While there, I had some money stolen. I never told my parents because I didn'tt want them to worry. (Of course I realize they're very likely to find out now).
But as I was trying to cope with the loss and actualities like, "how am I going to eat in Paris on $40 for 8 days?," (it turns out that you can but the trip was practically over before I learned these things,) I emailed a few close friends as a way to calm the panicky feeling of being in a foreign country for days with little to no money for food.
I knew there was a possibility of borrowing money but I didn't want to deal with the consequences of more strain on my already-strapped budget when I returned. (If I'd known I was going to suffer a spinal injury in less than three weeks that was going to keep me unemployed for almost a year, if not longer, I would really have been panicking.)
Mon amies all had their different ways to encourage me during such an emotionally strung-out time. But friend, and fellow writer, Susan Cushman's was the most drastically different.
"The Orthodox Christian wisdom on this sort of stuff is, I think, a little different than the Protestant Evangelical response, in this way:
The Prot.Evans tend to say, "God has a purpose for this happening; be open to learning from Him."
The Orthodox tend to say, "There really wasn't anything supernatural about the fact that... the money got stolen. We all make mistakes, and someone was probably tempted and stole. Don't beat up on yourself (or the thief) but instead try to learn the lesson of, as you've already said, being calm and accepting of the circumstance."
You know, having the love and encouragement of my closest friends was essential.
It gave me someone to cry to, and then get over it. But it was Susan's response that has gotten the most mileage with me.
(To read more of Susan's sagacity, click below.)
wwwpenandpalette-susancushman.blogspot.com/
So far, seven months of my life have been altered because of this accident. I can't sit, work, drive. My financial situation is bleak, my future prospects are nil, and there is a great chance I will hurt like this for the rest of my life. And I have no medical insurance and I refused to go to the doctor until I could find help with the bills, thus prolonging the treatment.
I'm fortunate that I do have help now with an organization called Vocational Rehabilitation, but I'm still impatient on many days. I want relief and I want it seven months ago. In the meantime, I'm trying to find ways to use this opportunity to learn as much as possible: how does God want me to maximize this time, how can I serve others within this limited capacity, what Purpose does this, hopefully temporary, disability serve?
Then I read this article on glamour.com. Andrea Coller, the creative non-fiction essay contest winner in 2008 the year would be my age if she hadn't died days before her essay was published from Hodgkin's disease. Instead of the strong, brave, noble persona we associate with people with terminal illness, Coller bucks that notion and admits her fear and what many would consider her less than noble ways of dealing with cancer. Read her very real way of dealing with Hodgkin's here:
www.glamour.com/magazine/2008/05/essay-winner-surviving-cancer
But even Coller knew that she had to find a purpose in her illness in order to cope with it. For her, it was writing.
"I can't wait to get back to my life. And I'm going to write more. I think this whole experience has finally dragged me, kicking and screaming, into writing a memoir. This disease needs to start paying for itself!" Coller said in an interview with Glamour's "Life With Cancer" columnist and blogger, Erin Zammett Ruddy.You know, having the love and encouragement of my closest friends was essential.
It gave me someone to cry to, and then get over it. But it was Susan's response that has gotten the most mileage with me.
(To read more of Susan's sagacity, click below.)
wwwpenandpalette-susancushman.blogspot.com/
So far, seven months of my life have been altered because of this accident. I can't sit, work, drive. My financial situation is bleak, my future prospects are nil, and there is a great chance I will hurt like this for the rest of my life. And I have no medical insurance and I refused to go to the doctor until I could find help with the bills, thus prolonging the treatment.
I'm fortunate that I do have help now with an organization called Vocational Rehabilitation, but I'm still impatient on many days. I want relief and I want it seven months ago. In the meantime, I'm trying to find ways to use this opportunity to learn as much as possible: how does God want me to maximize this time, how can I serve others within this limited capacity, what Purpose does this, hopefully temporary, disability serve?
Then I read this article on glamour.com. Andrea Coller, the creative non-fiction essay contest winner in 2008 the year would be my age if she hadn't died days before her essay was published from Hodgkin's disease. Instead of the strong, brave, noble persona we associate with people with terminal illness, Coller bucks that notion and admits her fear and what many would consider her less than noble ways of dealing with cancer. Read her very real way of dealing with Hodgkin's here:
www.glamour.com/magazine/2008/05/essay-winner-surviving-cancer
But even Coller knew that she had to find a purpose in her illness in order to cope with it. For her, it was writing.
Stories like this are teaching me that I definitely have to make something productive of this time. Learn something. Do something I ordinarily wouldn't have the time to do. I just wish I could have this time AND felt cooking, cleaning, playing something outside with my son. But I know I'm not as sick as others. So, even though my physical therapist warns about me overdoing it, I've got to Get Up and Get My Life Back. Because I CAN.
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