Today is May 31, 2013 ... What were you doing 22 years ago today? Were you still in school? Were you married, working and planning a family? Were you just graduating from college and embarking on a life of whatever you could imagine? Were you not born yet? Do you even remember that long ago?
22 years ago today I was 22 years old, and it was a Friday. I was working as a waitress and bartender at a restaurant called The Steak Out, I was racing my 1st season of motocross and prepping for Sunday's race, I was playing in a competitive volleyball league at the YMCA on Thursday nights, I had just signed a modeling contract earlier in the week, and I had a boyfriend ... I had my whole life ahead of me. Life was goooooooood 22 years ago today!!!
And then the sun went down and I awoke to June 1, 1991. I remember it all more clearly than I probably should ... I got up, I changed the oil and cleaned the filters on my Kawasaki 125, oiled my chain, got her washed and ready and loaded in the boyfriend's van for the races the next morning in Pueblo. I showered and then got ready for my waitress shift that evening. I packed up my race gear and an overnight bag into my 1977 Plymouth Volare so that I could drive south when I got of work at 10p.m. in order to be at the track and in the starting gates for my heat at 9a.m.
As I pulled into one of the employee parking spaces at 4:30p.m., the radio started blaring a Severe Weather Warning. We were under a tornado warning for the next 4 hours which, in restaurant terms, meant that we would be "dead." I remember thinking, "Cool!! Maybe I can get out of here early and get down to Pueblo before midnight!!" I walked in, clocked in, and got to work. The other waitress came in at 5 and I asked her if she'd be ok with me leaving early if the customers didn't come in ... and she was!! We each got 3 tables during the dinner hour and just after 6p.m. everyone everywhere, all over town, heard a <BOOM> and lost electricity. A tornado had touched down at the cemetery in the middle of town, just 4 blocks from our restaurant. It didn't stick around for more than a few seconds and the majority of the damage in it's wake was due to power loss. But ... our kitchen operated on gas stoves, grills and ovens and we had a cellar full of canned beverages left over from our last catered event, so our manager (a big-city slicker) deemed that we would stay open, even though the rest of our small city had run for home to assess any other damages. There was 1 table between 6 and 8p.m. ... we had 1 table between 2 waitresses and the manager wouldn't cut me so that I could do my sidework and hit the trail.
7p.m. was when that 1 table, 2 people, came in to eat. The other waitress was tending to the table and I had preemptively begun cleaning the waitress station. She came into the station to get dinner salads and I took a break from cleaning to chat ... gossip ... bitch ... you know, the stuff waitresses do behind the customers' and managements' backs. I was leaning back against the salad prep table which rested on top of a short reach-in refrigerator. The other waitress bent down to open the fridge door for the lettuce plates and when she kicked at the door to close it, somehow ... some way ... my right hand had turned on the cutting table and my thumb got slammed in the magnetic strip of the slamming door. I remember screaming ... I remember her trying to get the door open but couldn't ... I remember yanking my thumb out ... and I remember the immediate swelling. I had played sports for my entire life, I knew it was a sprain and I knew I'd get over the pain ... I just needed ice and aspirin.
The manager, in that genius fashion of his, told me to cash out and take off since I was going to be no good to the restaurant for the rest of the night. I wrapped a bag of ice around my right hand and drove to Pueblo ... I still had to race the next morning ... but couldn't because my right hand really hurt and I couldn't move my fingers due to the swelling.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, I had just contracted Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy and my life was about to get turned on it's ear. The pain didn't go away like it did with a typical sprain. The swelling got worse, not better. My whole hand had become ice cold and mottled. Thanks to my father being a workman's comp attorney, I was able to navigate through the medical system fairly quickly (6 weeks) to get a diagnosis, but it has taken all of the years between then and now for me to finally be able to say (and mean) I have RSD, but it doesn't have me!! Granted, I've said it for years, but to actually mean the words and not just go through the motions of meaning the words is where I see myself today.
I will have had RSD for half of my life as of tomorrow. It may not seem like a big deal to most people, but it is a huge deal to me!! I survived!! I lived!! I defied the odds!! I have spit in the faces of the doubters and naysayers. I have fought against nights of wanting to kill myself just to escape the pain. I have fought against painkiller addiction and alcoholism. I have tried running away, but wherever I've gone the pain has always been with me like an invisible freckle that burns. I have endured the abnormal swelling, the color changes, the temperature changes, the tremors and twitches, the seizures, the burning heebie-jeebies, the internal electrical storms, the painkillers, the muscle relaxers, the seizure blockers, the protein powders, the jokes and disappointments expressed by family and friends at my expense, and the dumb, but heartfelt, suggestions of what I should do for the varying symptoms. I've been called a liar, a faker, an attention seeker, a pill popper, an addict, and an alcoholic (ok, so that one was true). I've been dumped, forgotten, excluded, and chastised because of RSD. But ... I ... am ... still ... here!!! I am still fighting!! I am still living!! And I am still loving!! I AM A SURVIVOR!! I refuse to be a victim, I refuse to let other people affect my pain, I refuse to let RSD keep me down, and I refuse to give up!!
June 1, 1991- June 1, 2013 ... 22 years ... My Golden Painiversary!! I have faith that I will wake up tomorrow and shout, "F U RSD!!" I have faith that Kiva will don her orange bandanna and boa to lead the FURsday festivities on Facebook. I have faith that I will keep living and loving in spite of this damn disease!! RSD has taken SO much away from me, but I have replaced those things with new and amazing people and activities. It really is faith that gets me through each and every day. Whether it's a good day or a bad day, my faith in tomorrow keeps me moving forward. Fuck you, RSD!! And um ... thank you for making me a better person and a stronger warrior!!
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