Dancing with Class, part 2

On Friday, July 2, 2004, Judith lost control of her bike and flipped into a ditch. Her back was broken. Last Sunday, Neils Knudsen, her husband, shared the emotional and physical impact the accident had on both of them. Today he shares part 2.

Written by, Neils Knudsen

Our search for a new home for ourselves ended when we found a development with new construction. A site was chosen and the contractor was eager to make the changes we needed for Judith. In January of 2005 she removed her clamshell brace for the last time and we moved in to a home with a view.

Judith at glacier 2006

Judith was excited for the new beginning. Although the doctor visits, medications and surgeries continued for some time, life for her became more peaceful and satisfying. She was free of her constraints and could now test her new wings . . . and wheels. That cruise to the inside passage of Alaska was realized and she began to see a larger, more magnificent world.

The home scene, though more comfortable soon clashed with my work schedule. My normal work hours grew longer along with mandatory overtime on weekends. I couldn’t meet the demands of home and work.

We discussed our options and in April of 2006 I took an early retirement and Judith decided she would return to her old job part-time. I quite enjoyed the change and got a lot of insights into her career.

Construction of other homes was still underway in our development. Hammers, Skill saws, heavy equipment and tons of dust covered the streets and vehicles. It was difficult for Judith to be heard at a distance during the day.

“Neeeeeeee-ills.”

I lifted a handful of clothes out of the washing machine and paused, listening.

“Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-ills.”

I tossed the wet laundry into the drier and ran upstairs in a panic.

“What?” I clutched my knees and panted breathlessly. “What’s wrong?”

She sat at the kitchen table and took a sip of her coffee, the morning paper opened to the daily crossword puzzle. “Hey you,” she smiled, “what’s a 6 letter word for ‘Spring’?”

“Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-ils.” The unmistakable sound of a power saw knifed through my mind. It turns out, if you stretch my first name out as if you’re calling for me it sounds much like a power saw cutting wood. Add a touch of nasal cavity to it and it truly becomes a power tool.

“I didn’t call you,” she guffawed and pointed out the door. “They did.”

We began to travel, mostly by car. Judith had always been an easy traveling companion and that didn’t change. We no longer rushed to go places, often stopping to explore as we went. She sometimes grew wistful as she watched others strolling together at a scenic overlook. That prickly, stubborn and ‘always in a hurry’ woman had changed. She came to appreciate that what she had gained was equal to what she had lost and accepted a more measured and contemplative attitude. Soon, that new life would include painting the scenes which she now saw with new eyes.

The visits to doctors and hospitals subsided to an occasional check-up. She learned to touch and be touched. Gentleness and acceptance of life grew to replace her ambition. She retired from her job and began to focus more on her art.

Judith is also an avid reader and has a degree in English. She has distinct tastes in what she selects as a reading subject. Unfortunately we don’t share those tastes to any notable degree. So when I started writing as a hobby I chose Science Fiction and Fantasy as my genre. She once tried to read “The Hobbit,” but got bored with it. The same with “Lord of the Rings,” though she loved the movies.

Four years later I finished my first book, The Singing Stones of Rendor. Credit for that project, including all its awards, would likely not have happened if not for Judith. Her gentle prodding, encouragement and constructive criticism was the gas in my tank. I repeatedly tried to kill off one character, but she argued against it—often to the point of bloodshed. I’m glad I listened to her. The arc of the story would not have developed and garnered so many trophies, if any, without her insights and skills at knowing what makes a good story.

My wife is, for the most part, independent and needs little in the way of any physical help to do things. I still help her with some of her transfers on occasion, but not often. The day will come when she’ll need more help. I expect I’ll need some help by then myself. She is the light in the tunnel, the gentle whisper in my ear, my tease, my best friend and motorized mentor who runs over my toes when I get curmudgeonly.

Alaska Cruise 2006

Judith has never given up. She always listens to people’s stories and encourages them to fight on. The impact she has had on the people around her is best illustrated by a young man she mentored while she worked on Wall Street. He went on to establish his own hedge fund and became a wealthy man. When he heard of her accident he flew here to visit her in the hospital. Later he would establish a scholarship fund in her name at Utah State University which is awarded annually. It is a fitting tribute to this woman who has given, and still gives, so much of herself to help those around her.

My part as a caregiver is insignificant compared to what Judith offers. So, I ask again, who is the real caregiver?

What I can say for sure is that I have been dancing with class.

Thank you Neils for sharing your heartfelt journey. I appreciate getting to know you and Judith better. I agree, you have been dancing with class. 

