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 "There is a saying in Tibetan, 'Tragedy should be utilized as a source of strength.' No matter what sort of difficulties, how painful experience is, if we lose our hope, that's our real disaster." -Dalai Lama XIV See that brace? I don?t need it anymore! I found out Friday, as of now, I don't need additional surgery. Nothing is certain, and if I don't get more movement back in my knee it's still a possibility (ah the complications of being hit by a truck). All the exercises and buckets of spinach have paid off, and now I have another 6 weeks to heal before I see the surgeon again. The hope is I'll be walking without support end of October, and another 5-6 months until I can get back to normal activity (jumping off rocks, backpacking, trail running). Thanks for all the support, messages, and shared stories fellow Instagrammers!  “Life damages us, every one. We can’t escape that damage. But now, I am also learning this: We can be mended. We mend each other.” ― Veronica Roth
 “Behind every beautiful thing, there's some kind of pain.” ― Bob Dylan ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Today is the day. It’s been 6 weeks since the accident, and this afternoon I go to the orthopedic surgeon to find out if I need more surgery. 6 weeks of PT and wheelchairs and, finally, crutches. 6 weeks of immobility, of inside, of questions. Thanks for all the support Instagram, all the awesome messages from brilliant people with similar experiences, with adventurous lives and wisdom for this ultimately unfortunate situation I’ve learned a lot from. Onward.  “You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, who had ever been alive.” ―James Baldwin “If someone hits me on my motorcycle,” I told another motorcyclist, “I wanted to be unharmed or killed outright.” Just a week later, I was hit. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I wasn’t angry or upset at the accident— lying on the side of the road in the dirt, when my leg was being set and cleaned without anesthetic, or when I was lying alone for hours and hours in a hallway at a hospital in Honduras not knowing if I’d be able to get in for surgery as I lay there bleeding. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I wasn’t angry in Honduras, but I was back in the States— not at the accident itself, but at the sheer isolation of it; every day cleaning a horrific wound on my own leg, having to compartmentalize and pretend it wasn’t a big deal so I could get through it; crawling up stairs to scan documents I needed for the hospital; staring out the window at the outside, aching to get there; gossip and lectures by people who should have been supportive. Weeks after the accident, someone said to me, “This must be so hard for you,” and I almost cried to know there was someone tangible who understood and felt empathy. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I don’t know what the next few months will hold, but I’m here, and every day brings more problems but also more solutions, each day sliding into night, another opportunity to become better from an experience I didn’t choose for myself.
©2017 Lone Rucksack