The Doctor said, "You may never walk again,....

......and quite frankly you may not survive the surgery." This statement came right after he said, "You have a very serious fracture. We have to operate."

What was I to think? I had spent 8 hours lying on a spine board in the middle of the very crowded and busy emergency room of The Los Angeles/USC General Hospital. My throat was raw from my intermittent screaming between moments of unconsciousness. My family waited, not so patiently, in another room while the doctors and nurses scurried around to take care of the gang members who had been in a gunfight. Apparently I was not dying so my name and number kept falling to the bottom of the list. People came and went. Patients with burns, cuts, broken bones and heart attacks were all paraded through, while my gurney remained in the same spot for 8 hours.

At the beginning of that day I had taken a few minutes to really appreciate my beautiful home and surrounding neighborhood. I walked out onto my deck to look across the street at the park with it's expansive green lawn and countless trees. I loved sitting outside with my morning cup of tea, watching the sunrise over the city. Every morning, Cadbury, our lop-eared,dwarf bunny, was allowed out of his cage to run around on the deck and explore the various plants and flowers I had there. The mornings were wonderfully quiet and peaceful. On that particular day, the silence was broken by the sound of birds busily chirping and singing for their food. It was early June, 1987. It was not quite summer but the day promised to be a scorcher. A heat wave had been predicted by our weather man and I could feel it even as the cool shadows of dawn receded. I made a mental note to remind my, then, 11 year-old daughter, Shanon, to dress accordingly. Even though we lived only a few miles from the Pacific Ocean, our little neighborhood of Walteria sat in a small nook below the Palos Verdes Penninsula so we received very little of the ocean breeze enjoyed just a short walk away.

This was an exciting time for my daughter. She was preparing for her last week at Walteria Elementary School. She and her friends were giggly with the anticipation of going to the middle school where she would have her own locker and where they were going to move from class to class, from subject to subject. The only pall over this beautiful Spring day was the recent death of my father, her "Tata". On March 20 she got her new braces and on March 23 he died. Now, the excitement of moving forward had a bit of sadness mixed in.

After I watched her walk to meet the school bus, I finished up my tea and retreated to the bathroom to prepare for work. I was managing my sister's restaurant, "Pancho and Lupe's". I was also working as a massage therapist at The Manhattan Club For Women. I knew it would be a long day but I felt prepared. I was happy to help my sister out until she found someone to take over, and I loved working at the club. My life was good, and I was feeling settled and productive. When.....

Before I left the house I needed to put Cadbury back into his cage. I walked out onto the deck and he wasn't there. I look over a low wall the separated my deck from my neighbors and sure enough, he had managed to find his way to her strawberries. The deck had a low cinder block wall on the street side and a few feet between my apartment and hers. I was in a hurry, not wanting to be late for work, but I couldn't just leave Cadbury there to demolish her little garden. I sat down on the wall, with my back to the street, planning on swinging my legs over to her deck to capture him. But, as plans sometimes go, I miscalculated. I lifted my legs too fast and too high. I knew I was in trouble when I felt myself leaning too far back and my fingertips began to slip off the side of the block wall. My first thought? "Oh shit". Seriously. That's what I heard in my head.

To this day I can still remember the sequence of thoughts as the realization hit me that I was going over the wall in a backward somersault sort of way. The first thought was to remember what was behind me. A quick calculation of how far down it was to the ground and what was below me played out. Hard packed dirt planter, large tree, four feet to sidewalk concrete. Hmmmm. "What can I grab?" "Nothing." "This is big." I thought. "I could die here." "Oh well." And away I went. A memory flashed. It was a memory from high school P.E. I was on a trampoline and my P.E. teacher said, "If you feel like your falling and might be out of control, try to fall flat, you'll do less damage." It's funny the things the flash through your mind in these situations. I took her advice and tried to fall flat. 9 feet was a long way down and it seemed to take a bit of time before impact.

So, picture this. I'm sitting on the wall, my legs come up and over I go, ass over head in a very unflattering yoga position. My pubic bone slammed me on my chin. The impact was on my upper back so all of the air was pushed out of my lungs. I was unconscious for a few moments when I heard an unfamiliar sound. It was a low growling sound that brought me to. It was the sound of trying to get air back into my lungs. I opened my eyes to see my thighs laying on my face. I tried to move them but nothing. I used my hands to push them away from me so I could get a breath. My legs slid down the side of the wall and thudded to the ground, and I thought, "Oh shit."

Now this is an interesting part. In my mind's eye, I saw a black and white image. It was a darkened stage with a solo spot light shining down on an empty wheel chair. My very first response to that image was, "No, that is not my reality. This condition is temporary." I had the presence of mind to know not to feed that image. I believed I just needed a moment to gather my energy and my legs would work just fine.

Nobody had seen me fall. I was alone, under the tree, next to the sidewalk, unable to move my lower body. I tried to pull myself up by holding onto the trunk of the tree but the movement triggered a great deal of pain. Again, "Oh shit". I tried one more time but my fingers slipped off of the bark of the tree and broke a couple of nails. Next thought? "Edie, (my manicurist) is going to kill me." I had just had a manicure the day before. I know, I know....how silly to be thinking of that when you are laying on the ground with a broken back, unable to move your legs, but there it is.