Dancing with Class, part I

Written by, Neils Knudsen

Neils & Judith 2004, a few months before the accident.

I’m not sure who the caregiver is in this marriage. My wife, Judith, who suffered a serious spinal cord injury in 2004, has given back more than I’ve ever given her. It didn’t always seem that way. In fact we were near divorce at the time of her accident.

We met one cold Tuesday night in February, 1997 during a dance class at the Murray Arts Center. I was two years into the single life after divorcing my first wife of 23 years and still trying to rediscover myself. She had seen ten years since her marriage ended.

Since there were more women in the class than men we were supposed to change partners from time-to-time. I tried to avoid her. She was clearly too much for me. That tall, slender and quite buxom woman would eat me alive and steal my lunch money. She fit a stereotype which I couldn’t afford, financially or emotionally. No problem, I thought. Those other guys are clamoring for her attention.

They tried . . . oh how they tried, but to my horror she shunned them and zeroed in on me.

Why me? I don’t have anything she wants, I thought.

Over the course of that evening, and many more to come, we became partners. This woman actually had a sense of humor similar to mine. She bantered with me. She teased me and, more importantly, I could actually tease her back. I was hooked. We married in October 1997 and moved to New York City where she worked once again on Wall Street for a young man who was once her protégé.

Judith grew up in a large Wyoming farming family. They were poor which only made her stronger, harder working and more determined to pull herself out of that circumstance. She was the middle child between four brothers and four sisters who gave no quarter and expected none in return. Competition was not new to her, but ambition would pull her out of, not only poverty, but an abusive marriage.

I relate this part about her life because it helps illustrate who she really is . . . a woman of strength and good character, of love and deep compassion. It also helps to tell you of where she was in her life when the accident happened.

As usual, Judith was prickly, stubborn and controlling the morning of Friday, July 2, 2004. She didn’t want to be and said as much, but life had pushed her there and it was hard to put aside.

A year of marriage counseling and an on-again, off-again relationship was coming to a close. I was working a weekend graveyard shift. She was beginning a long Fourth of July weekend.

She had gone on a bike ride with her cycling club. When I got home that morning I unplugged my phone, closed the windows and drapes, went to bed and quickly fell asleep.

My daughter shook me. “Dad, wake up.”

I hated to be wakened during my work week for no good reason. There never had been before, why now? “What?”

“Judith’s been in an accident,” she said as she plugged my phone in. It rang.

I answered it. It was Judith’s best friend, Gloria. The story she told chilled my bones. “Judith lost control of her bike and flipped into a ditch. Her back is broken. She’ll never walk again.”

“Are you sure it’s permanent?” I asked, hoping for some good news. “Sometimes these injuries are temporary.”

“Yes,” Gloria said.

My heart sank, but I still held out some hope. I got dressed, called my workplace to let them know I wouldn’t be in that night and then drove to McKay Dee Hospital in Ogden with my daughter.

The news of Judith’s bicycle accident had preceded me. Her mother and most of her siblings waited in what I soon learned was the ‘cry room’. They told me others who lived in far flung states and countries were on their way.

I joined them as we waited and hoped for a chance to see her. I cried.

An eternity later Judith’s daughter, Aimee, emerged from the ICU. She updated us and then turned to me. “She wants to see you.”

“Me?” I searched the bewildered eyes of her family. They seemed as surprised as I was. I followed Aimee through those impassable doors that led to . . . what? I held onto a prayer that I could hold back the tears when I saw her.

The nurse came out of Judith’s room as we approached. She said something, warning me about something, and something, something, something and I could only stay five minutes. “So little?”

She seemed asleep when I saw her. Scrapes covered her face. Bandages shielded her nose and forehead. Tubes strung from her mouth.

I leaned over and caressed her temple.

She opened her eyes and looked at me.

God denied my prayer. I wept.

Her eyes glistened and smiled.

God answered a prayer I did not know I made.

I saw deeper into her soul than ever. I saw the gentleness she always wanted to have. She would let go of her past.

(Editorial Comment from Judith) “At this point, I have to give you the other side. I knew almost at once when the bicycle flipped me head over heels and I landed on my back that I was paralyzed. When Neils came in, I was battered and bruised and hadn’t even begun to deal with what it all meant. When our eyes locked I smiled mostly in wonder because I could see love, a physical manifestation, as a light with many colors streaming from his face. I knew that we were together, united and I was safe, as I had never before been safe.”

The five minutes I was given became an hour. I thanked the nurse for letting me stay.

Aimee would later ask me if I could deal with being her mother’s caregiver.

“I will do this,” I said.

