Hymas: Forced humility and a reattached leg bone

Last week, when I wrote about the moment of my ski accident, I said I had never experienced that much pain in my entire life. But I thought I would be able to manage the pain once the doctors got to work — nope. I have never experienced so much constant pain.

I was home and on intense drugs with my family and friends surrounding me as I waited for surgery, still clinging to the belief that I could take care of myself (even as I relied on others for everything). Then I tried to stand on my own – with the brace and drugs – and still nearly passed out from pain.

I couldn’t get myself food. If I didn’t have the remote I had to watch whatever was stuck on the TV. I couldn’t care for my basic needs. The pain forced me to stay down. I felt like a toddler; with my life and needs subject to others’ schedules and lives. Asking for help made me feel demanding and needy. It’s true I couldn’t do it on my own, and there was no way around that, but still I felt bad asking for help.

Which led to my next lesson.

Prior to this accident, I had worked at least 1,000 hours on a presentation to help my neighborhood. It mattered to me a lot. I knew my plan would help make things better (my motto: do more, give back, literally make the world a more beautiful place). My presentation was completely ready, legally sound, with the meeting scheduled for Wednesday evening. The meeting couldn’t be changed so I figured I’d just have to make it work.

It didn’t work that way.

My surgery kept getting postponed so I didn’t even go in until 5, which put me home far too late (and far too weak) to even try attending.

I couldn’t believe that I was definitely NOT going to make the meeting. It had never occurred to me that I would actually not make it. All of my hard work, time, passion, and efforts were delegated to someone else and I had to sit back, hoping it turned out. I have never had to do that before. If I do the work, I am there to see it through.

And yet, to my shock, the meeting worked out. In fact, the meeting was a success. I didn’t need to be there. It ran without me. It’s like I wasn’t even missed, and the presentation that made me feel valued and important could be done just as well by others.

Still, this quickly became one of those “good for me” moments (I really needed one of those). I had learned something big that would improve my life, and now, with my leg attached, I thought I had learned my ski accident lessons. I had learned to do the work and hand it off to others, and earlier to be completely dependent on others. I was ready to mend and move on with life a better person.

Wrong. That was just two life lessons down, not all of them. I should be happy they didn’t hit me all at once. (Is that another life lesson?) I guess being humbled, learning to delegate, and leg-reattachment surgery was just to prepare me for what came next.