The Fall and the Hospital
On October 22, 2015 I fell down the stairs of my friends house in the middle of the night. I have no memory of the fall. In fact, I have no memory of anything after going to sleep early that evening. There is no explanation for why I fell. It had been a normal quiet evening at home and I have no idea why I would have wanted to go downstairs a few hours after I went to sleep.
But the how and why don't really matter. I will never know that part of the story with any certainty. What I do know is that I fell down fifteen wooden stairs into a wall. The fall broke my neck in a way that damaged the spinal cord and began a long life changing and transformational experience.
I was blessed to have a friend who responded quickly by calling 911 almost immediately after my fall. One of my only memories is of his face hovering above mine telling me I had an accident, help was on the way and I was going to be okay. I woke up again shortly after we got to hospital. I was totally disoriented and confused. As a yoga teacher I kept trying to explain what I was feeling and experiencing in my body, but it wasn't making any sense to anyone. I also kept saying over and over that I wasn't scared and I knew everything was going to be fine.
Finally, one doctor yelled at me, "Lizandra, we need you to focus! Can you move your leg?" His loudness snapped me to attention, but I was still confused about whether I could move or not. In my memory I can see the situation, but I cannot recall what I was thinking or feeling other than utter confusion. My friend was still with me, and I remember his presence as calming and reassuring in the chaos. The doctors decided an MRI was necessary and from there I was rushed to emergency surgery. As they prepped me for surgery, I remember them telling me there was a risk to my ability to breath on my own in this surgery because they would operate at C4 where the nerves for breathing are. I remember thinking that was scary, but what choice did I have in the situation. I closed my eyes and prayed for protection and guidance toward safety in the surgery.
They performed a laminectomy and spinal fusion from C4-C7. I came out of the surgery well. I was able to breathe on my own without problem. One of my first post surgery memories is of the neurosurgeon at the end of my bed saying, "The surgery went well and now you have a marathon of recovery ahead of you."
I smiled and said, "What kind of marathon are you talking about? I'm pretty strong and ready for the challenge."
And thus began my marathon of a healing journey. I have come to think of each month like a mile marker in the marathon. The end of this year will mark the end of the marathon, 26 months of healing completed.
Very early into my healing process I decided that this healing journey would be a story worth telling. When making decisions about how to handle a situation I would ask myself, what is the story I want to be able to tell? And in this way, I have transformed what could have been the most traumatic and devastating life experiences into a mystical and transformational adventure. To be clear, this does not in anyway mean it has all been sunshine and joy. Not at all. It has been hard as hell. Not necessarily the hardest challenge of my life, my path hadn't been exactly easy prior to the injury. But within the space of transformation as my body, spirit and mind have sought healing, there has been as much anguish as joy. My goal is to experience the full spectrum of emotion, and to maintain a healthy balance along the way.
But the how and why don't really matter. I will never know that part of the story with any certainty. What I do know is that I fell down fifteen wooden stairs into a wall. The fall broke my neck in a way that damaged the spinal cord and began a long life changing and transformational experience.
I was blessed to have a friend who responded quickly by calling 911 almost immediately after my fall. One of my only memories is of his face hovering above mine telling me I had an accident, help was on the way and I was going to be okay. I woke up again shortly after we got to hospital. I was totally disoriented and confused. As a yoga teacher I kept trying to explain what I was feeling and experiencing in my body, but it wasn't making any sense to anyone. I also kept saying over and over that I wasn't scared and I knew everything was going to be fine.
Finally, one doctor yelled at me, "Lizandra, we need you to focus! Can you move your leg?" His loudness snapped me to attention, but I was still confused about whether I could move or not. In my memory I can see the situation, but I cannot recall what I was thinking or feeling other than utter confusion. My friend was still with me, and I remember his presence as calming and reassuring in the chaos. The doctors decided an MRI was necessary and from there I was rushed to emergency surgery. As they prepped me for surgery, I remember them telling me there was a risk to my ability to breath on my own in this surgery because they would operate at C4 where the nerves for breathing are. I remember thinking that was scary, but what choice did I have in the situation. I closed my eyes and prayed for protection and guidance toward safety in the surgery.
They performed a laminectomy and spinal fusion from C4-C7. I came out of the surgery well. I was able to breathe on my own without problem. One of my first post surgery memories is of the neurosurgeon at the end of my bed saying, "The surgery went well and now you have a marathon of recovery ahead of you."
I smiled and said, "What kind of marathon are you talking about? I'm pretty strong and ready for the challenge."
And thus began my marathon of a healing journey. I have come to think of each month like a mile marker in the marathon. The end of this year will mark the end of the marathon, 26 months of healing completed.
Very early into my healing process I decided that this healing journey would be a story worth telling. When making decisions about how to handle a situation I would ask myself, what is the story I want to be able to tell? And in this way, I have transformed what could have been the most traumatic and devastating life experiences into a mystical and transformational adventure. To be clear, this does not in anyway mean it has all been sunshine and joy. Not at all. It has been hard as hell. Not necessarily the hardest challenge of my life, my path hadn't been exactly easy prior to the injury. But within the space of transformation as my body, spirit and mind have sought healing, there has been as much anguish as joy. My goal is to experience the full spectrum of emotion, and to maintain a healthy balance along the way.