The next day Judith’s daughter April arrived from Arizona. The day after that her son flew in from New Zealand. The three of them took charge of insurance, doctors, the hospital and things I knew nothing about.

A week later she moved to a regular hospital room. The family continued to visit and her friends and coworkers often filled her room. As word of Judith’s accident spread, flowers flooded in and spilled into the hallway.

I did not, until that moment, know how well loved and respected she was.

“Why me? Of all the men on that dance floor, why did she pick me?” This woman who was so well regarded at her work and had such a wide ranging set of friends chose some dolt like me. Doubts about my ability to be a suitable caregiver crept in. She had a lot more support and resources available than I could give her.

Judith with her granddaughter, 2004

Eventually she left the hospital and went to a rehab center. We put our home up for sale and began looking for something more wheelchair friendly. At this point my real caregiving skills were yet to be tested.

The day finally came for her to come home wearing a clamshell brace which covered her from chin to tailbone. She hated that device, but at least she was out of the hospital. Home healthcare services were set up and I continued to go to work. My shift work and 14 hour workdays weighed me down. The physical issues Judith had were not unlike that of a newborn baby. The changes in her body functions required frequent attention. Preparing meals, bathing and nurturing were not unfamiliar, but the intensity of it was.

Judith has never been a complainer, but she did have days when her outlook suffered terribly. I tried to give her some hope of new adventures with stories about the wonders I’d seen while in the Navy. We soon planned a cruise to the inside passage of Alaska.

More doctor visits, hospital stays and surgeries added to the time demands. The emotional impact on Judith of these trials stressed her ability to cope. There seemed no end in sight.

Word soon came that my mother, who lived near Seattle, had developed dementia. She wanted to return to Utah. I couldn’t deal with it. Fortunately, after weeks of searching for a facility to care for her, my brother accepted that challenge and looked after her. Nevertheless, as the years went by, watching her decline was difficult. We were by her side when she passed away peacefully in 2010. I’ll always be grateful for that.

Thank you Neils and Judith for sharing your story. We look forward to next Sunday, part 2.

 

Making It Last Forever

To go along with my Sunday Story, In a Heartbeat, I found these great tips I want to remember from F. Burton Howard.
Sometimes with the responsibilities of life, the relationships that matter the most get forgotten. Suggested dos and don’ts for making marriage last forever:

• Treat your marriage differently than any other relationship by doing something special for one another. Mark often writes me love letters, which I treasure.
• Don’t make it common or ordinary by doing the same thing. Put some variety in your life.
• Shield it by being loyal and speaking kindly of one another.
• Don’t expose it to the elements by betraying personal confidences or private matters.
• Protect it by being thoughtful and considerate of one another’s feelings.
• Never abuse it or take it for granted.
• It’s less likely to become tarnished if you spend quality time together doing things that you both enjoy, but if it does, take time to lovingly polish it until it gleams like new.

I believe marriage or any other relationship “becomes special because you have made it so, and it grows more beautiful and precious as time goes by.”

 

 

 

In a Heartbeat

Wedding invitation picture

I heard a knock on my apartment door. I was expecting Mark, but still asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Mark replied. I opened the door to see my tall, dark and handsome boyfriend holding a bouquet of flowers in a vase. I welcomed him into the apartment I shared with a friend, Lori. He handed me the flowers with a note. I set the flowers down on the kitchen table to read the note:

“I Mark Wilson, being of questionable mind, but sound body, ask you Barbara Breitling to marry me.”

With anticipation and a grin, I noticed he was reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out a small box.

Now in all the fairy-tales the man bends down on one knee to ask for the lady’s hand in marriage. Since I wanted a fairy-tale wedding and marriage, I thought it only appropriate to have that kind of proposal.

“Aren’t you going to get down on one knee,” I asked. He dropped down and reached for my left hand. I gladly gave it to him and he placed a beautiful diamond ring on my finger, which was a perfect fit. So our journey began with the official proposal on May 2, 1979.

We had dated for two years and decided to make our engagement short since June is the best wedding month. Fortunately, my mother is a pro at organization and party planning. She also had experience with helping my sister and two older brothers with their wedding days. As an anxious bride, I thought six weeks was plenty of time to prepare for the biggest party of my life. To complicate matters, we wanted the wedding and reception in my parent’s backyard, so on top of the regular wedding preparations we had a yard to dress up.

