Nine-A

Nine years have come and gone. Oh, my. I can honestly say I did not see myself this far out following the accident. My sisters said, “9 years … At that time, it was hard to see … the next hour … the next day … the next week … And to see further was very hazy.” I learned throughout my time of two weeks in intensive care, transition to a step-down ICU, 2 months of in-hospital rehab, and finally, 4 months of outpatient rehab that my life expectancy with a spinal cord injury (SCI) had shortened. No one had a specific conversation about that, but rather it came out ‘between the lines.’ I never pushed that information nor did I do any research on it. That’s not like me.

In one of my prior lives, I was in a school district that prioritized professional development and a curriculum that was research and data-driven. As a result, we had a unique, expert, creative, well-recognized team leading district curriculum and staff development. We had experts in reading-language arts, mathematics, science, social studies, gifted, technology, cooperative learning, and effective instruction. Very unusual for a district our size. Our assignments were a combination of full and part-time, but we all shared an office suite in which lots of collaboration occurred. We had a new Superintendent hired with that in place who said his best way of leading was to step back and let us proceed. He supported professional growth for everyone in his leadership team (these curriculum people plus principals and district office staff). One memorable training he brought for us, but we soon realized the power and brought it to the all-staff level, was True Colors. It was based on the Myers-Briggs personality inventories but was simplified and very effective and memorable. Four colors summarized the full spectrum of personalities.

• Blue: feelings, interpersonal strengths, self-awareness, team builders, sensitivity to needs and strengths or others. Learned well with others and in groups where they also were strong participators and facilitators.
• Green: big picture thinking, understanding how ideas interrelate, thriving on learning, wanting to research and learn everything possible on a topic, never finished learning because one interest leads to another, asking questions so -and until- they fully understand.
• Gold: organized, sees what needs to be done and makes a plan to do so, loves checklists, always gets the tasks completed and on time-often early, makes a great secretary.
• Orange: fun-loving and seeing the humor in a situation. Enjoy a good party and are the ones to plan them. Bring joy to the situation.

Everyone has some of each color; it is all about the degrees of each. Key learning: a good group has people with all different strengths and the most effective groups/committees/classrooms have a balance of all.

I’m a green – and weighted a strong green. The fact that I didn’t research the impact of SCI on life expectancy was not part of my character. I guess avoidance was stronger than my root personality characteristics.

Finally, after 9 years, I decided a quick review was in order. Projections varied widely. The initial numbers I saw were wretched. The first year or two are crucial for medical care; physical, occupational, and speech therapy; support systems; and attitude. The wisest piece said it depended on the level of the injury on the spine and the age at which the injury occurred – along with whether the SCI was complete. Well, that is logical and reasonable. However, I still wanted numbers. It followed that without strong support in the above list, too many didn’t live the first year. References to mental health, including suicide, were sobering. The best piece I saw that quantified things a little was to say 80%. Those with a spinal cord injury would likely live about 80% of what they would have done without the injury. I could live with that. For years, I said I would live to 100. I quit saying that after my accident. However, 80% of that is an easy calculation. I could live to be 80. Well, that seemed fine. Then, I recalled that I’m already past 70. Oh, my.

I fully admit that I have not done my typical level of research. The above is definitely based on a cursory review of ready research. I guess, honestly, that I don’t really need more on this topic.

There are no promises in life. It comes with no guarantees. It takes more than fingers on both hands to count the number of our friends and family members, who were healthy 9 years ago – including a range of ages, that have tragically passed during those 9 years. I AM ready to go at any time. It is well with my soul. There are days I’d prefer that it come quickly. It’s my family that I want to watch grow and develop and be there FOR them. My blessings of a wonderful husband-partner-caregiver, time, experiences, people, travel, and on-and-on … have been remarkable, and I feel privileged to have them. I am grateful for days that are full and for lists of worthy projects I still want to complete or accomplish.

Watch for your blessings.

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Rejoice: Celebrating 10 Years of Life ~ and counting.

Decades ago when I was in high school, I read of a tragic swimming accident in which Joni (then Eareckson) Tada, dove into the Chesapeake Bay, hit her head on a sand bar, and became a quadriplegic – paralyzed from her neck down. She was a gifted painter and learned to create beautiful pictures holding the brush in her mouth. Wow!

