The Third Wave Read Online Free PDF Page A

and my teammates to crawl out of. I walked in a daze down the highway until my legs gave way and I collapsed on the median strip. A news crew arrived on the scene and asked me questions until the ambulances came and pushed them away.
    Over the following days, doctors revealed that the nerves in my legs from the knees down were badly damaged. Time would tell if and how well they would heal. In the meantime, I had lost the use of my legs and was confined to bed.
    I had married my college sweetheart only a few weeks prior to the accident. Now I was totally reliant on him for everything. Even the smallest activity had become a monumental chore, requiring a great deal of skill and planning. Tragically, my new husband snapped under the pressure of caring for an invalid. He often left me alone for most of the day and night while he worked, went out drinking with his mates, or played sports. I had to fend for myself. Once, I lay for half a day soaking in menstrual blood because I couldn’t get to the toilet. Before I received a wheelchair, I learned to crawl out of bed and onto the floor. Then I’d move on my stomach like a snake, contorting my body up onto the toilet, where I would sit for hours until I had enough energy to pull myself back into bed.
    Every morning, I woke up to a world filled with pain and suffering. I couldn’t reach most of the food, which was placed high up in the kitchen cupboards, so I often would sit hungry on thefloor, crying. On an already slim frame, I lost forty pounds—and I nearly lost my mind. I was in agony and I wanted to die. Self-pity and anger at my new husband slithered in. I was heartbroken that he couldn’t look after me. After several months, he left me. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen in my beautiful world.
    For weeks, I sobbed against the large window in my bedroom, where dribble and dried tears fogged my view. I strained to see out the window, looking for some sign of my husband’s return. Hours later, I would give up and slump back into my bed of self-pity.
    I needed a lot of care, so I soon moved back in with my parents. They were nonjudgmental and cared for me deeply, but I still carried a deep sense of embarrassment at the failure of my marriage. The hardest part about living back at home was watching my brothers interact with their new wives, kissing each other and looking so much in love. It would remind me of my broken heart, and I would have to leave the dinner table. I continued to cry every day for the next six months, and had permanent marks on my face from where the tears ran down my cheeks. I was inconsolable. The pain in my heart felt physical, like a knife was actually stuck in my chest, ripping at my insides.
    Then one day I suddenly stopped crying. I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. I realized that I had lost the life I loved but that the accident hadn’t taken my soul. I believe in a divine creator, and I know that God pulled my soul through to a place where things became more bearable. I felt a warm sense of not being alone. A light came on inside me, and I decided to live and to heal.
    I went back to teaching math at the local high school, where I had worked before the accident. The school set me up in a classroomon the ground floor, where I could easily maneuver my wheelchair, and the students would push me around and carry my books. Slowly, my heart healed and I regained the use of my legs, until at last I could walk normally. I felt alive again.
    I often have thought about the darkness of those years and what the experience brought me. I have realized that from that time forward, I couldn’t imagine facing anything worse than what I had already been through. Although I had suffered greatly, I hadn’t turned to drugs or alcohol. I had found a way to survive, and had connected to a deep, unshakable faith in myself and in God. And things had gotten better. I had no reason to fear for my life or whatever might come my way.
    What I did do, once I