Mark and I were raised in two different religions so we thought my Uncle Wayne, who was an LDS bishop at the time, should be the ceremony officiator. This was the first of many decisions. My aunt Lorna, who worked at a bakery, decorated a beautiful three-tier cake. My cousin, Melody, who worked at a craft store did mine and three bridesmaid’s silk bouquets along with five corsages and five boutonnieres for the rest of the wedding party which included my two oldest nieces as flower girls. There were bridemaid’s dresses to sew and mine to buy. For the men, tuxedo’s to rent. A photographer to hire and wedding invitations to have printed and mailed. We had refreshments to order and asked four close cousins to help serve them. Mom and Dad rented an organ and my brother-in-law Klint played the wedding march along with love songs throughout the night to add romance to the atmosphere. We also had some special musical numbers which were sung by a family friend and talented cousins. The two I remember best were the “Hawaiian Love Song” and “We’ve Only Just Begun”.

It was the greatest wedding and reception I’ve ever been to thanks to the hard work of parents, family and friends who helped pull it together in just six fast passing weeks.

Our honeymoon is an awesome memory and we were definitely on top of the world. We spent our wedding night in a nice hotel in Salt Lake City and the next six nights were spent camping at Zion’s and Bryce National Parks, and the Grand Canyon. We had a wonderful time and fell in love with the beauty of Southern Utah while exploring the parks for the first time together. Even though the planning of everything was stressful, it was an exciting, blissful time of life. No other memory can compare to the wedding and honeymoon and then it’s back to real life.

Setting up a home together and learning to live with one another brings challenges. With work, school and a new home, sometimes we struggled to make ends meet. Three and a half years later our son came; add another sixteen months and our daughter joined our family. Children bring happiness along with added responsibilities and adjustments.

Two months before our twelfth wedding anniversary the car accident happened and the world as we knew it fell apart. Our life dramatically changed, adding physical and mental health issues. Thus far, we have survived it all which gives me faith for the future. This month we celebrated our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. It’s hard to believe that much time has passed. Our two children are grown and creating their own families. I remember how time consuming they were when they were small and now we have to beg, borrow and steal time with them, and we cherish every moment. It’s strange—I don’t remember growing older, so how did they get to my age? Thirty-five years sounds like a long time, but it went by so quickly.

One day Mark asked me if I knew then what I know today, would I still marry him? My reply was, “In a heartbeat.” Sure, I would write a different love story by changing some events in our lives if I could. But I wouldn’t change the love we share. Our marriage is nothing like we’d planned, expected or could possibly comprehend. It’s been a lot of hard work, forgiveness, juggling responsibilities, patience, and tolerance on both of our parts. Would I still marry him? Yes, in a heartbeat!

Best wedding ever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Survivor—Nich’s Story

Written by, Jamie Sorensen

Our story began more than fifteen years ago. I met my husband, Nicholas, in high school; we were just acquaintances in our junior year. Nich sat behind me in our history class; he usually slept, or doodled on his homework, and then asked to copy my notes. He was very outgoing, social, and flirtatious. We were complete opposites and after high school, we went our separate ways.

On Saturday July 24^th, 1999, at age eighteen, Nicholas was involved in a horrific rollover car accident. After spending a week at the Sand Dunes, Nich, his friends and family, were driving home in three separate cars. Nich’s family was in front, followed by Nich and his two best friends Melissa and Sean, and bringing up the rear was Melissa’s family. Nich’s Mom, Dad, and sister, in the lead car, lost sight of Nich and his friends, so they pulled into a rest stop to wait for them to catch up. That unfortunately never happened.

At approximately 6:34 p.m. near Tremonton, Utah, the Highway Patrol received multiple phone calls from witnesses, saying that a white Jeep hit the center median, swerved, over corrected, and rolled two or three times end over end. Nich and his friends were thrown from the vehicle. The driver, Sean, had the least extensive injuries; he was awake and talking. Nich, unconscious was taken by ambulance to the local hospital in Tremonton. Melissa, suffered the most serious injuries, and was life lighted to the University of Utah hospital. Tragically, she did not survive.

Nich was at the Tremonton hospital for a short time. He had difficulty breathing, because his lungs were filling with fluid. They transported him immediately by ambulance, to the McKay-Dee hospital in Ogden, Utah for two days, and then another transfer to Cottonwood hospital, for the next three days. Upon his release, he was referred to a neurologist (for the brain injury), and attended rehab three times a week for six weeks. He had to re-learn how to walk, talk, eat, and do all the everyday functions we take for granted. With the Traumatic Brain Injury, he began having multiple seizures.

In 2007, I stumbled upon Nich’s name online, through our high schools web page on MySpace. We were both coming out of unhappy and unhealthy marriages. I sent him a message saying “Hello do you remember me?” Surprisingly he did! We started talking a lot; learning everything about each other since our junior year of high school. We dated for a year and were married, February 17, 2008.