Fast forward decades to my accident. I was blessed to have use of my arms since my damage was mid-back, thoracic vertebra #5-6-7. I reread Joni’s books but this time through eyes with a different understanding. I was struck by Joni’s admission that she was grateful for her paralysis because it was the accident that brought meaning to her life. What?! I could not believe I would ever feel that way. Here it is 10 years after my accident on March 19, 2014. I still would not say I am thankful for my injury. I AM thankful for these past 10 years of life.

Today I celebrate my being alive for 10 extra years and counting. Some of what I appreciate experiencing over the last decade include, but certainly are not limited to the following:

Our one son passed his medical boards and became a Pain Management Doctor, opening his own practice Relieve Pain Center. Our other son earned an advanced degree in marine science and became the supervising scientist for squid research. Our daughter-in-law completed all her medical (MD) training and is now physician co-manager and medical director of the epilepsy program at a large hospital. We were able to meet our son’s girlfriend and get to know her as a bright, caring, focused young woman working on certification in nursing as her second career after years in shoe design and corporate management. I would have missed all of that.

I began this FastHugs blog which is about and for others with spinal cord injuries. I also add current research on progress toward only empty wheelchairs (Reeves Foundation goal). I would have missed this.

I wrote a manuscript for a nonfiction book for children and adults to better understand those with mobility challenges and how they can accomplish and overcome challenges in amazing ways as they develop from preschool to getting ready for college. I am likely the only person who was a K-12 public school superintendent who is a paraplegic. This gives me insights into children in preschool through high school and their needs. I’m still looking for a publisher. I’m contemplating an adult, non-fiction book of my life. I would have missed all of that.

I was able to give back while serving on boards for our condo association, the women’s group at our church, and our property owner association which includes over 1,000 dwellings along a large body of water. I was awarded the lifetime award for our chapter of a national women’s group. I would have missed all the people I have met, worked with, and grown to love. I would have missed all of that.

I was able to capitalize on my experience coaching and judging Olympics of the Mind which relies on creative problem-solving. I have certainly needed that in the past 10 years. I would have missed that.

Following my accident and my months in rehab, my Mom sent me a card each day. I would have missed participating in and seeing her through to the end of her amazing life until nearly 98 years old. Children aren’t supposed to die before their parents. I would have missed that.

I cannot say thank you to God for this paralysis or through which it has put my loved ones. I can say that my whole life, before and after the accident, I was a Christian. I have always believed it is well with my soul. My faith has become stronger and richer through this experience. It is as if I’ve seen through a film before and now feel God’s love deeper. I know that God declared that He knows the plans He has for me. Those plans are to prosper me and not to harm me, plans to give me hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11) I am so grateful for his gift. I would have missed that.

The richest and dearest reason I rejoice for the last 10 years of my life is two of the most precious children ever. My granddaughter is bright, articulate, always busy creating, takes charge including others in her ideas, and loves to swim and dance and draw. Our infant grandson is quickly winning over his world with his infectious smile. He is growing and developing well, giving those who love him images of his future. I would have missed all of that.

Rejoice and watch for your blessings.

Nine-B Oh, bother.

My last blog entry was labeled Nine-A. That title begs for a follow-up, right? It’s been on my too-long to-do list. Finally, here it is.

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Nine-A was about attitude – one thing a person can control and one thing that greatly shapes one’s satisfaction in life. I just reread Nine-A; I still believe all is true.

That said, nine refers to the year marker since my accident. The hard truth behind all in 9A is that I’m 70-something and 70-year-old bodies are beginning to wear out and heal slowly. Period. Like Winnie the Pooh says, “Oh bother.” Add that to the challenges of half a body that doesn’t work, depending upon lots of workarounds, needing a wheelchair to get anywhere, and needing a transfer board to get in and out of bed, wheelchair, driver’s seat, and various other places.

I need to shout out again to all the wonderful friends, family, and friends of both who voted for me in the Local Hero Contest. Your votes lifted me to the top tier of applicants from which the medical, decision committee selected the winners. That gifted us Van Gogh, our wonderful, accessible van. (get in Van and Go/gh) It was and continues to be a game-changer because transferring in and out of a car while needing a reliable, trained person on either end to stow my wheelchair was daunting.

