90 Minutes in Heaven_ A True Story of Death & Life - Don Piper [48]
The church didn’t stop paying me, but we realized that they might, and they were entitled to because I wasn’t working. We never talked about the money, but it was always a possibility that hung over our heads.
When the State of Texas was found at fault for the accident, the law limited their liability to $250,000. All the money went to hospital bills, and a quarter of a million dollars didn’t make much of a dent.
Ironically, the attorney general of Texas defended the man who drove the truck that hit me, because the defendant was an indigent inmate. Therefore my tax dollars went to defend the state and the man who caused the accident. Isn’t life strange sometimes?
During the 105 days I spent in the hospital, Eva had the most strain. Not only did she take on the burden of everything in our home, she got up at 6:00 every morning and did everything she had to do around the house and hurried to school. As soon as school was over, she rushed to my bedside, where she stayed until 10:30 every night. Day after day was the same stressful routine.
One of the most challenging experiences for her—by herself—was to buy a van to replace my wrecked car. By then, I was home and able to walk with my Ilizarov still attached. That meant, however, that if I wanted to go anywhere, we had to have a van to transport me. We had no idea how long it would be before I could sit in a normal sedan.
Eva had never bought a vehicle in her life, but she didn’t complain. She went to a dealer, test-drove a van, picked out one, and brought it home. “Here’s our van,” she said.
She made me proud of her—and I felt very grateful.
I learned to drive again in that van. One day as the family was washing it, I walked outside still wearing my Ilizarov. As I lumbered around the van, I noticed that the driver’s side door was open. Peering inside, I calculated what it would take for me and my thirty pounds of stainless steel to get behind the wheel. While the family wasn’t looking, I maneuvered myself into the seat and started the engine. My family was stunned.
Eva came around to the door and asked, “What are you doing?”
I smiled and said, “I’m going for a drive!”
Incredulous, she stammered, “But you can’t.”
However, something told me that not having driven for nearly a year, and having had my last drive end in my death, it was now or never for taking the wheel and driving again.
I backed out slowly and drove around the block. It wasn’t a long drive, but it was another milestone in my recovery. I’m still not very fond of eighteen-wheelers or long two-lane bridges, but so far I manage to get where I’m going.
Of course, it fell on Eva to make all my appointments and to see that I got to my doctor’s office twice a week. And I must add that I wasn’t the easiest person to look after. In fact, I was difficult. As my health improved, I became demanding and curt (I wasn’t aware of that), and Eva agonized over trying to please me, although she handled it well.
The fact is that I was very unhappy. Many of my problems stemmed from my feeling completely helpless. For a long time I couldn’t even get myself a glass of water. Even if I could have poured one for myself, I couldn’t have drunk it without help. Even the simplest tasks made me feel useless.
Eva often had to make decisions on the spot without talking to me. She did the best she could. At times, when Eva related what she had done, I was quick to let her know how I would have done it. Almost immediately, I’d realize I hurt her feelings when I did that, but the words had been said. I reminded myself, and her, “I’m sorry. You’re