Unfulfilled Dreams, Untapped Potential, Undeniable Truth

Unfulfilled Dreams

I've finally been sent home from the hospital! It's so nice to be out of there, and as promised, Dad had a ramp installed for me to actually be able to get into the house. They sent me home with a bunch of other 'fun' accessories, like handle bars, rails and a shower chair etc. to make my bathroom handicap accessible, a transfer handle to help me get from my bed to my chair, and this leg lifter thing so I can make my legs go where I want them to easier.

I'm trying to keep up a positive attitude about this, but some of the time, I just feel like a senior citizen. The catheter situation was the hardest thing to get used to when they first explained that to me in the hospital, but they assured me that even new mothers in the hospital sometimes have to use them, so it doesn't mean that I'm an old lady.

Anyway, by now I'm a pro at all of this. I can get into and out of my chair without Jon's help, although he likes to carry me, so sometimes I let him. I can even maneuver my chair well enough that I'm going to be signing up for wheelchair basketball. Oh and they're letting me finish my schooling online because my school isn't handicap accessible and I really don't want to start off at a new school being 'that new girl in the wheelchair', no thanks.

I've been going to physiotherapy a lot too and they have me working pretty hard. It's paying off though I can feel my toes a little bit more than before. Jonathan likes to play 'this little piggy went to market' and tickle my toes hoping I will continue getting the feeling back, it's really cute I must admit. And he loves to spoil me. Usually whenever he goes out he comes home with a present. This time, however, he has also come home with an idea.

"Hey Baby, I ran into one of your friends from gymnastics. She said everyone has been asking about you and wanted to know if you can have friends over to visit yet. I told her I thought you might be up for that reasonably soon and that maybe we could throw a party or something so that rather than a constant barrage of visitors you can just see everyone at once and get it over with. Do you that think you might be up for that?"

I don't know what to tell him. On one hand, I do want to see all of my friends. On the other hand, the last thing I want to do (after having had to kiss my Olympic dreams goodbye as a part of coming to terms with my injury) is spend an entire evening with a bunch of able bodied gymnasts. I mean, I'm not naturally a jealous person or anything, but I still think it might be a little too much too soon.

"I dunno Jon. Part of me wants to see everyone, but a part of me isn't ready for that yet. I don't know what to tell you. I'm sorry." I sigh; feeling defeated again yet another time since the accident. "Can we plan it for a few weeks out from now, maybe?" I plead.

"Oh Clary, of course we can! And we'll make sure it's a mixed crowd and not just your gymnastics friends okay?" He assures me, practically reading my thoughts.

"Thanks Jon!" I smile, feeling a lot better about the situation for once. I so love my brother. He sure knows how to cheer me up when I need it! And hey, maybe if I can't be an Olympic Gymnast, I can still make it to the Paralympics one day with my wheelchair basketball or something.

Untapped Potential

I find that the longer I am confined to my wheelchair the more my life changes in other ways too. Like instead of gymnastics, I am now rockin' the wheelchair basketball! I also used to like to rock climb as well, so now I'm using that time to focus on more of my art instead; I love sketching, especially portraits. It's sort of my creative outlet.

It hasn't all been too horrible, just a lot to get used to. No idea what I would have done without Jon though. He's been absolutely amazing. So loving and giving and so careful about my feelings and giving me exactly what I need, whether it's space, or my caring brother, or my sexy boyfriend or and understanding friend. Whatever it is, he's been there to provide it for me.

We're lying in my room now on the bed and he looks over and notices my sketchbook on the side table. "May I?" He asks. I nod for him to take it and he begins to flip through my drawings. "These are so good, Clary! You really have a talent for this stuff. Maybe you should take some classes to hone your skill and actually try to make a career of your art. This is something you could probably go pretty far with." He suggests, sounding impressed.

"Surely they're not that good Jon! Do you know how awesome you have to be to make any decent money from something like this?" I sigh.

"Come on! Don't sell yourself short here Sweety. They are absolutely that good! Your portraits are completely amazing and realistic. You could easily be a police sketch artist or get into something like graphic design. Heck you could probably even be one of those people in touristy places who sketches portraits for people right there while they pose. Or you could totally even just start selling your art outright. You seriously have a talent here, Baby girl! I can't believe you don't realize how good these are. I'm not even exaggerating." He gushes.