The challenges I face likely increased with age include:

• Broken bones.
  •  I was warned about watching especially my little toe when putting on socks. Of, course compression socks are advised. The risk is that the little toe would bend backward unnoticed and break. ‘Hello, there brain, I’m hurting and you’re not helping me.’
  • No one warned me about breaking my fingers. As careful as I am about rolling through doorways and around objects, I still bang my fingers. (I have one ring that I smashed into the doorframe. It is now such a mangled oval that I find it difficult to believe I could get it off my finger.) My hands take the brunt of dressing, reaching, grabbing, lifting, and rearranging my clothes or home items. Not much can be done for digits that break or are sprained near a joint. Once broken, my hands take months to heal since they are used, bumped, or twisted repeatedly.
  • I broke my femur when I fell 24” transferring out of bed.
• UTIs occur way too frequently. Thankfully, there is a new product, Uqora, that promotes bladder health. I advise others in need to check it out.
• My bone density went to ‘hell-in-a-handbag’ once I quit using my muscles to pull against the bones.
  • My family history of scoliosis did not miss me. As my unused muscles atrophy, they no longer hold my spine in place so I slump more into that curve. I periodically have times when I feel my torso drop, compressing it. It never recovers. I had already measured shorter by a half inch in my 50s. Now I can only guess my height. A friend, who sews, reminded me that if you put a too-long pair of pants on a model, they just puddle on the floor. Getting shorter, common in aging, is like that; skin puddles around one’s waist. Unlike fabric, this hem (skin) cannot be shortened. Add that to stomach muscles that can no longer hold internal organs in place; it’s not a pretty sight.
  • _­­I cannot sit up. I brace my arms on my wheelchair arms to stay upright. Simple tasks like hair care are more challenging. To free both hands to arrange curlers, barrettes, bows, or a braid, I need to lean in to balance an elbow on some surface. I adjust my sitting position frequently for pressure relief. I’ve found that my left pelvic bone now juts out forming a notch into which I tuck my elbow. It helps center me for work on my lap or keeps my body upright.
• To start each day, I exercise, stretch, wash up (thanks, Norwex), and dress on my bed. As my torso has compacted, I notice odd body parts resting on each other as I  bend to dress. The first time I realized my lower rib cage rested on my hips, I couldn’t believe it was happening. Now, it just IS. Since only 2/3 of my lung apparatus works, when dressing and transferring to my wheelchair, I bend forward, thus compressing my lungs. Afterward, I need to straighten up and take some deep breaths. When my husband is nearby, he asks if I’m that tired already. Me: No, just trying to get the oxygen back into my lungs. This configuration is not how God designed our bodies.
• Surgeries: They have become more frequent. After a 55-year gap since this 4^th grader had her tonsils removed, I’ve had the T-5,6,7 vertebrae fused, a rod inserted in my left tibia, an infected pressure wound repaired, and bladder stones removed three times. I’m hoping that’s my full quota because each one takes a lot longer to bounce back from than my tonsils did.
• Pain: It is constant but controlled – most days. Thankfully, a pain doctor quickly found an effective plan that only needed to be tweaked. Too bad the legal controls around them require monthly visits and only 30-day supplies. The frustration comes when we want to travel or visit family during times that don’t fit that monthly refill schedule. Need I mention that pharmacies are not flexible with their timelines?
• When it comes to aging, I can expect that I’ll continue to battle not only normal aging but also extra challenges due to this body that doesn’t work as designed. My blog was designed to inform others about Spinal Cord Injuries but, more importantly, to provide hope, camaraderie, and suggestions for others with SCI. For the latter group, I do not want this to come across like a complaint session but rather a nod that you’re not alone. I am dealing; so can you. PLEASE, contact me for specifics on how I handle challenges as they arise.

Watch for your blessings.

Seven

Seven. Such a simple number and often forgotten. It’s not an even number. It’s not easily multiplied. 2s are clean and easy; 5s are easy. 10s are really easy once you can count. But, 7s! Not so much. In fact, I recall being required to memorize multiplication tables in fourth grade. Before we could go out to recess, a good way into the school year, we had to prove we had all the multiplication tables memorized. It was the 7s and 9s that really got me. I had to force myself, through using rhythm and repetition, to learn them cold. It is a prime number, but for me, that means it’s even less user-friendly and, therefore, less memorable. Biblically, it symbolizes completeness – but not for me.

