Survivor Profile - Heidi Cave
A Life Worth Living
I believe in living from the heart. I believe that there is always room for more. I believe in a purpose and a plan for our lives. I believe in good and God and a bright side. I believe in the support of people that love you. I believe that without hope there is little to live for.
Hope is what moved me through a very dark time in my life.
Everyone has a story. For any of you that have heard me speak I use that line a lot. Everyone has experienced good and bad in their lives. Our stories begin when we are born and continue until we die. This gives us a lot of time to be devastated, get to the other side, make mistakes, learn from them, laugh a lot, and truly live.
I was in a car crash on June 12, 1998. My friend and I were on our way out for coffee. We had been in the car for all of 30 seconds when we were t-boned by another car while going through an intersection. He hit the passenger side killing my beloved friend on impact. His car sent my car across the intersection into a fence and we landed upside down at the bottom of a ravine. The car caught on fire and we were trapped hanging upside down held in by our seat belts. Firefighters got there as soon as they could and got us out.
I don’t remember anything about this day. My memory has been filled in by the people that were there. I was told I was conscious. I was yelling for help. I was praying. I was holding the hand of one of the firefighters that rescued me.
The next thing I remember was coming to in ICU. I was sobbing. I knew something bad had happened. My parents were in the room and they were talking to me, but I was hysterical and couldn’t understand what they were saying. They asked Scott to come in. Scott was a guy I had been dating. He came in and I don’t remember anything else he said except this, “Heidi, do you want to live?” Even though I didn’t know what had happened I knew I had a decision to make. I had to fight and did I want to fight? I said, “Yes.” I slipped back into unconsciousness again.
The following days, weeks, and months became about surviving, pain management, fighting, and loss. I learned the extent of my injuries. I had burns covering 52% of my body. My backside and my legs had borne the brunt of the burns. My right leg had been amputated below the knee. My left leg was soon to follow. I endured more than twenty surgeries within that year. I spent seven months in the burn unit at VGH. That was followed by five months of rehabilitation at GF Strong.
There is the list of injuries and then there is the list of emotions that are sustained with the injuries. There is grief, shock, anger, sadness, and that numb, detached thing that you do when it becomes unbearable. Just like my pain was managed with medication I was managing my emotions the same way by just taking the edge off.
The burns and the scars they left were bad enough, but it was the loss of my feet that was the hardest to handle. My primary way of getting around was gone. I could no longer go for a run or dunk my feet in the pool. I couldn’t shower standing and I couldn’t wear flip-flops! That was one of the hardest things to get over. I became obsessed with watching people’s feet in flip-flops. It’s weird, I know. But I couldn’t help myself. I had to learn how to use prosthetic legs and that was a whole world of awkward. Using prosthetics requires a lot of strength and determination. I had determination, but it would be a while before I could build up the strength to walk well and be in these legs made up of acrylic and metal for longer than 25 minutes.
My self esteem took a rather brutal beating in all of this as it does for most of us burn survivors. Whether your scars are hidden or out in the open you’re changed. My body was not what it used to be – not even close. It would take a lot of time, giving myself endless pep talks, and perseverance before I felt confident and secure again.
Time was my greatest advocate and my greatest enemy. I had all the time in the world to hope and heal, but it took too much time to achieve my goals. I wanted to feel better about everything immediately. I wanted to walk now. I wanted my scars to go away or at least fade considerably in one month if not sooner. Can you tell I’m a firstborn and a control freak? I learned I couldn’t rush through recovery. I was going to have to do this slowly a step at a time in order to get to the other side.
Eventually life came together for me and the car crash that completely changed my life was becoming a part of my past rather than my present. I was still faced with the consequences of it but it wasn’t confronting me every hour of every day. I began to walk more and without aids. I saw my scars as proof of a war I fought and won. I didn’t get around devastation, but walked through it. I got married to that great guy I was dating. I made decisions that affected my outcome and they were good ones. I made sure to live. I wanted a life that was full and fulfilling. I fought for it and have that today.
I have two children – a five year old girl and a 3 year old boy. They have no clue as to what happened to me nor right now do they care. They just want me to take them to the park for the thousandth time and read them the same stories over and over again. I do some public speaking here and there and I enjoy that. I am married to a man that I love, but more importantly really, really like.
Even though I have been hurt and lost I am still me – I still can’t function until I’ve had a cup of coffee first thing in the morning, I have a strange love of fountain pop with lots of ice, I like plans and everything in its place, shopping is still a form of therapy, people that wear socks and sandals continue to drive me crazy, I love the smell of the ocean and the wind in my face, and I still have faith in the impossible.
I don’t know why bad things happen, but they do. I know that we are faced with choices each day and we hold the keys to a great life. I wasn’t sure that I could ever feel whole again, but I do. I didn’t know if I could get through this kind of loss, but I did. I clung to hope throughout my journey. Hope saved me and gave me a life worth living.
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