"Okay well, I promise to think about it, alright?" I smile. "Does that satisfy you?"

"Not as much as this will!" He laughs and starts kissing me. "You satisfy me more than anything else ever could."

Undeniable Truth

A few days after our art conversation, I get home from physio and storm into the house completely outraged. If you've never tried to have a hissy fit when you're stuck in a wheelchair, don't. I won't recommend it, it's not easy. I used to have a killer hissy fit whenever I'd get pissy. I'd stomp around and slam the doors and the whole nine yards. But I can't do any of that now and given that the reason for my bad mood has to do with my current infuriating condition, the fact that I can't even throw a proper tantrum now because of it, just compounds the problem for me.

Thankfully, I can still throw things though and I'm in the process of breaking my third knick-knack when my Mom comes rushing down the stairs. Dad and Jon took me to my physio appointment today, so Mom has no idea yet what I'm so pissed off about and is looking highly concerned right now.

"Clary… do you want to talk about it?" She asks.

"All I want is to get better! All I want is my legs back! I freaking know just how much that is to ask for, and that it's going to take a long time. I even know that sometimes it isn't possible period and I'm prepared for that possibility. But in the beginning, they all kept telling me how good it was that I could feel my toes and that I was making good progress and now? It's like, every single time; I bust my ass at physio. I try my hardest. I do everything they ask me to and then some. And then they have the nerve to tell me that they anticipated I might be further along than this by now? As if, I'm not already doing everything in my power, and working as hard to recover as humanly possible. I mean what do they seriously expect from me here, a miracle?" I bury my head in my lap, feeling totally frustrated by everything today.

"No Clary. All they have a right to expect of you, all anyone can expect of you, is that you are trying your best, which I know you have been. I'm sure that they don't blame you for the speed of your recovery and they were probably just letting you know that their timeline was off, so that you aren't becoming overly anxious about seeing results unrealistically soon. I'm sure that's all." She says.

"Yeah, I guess. Although, I suppose, if I am completely honest with myself, then there was probably some more work I could have done at home, between physio appointments. I think, maybe I have been slacking off a little in my downtime. But I've just been so excited about basketball and my sketches, you know? Do you guys think maybe, I've been letting myself get sidetracked?" I ask, looking at Mom and Dad and Jonathan each in turn.

"I think you seem to know yourself pretty well, Clary. I think that if you feel there is some room for improvement, then that's what you should focus on. I know it's been hard getting used to all the changes in your life right now but, I think you've established a pretty good routine by this point, so it shouldn't be too hard to figure out a few times to fit in some more of your exercises?" Mom questions, after giving it some thought.

"Your Mother is right, Clarissa. You are a smart girl and you ought to know best what you need from yourself, and from us. So, if you can commit to giving your recovery the attention that you feel it deserves, than we will commit to helping you out with this, in any way that we can, okay Little Tiger?" He says, using my old childhood nickname.

"Sure thing Dad, I promise that's exactly what I'll do. Starting right now, I'm going to step up my game. Thanks guys!" I smile happily at my Mom and Dad, relieved to have a game plan and a strategy. "Hey Jon, you can come watch me exercise if you want to, as long as you don't let me get distracted, okay?" I grin.

"You definitely don't have to tell me twice Baby!" He laughs as we head to my room. "And I'm on the same page as Mom and Dad, okay? If there's ever anything else you need from me that you aren't already getting, whether it be more encouragement, or help with staying on task, or help with your schoolwork, or a hug etc. etc. you know you can count on me, right Sweety?" He says, playing with my curls once we are situated in my workout corner.

"Yeah I know Jon. Although I bet it's mainly the etcetera part that you are looking forward to helping me out with hey?" I tease him.

"Meh, what can I say? I am a teenage male after all." He laughs.

I get to work on my exercises, determined to get over my obstacles and eventually my injury. I owe it to myself not to take this lightly because when push comes to shove, it's ultimately my future on the line here. So it's my responsibility to take action now and set myself up for the brightest future I'm able to have, in spite of what life has thrown at me.