Well, last spring seven years came and went with only one person, an associate from several years and locations back, who mentioned the anniversary to me. Understandably, it was a time of turmoil for my family due to disappointments, illness, death, and moves. That was perfectly fine but certainly a change from earlier years.

March 19, the day a woman, holding her cell phone and talking, hit my car rather than focusing on her driving. It changed my life and that of my family.

At first, I thought I would die soon based on that accident and the spinal cord damage it had caused. Nothing below my center-back now works. Anything that is normally controlled or done by those nerves, muscles, tendons, and even bones, can only be done by what I call work-arounds. Staff, both in the intensive care and next in the rehab hospitals, were wonderful! They first kept me alive and then taught me the work-arounds and coping mechanisms. Even those work-arounds don’t sometimes work. Those and upcropping “health issues” cause angst, concern, and loss of patience. I am fully prepared to die. In fact, there was a time I prayed for that. Assuredly, it would be more glorious and less challenging than life here. I’ve grown past praying for that, after all what would my granddaughter do without me?! But I am more than prepared for it.

A pattern I’ve noticed over my lifetime is that I tend to get involved and take on responsibility repeatedly until I am overcommitted. That begins to take its toll so I finally begin to scale back as those commitments allow. Over the last couple years, that has happened again. I guess it’s a good sign. However, there are three large, important writing projects I have not been able to even touch for more than a year. I have responsibilities and a calling to finish or address those. Those three don’t even count this blog that I’ve committed to write for and about those with Spinal Cord Injuries (SCI). This doesn’t excuse but does explain the lack of entries on my FastHugs blog.

My word for the year is ponder. As I look back over seven plus years, I realize that with time it’s as if the sharp images of the past have begun to blur and soften around the edges enabling other aspects of life to come into clearer focus. I am grateful for this evidence of the same with those I love as well. Maybe this last year and more will allow me to ponder life’s experiences and better prepare me for writing. Time has helped me conclude that I will not die of this SCI but will die with it. Thanks to all those of you who still hold us in prayers.

Watch for your blessings.

See Me

In our church, I am the member of a No Barriers committee. Recently I was asked what message I would want to share with members of the congregation – a communication on behalf of all who see or feel barriers to attending the activities at church. It is from that question that I shared the message See Me. Please note: the basis of this message was originally for a specific audience. However, it is a timeless message as important to every human in every location.

As background, I had a rich life prior to my accident which occurred shortly after I retired. I have been married over 40 years. We have two children-one married-all in professional positions and a grandchild (the world’s cutest, smartest, and most special). We lived and spent extensive time in four different states and traveled nationally and internationally. I was an educator for over 40 years, ultimately retiring as a public school superintendent. My husband was in investments. All in all, my life was as good as that of anyone I know and filled with blessings. Life changed drastically, after an auto accident, on how I live but also on how people interact with me.

My experiences are not much different, I’m sure, from others with a visible disability. Adults, at first, most often glance at me and quickly look away. Rarely will they pause to catch my eye and smile, say hi, or start a conversation – which would be a normal way to react upon meeting a new person. Children, on the other hand, have looked directly at me, often with wonder and a greeting, and sometimes ask me about the wheelchair. I understand that personally I may have been more comfortable interacting with people with disabilities because of my work in schools. But, this reaction from people has been surprising and quite universal. People have also nearly fallen onto my lap when they back directly into me or suddenly cut in front of my pathway. I have my hands on my wheel hand-rims which serve as my brakes at all times to try to mitigate injury to others who may do this. It’s one thing for people to back up in the lobby of a building without looking behind them, but more important when behind the wheel of a car. It’s important to watch for those who are not 5-6’ tall when one is driving. In fact, rolling through a parking lot or crossing a street is one of the most dangerous times for me. Think of the dangers to motorcyclists – but being ½ their size without speed to leave or a helmet, boots, or leather clothing for protection. Not noticing me (or others) is very dangerous.

Our church is large and we have at least five adult members who use wheelchairs exclusively to get around. There are also many using a walker or cane. There are about a half dozen adults with developmental delays, Downs Syndrome, or other learning challenges. The variety of those with physical, obvious challenges is comparable for the children at our church. I am certain that they also feel that sense of fading into the background, not being seen, or being ignored.

