One Year.

(Written Sunday, November 30th, but didn't get around to posting it until today)
A year ago today, my world came crashing down on me.  

A year ago today, my nightmares came true.  

A year ago today, something I never thought would happen, happened.  

A year ago today, my little cousin Nicole . . . the light of my life since I was eight . . . was hit by a car and severely injured. The pain, the desperation, the hopelessness I felt that night and in the months after that is indescribable. I almost feel guilty talking about my pain . . . knowing that the physical pain that Nicole was going through was so much more than I could even imagine . . . which hurt me even more.  

Looking at the early pictures is painful, too.  



I remember so well the hours and hours I spent standing at her bedside, praying she'd wake up. I remember so well the doctors and nurses telling us not to get our hopes up. I remember the 'V' word being mentioned, in hushed tones. I remember all of those times I made that hour long drive home, navigating the entire way through tears.  

I can recall how happy I was when she started opening her eyes . . . even though she couldn't focus them on anything.  



And then very slowly, more and more signs of recovery. How great it felt when she started holding tight to my hand, and looking at me, not through me.  



She fought through obstacle after obstacle, from MRSA infections to siezures . . . it was a struggle, but nothing stopped her.  

The first time I saw her respond to direction (look at the thumbs up!) I spent another tearful drive home . . . only it was tears of joy this time.  



And just look at those gorgeous eyes.  

There were so many nights I went home totally emotionally drained, thinking I couldn't feel any more empty . . . dead inside . . . it was those little milestones that kepts us all going . . . that fueled that faint glimmer of hope we all clung to so desperately.  I can't tell you how many nights I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning pouring my heart out to my friends and loved ones who held me up through the entire ordeal. But Nicole's strong will pulled us all through.  

After 5 months in the hospital, Nicole was transferred to the Walter Lawson Children's home, where she was expected to live until she turned 18 (which was only a little over a month away). The doctors told us she would need lifelong skilled care.  

Little did they know that within the first few hours at Walter Lawson, the angels that work there helped Nicole to prove the doctors wrong.  They began testing her abilities, and we quickly found out that she had the capacity to do way more than any of us had dreamed.  

And then came the happiest day of my life.  The first day I visited her at Walter Lawson.  Her mom, dad, and friend Ryan were all on thier way, but I got there a couple of hours earlier.  She was worn out from therapy, and slept for a good portion of the time . . . but I can so clearly remember when she took my hand and brought it up to her face and kissed it not once, but three times.  When Mom, Dad, and Ryan got there, they had a suprise for her . . . they brought her puppy, Gypsy, and her Guinea Pig, Cocopuff.  

When they came in, Nicole's eyes lit up, and she smiled the biggest, most beautiful smile I've ever seen in my life.  Seeing her smile for the first time made my heart burst with joy.  

That alone was enough to make it the best day of my life, but it didn't end there.  

She fed herself, and drank by herself . . . 

. . . and no, that still wasn't it.  After dinner that day, I thought she might like to color . . . I thought it might help with her motor skills.  I figured she might be able to scribble around a bit. 

But much to our surprise . . . 

If you can't read it, it says "I love you guys so much." 

Indeed, Nicole was not destined to stay there forever.  After only a few short weeks, they moved her to Marionjoy Rehabilitation Center, not to live out her days, but to rehabilitate her enough to go home.  

Home!  That's a word we never thought we'd hear in reference to Nicole.  

She soared at Marionjoy, and we had a lot of fun on our visits . . . from watergun fights, to board games, to playing "hide Dad's hat." 

We spent her 18th birthday in Marionjoy . . . 

She started getting anxious to come home.  She'd beg us to stay, and she'd get really upset when we left . . . but that strong will of hers kept showing through, and she got better and better . . . 

July 3rd, after 7 months in hospitals and rehab centers, she came home.  How symbolic, coming home the day before Independence Day! 

. . . and everyday since then has been a miracle for all of us.  The old Nicole shines through more and more each day . . . 

Recently, Nicole had surgery to try and correct the atrophy that was bending her foot up into a pretzel.  So far, so good . . . we're hoping her foot continues to stay straight, and we won't have any problems with that anymore.  In the meantime, she's starting to put weight on it, and slowly starting to use crutches to get around more and more, relying on her wheelchair less and less.  

Now to backtrack a bit . . . 

When Nicole first went into the hospital, we were basically living in the Neurological Intensive Care waiting room . . . the morning after we set up camp, a wonderful man named Alberto joined our family, too.  He, his wife, and his son had all been in an accident, leaving his wife paralyzed from the waist down.  Just as in our case, those first few weeks were very difficult for him and his family to get through.  Our families bonded, supported each other, took care of each other, and cried with each other.  Alberto is from Chicago, and owns a mexican bakery.  

Before Nicole ever woke up, I told her about him.  I told her that when she was better, we were going to go up to Chicago and go to Alberto's bakery for some tasty treats.  

It'll be more than a year in the making when it happens, but, as you can see by this long photo story I've written out . . . it WILL happen.  

Nicole is a living, breathing miracle, and not a day goes by that I don't thank the heavens that she is still here with us.  Not a day goes by that I'm not thankful for the hundreds of people that rallied around her and prayed for her and cheered her on and never gave up on her.  

Not a day goes by that I don't cherish every moment that I have with her.  

November 30th, 2008.  One year since that horrible accident.  I spent the day with Nicole, cuddled up on the couch during a snowstorm, watching movies, eating good food, and helping her set up her new Myspace page.  A boring day to some, but I had to keep myself from getting choked up on several occasions.  I never thought I would be so thankful for such simple moments.  

