This is my friend Emily. She's 16 years old; loves marching with the flag corp in her high school band; holds straight-A's in all her classes (honors classes!); is active in her church youth group; loves to do community theatre; babysits my children with expertise; and smiles 99% of the time. A few months ago, Emily was in a car accident. She was in the front passenger seat, which took the brunt of the crash. She was pinned in for over an hour and a half. Remembering conversations she heard from the paramedics and firemen cutting her out, she knows they didn't have much hope for her survival.
After being care-flighted to a hospital in Little Rock, she remembers hearing more conversations from doctors and nurses as they assessed her wounds. If she made it through any of the urgent and necessary surgeries, she would surely not walk.
After the first several surgeries and the first few weeks, walking was a possibility. But she could hear the whispers and knew that her right leg may never be able to hold weight again. Walking would mean a walker or brace for the rest of her life.
Emily is 16 years old. She is beautiful. She's been complimented on her beautiful legs all her life. You know those girls we all love to hate who have those perfect legs? That was Emily. Never immodest or boastful, it was just a fact that her legs were awesome. Were awesome.
Emily's pelvis was broken; her legs had around 50 fractures, with breaks that had bones sticking out of her legs at odd places and angles; her right foot was so swollen and misshapen the doctors couldn't accurately assess the damage for several weeks. Her wounds were so raw, she had to be constantly hooked up to a wound-vac, which would suck her wounds clean every few minutes (this made an offensive sound which would cause embarrassment anytime someone was visiting her).
Emily was finally able to come home. She has a cute upstairs bedroom all decked out in girly-girl 16-year-old style. She hasn't seen her room since before the wreck though. The family room has been her bedroom now. It's been curtained off for a semblance of privacy, but curtains do little to shelter Emily from the life going on all around her. She spent the first several weeks at home in her hospital bed, her mom sleeping on the daybed beside her, either asleep or in pain. Even in sleep, there was pain and traumatic nightmares from her emotional injuries.
Her friends came to see her often...to tell her how cool marching band was; how this and that had taken place in so-in-so's class; and even to complain to Emily about their own dramas. Emily has always been the best friend with the most encouragement to give...she's been the shoulder to cry on and the strong arms that have carried her friends through their teen-angst. This seemed to still be expected of her.
Whenever anyone drew back the curtain and entered the makeshift bedroom, Emily would paint on a smile and endure hugs and visits...because she is determined to make everyone feel comfortable.
Emily is 16-years-old. At this age, girls don't talk of thinks like passing gas, bowel movements, or shaving unmentionable areas. Emily's life had taken a wrong turn however, and now she was equipped with a porta-potty beside her hospital bed and all manner of medications and apparatus in the room around her for all to see when they'd stop in for a hello. And, yet, this seemed to amuse Emily more than anyone else.
After more weeks of working through pain, Emily was able to maneuver around in a wheel chair. Where did she go? To her high school Homecoming, of course. She cared more for her friends than for herself that night. She couldn't join in all the regular activities, but cheered her friends on all the same.
She also attended a Halloween party...dressed as a marathon runner!
Her right foot began to finally heal, though the process has been very slow and painful.
Emily has fought through months of painful physical therapy to overcome all the odds. The swelling in her right foot went down enough for surgery; and then was even able to be put into a walking-boot. She cannot walk on it...yet! But she's not giving up. Against all the doctor's predictions, she is not only walking now (with the help of a scooter), but she is already flexing her right foot with plans of walking into her high school to join regular classes in January.
What does Emily say about her once-perfect-legs now? She owns every scar. She sees them as proof of her survival and she dares anyone to see them as anything less than beautiful. Isn't that how we should all feel? Don't we all have scars? Even stretch-marks...from beautiful births. We should own them. They are proof of survival. Just as Jesus' scars are proof of our redemption. Scars and beautiful.
Emily is still beautiful. More so, I believe, than ever before. By the way, even doing her honors classes from home with no help, she's maintaining her A-average. She's still giving her friends good advice. She's still attending church on Sunday mornings. Emily has changed only for the better since this accident. She told me it's a choice. No one and nothing can make your life miserable but you. And miserable is something Emily will never be.
