I'm Not That Way Anymore (PT 1)

I'm not that way anymore. Time closes yesterday's door. I'm much more happy, than I was before, and I'm not that way anymore.

Life, as I knew it, ceased to exist on December 16, 1998. a 40 year young re vitalized woman at the peak of my career as a Food and Beverage Director of a chain Hotel. Mother of four nearly grown children, a daily power walker, or was that a size 6 junior Rambo? Power lunches in heels by day, a soccer mom by afternoon, and a social butterfly by night! I was fascinated by the future of every waking day, and I didn’t know that I was unhappy.

Nothing unusual about the day. I spent the early morning dressing myself and yelling down the hall for the boys not to be late for school. They, like their Mother are NOT morning people. As I arrived at work, I had found that my maintenance crew had not yet hung the little twinkly lights for Christmas down the banisters of the hotel lobby stairs. When I confronted the lead man, David, he acted sheepishly as he told me that he didn’t know how to hang the lights, as he had never done so. Now David is a friendly Hispanic man in his thirties. Good looking, with a childlike half smile worn 24/7. I can’t take credit for hiring him, but I sure would have! We marched up the stairs together boxes in hands and I informed him that it was ever so easy, all he has to do is sing, and creativity will come to him from his spirit. (and I’ll just point) I taught him the words to “Wait a little longer please Jesus”, not exactly Christmasy, but the beat got him motivated eh? He laughed and told me that I was nuts. ( I didn’t know this?) I remember very few things from that point on. David's smiling face vividly, and his laugh too. We had only wrapped a few banisters when I recall standing away a bit to admire our beautiful vines. The next few days I can only recall what I have been told. That I fell at that moment, from the top of the staircase. Some say I was bumping a few posts along the way. Others say I was continually landing on my hips from side to side. I do remember screaming David's name for help. I was told that the paramedics sliced open my velvet slacks and that modesty was indeed compromised. Oh how I recall being embarrassed. My cheeks are hot now just thinking about it! I was also told that I fought with said medics about the administration of morphine. They won.

Many of the hotel staff came to see me in the hospital. All of them looking quite sad. My two youngest boys, very afraid little faces. (13, 16 at the time) Even my ex husband seemed grief stricken, and I saw fear on his face. I think that my parents and sister were in denial, as was my daughter. Walt, my fiancé at the time, strong and steadfast, never left my side; not for a moment. I had fractured my back in two places, and although not known at first, also my left knee had been shattered. To be honest, I have to tell you that I thought I was Christopher Reeves at the time. I felt no hope, and guilty for wanting to have a happy life of my very own. Very few times in my life have I ever questioned my faith, and THIS was surely one of them. Afterall, I was writing my first novel! ( some of you know about "journey") I had a hotel to run! My family needs me! WHY was this happening to me? Why am I being punished? All questions he refused to answer. In hindsight, of course, the answers were right there in front of me. Direction needed changing, again.

I spent the following months in either a wheel chair, or a recliner. My daughter pulled off Christmas Eve as if it were hosted by myself. I was in and out of Physical therapy, and I loathed every painful minute of it. A very lost puppy was I. I had many visitors during those first few months. They all looked at me as if I were an alien. Sympathy and disbelief in their eyes. Everyone but my Mom. During one of my pity parties she slapped me with her tone of voice. A voice I heard only when I was in trouble as a child. it always began with.... Regina Ruth Terranova! She told me that God had not forsaken me, that I had given up on myself. She said that it wasn’t acceptable. After a tongue lashing never to be forgotten, Mom appeared with several blocks of white muslin with printed designs on them, an assortment of needles, a hoop, and a beautiful basket of embroidery thread. She told me that I was going to make a quilt. Now, having been a tailor all of her life, and taught me to make clothes as well, I had NEVER known her to make a quilt. In fact, I don’t think she knew what a quilt was. She was trying to help save her daughters mind. She did indeed succeed at that.

She taught me how to make a French knot, a lazy dazey, back stitch, and a few others. Enough to get me on my way. She made my favorite coffee treats, folded laundry, helped me bathe, and then she was gone. The boys were pretty self sufficient, and even helpful to me. Walt should have been anointed for sainthood as he cared for his home, my home, and me. He actually found something that made me tick, and ran with it. Incentive to walk, to run, to thrive once again. He said little things to me like, “Gina, if you walk to the end of the hall today with your PT, I’ll get you a puppy to keep you company.” Gina, If you stand for a few minutes over there, I’ll bring you more fabrics to stitch on”. Now of course you are thinking WHAT A BABY!. yep, I am. sorry, cats out of the bag now. I dont handle pain, and I can be bribed.

I stitched for days, weeks! I piled up those blocks and they were beautiful! I spent hours fondling the stitching, admiring the graceful beauty of simplicity. I daydreamed of a grand daughter that someday I would have, and could give these to. But...what the hell do I do with them now? Do I just keep making more? I had no clue. I knew one thing, I wanted to walk to a fabric store to get more of this good medicine.

Stay tuned for part two..........