WORDS TO LIVE BY
By Elan Young
Shari was struck by a bus in 2005 and lived to tell about it. Following the accident, doctors spent 4 months trying to save her leg through 14 operations, but, in the end, she became an amputee. During her slow physical recovery, she learned the true meaning of “one day at a time’. When she came home from the hospital, she could hardly recognize herself. She weighed only 90 pounds and had a pick line in her arm for 8 more weeks of antibiotic treatment. After spending 26 years as a physical therapist helping others, she was now frightened for her own future.
Caradonna recalls a painful journey to recovery—both physically and emotionally. She had constant blisters and skin breakdown while getting used to her new prosthesis, and her leg had been through so much already. Over time, she perceived that these difficulties weren’t actually setbacks-just part of the journey. Accepting that fact helped her cope emotionally. “The most difficult thing to accept is the concept of ‘forever’”, she says. “No matter how long I live, no matter what life has in store for me, I am never going to get my leg back. One I realized that this was indeed a lifetime journey, I was able to accept all of this a little easier”, she adds.
One day, while still a new amputee, she was sitting in her prosthetist’s office and felt compelled to channel some of her depression and confusion into words. She took out a piece of paper and wrote a poem:
And here I sit, an amputee.
I’m still in shock; this can’t be me.
I’ve joined this group; I don’t belong.
I have no choice; I must be strong.
My feelings are overwhelming at best;
My other life, I lay to rest.
The me I was, or thought to be
Must re-emerge, so I can be free.
Most of what I feel, I can’t explain.
The words are all mixed up
Somewhere in my brain.
Later she printed and framed a copy for her prosthetist, which he displayed in his office. The positive response from his other patients prompted her to write another poem several years later, this time expressing the healing and acceptance that she’d found:
And here I sit, an amputee.
Two years later, look at me.
The me I was, or thought to be
Is re-emerging, and now I see.
My life isn’t over; it’s actually just begun.
And although I’ve come a long way, my journey is far from done.
I’ve learned the true meaning
Of one day at a time.
I know I’ll never be the same,
Bu I do think I’ll be fine.
The peaceful acceptance
I’ve heard so much about
Still escapes me for now,
But one day I will shout…
Although my life’s journey seems to be an uphill fight,
It will never be okay,
But someday it will be alright.
Finally, it was her physical therapist who urged her to write the third one. “I had show him pictures of a vacation where I went parasailing, jet skiing, and ziplining across a beach,” she recalls. “He could see that I had really begun to have fun and challenge myself.”
And now I stand, an amputee,
Four years later, and now I see,
Life goes on, as it should,
Better than I thought it would.
I’ve learned the true meaning of courage and fear
And no matter what happens,
I’m so glad I’m still here.
I’ve been through so much, as others have too,
I’m standing tall now, but back the, I never knew
That life could bring such joy,
If you let yourself believe
That you can accomplish anything
That you let your heart receive.
In the beginning I started out,
Taking small steps, one at a time.
Now my baby steps have turned into hills;
I can’t wait for the mountain I’ll climb.
I hope that I have inspired you, as you have inspired me,
I have joined this group, and now I am proud
To be an amputee!
The poems provide a way through which Caradonna can connect with amputees who are in different stages of recovery. “Early on, so many longtime amputees kept telling me that I was going to be okay,” she says. “But it certainly didn’t feel like it at the time.”
Just before the surgery that would make her an amputee, Caradonna received a peer visit from a woman who was encouraging and positive—reassuring her that she would one day walk again. Caradonna was relieved after the visit, yet ultimately she still had to walk through the fire, experiencing her own setbacks and struggles each step of the way.
Seeing Caradonna today, it would be hard to imagine her as the frightened person that she was 4 years ago. Her journey has not only been about self-expression—it’s also been about action. Caradonna realized at some point that a part of her was not yet healed and wouldn’t be unless she could once again tap into the feeling of helping others and making their lives better. Then she learned that she could become a peer visitor, which sparked her passion for reaching out one-on-one to new amputees. In just over a year, she’s completed 27 peer visits.
For new amputees, Caradonna hopes that her message will stick—although everyone has to travel their own journey. “Don’t try to figure out why this happened—there are no answers,” she says. “Be grateful you are here, be good to yourself, and don’t waste too much time feeling sorry for yourself. Use that energy instead on staying positive,”