My most painful observation has been seeing parents and grandparents, members of our church, in tears because they fear their children aren’t accepted or welcomed – in church?! The church of all places should be ‘blind’ to differences, but this is happening. It is crucial that we find a way to have everyone feel welcomed and included. The church should be a safe haven from the world.

It is certainly hard to know what is in the minds or backgrounds of others that cause or allow them to rudely look right over those of us that are different but the following are some theories. Some may be ignorant of or insensitive to how their behavior impacts others. Some are uncomfortable and don’t know what to say or are fearful that whatever they do say may be the wrong thing. Some may only see the wheelchair, cane, or physical appearance of a person and not the person. Some, sadly, are fearful that they may ‘be next.’ ‘If I don’t think about trauma, it might not happen to me.’ (Ridiculous.)

My advice: no matter the reason, the best thing is to look beyond the barrier and act as if the person is anyone else you might encounter in life. Say the same type of thing:

• Hi, I’m (blank), I don’t think I know you. What is your name?
• What a beautiful color for you in that scarf, shirt, dress, … It looks great.
• Are you in school? What grade? What is your favorite subject or what do you like to do in school?
• Do you work? Oh, what do you do there?
• Do you have plans for this afternoon or this coming week?
• Did you get away for a vacation this summer?
• What do you like to do in your free time?
• [This is the reason I included my background. I-and others-have lives worthy of conversations.]

My dream is for there to be no attitude or physical barriers in this church but frankly also outside of it. No Barriers is so much more than parking spots, bathroom access, getting into a building, wide-enough doorways, or rooms and spaces for moving about. It’s about understanding that someone with turrets syndrome or autism may call out or become agitated. They won’t hurt you and it’s not catching. But, they need to hear The Word, appreciate the music, and enjoy the camaraderie as much as others. All people can and do have some special ways that they serve. If you notice someone who has Downs Syndrome as a greeter, introduce yourself and ask his name. Know that he loves to welcome you. If you forget his name next time you see him, he’s just like anyone else so ask him again and give him your name again. Be sure to show him respect by looking him in the eye.

I believe this desire is true for all who are “out of the norm.” See me. See me for who I am. I’m Collene. I’m a wife, Mom, Grandma, educator, board member, volunteer, author, sailor, reader, traveler, friend, and member of this church (or fill in blank). Oh, and I happen to use a wheelchair to get around because of an accident. But, that’s way down at the bottom of importance. Please, see me first as Collene.

In all things, watch for your blessings. Shalom

Emergency Preparation ♿️

https://mailchi.mp/christopherreeve/hurricane-dorian?e=a0dfb2b4d3

If you or anyone you know is in the path of Hurricane Dorian – or another emergency situation – please check this out. It will help you with sage advice even if the emergency isn’t imminent. The Dana & Christopher Reeves Foundation is looking out for our safety and best life possible. [NOTE: Use the link above, not the arrow from the picture which is a screen shot.]

5 Years and Counting

Sailing The Bay

Over five years. A long time in many ways but also short in other ways looking back. When one of our pastors preached on Matthew 25:35-40, something hit me. I’d heard sermons on this for years, but this time it was like eureka, perhaps because five years had recently rolled around since the accident. Before now, I never saw myself as the one Christ pointed to as being needy.

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me      something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison, and you came to visit me.’ 

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

Collectively, family, neighbors, friends, and colleagues fit the description of ‘seeing you hungry and feeding you, … thirsty and giving you something to drink, … needing clothes and clothing you, … sick and going to visit you?’ My Lord will reply to these precious people, ‘Truly, whatever you did for this sister of mine, you did for me.’

I know that it hasn’t been easy. Our children literally dropped everything to come and support my husband and me – adjusted job responsibilities, studying, and long-awaited vacation; taught me to believe in myself as an N of one; dropped to their knees and prayed for me from across the world; encouraged me; came or texted to visit; answered medical questions; found encouraging research; sent flowers; prayed; … You and our sisters realized I had few casual clothes that were appropriate for using a wheelchair and several magically materialized. It goes on and on.

A couple close friends met Alan at the airport, brought him to the trauma hospital, and provided crucial support. One neighbor drove my visiting sister to the local hospital and then again to the trauma hospital. One couple insisted on Alan using their car. Our family repositioned cars and ensured that we had safe transportation between hospitals, rehab, and home. You created, designed, repurposed, built, and/or reorganized to make our home and lives more accessible.

