“Survival mode is supposed to be a phase that helps save your life. Its not meant to be how you live.” –Michele Rosenthal

The first year after Chris’ accident was all about survival. We were working on getting Chris better. His body was healing. In the first initial weeks of him being home, he walked every day. Each day he would work on increasing the distance. Bit by bit he got stronger. He could walk further. Eventually, he could take the kids with him, pushing them in the stroller. Going on little adventures.

He stayed away from alcohol, as it is a neurotoxin (we learned this from the nerve specialist), and we focused on a healthy diet and supplements. Fish oils for the brain and other supplements for his bones and inflammation. Still, he was in considerable pain. His double vision stayed with him for months, and it was not until 5 or 6 months later that he could finally see properly again. Our whole focus in that year was his body healing, getting off the pain medication, and Chris being able to fly again.

Looking back, I can see that in the first year we pushed. A lot. We pushed ourselves forward with sheer will and stubbornness. We would not be defeated by the accident. We would prove that we were strong. We were told we were inspirational. We tried to  take it in, but in those days we had no idea what being inspirational even meant. We were merely surviving. We were doing what needed to be done in order to remain. To stay intact. To stay sane. We focused on the future and our goals. We used up all of our reserves. All that had been stored in our tanks in the years prior to the accident. We used up every ounce of faith we had built into our relationship. Fighting our way forward. Refusing to give in to the massiveness of the situation we found ourselves in. Refusing to surrender. Becoming less and less inspirational as the days passed us by.

We were fighting for our lives, for our very existence, and in that first year, I don’t think we really knew it. I mean, we did. We knew it was huge. But we did not know the toll it would take on us. We did not know what it would bring into our lives. Both the good and the bad. Because, looking back, I can see that through all of the struggles, there has also been amazing beauty. But in that first year, we were novices. We were learning. At a pace so rapid, it was difficult to keep up.

We focused on remaining positive and on working on the goals we set. In some ways Chris wanting to get back to work was a blessing. It gave us something to work towards. A future accomplishment we could each day add a brick to. I do not know what we would have done if that goal had not been there. If being a pilot had not meant so much to Chris. If I had not been able to support him and his need to get back into a helicopter. To get back up in the air. Maybe we would have truly broken. Gotten lost in a black hole. Who knows. I just know that in the first year after the accident, Chris got up every day and went for a walk. When his body was ready for physiotherapy, he stretched diligently, every single day. By the end of the first year, he was the fittest he had ever been in our time together. I worked to help him get better, and I supported him in this goal. I took care of him and the kids the best I could.

In some ways, I do not really know why the wheels fell off that bus. Why the panic attacks started. Why the fear set in. Why we stalled out. Because in the first year, it did not feel like we would. I heard a woman on a radio interview, just over a year after the accident. She had lost her husband in a fishing accident a few years prior. She said something very wise that has always stuck with me. I will paraphrase, “the second year was harder for me. I think it is because the first year, I was in shock. The second year, I had to actually process what had happened.” Maybe that is what our first year was. Our shock year. When our bodies were still trying to protect us. Maybe in some ways, numbing us. Because, I can tell you, in that first year, I believed I could be inspirational. That I would remain completely sane and reasonable through it all. If we pushed forward, up that mountain, we would conquer it. No problem. We could laugh and enjoy, as we rode our toboggans down the other side. I had no idea, that once we reached the peak of the first mountain, that there would be a whole range of mountains we would have to conquer on the other side. Our journey was just beginning.