Here's to a year of sorrow and joy, tragedy and triumph . . . and miracles upon miracles.  

18 Candles

Some of you may remember that back in January I posted about the tragic events that occurred concerning my 17 year old cousin Nicole.  

I haven't talked a lot about it on this blog simply due to the need for privacy and the concern for her safety, as she was a victim of a crime.  

However, now, nearly six months later, a lot has changed, and I feel a little bit more comfortable talking about it.  Nicole has made such amazing improvements, especially in the last couple of months.  It is incredible how much she and those around her have endured since November 30th, and even more incredible are the odds that Nicole has overcome.  

We had doctors and nurses telling us that she would never be more than a tragedy whose most basic body processes barely function.  They implied that she would never get out of that hospital bed . . . that she would never be able to smile or laugh or put her arms around us for a hug . . . that she would be fed through a tube in her stomach for the rest of her life . . .

. . . yesterday was Nicole's 18th birthday.  When I arrived at the rehab facility, she was in the therapy room with two occupational therapists, sitting up mostly on her own, making a birthday craft.  It was a butterfly, which she had already colored, and was in the process of gluing on sequins to the wings.  One of the therapists asked her to say who I was, but she was a bit tired, and she's only barely begun relearning to use her voice.  So on her dry erase board, she wrote "Corry."

Back in her room, we looked at pictures, watched Looney Toons videos on youtube on my phone, and were just generally silly and full of laughs.  

And Nicole knows that Corry isn't Corry if she doesn't have her camera with her . . . so we had a little bit of fun with that, too!









Happy Birthday Nicole! You are my miracle!

School days....

School is in full swing now, and I'm burying myself in it the best I can.  In the past week, I've managed to somewhat successfully pull myself out the the pit I'd been in for the last month and a half.  This does't mean that the emotional pain I have been enduring since November 30th is gone, it simply means I have found a new way to cope with it, and am doing my best to become a stronger person because of it.  

I have 18 credit hours this semester, and I am also finishing up an incomplete I had to take due to missing so much class at the end of last semester...so it's more like I'm taking 22 hours.  

Friday I picked up an application for the Honors Program...if accepted, I will be in yet another class. I think I have a fair chance at getting in.  I am in the middle of putting the final touches on my application essay, and so far, I've gotten a very good response from everyone I've asked to look it over.  I will soon be writing more essays for scholarship applications, as well, so it's also good practice.  

And on top of all of that, I am joining the Psychology club and the Trio leadership program, as well.  

So, my therapy has been school, and so far it's working well.  

It also doesn't hurt that a good portion of my support system throughout all of this resides right there in that building.  As I was going through the beginning of this saga during the final weeks of last semester, I spent much of my time in the offices of my counselor and my English teacher.  Both were tremendously helpful in keeping me on track, while at the same time simply being there to talk.  

Even throughout the winter break, I was in touch regularly with my English teacher, updating him on Nicole, and releasing my frustrations and fears via the keyboard of my computer.  It is hard to describe exactly how much the small gesture of simply allowing me to write helped me to get through such a difficult time.  

Sometimes it almost feels wrong to feel happy about something good that was born as a result of something as horrible as Nicole's accident...but the truth is, good things have resulted.  I feel it has given me the opportunity to forge a new bond with the aforementioned teacher...he has become someone for me to look up to...a mentor.  

I am quite happy with where my life is going right now, and even happier that I have such tremendously good people to help me along the way.  

And hopefully I will still be able to find time in between the classes and the clubs and work and the occasional night's sleep to get my butt in gear when it comes to keeping this blog updated!  

Thanks for listening, folks...I appreciate it!  

December 2007: A month I hope to forget

To The Core has gone untouched for over a month now, and for that, I apologize. However, life has become rather rotten, and even when I've the time, I haven't felt up to writing.

I suppose it's about time to fill you in on how 2007 ended for me.

November 30th was without a doubt the worst day of my life so far. That's saying a lot considering there are a lot of days in 25 1/2 years. On November 30th, 2007, at 5:30 in the evening, my dear sweet little cousin Nicole was hit by a car and critically injured. Today marks day 33 of her coma. 33 days of tears and fears and prayers and hopes and pain and sadness. I won't go into details about what we've all gone through with Nicole in the past month, as that would take much too long, and be much too painful to write out...but it has been the most difficult thing I have ever had to go through...and it's still going on.

To top that off, 5 days after Nicole was taken to the hospital, I got the call that my gramma was on her way, as well. It was sad that I was already there to greet her when she was admitted. After running some tests, it was found that she had C-Diff, which is an infection in the bowels that can be fatal. In this case, it was. Exactly one week after Nicole's accident--3 days after Gramma entered the hospital--she passed away. It's been weeks now, and I still haven't had a chance to properly mourne. As I discussed in my last entry, I had become very close to my gramma in the last year or so...I should have cried more than I did when she died...it should have hurt more...but that, along with Nicole barely clinging to life was too much for me to handle...so I've denied myself the permission to let the pain in.

This month has been a blur. Christmas didn't really happen for me. It came, but I didn't feel it. The spirit never inhabited me. Each day goes by, and I become more numb than I was the day before. The roller coaster of emotions will rip me apart if I allow myself to fully feel the ride.

I've thought about writing about it here for weeks now, but was reluctant to bring my dark cloud along with me. But I need to get it out...I need to talk about it...I need to start writing again.

But, now you know why I haven't updated in so long.

If you pray, your prayers for Nicole are deeply appreciated. If you don't, your positive thoughts and vibes are just as welcome.

Nicole, please know that you are loved so much by so many people. I look forward to the day that your beautiful smile once again lights up the world. Please hold strong.