Fight or Flight, and Cheerleaders

​I got a new roommate yesterday at the rehab center. Even though it would only be for a short 24 hours, I knew we’d get along well. I was missing my previous roommate (a sweetie who still calls to check in on me). She left the day before, and I was happy to have company again. We hit it off immediately. Before night had fallen, I was already writing down a quote she gave me, so I wouldn’t forget it. I was struck by the realization of how much of an impact we can each have on one other; regardless of the length of time we have known them. 

​The last three weeks have been an incredible journey. A week long hospital stay for symptoms like my original Transverse Myelitis, but this time there was no way to treat it, because it was the old lesion (though it had mysteriously seemed to have grown from T5-6 to T 2-8). That was followed by two weeks at an inpatient rehab center, because my legs no longer wanted to work. I met dozens of people, each one playing a role in my overall experience. The overwhelming feeling was one of compassion, encouragement and kindness. I suspect we don’t all share the same political views. I know our interests were incredibly varied. But we all shared the common bond of human frailty. Virtually everyone I encountered was either coping with a physical trial, or caring for someone experiencing one.
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During the short time we were together, I tried to prepare my new roomy for what was to come, so she would know what to expect. I used my noisy voice to advocate for my previous roomy when her quiet voice was unheard. When I first got there, I was touched by those who cheered me on and encouraged me. They were everywhere I turned. The nurses at the hospital, walking me round the unit and encouraging me to advocate for myself, the wheelchair transport guy who took me from the hospital to HealthSouth, the one that took me to my appointments, the housekeeping staff that made me laugh and shared their stories, the food service staff that brought each meal with a smile and a “Hi Kristen”, the many therapists that pushed me gently, but firmly with a smile on their face and care in their hearts. Each individual made the steps I took, a bit easier. 

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​​There is a saying that “misery loves company”. It sounds pretty morose on the surface. I mean most people don’t really want someone to suffer with them. But there IS comfort in a shared experience, in knowing you are not alone. You are not the first to experience something. There is great solace in realizing others have traveled your path, and navigated it successfully. I recently found two Transverse Myelitis groups on Facebook, and it has been such a blessing to know my issues are not unique to me. My virtual friends have become real people I care for, as they walk a similar journey as I.
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I remember reading once that there are two types of people: those who cause you compare yourself to them and leave you feeling inadequate, and those whose admirable actions ignite something within you that makes you want to be like them. I want to be the latter. There is something in the common face of frailty that strips away the outer layers that often distract us from the person inside. When you are in a hospital or rehab facility, it doesn’t matter who you are, what you do, where you live. We are all just trying to come to grips with what life has thrown our way, while keeping our backsides from hanging too much out the back of our hospital gowns. We are all trying to get a rogue body part to function, or learning how to function without it. Faces became familiar and new, old friends are formed. I went from being the new kid in town, to the veteran. I cheered for others as they took their first steps, as the previous veterans did for me. 

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​There is something that grabs us at our gut level when our lives are threatened. There is a forced vulnerability that quickly puts life into perspective. No one wants difficulties, but there are valuable life lessons to be learned there. The clarity a serious injury or illness provides holds a blueprint for all of life. The quote my roomy shared with me came from a clergy member that visited her in the hospital. In the kindest and gentlest of ways he said to her, “You don’t get to move forward from what was. You have to move forward from what is”. I love that. Old me still haunts me sometimes. The new, new me is an even bigger adjustment. But I want to do so with grace and determination. I want to be the fight and not the flight. And I want to be for others, the light and brightness others gave to me.

I’m not really sure why some choose fight and others flight. In truth, we all do both depending on the circumstance. I’m sure some of it is life lessons learned previously and some is a measure of resilience we may or may not have developed. As I have said before, I’m pretty sure a big chunk of it for me is finally putting to good use the feisty personality that makes me, me. 

In a strange sort of way, facing a serious illness and/or injury brings out the best in most people. We look past the appearances. We are all equal. We all encourage one another. We applaud each other’s successes, and cry with their losses. If only we could live that way during the good times, as well as the bad, and in all bad times, not just the ones brought on by disease or accident. I hope this is a lesson I can hold onto once my new, new normal becomes more routine. Though I may not have a large local support group, my friends and family across the country have been my cheerleaders. They have cheered me on as they have checked in on me, and encouraged me in just the right ways, and done so exactly when I needed it the most. Their actions lead me to want to be just like them. I want my actions to do the same. I want to be kind, cheer on others in their daily walks, and let my compassion and empathy be ever present. 

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