October, 1979 – The Time That Changed My Life

The other day I was driving along and I changed the station on my Sirius radio to The Blend and there was a country song. In all the time I have listened to that station, I have never heard a country song so I listened to Tim McGraw singing “Live Like You Were Dying.” I thought that was particularly fitting since it is the end of October. For most people that means nothing but for me it is the time that changed my life. On October 29, 1979, thirty years ago, BK, BJ, K and I attended a conference about women gaining power. We left the conference in two cars and I was feeling depressed. I was working as an IRS tax auditor, a job I hated but took with hopes of transferring to the EEOC. I didn’t know that right before I was eligible to transfer, President Carter would put a hold on all transfers out of IRS. I guess the government needed more money. Anyway, I was stuck in a job I hated and it was Sunday which meant I was going to start a new week. I was sitting in the passenger seat of the car and I put the seat in a reclining position and closed my eyes. This was before seat belt requirements and I wasn’t wearing one. I thought, “I wish I didn’t have to go to work tomorrow.” Be careful what you wish for. The next thing I remember was darkness, being very cold, the smell of oil or gas, hearing people talk about medical things, having difficulty breathing and pain – lots of pain. Apparently, as we were making a left turn with a green arrow, a young woman drove her friend’s car through a red light hitting us right where I was reclining. The side of the car was completely torn off and I fell or was thrown out of the car.

BJ has her story as she was driving a few blocks behind us and drove past this accident, unaware or unable to register that the body in the road was her sister. BK had a concussion, whiplash and many cuts from glass but she was not hospitalized. The driver of the car that hit us was unhurt. I had a broken collar bone, 7 broken ribs, broken in two places so they were floating in my chest, a partial pneumo-thorax (collapsed lung), some scratches on the outside of the heart, a severe tearing of the skin of my right knee, a broken left leg and a shattered left ankle. The ribs, collar bone, knee and lung problems were all on the right side. They occurred when the car hit me. My left leg and ankle were injured when I fell or was thrown out of the car. I also had many other cuts and whiplash and, although I was told I had no brain injury, I later realized that it was sometimes difficult to retrieve the correct word, even for common objects. I have always been thought of as being rather glib but I was much better before the accident. That is what this has always been called – “the accident.” In my family, there doesn’t need any other explanation.

I ended up in intensive care for 5 days, for 3 of those days they were unsure if I would live. During that time, I had an out-of-body experience, probably close to what others have called a near death experience. Because of my broken ribs, I found breathing very difficult and painful. At one point, a nurse was sitting next to me and I guess I stopped breathing. Because of the pain, I had to force myself to breathe. There were times when my autonomic nervous system would decide that I couldn’t take the pain anymore and so the breathing would stop and I would have to force myself to breathe. This time, I didn’t. I saw black and felt no pain. Then I was out of my body looking down at me and the nurse. She was encouraging me to keep breathing but I thought, “Why? I have no pain. In fact, I feel great.” Then she said that if I didn’t start breathing on my own quickly, they would get a respirator and that would force me to breathe and it would be much more painful. I remembered my father having one after open heart surgery and realized that they weren’t going to let me just stay in that space so I took a breath. It was at that moment that I decided to live. This all probably took seconds but it has been indelible in my mind.

It would be wonderful if I could say that after this out-of-body experience, I became this person who was grateful to be alive, that even though my body had become changed forever in a nano-second, I was cheerful and optimistic. It would be wonderful but it would also be a lie. I was angry. I was told that I may never be able to walk without a brace because of a shattered ankle. I had to endure a chest tube, debreeding of my knee, and many other very painful procedures. I was totally dependent on others for everything now. Why did this have to happen to me? I lashed out at everyone. Here is a perfect example of what kind of patient I was. I was being fed intravenously but I would get very dry so I could have ice chips. I was totally unable to get anything myself so whoever was there would get ice chips for me. If it was BJ, she never gave me enough. If it was BK, she always gave me too much. Nothing was ever right and I let everyone know that. I was completely bedridden, unable to do the simplest things myself. When I was stable, they operated on my leg and ankle putting me in a cast from my hip to my toes. I couldn’t use a walker for a very long time because of my collar bone and my ribs. I needed help for everything and, if you know me, that was very difficult. I have no idea how anyone put up with me.

