There’s a black mark right under my chin. It looks like one of those things you’d get if you don’t bathe often or properly. I do bathe however, often and properly. It’s a scar. It’s positioning is strange and was at first confusing. It’s positioned where I assume you’d have a scar if someone held a sharp knife to your neck.
The day after the accident, I was confused about a great many things. I couldn’t dwell on them however because the adrenaline had worn off and unlike the previous night, I could feel the extent of my injuries. Everything hurt ; really badly at that.
I couldn’t stand straight, I needed support to walk, lying down was painful too. I had a thick bandage on the left corner of my head. It was sort of red from all the blood even though the wound had earned me a number of stitches. I had small scrapings on my right knee yet it was swollen to about the size of the juiciest Mango you’ve ever seen. It was also throbbing.
Everything was such a mystery to me because up until this day I only remember making the decision to get on to that bike and waking up surrounded by doctors shaving off the hair on the side of my head where I was injured.
The pain had me asking questions however. What manner of fall was this that had my entire body screaming in pain. Did I fall on my back? Possibly, I couldn’t even sit up without incident. I knew I had hit the back of my head. How then did my right knee get so messed up? And what in God’s name caused this little cut on my neck?
Last night, for the first time in close to six months, I was able to kneel. There was some discomfort. We’re not yet at a hundred but oh what joy! I could kneel. There are moments I wondered if as a bride, I could be exempted from kneeling when it came to the traditional function. Dramatic, I know. Six months doesn’t seem like such a long time when you’ re making annual plans or trying to beat a deadline. However when you think of every day, every hour, every minute . Every night I couldn’t sleep because my knee hurt, every time I had to brace myself when faced with stairs, every limp since the accident, every car ride that felt too long because I needed to switch positions often, six months can be some time . My mind sometimes went wild wondering if this was it.
Last night however, I knelt besides my mother’s bed to show her something I’d bought and it didn’t occur to me until a few minutes in that I was on my knees. I’m sitting with my right leg crossed over my left as I write this. Some months back, this too was impossible and incredibly painful.
Every day is thanksgiving.
Oh, I later figured the cut on my neck was from the strap of my bag. It’s a cross bag and while I have no memory of the actual incident, every account I’ve heard tells me it was pretty bad. I was wearing my bag and somewhere in all that mix, it must have pressed into my skin.
God was watching out for me that night like He always is. I mean who hits their head on tarmac so hard, blacks out immediately, gets a massive wound that bleeds out a lot, hits their knee so bad after 11:00pm on a Friday night and gets to write about it?
“Hallelujah, every breath is a second chance” Always – Switchfoot