![]() This was intended as a direct contrast to the vivid cover artwork of the band's previous LP Sgt. Featuring a plain white sleeve, the cover contains no graphics or text other than the band's name embossed. Perhaps that, in itself, is a blessing in disguise.The Beatles, also referred to colloquially as the White Album, is the ninth studio album and only double album by the English rock band the Beatles, released on 22 November 1968. It kept me driven from each moment to the next. The belief was this: N o matter how bad this may be, I will look back on it one day and smile. My uncle’s words spawned a belief inside me, one which motivated me to move past the struggles and the pain. You learn to trudge through the muddy swamps and jump from rock to rock when the lava floods the ground below. The many twists and turns we encounter along the road make us that much wiser and more resilient. I felt them countless times, reflecting on whether I’d ever again see sunny skies. The path zigs and zags and sometimes we fall right off, leaving us lost, abused, or broken. Was it a blessing in disguise? I honestly haven’t a clue, but I’ll tell you what I’ve learned. I think back to my uncle’s words and wonder, one last time. My body reminds me of my bad posture, but when I straighten up, the pain subsides quickly. ![]() ![]() I lift more weight than I could before the accident and I do not shy away from heavy things or a full day’s work. I continue to do physio and I’ll probably always need the gym. I have neck issues and my ribs spasm from time to time. It’s been one year since I broke my spine. They might tell you there are things you’ll never do, things you shouldn’t do, and that the pain will never go away. I learned that spinal surgeons and over-dramatic chiropractors don’t always know your body as well as you do. I know that after months of chronic pain, I cast that pain aside after simply changing my beliefs. I know that the body is a resilient, remarkable thing. I know all the muscles in my back and I know how a broken bone heals itself. In October, roughly eight months after my accident, I did my first forty-hour work week. I signed up for a personal trainer who specialized in corrective exercise. I learned very quickly to take it slow, no matter how eager I might be. I was back in bed for two days, completely stiff and prone to spasms that kept me awake as I tossed and turned throughout the night. My first day back at work, I did too much and for too long. It was so painful I thought I’d broken my spine all over again. The first time I hit the gym, I lifted more than I could handle. When my brace came off, I was eager to get my life back on track. ![]() The first time I sneezed, I nearly wept.Įventually, thirty minutes in the kitchen became forty-five, and then an hour, including a trip to the grocery store for just a few items at a time. Turning abruptly caused deadly spasms that stopped me in my tracks. I could only stand twenty to thirty minutes at a time. I decided I would teach myself to cook, which became a great distraction.īrace or not, I was limited. I had a lot of time to do nothing, and so I promised myself I wouldn’t waste my days. It’s a question I asked myself countless times as the months went by. Would I ever consider this a blessing? I wasn’t so sure. I tried to imagine all the ways I might benefit from this whole ordeal. He said, “ In a strange way, the injury was a blessing in disguise.” My uncle had once gone through a spinal injury. Would I be able to work again? How limited would I be? Was my life over? I remember lying there, flat as a board, staring up at the hospital ceiling and musing. “The resulting trauma to the area, though, may stay with you forever.” “You’ll be free of the brace, then,” they promised. Lucky for me, I would go on to discover a valuable lesson as the year went on. They said I should consider myself lucky. It was a vicious wipeout, my back smashing hard against the mountain itself. Either I carved too deep or turned too quickly. I had decided to throw caution to the wind, speeding down the mountain at a pace completely outside my control. Three fractures in my thoracic spine – my T6 vertebra literally smashed to pieces – the result of stupidity on the ski hills of Lake Louise, Alberta. The night before, I’d been sent home from the hospital in an upper body brace so tight it hurt to breathe. The best thing I could do for myself was to stay still. I couldn’t lean my head forward and lacked the arm strength to hold a phone over my eyes. The hours move slowly when you’re confined to bedrest for most of the day. “Being challenged in life is inevitable, being defeated is optional.” – Roger Crawford
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