T12 vertebrae was crushed into my spinal cord. I wasn't going anywhere. I had to call out for help. I was calm up until I heard my own voice calling out, "Help! Somebody help me please." I wanted to cry. I felt so vulnerable. I called out a few more times and finally I heard a voice, a woman's voice. "Where are you?" I was in a corner, in the bushes, beneath a tree, well hidden. "I'm over here." I called back, raising my hands to wave the way. I saw her face come around the corner of the wall. I'm not sure what I looked like, but from the look on her face, it wasn't good. Without a word she ran away. I said,"No, wait." but she was gone. Another voice, a man's voice came from not too far away. He came over to me and knelt down beside me. He said, "Don't worry, I've called the paramedics." He was a lineman and had been up on a telephone pole across the street. He didn't see me fall but he heard the panic in my call for help. He called 911 from his perch. He held my hand and soon thereafter the woman returned with a blanket. They both stayed with me until help arrived. She prayed and asked me to pray with her.

The paramedics were not on their game. They didn't ask me any questions, they simply tried to lift me up. I bit one of them. It shocked me. Truly. I've never felt such and base animal response, like a dog who snaps. They laid me back down and then asked me how I fell. I pointed to the balcony above their heads. From my view point, on the ground, looking up at their faces, I knew they had blown it. They exchanged a look of panic and suddenly began treating me with kid gloves.

Neighbors began to gather around and I heard someone ask if they could call someone for me. I asked for my sister, Linda and gave out her number. I knew she would be home and my mother had just been through too much recently to upset her further. There would be time for that.

The ambulance took me to our local hospital,Torrance Memorial, but I was uninsured. The club didn't insure massage therapists because we were independent contractors. The emergency room doctor gave me the option of staying there and paying the big bucks or going to USC General. I opted for the one that wouldn't land me in the poor house or no house.

The long ambulance ride from freeway to freeway to freeway, lying on my side, on a hard board, witha brace around my neck, was fierce. I felt every turn, bump and lane chance. The young man who sat in the back with me was very sweet. Everytime I moaned or groaned or cried out in pain, he would lay an gentle hand on my arm and whispered that it wouldn't be much longer. What he didn't know, was that it would be 8 more hours after he dropped me off before a doctor had time to examine me.

My memory of those long hours is still very clear. I remember hearing a yound child crying in pain. She had a terrible burn. In my stupor I channeled blue and green light to her. When she stopped crying I would drift off into unconsciousness and when her cries began again I would awaken to send her more energy. She stopped crying and I would drift off. This went on for a couple of hours. Sometimes in my unconscious state I would have a dream that I was about to fall. My body would jerk, just like it does sometimes when you are ready to fall asleep. It feels like falling. I guess that's why we call it "falling asleep." But when you have bone fragments in your spinal cord, jerking is not a good thing. The pain was excruciating. I would scream out loud and tighten up all over. My sister, Linda, was very sneaky. Family members were no allowed to enter the ER but she somehow managed to get into that area and talk me down from my high pitched pain until I could relax and release it. She is a healer, like me, and she ran energy through her hands and into me as she very gently helped me focus on breathing and relaxing. I thank God she was there that day. Together we healed the pain and I was able to drift off. Once asleep I would dream of falling and my body would jerk and again I screamed. She would return and we would run energy again and again I would drift off. This went on, hour after hour, after hour. My throat was raw from screaming.

When the USC doctor finally examined me at 7pm he was tired and cranky. I'm not sure what he thought I was doing there but he told me to push with my foot, against his hand. Of course, I couldn't. He said, "Look lady, if you don't cooperate I won't be able to help you." Can you imagine? I told him I couldn't but he had no patience. He shoved my gurney towards someone and ordered them to take me to radiology for pictures.

Radiology was great fun. I had to be transferred from the gurney to the exray table. Ouch! Pictures were taken and I was returned to the E.R. At 8 pm the young intern returned looked rather sheepish and afraid. He said, "Maam? Don't move." He had determined my fracture was very serious, (10 hours after the fall). "You have a very serious fracture. You may never walk again. And, quite frankly, you may not survive the surgery. You need to get your personal affairs in order."

I was looking into his eyes as he spoke. I could see his fear. I thought, "Poor baby, you're so afraid. Don't worry, it'll all be fine." but I didn't say anything aloud.

I was whisked up to a room and shot up with enough drugs to put a horse to sleep. Unfortunately I had a violent reaction to the medication. I could feel the urge to vomit and I panicked. I knew that if I had a violent, uncontrolled response like that I could possibly sever what was left of my spinal cord. My sister, Linda was there. I grabbed her arm with my eyes wide open. "I'm going to throw up!" She said, "That's Okay, Honey. Go ahead, we'll just clean it up." I said, "NO! I can't!" She knew immediately what I was saying and ran for a nurse. The next shot came and I was out. Finally.