Six Monthiversary
September 10th, 2006
Today marks six months since the last time I walked. And also, the commencement of a journey we never thought we would take. Although there are times when I still lament those walking days at six foot two, I spend most of my days happily engaged in living life at four foot five. But at this time, I feel strongly that I devote this post to my wife and friend, Ellen, the love of my life.
There has been no activity of mine since the accident that she has not been by my side or cheering from the sidelines. We wake together in the morning where she helps get me started. She stretches my spastic legs and helps me dress. More often than not, she drives me to work, helps me unload and kisses me goodbye with a smile. She has been to every doctor appointment and supported me through all of the therapy. There is no decision about this recovery that has not been ours together.
The first person I talk to in the morning is Ellen. The last voice I hear at night is Ellen’s. She is the first one, and often only one, to hear about the dreams I have at night…. “Yep, I was still walking in my dream last night. But my legs were broken. Yep, go figure…” Her words are encouragement and filled with love. She understands the aches and pains of paraplegia and knows the struggle of living with a large part of a body that has no brain. But she loves anyway.
We have been married for over eighteen years and have done many things together. We participate in scouting together. We play music together. We go on dates together to plays, the symphony, the movies, dinner. We raise our children together. But I have never spent more one on one time with her than I have in the last six months. I am starting to understand and accept the thought painted in a frame that has been hanging in our room ever since I returned home from the hospital: “Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be.”
September 11th, 2006 at 7:57 pm e
Howdy from the middle of absolutely no-where (the yellow brick road is a hoax)!
Just talked to Gram a few minutes ago and she mentioned that you were updating the site. Very nice about Ellen. I can relate with my wife and all the help she gives me with my health situation, could not survive without her.
I was thinking of you last week when we were in Houston at the Johnson Space Center. We were there for our 28th anniversary as we are both huge NASA and space fanatics (Have you seen the new Hallmark Enterprise, it is fantastic). We were on a private tour and went to the astronaught training areas. They have this huge pool that they can sink several of the International Space Station modules into for the crews to train on. What was interesting were the space suits themselves, totally self contained. Lisa and I both said, now this is where Steven needs to be—Space. I really think that you could be an astronaught, legs are the things used least in space! The guide told us all about the suits and how they work. They are hiring this year for the Mars crew—you should apply; imagine working in space totally weightless.
What else was really cool was that we got to go the actual old Mission Control room and I was invited to sit in the Flight Directors chair and console—the Gene Kranz console, it was an honor to do so. I thought of watching with Dad all the launches from Gemini to Apollo and seeing that room. Then there we were sitting in the real deal and I thought Dad would have just gone nuts to be able to be in the room where all that happened. The flag that the Apollo 11 crew planted on that first landing was brought back to mission control (you cannot leave flags on the moon) was hanging in the corner of Mission Control. I thought of that July day sitting with Dad and Gram and watching them land on the Moon; what was inspiring was that I was sitting in the Flight Directors chair and looking at that flag and knowing that Dad was with me for a few moments as we shared a unique memory. Dad was such a space fan, I still remember the stories he would tell about the various space things Lockheed was working on and how he felt he was not only a part of it, but a contributor to that adventure in a material way. He was so excited about being able to help get to the Moon. We were glued to the TV that day. When they stepped out onto the Moon was one of the few times I saw Dad cry and just say, “We did it.” He loved to work on hard things and problems and see them to there successful conclusion.
I thought of the words of President Kennedy, “We chose to go to the Moon and the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.” I think that your latest note is in that spirit. Few people at that time thought it could be done, to go to the Moon and back. But, what that era proved was that when people pull together as a nation we can do marvelous things, the same is true for families. Your situation is no more arduous and challenging as going to the Moon was—it just takes team work, a goal, planning and the faith that it can be done. You are on the way with many missions to be accomplished, but each one is a step to the ultimate goal, some are frustrating and down right failures, but we continue on and learn from each mission and then there you are, on the Moon one day. What your Moon is, is still being defined. As President Kennedy said, we do it because it is hard-but it is worth it in the end.
Take Care,
Michael
September 12th, 2006 at 1:03 pm e
Dear Steve and Ellen,
What a delight it is to read your recent update. I was thinking of you this past weekend, aware that it is six months since that fateful afternoon we received Ellen’s phone call asking us to meet her at the hospital to which you were being life-flighted. The ensuing two weeks were filled with intense emotions and heartache. We prayed all day and night that your heart and lungs would become strong enough to survive the necessary surgery. Those prayers were answered and Dr. Reichman was successful cleaning out all the bone fragments in your spinal column. He built and installed your titanium internal brace which allows you to continue your life upright. I thought many many times that if we had to lose part of you, I am so thankful it was your lower part, not your upper. Your wide smile remains to make us happy; your warm, fun personality radiates, and your brilliant brain continues functioning as always. Your shoulders, arms and hands give hugs, work around the house and in the yard, and perform endless computer tasks for Novell. For all of this I give thanks.
I cherish my memories of the hours I was privileged to sit by your bed and be a small part of your progress to where you are now. Remember when the Doctor responded to your expressions of discouragement by telling you that in six months you would be able to get out of bed and able to wheel yourself around? .. and that in a year you would be driving and functioning independently? Well, now all of those predictions are happening.
I am so proud of you. Your optimistic attitude and your fight-and-win determination (along with thousands of continuing prayers from all your family and friends) have helped you face each new challenge with honor. I marvel at your continued strength during set-backs. I have been lifted and encouraged by YOU, when it really should be the other way around.
Pa and I have worried about Ellen’s load as she cares for you, the house, the children, etc. But as you beautifully said in your update, she is the light of your life, your pillar of strength and patience 24/7. She carries a smile on her face wherever you goes and whatever she is doing. The bond of love between you is inspiring to all of us.
Thanks for taking time to write on your blog. I read it, even though I seldom comment. We have witnessed many miracles during these months and we know they will continue in your behalf.
On this six month anniversary, I want to tell you how much I love you both.
Affectionately,
Mom
September 18th, 2006 at 8:08 pm e
It has been awhile since I wrote and my excuse is I still dont know how to type. We had a great weekend at the beach and am sure Steve will tell you all about it. I am glad to see that my brothers are lucky enough to have found there true love and that you never know how long that mortal life is and you cherish every moment you spend with those people. Everyone is lucky to have the examples of couples and families like them.
It is hard for me to believe it has been six months and every time i go back to visit the changes are amazing, the one thing that i havnt seen change is the attitude it is always positive and inspiring for all who come in contact with Steve and Ellen. I do have to say Steve can serve a volleyball and because of that we won. That is the competitive side of me but it was fun. Thanks again Steve for the great weekend and for Natalie being by your side and helping….Thanks again
October 18th, 2006 at 11:40 pm e
Steve, way to make me cry. This is a beautiful tribute to Ellen! Ellen you are amazing (so are you, Steve). You all are still in my thoughts and prayers.
February 8th, 2007 at 10:44 am e
The minute I met Ellen I knew that she is an amazing person. She idles at a speed most of us don’t reach when we are mashing the gas pedal. Look around – how many people do you know that could handle this as well as Steve and Ellen have? Heavenly Father really DOES know what He is doing. The challenges we face in life are custom made for us. Obviously Steve and Ellen are able to handle more than most of us, or they wouldn’t be going through this. What is that quote – “God won’t give us more than we can handle… I just wish He didn’t trust me so much.” (or something to that effect) He DOES trust Steve and Ellen to conquer this bump in the road, and they are obviously doing a fabulous job, just as He knew they would. Steve, Ellen… you continue to be an inspiration and a blessing to us all!