7 years ago today, on July 7th, 2018, my precious daddy with shaking hands snapped this blurry picture of me “running” as he wept. It may have only been approx. 20 feet but for my dad who had fought so hard for my life it was a priceless moment and beyond that a miracle.
It was amazing to think that 5 years prior to this picture/moment he needed to help carry me out of my bed in order for me to leave it, push a wheelchair at points in the health journey, and help me for a couple of years when I was to weak to walk down the hallway of our home to get to the bathroom, and then help me learn to walk again.
I am so thankful that my dad got to see those huge beginning steps of healing before he died...I remember breathing so hard when this picture was taken I could hardly catch my breath after 20 feet. Without missing a beat, he grabbed me in one of his huge hugs and said confidently “one day you’ll make it to the point walking/running”...I laughed (it’s a mile away and I spent the next couple of days in bed recuperating from my “run”) but he was serious and said he would be cheering me on...and this weekend…7 years later and 9 years after getting Courtney the Portney, for extreme and more intensive treatment (then I have often talked about) I completed a now daily 3-4 mile walk/run as I train for a 1/2 marathon and afterwards went for a hike among many other fun activities and adventures with no recuperation…only gratitude. After my run on Saturday a neighbor grabbed me for a hug with tears and said, “I remember you barely able to take a step… your dad would be so happy.”
I have fallen in love with learning to run again and all I can think is “thank you, thank you, thank you”.
For a girl who was told by some of the most well known medical doctors and hospitals in the world that I would never walk again let alone run or dance again, I want to say there is always hope.
Don’t let anyone ever tell you something can’t be done. It may take WAY longer than you could imagine (it was a more than a decade long battle for me) but don’t ever lose hope.
It was amazing to think that 5 years prior to this picture/moment he needed to help carry me out of my bed in order for me to leave it, push a wheelchair at points in the health journey, and help me for a couple of years when I was to weak to walk down the hallway of our home to get to the bathroom, and then help me learn to walk again.
I am so thankful that my dad got to see those huge beginning steps of healing before he died...I remember breathing so hard when this picture was taken I could hardly catch my breath after 20 feet. Without missing a beat, he grabbed me in one of his huge hugs and said confidently “one day you’ll make it to the point walking/running”...I laughed (it’s a mile away and I spent the next couple of days in bed recuperating from my “run”) but he was serious and said he would be cheering me on...and this weekend…7 years later and 9 years after getting Courtney the Portney, for extreme and more intensive treatment (then I have often talked about) I completed a now daily 3-4 mile walk/run as I train for a 1/2 marathon and afterwards went for a hike among many other fun activities and adventures with no recuperation…only gratitude. After my run on Saturday a neighbor grabbed me for a hug with tears and said, “I remember you barely able to take a step… your dad would be so happy.”
I have fallen in love with learning to run again and all I can think is “thank you, thank you, thank you”.
For a girl who was told by some of the most well known medical doctors and hospitals in the world that I would never walk again let alone run or dance again, I want to say there is always hope.
Don’t let anyone ever tell you something can’t be done. It may take WAY longer than you could imagine (it was a more than a decade long battle for me) but don’t ever lose hope.
Miracles happen every single day...I am living proof and I know my precious daddy is cheering me on with a huge smile.
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