write this, I can still feel what it felt like … those emotions tying up inside me and my stomach feeling like it’s in my throat. The Nicole that my classmates had known before July 6, 2007 was not the same Nicole that was about to roll through that doorway. As we entered the classroom, everyone’s head turned toward the door to see who it was and what I felt, in that moment, is something I had never felt before. It was awful. As everyone turned to see who was coming through the door, I felt myself cripple up and shrink inside and I felt a shift within me. Not a positive shift, either. Not only was I a different Nicole on the outside, but within a matter of a few seconds, I became a different Nicole on the inside, but only I knew that, then. As several pairs of eyes looked over at me, coming into the room, I was so embarrassed. I’m not sure what I was so embarrassed of, because I believe the accident and my situation was inevitable. I guess the embarrassment came through wondering what people would think of me, especially my peers, and through my physical limitations that my spinal cord injury had caused. Basically, at that point, the only things I could do for myself was think and speak. Anyway, my mom parked my chair next to a friend’s desk that was sitting in back and left the room. I don’t remember much conversation being exchanged by the friend I was sitting by and myself. One, because we were in class, obviously, but two, what do you say in moments like that? We were 14, awkward, and not well versed in difficult, life-changing situations. I continued that day being pushed around by my friends, at the time, being welcomed back, and getting used to how I was going to function at school throughout the rest of my high school career. I was relieved when the final bell rang and we could go home. I had had enough for one day.

Inconvenience? Fear? I’ll never know, but I was lonely.

The next couple years of high school, up until about the summer before going back to school as a junior, are pretty blurry, with the exception of the fundraisers and benefits that were held for me, to help out with costs of my therapy. You remember those kinds of things, even in the most lousy times of your life. As the time passed between freshman, sophomore, and junior years, my friends, that I’d known for years, started to fade. I think, at first, it was exciting to have me back, but once they realized that I wasn’t able to just get up and go, anymore, I became an inconvenience. That’s what it felt like, at least. Or, maybe they faded out of fear. Fear of not knowing how to handle the new me, how to interact with me. I don’t know. I’ll probably never know. They weren’t gone completely. They still talked to me and things like that, but they also weren’t there like they were before the accident and we didn’t hang out like we did before the accident. Now, I’m not passing blame to anyone and it’s nobody’s fault how things fell apart between my friends and I. That’ just how it happened and quite frankly, it sucked. Like I said before, everything changed. So, to say those couple years were lonely, not only because my friends started coming around less, but also because I wasn’t happy in my own company, is an understatement, which is why I think those couple years are a blur. I was simply just going through the motions of life, without actually living, because I was feeling lonely mixed with several other negative emotions. I don’t think that anyone fully knew I was feeling so yucky inside, though. I think I put on a pretty good face. I felt like I had to. After being told “you’re so strong”, “you’re such an inspiration”, etc., you begin to feel like that’s what you have to be, so I put on my happy face and kept going.

Let’s start from the beginning.

As a young teenager, I was an avid volleyball player, had a solid group of friends that I enjoyed spending time with, and had big dreams for a bright and successful future; I’d graduate high school, go to college, have a great 9-5 job, get married, have a family … you know, the way you think everything is going to go, as a young teenager. I know what you’re thinking, “only in a perfect world does everything go that smoothly”, right?

Right. I found that out in the blink of an eye.

When my dad came in the house to ask if I wanted to ride over to a family friend’s house with him on the motorcycle, I jumped at the opportunity, as I was bored and didn’t have any plans for the day, anyway. We made it to our friends’ house, safe and sound, but it ended up that they weren’t home, so we headed home, taking a different way than we came, which is what changed everything.