Some of you visited in the rehab hospital. Some visited at our home. Some helped clean. Some made a quilt or prayer shawl. A friend mobilized meals to be brought in; many made food but then also came and ate with us. You talked about normal life, which is what we desperately needed. You’ve encouraged. You’ve sent cards, emails, texts, and phone calls. Relatives and friends in multiple states and around the world voted for us in the Local Hero (NMEDA) accessible vehicle contest. You, and your friends who we don’t even know, voted for Van Gogh for us! You prayed for us both as we healed, transitioned, and worked to develop a life that is as normal as possible.

Some of you knew me before the accident and prayed hard for both of us. Some brought cheery flowers. There are others with whom we had sailed. We had built wonderful memories of our sailing years in The Bay. In those years, we ate together, drank together, sailed together, laughed together, explored together, endured storms together, celebrated holidays together, and just had fun. After the accident, you did not disappear from our lives.

There are many, who we hadn’t even met before the accident, who have accepted me for who I am, not how I move about. You helped me feel so normal that I often forget the wheelchair when we’re together. You’ve encouraged and accepted me as is.

Some reading this only know me through this blog. You readers are from 50 countries including all continents except Antarctica. That is humbling. I often wonder why you read this. Some might because you also have a Spinal Cord Injury (SCI). Some have loved ones or acquaintances with SCI and are looking for techniques, tips, break-through research, answers to questions, or coping strategies. Others are curious. It is those especially who are learning about living with SCI and how life has impacted us greatly. I trust you are more sensitive, particularly when it comes to parking, steps, curb cutouts, and a lack of entitlement. Some learned to watch for your blessings, and in doing so, remind us to watch for ours.

Life isn’t the same – never will be – and my family, especially, carries more responsibility than they should have to. I trust they and friends will never forget how I love them and appreciate what they do. More than that, Jesus notices and says that doing it for me is like doing it for HIM. Wow! What a gift. A blessing.

“Cures are within our reach – hope has transformed into certainty – and technology is the catalyst accelerating the pace from bench to bedside.”

Check the Research page above for more details on exciting recovery for those living with SCI.

Hope is here; standing and walking may be around the corner

DETAILS ARE IN THE PAGE ABOVE “SCI RESEARCH.”  Statistically, when a researcher reproduces their study and gets the same results, the findings are stronger, i.e. more apt to be due to the treatment than to chance. Dr. Susan Harkema did just that. When other researchers come to the same findings independently, it makes the findings even stronger yet. UCLA/Mayo Clinic and Swiss researchers have done that. Hope is here; standing and walking may be around the corner. READ ARTICLE (UNDER “SCI RESEARCH”) FOR EXCITING DETAILS.

Who’s Out There?

 I started this blog a year after my devastating accident at the urging of a friend. I began it with the purpose of sharing my thoughts and daily journey with others who either face or are wondering about how I’m doing on my Road to Recovery. Writing is therapeutic for me as well. I have been astounded by the number of people from literally across the world who have read the blog and taken a peek into our world. I say our because spinal cord injuries impact the lives of family and also close friends. They are the ones who step in to help when I cannot step. They help for the many crucial work-arounds as I call the methods to help with functions from my T-6 injury point on down that no longer operate.

Maybe you, like me, also wonder, “Who’s out there?” Well, there have been readers from all the continents except Antartica! There have been readers from 45 different countries. Those are humbling statistics. One thing that my husband and I had looked forward to in our retirement, that has been severely curtailed, was travel, especially international travel. How amazing it would be to visit each of the countries where others have read my blog. You’ve looked into my world; I’d love to visit your world.

Photo by Jimmy Chan on Pexels.com

Photo by Jimmy Chan on Pexels.com

Recently, there have been a great many view from Hong Kong. My husband and I thoroughly enjoyed a visit to Hong Kong less than ten years ago. I am intrigued by the person or people who have been reading at this time. If you have questions, want to ‘talk’ in more depth, have specific questions about other work-arounds, or need information, please contact me. If you submit a comment, I can keep it private. No one else needs to see it. I will certainly respond, again privately.

As I said many times, I have been given grace through this accident and experience. It is NOT easy; nothing about it is easy. But, I’ve been helped and supported. I’d like to help and support others.

I’ve been blessed through this experience. Watch for your blessings. Shalom, Collene