“All great changes are preceded by chaos.” — Deepak Chopra

Healing. There is beauty in healing. There is hope. The pain is lessening. The injuries are beginning to mend. It is no only living in the pain. It is still there. There is a ways to go. It will be a long road. But what a road it is. Upon this road, we learn our weaknesses. We learn our strengths. Fear follows us. Courage stands beside us. We go to the bottom of ourselves. The very bottom. The essence of who we are. Who we will become. In recovery, we discover ourselves. The minutes count. So do the hours and the days. As we heal, we grow. I look back at the time that has passed. There are times when I am proud of myself. There are times when I am not. It has been a journey of ups and downs. I can feel the healing. We are taking our power back. We are taking ourselves back.

I have watched Chris on his journey. As he walks beside me. Some days I have understood him, and other days he feels like a stranger; foreign to me. I am sure he sometimes feels the same about me. When we are angry, when we are hurting, it is easy to turn on one another. It is easy to place blame. It is easy to look at someone and to see them as the source of your pain. Sometimes it feels like walking away from one another would be the easiest thing in the world. Like a relief. A breathe of fresh air. We remind one another of our own pain. But then, the pain, it lessens and we begin to see one another as a source of support. A source of inspiration. We see the courage in each other’s journey. We the other fall. I have seen what Chris looks like when he is down. He has seen what I look like when I am down. We have seen one another’s vulnerabilities and weaknesses. Though we tried, it was impossible to hide them. For that, I am thankful. On the other side of this, I love him more. It is not a naive love. I do not love him for his strengths. I do not love him for his pain, and because I feel I must stay. I love him because I love him. I know him better now. He knows me better now. Loving through the good times. Well, that is easy. It is the easiest thing in the world to do. Loving at the bottom. Well. That is a special kind of love. That is an understanding kind of love.

While Chris was still in the Observation Room, I was walking back to the hotel room, and a thought passed my mind. “I can’t wait to call Chris when I get back to the hotel to tell him all about this crazy day.” My mind had, for just a moment, forgotten where we were. Where he was. I cannot describe it. It was the strangest feeling when I remembered. That my husband, who I talked to everyday. Who I told about my days and my dreams, could not have a conversation about himself with me. It was just me. Standing there in a parking lot, I felt so alone. I wanted to be able to tell him how amazing he was doing. I wanted to tell him the kids were okay. They were being taken care of. They were in good hands. I wanted to tell him all about the other patients, and what a strange world the hospital was. I wanted to tell him about the nurses, and how I stalked the doctors, waiting for any news of how he was doing. I wanted to tell him what had gotten checked off the list that day. I wanted to tell him how scared I was. I wanted to tell him everything. There was a hole there though. Thankfully, that hole would almost close up in the days to come. For others who are not so lucky. That hole. That dark hole will stay with them for the rest of their lives. That hole was scary. That hole. That moment has stayed with me.

Chris started to heal. It seemed so slow, but in reality, he was healing at a remarkable rate. He was fighting to come back to us. To come back to himself. He would continue this fight in the coming months and years. It is the strangest thing. We lose a part of ourselves when we go through something like this. I have seen it in Chris. We find a part of ourselves as well. A part of us we do not always know we have. It is there though. Our spirit. It is amazing. That part of us. Though I would not have chosen this road. I am thankful for that. I have seen Chris grow into someone even more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.

The days in the Observation Room were stressful. They held the kind of stress that is hard to process. Hope stands beside fear. We hope for the best, knowing the worst is possible. It already almost happened. Chris fought with all his might to get better. To heal. I know I keep saying this, but I say it because it is the truth. I saw his strength and his courage and his determination. It was always there. It is a part of who he is. It was so much more in those moments. In that hospital. In those days and the days that followed. He did what he could to heal himself, and he stayed positive. He made people smile, though he must have been so very uncomfortable.

Finally after five very tough days, he was ready to move into the next room. The best downgrade possible. The bed he was in was so valuable. There was someone else worse off than him who needed the bed. So, they moved him across the hall. It was a room that was still heavy, but the people there were beginning the healing process. Their bodies were starting to recover. Not fighting to survive, but instead to heal. It was such a big deal.

The surgeon wanted him to stand on the day after the surgery. We had to wait for the right papers to be signed. That took a few days. That is probably one of the reasons he had to wear the special wraps around his legs. Surgery, and then laying in bed for so long. I believe it was Wednesday. Four days after having spinal surgery. Chris sat and then stood for the first time. Sitting was excruciatingly painful for him. His back had been broken, and he had broken three bones around his tailbone, and he had a puncture wound that had just started to knit itself back together. Deep into his body. His ribs were broken in so many places. Standing seemed to be just as painful, if not more.

The body is such an amazing thing. What it can go through. What it can sustain. What it can come back from. I cannot imagine the pain he must have felt. I do not know if I have ever felt a pain so strong. Maybe childbirth. That hurt. His pain must have hurt at least that much. It took everything for him to hold himself up. What that experience must have been like for him. I do not know. I only know the pain and determination I saw on his face. This was a look that I would come to know.

There is power in healing. This is something that I have come to know. As we heal, we grow. We learn about ourselves and the people around us. There are itches and aches as the wounds mend. There is discomfort. Often a lot. But out of this discomfort comes a certain kind of sweetness. A certain kind of strength. There are scars. The cuts and the breaks may no longer be there. The scars though. They are there to stay. They remind of us the journey.  They tell our story. They are like a map of our travels. We carry with us always. Etched into our bodies. Into our souls. Reminding us of who we used to be, and what we have become. Someone more pure. Someone more real. Damaged, but not broken.