I didn’t expect to be laying in a ditch at 10:30 AM on a Friday morning. Friday, July 6th, 2007 to be exact. The way my dad and I were taking home had a few curves in the road and when going around one of those curves, we hit loose gravel. My dad could feel the bike slipping on the loose gravel beneath us and instead of trying to keep driving to try to gain control, he decided driving into the ditch would be our best bet. After coming into consciousness, I was numb. Literally numb and unable to move anything except for my head. I heard my dad calling my name and when I looked over to see where he was, he was quite a ways away from me and all I could see was that he was struggling to get up and stand and his face covered in blood. It was seriously like something you’d see in a horror movie. Scary and, quite honestly, disgusting. I remember hearing car after car drive by us and thinking, “Don’t they see us or are people really that rude?”. Finally, a man was so kind enough to take time out of his busy day to stop and help us and call 911. To that man, thank you!

It seemed like it took a lifetime for the first responders to get to the accident scene, but when you’re laying in a ditch in fear, unable to move, and wondering what the hell is happening what else is to be expected? You just want help and some sort of comfort. When the first responders arrived, I remember the first words out of my mouth being, “Are my legs cut off?”. He replied with a comforting, but firm no. That was a relief. After safely getting loaded into the ambulance, the EMT’s hooked me up to a cord, or two and began tearing my clothes off. Every. Piece. Of. Clothing. I know now that removing my clothes was what they needed to do to ensure the very best care for me, but in that moment I felt like my dignity had been ripped from me. Laying in the ambulance on the stretcher, naked and having a really hard time breathing, while hearing the EMT’s words to me and each other blur together is hard to describe and probably has to be experienced to be fully understood, but it was silence and chaos at the same time.

The ambulance took me to St. Joseph’s Hospital in Marshfield, WI. Just a short distance from my hometown, Auburndale.  I don’t remember much after we got to the hospital. The only thing I really remember is waking up, laying on my back with a bright light in my eyes. I believe my mom was there, in the room with me, and the rest of my family, including my younger sister, Brooke, and my grandparents were in the ER waiting room.

It was determined that my dad had some broken bones; tibia and fibia, collarbone, and a cheekbone, while I had sustained a C5/C6 spinal cord injury. I had no idea what a spinal cord injury meant at this point.

By 5:50 PM that day, I had been flown to Madison to and was in surgery. My dad was able to stay in Marshfield and had to have surgery on his broken leg bones.

My stay in Madison was spent in the PICU and is pretty much a blur to me, other than remembering a few out of many visitors, having to communicate with people by using a sheet of letters due to collapsed lungs because of pneumonia. They pointed at the letters, while I signaled if it was the right letter or not to spell out words and phrases, so I could get what I needed. I was put on a ventilator and told I may never breathe again on my own because of my lungs collapsing. I also remember a few nurses. My favorites ones, of course. After spending 41 days in their care, it’s as if you create your own little ‘hospital family’, if you will. I cried when it was time to leave Madison knowing I’d for sure miss my nurses there.

The next 40 days were spent in rehab at Froedert Hospital in Milwaukee. While this is mostly a blur, too, this is where I feel like it really hit me what had happened and what my life would be like from this point on, as not only me, but my mom, as well, were being taught how to adapt with the limited body function that I had and how I would live from a wheelchair through occupational and physical therapy.  I’ve had to relearn how to do everything. This was a rough 40 days for me. While there were good days, there were also bad days and I was struggling inside. I felt many emotions; sadness, anger, frustration, “why me” … you get the picture. I tended to take that shit out on my PT’s and my OT. Mostly my OT (I’m so sorry, Toni! LOL) because she pushed me and I just wanted to give up. She knew I had what it took to learn this new way of life. Luckily, she was well seasoned in working with difficult patients and because of that she never threw in the towel like I would’ve easily done, then. My favorite part of this 40 day stay was at the end of the days, as I ate cookie dough ice cream while my mom read all of the new posts to me on the Care Pages page she had set up, so friends and family could keep up on my progress. The overflow of love and support certainly helped us get through.

After 81 days of allowing my body to stabilize and learning a new way to live life, I was finally discharged and able to go home, breathing on my own.

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