I spent 5 weeks in the hospital. What kept me going was thinking that I could not get worse, that the only thing I could do was get better. One day my father stood at the foot of the bed and suddenly there were tears in his eyes. He told me that I was such a brave and courageous person, that I fought so hard to live and he was so proud and thankful. Since my family was not very demonstrative and my parents seldom, if ever, told us they loved us even though their actions showed us they did, this was very powerful for me. There was also a nun who came to talk to me regularly even though I am Jewish. She was very helpful. The nurse, who forced me to breathe, came to see me after a particularly difficult time in the ICU. She wanted to see one who made it. I was unable to read because the pain meds made it difficult to concentrate. I couldn’t write but I was able to eat with my left hand and I could watch TV. That is what I did between medical procedures – eat and watch TV. My family came every day and spent as much time as they could with me. I don’t think I ever thanked anyone who was close to me. Instead, I lashed at those who I loved the most. I spent my 41st birthday in the hospital. My family, along with the staff, made it possible for me to have a cake and celebrate my birthday in a room other than my hospital room. People said that I was lucky because I lived. I hated hearing that because I felt that if I was lucky, the accident wouldn’t have happened.

After 5 weeks, the hospital told me it was time to leave. Because of the care I needed, they suggested a nursing home. That made me so unhappy, that BK arranged for a hospital bed and all the equipment to come into our townhouse, in the living room which became my room. She came to training so she would know how to help me move and how to care for my needs. We got cable TV which was very new then so I would have things to watch. BK spent most nights sleeping on the couch in case I needed anything. My children were unbelievably wonderful. They had experienced a very traumatic event having almost lost their mother and then having a mother return who was nothing like the one before. BK had taken over and did a wonderful job being their mother for all those weeks. I can’t possibly go into all the adjustments that were made, all the help I received and how I seldom thanked anyone.

It took a long time. During the long recovery at home, I had a lot of time to think – in between eating and watching TV. I understood that I was going through a grieving process – grieving for the body I used to have. I began to accept what had happened. I began to realize that I was lucky to be alive. And I also realized that I needed to change my life. In 1966, my mother died suddenly at the age of 54. At the time, I thought she had missed so much in life that she wanted to do and I wasn’t going to be like that. But, life has a way of changing and choices become not as clear as that. I almost died at age 40 and I was working at a job I hated. I had to make changes. I was out of work for 6 months and when I went back, I decided to quit. I went back to school to get my LD credential and have been teaching, in one way or the other, ever since. I have not stayed at any job where I didn’t feel fulfilled and useful. After my youngest child graduated high school and I felt she seemed settled, I left Milwaukee to spend a year traveling with BK in our converted van all over the Untied States and Canada. I was looking for a warm place to live. I found the perfect job in LA and, although I changed jobs in the years I have been here, I know I made the right choice.

I am now retired. “The Accident” has left me with some reminders. The knee where the skin was all torn has since had to be replaced. I don’t have full lung capacity so I get out of breath easier. I am finding it harder to find the correct words as I am getting older. My ankle aches and sometimes is a bit unstable but I have never needed a brace. I worked very hard trying to make my body as strong as I could and I still do. But I also have a lot of other things. I have been able to do just about everything I ever wanted. I have a family that has always supported me and has always been there. There is no way ever I could show my appreciation for all they did and all they went through with me. And I do exactly what Tim McGraw says in the song - I live like I am dying because all of us actually are and the best thing for each of us to do is to live every day as if it was our last. My life changed on October 29, 1979 and it has made me what I am today. In many ways, I am thankful for that. I am one happy woman.

Grandmother

A few weeks ago I saw comedian, Kate Clinton, and she mentioned how it is so interesting that when people are complaining about the possible health care program, they are saying that it will put grandma to death - not grandpa. When I write this, it doesn’t seem funny because I am not a comic but I laughed very hard as did BK because I have been noticing this for years.