I knew, about Nich’s horrible accident before we got married, but I couldn’t have fully known what my responsibilities would be as the wife of a TBI survivor. You can’t prepare for things you’re going to have to deal with until you’re actually living with that person on a daily basis.

Nich has had two major grand mall seizures since the accident, but he suffers from petite mal seizures almost daily. He’s currently on three different seizure medications, all at maximum dosages, which keep the seizures at bay for the most part. A year and a half ago, Nich blacked out, fell and hit his head in the shower, causing another concussion. Two days later a golf ball size hematoma showed up on his head, and he started throwing up. The concussion caused his seizures to become more prevalent again. His driver’s license was taken away and since then, he’s had some major setbacks. He often forgets how he got from upstairs to downstairs. He has fallen down our staircase due to another black out.

I could’ve never expected many of the things we’ve had to deal with the past six years, but I don’t regret a single second of it. It’s taken a lot of patience and understanding. I’ve had to learn how my husband’s brain works. I’ve had to change my expectations and how I do and say things to him.  Nich is one of the strongest people I’ve ever known.  He is loving, kind and compassionate. He says what he’s thinking, when he is thinking it. He is romantic, sensitive, and takes great care of me and our three kids. He constantly puts our needs before his own, and is always seeking ways to make others happy. I feel so lucky to have my husband at home with our kids every day; he’s a tremendous father. I feel so blessed to be married to my best friend who helps me appreciate the little things in life. I try to be thankful for what we have, and try not to stress about the things we don’t. My husband and I look forward to every day we get to spend together.

It’s true, I wouldn’t have married that “boy” I knew back in High School, but the man I know now (post TBI, and accident), is the love of my life.

Jamie will share more of their story next Sunday, with Survivor—Nich’s Story, Part 2. Thank you for sharing your heartfelt story.

Keeping the Fire Burning

Mark and I 1979

Marriage use to be new, fun and exciting. There is definitely a shift change that happens in romance over time. Not that this is a bad thing—just reality as far as I know it. I’ve been married for 35 years in June. Sounds and feels like a long time until I compare it to my parents who have been married for 63 years.  How can you live happily ever after? This is what I’ve learned from my experience.

Physical contact is important.

I will never forget how much I missed physical contact with Mark for the three months he was in his coma. Sure I could hold his hand, but he was not capable of holding mine and I missed it! After my collarbone healed from our car accident, I was anxious to help the nurses and aids bathe Mark, rub lotion on him, and transfer him in and out of bed. I wanted so much to touch and care for him. I needed that closeness. The nurses and aids were willing to let me help and I loved doing it.

I’ll never forget the first time I slipped into the twin size hospital bed next to Mark, hoping no one would care. It felt so good just to be able to lie next to him and since the nurses didn’t kick me out it became a routine. I have never taken for granted the need for physical contact since those lonely long months after the car accident.

Mom and Dad 2014

I love to see my parents holding hands as they walk or sit on the couch next to each other. To watch my father help my mother out of a car, down steps, or out of a chair is endearing. They have grown in tenderness with each other over the years. It is clear to me that they love one another and appreciate the time they have together. I am grateful for their example.

Positive reinforcement is a must.

Mark is especially good at accentuating the positive. He always makes me feel wonderful.  He calls me S.U.G.A.R. and spells it as an acronym for Sweetheart, Unmatchable, Girl of my dreams, Awesome, Reason to live. He often reminds me and others who will listen what S.U.G.A.R. stands for. I love it and it makes me feel so special.

I’ve also noticed when I tell Mark he looks handsome, he sits up a little straighter and holds his head a little higher. We all need and enjoy complements.

Express appreciation for the other.

Mark and I 1995

Every relationship is different. It’s not possible for me to have a relationship like my parents, but I am capable of having a loving relationship. Mark and I aren’t able to travel to far away romantic destinations or even go out for a romantic dinner and dance. But I can provide a romantic dinner at home and turn on some music so we can sway back and forth. I believe that no matter where you are in your relationship you need to appreciate it for what it is.

I feel so blessed to have the opportunity to be a caregiver for Mark. I know that by caring for him my love as grown more than I imagined possible. I appreciate every bonus day we have together. When a person only has a five to ten percent chance to live and no chance of coming out of a coma due to the extensive damage to the brain, you know every day is a bonus day.

Sure there are some things I miss about the early days of our marriage, but I wouldn’t trade them for the love, peace and contentment that are relationship as grown into.