If some woman gets hurt and she is above a certain age – maybe 60 – the paper or the TV states that a 65 year old grandmother was run over by a car today. The question in my mind was whether that was a worse because she was a grandmother or why is that relevant at all. A 75 year old grandmother slipped off the brake and onto the gas pedal going into a store front. An 80+ man drove into a farmer’s market. Was he a grandfather? It wasn’t mentioned. A 55 year old grandmother robbed a bank – isn’t that cute or a shock that a grandmother would do that? I love being a grandmother. I have been a grandmother since I was 43 years old. I wonder if I would have been described as a 43 year old grandmother if I had done something newsworthy.

All this has again come to mind, as it does almost daily to this 70 year old grandmother, when I read in the USA Today about the H1N1 vaccine. It is not going to be given to the elderly because we may have an immunity sine we may have been exposed in our younger years. A question was asked if the clinics will turn away elderly people who want the shot. Dr. Anthony Fauci answered, “But I have to tell you, I can't imagine if a 75-year-old grandmother comes up to a place and says, "I'd like my vaccine," that somebody will say, "No, go away and come back in two weeks." Somehow I don't see that.” So, if you want a H1N1 shot, stand in line with your grandchildren and be a woman and who would ever turn you down.

My sister and I were dancing at a wedding not long ago, doing what we used to call the jitterbug which is now called swing dancing. We had a great time when after the dance was over, someone came to me laughing and said, “That was the cutest thing I have ever seen.” I was deeply offended. This person had been to other weddings and my sister and I almost always dance the jitterbug together. This time we were “cute.” Why? Because we are old? I guess we could have been described as the 64 and 69 year old grandmothers who were jitterbugging. Oh, wait – my sister isn’t a grandmother. Does that make her any less cute? The interesting part of this is that we are considered “cute” when we are children and cute when we are old. I resent being considered the same as a child.

So, notice how many times an older woman is called a grandmother even though that has no relevance to the subject. Or how many times people, in particular politicians, use the term “grandmother” when trying to get across a point. And also notice how many times you consider older people as cute rather than talented or smart or energetic.

The Roman Polanski Fiasco

I am fuming. What is wrong with this picture? A man gives champagne to a 13 year old girl. That is against the law, I believe. A man then gives the 13 year old girl some Quaalude. I think that is also against the law. Now, this man sodomizes this 13 year old girl and he does get arrested. He is charged and pleaded guilty to unlawful intercourse with a minor. There is then some kind of judicial misconduct, which to me is unimportant, and on the eve of his sentencing, the man is nowhere to be found. The 13 year old girl did win a civil suit and received an undisclosed amount of money and she can’t say anything about it. He lives in France, openly, since 1977. Since then he has made many movies to much critical acclaim. France never thought of sending him back because he was a wanted criminal. This is the story of a talented director, Roman Polanski. And that is the way it would have stayed except that Switzerland decided to allow the United States to extradite him.

So now, what is the reaction to this? Many Hollywood dignitaries have signed a petition saying that he has suffered enough. The 13 year old girl is now happily married and doesn’t want to testify against him, saying that all should be dropped. I have even heard some say that the girl wasn’t really raped. This seasoned feminist is outraged! First, let’s talk about class. If some poor Mexican man had done this and had ran away to México only to be found and brought back, would he not be charged not only with the rape but also with running away before being sentenced? Any average person would be charged but if you are an artist or you are a sport’s celebrity or a rich person, the law treats you differently. We live in a classist society which is like India only we hide it.

Now let’s talk about sexism. I had hoped that we had stopped looking at rape as the victim’s problem. I thought that we had realized, without a doubt, that a 13 year old does not have the ability to consent. How can anyone say it wasn’t rape? He even admitted to statutory rape and it was. I understand why the woman doesn’t want to bring all this up again. She has a life and she doesn’t want to be dragged through the mud which our sexist society would do. I don’t understand all these people who think he “suffered enough” because his mother was killed in the holocaust, because he got to make millions and get all kinds of accolades while “exiled” in France, because his wife, Sharon Tate, was murdered and many other aspects of his life. What does any of that to do with his raping a 13 year old girl or with his running away before sentencing? Nothing. Every time I hear these excuses I rage. Being a male celebrity is much more important than being female and being raped at the age of 13. It will be interesting to see how this plays out.