You Are Worthier: A Guide to Improving Your Illness or Injury on the Road to Recovery

By Jeanette Kildevaeld

Recovering from a severe illness or injury can be an extremely difficult process. This is especially true if you may never fully recuperate your health or physical condition. Even if this is the case, however, you are still worthy of fulfilling a life of happiness and success. Though the path to recovery may seem long and endless now—you are not alone. Let Jeanette Kildevaeld be your guide through the dark and hopeless times to reach a future where anything is possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richter Publishing LLC
• Release date: Jun 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370766628

Jeanette Kildevaeld

Jeanette Kildevæld lives in the Danish Island Funen, also called “The Garden of Denmark” with her husband and two daughters. She enjoys writing columns, speeches and books to help others heal mentally and physically. She is a life coach and her spirituality allows her to connect with people and help them heal during sessions. When she isn’t writing she likes to travel, run and to spend time with family and friends.

Book preview

WHEN LIFE TAKES AN UNANTICIPATED TURN

If the symptoms and the unwilling changes in your life seem to overpower you right now, it is important for you to know that all your personality requires, in order to resurface, is a caring push. Your positive personality traits do not simply vanish as they form a part of you. Therefore, you must not despair when feeling weak, confused or even that you lack a sense of identity because it takes colossal strength to go through such a period. Your body and soul fight every day, and it is fully understandable if you find life tough at the moment.

Some years ago, I was in a traffic accident involving a truck and had many physical, as well as cognitive, symptoms afterward. When I was at my worst, there were days when I was just lying on my couch looking into thin air. I did not watch TV, could not hold a book because of the pain and I only wanted time to pass. Some days I even wished to be 90 years old, so life would end soon, as it was intolerable to be in such pain without knowing if I would ever be well again.

After the accident, I lost my job, our family finances deteriorated, and I began to isolate myself because I only had the strength to face my closest relatives. The pain prevented me from running and swimming – types of exercise that, before the accident, had given me energy and emptied my head after work. Then I sat at home staring at the walls, and my former social and active life had been replaced by one of inactivity and monotony. Some days I needed help to get up from a chair or could not get down the stairs from the second floor of our house. I even would have to ask other customers in the supermarket to help me get the groceries from the top shelves when the pain hindered me from lifting my arms. The challenges were building up and my dream to study psychology crumbled before my eyes. I had hit my head in the accident, thereby causing an influence on the brain – not brain damage as such, but an influence which a neurologist explained could be compared to a chronic concussion. This also explained my fatigue, lack of ability to concentrate, and the many times I was distracted every day.

My life had changed. Tasks that before were done naturally became difficult: I burnt our dinner. I boiled rice without water. I forgot to turn taps off and entered the kitchen or bathroom only to realize that the taps were still running. I had blanks in my memory and could, from one moment to the next, forget well-known stretches of road. I sometimes forgot how to fill up my car or in which order to use the shampoo and water when washing my hair. I would stand in the supermarket without being able to remember the value of money and give the cashier all my dollar bills. She would hand most of them back because their value exceeded the cost of the groceries by far. When I was to do simple tasks, I had to keep concentrating instead of just doing the jobs as usual. I started to regret why I had not cherished my earlier life more. The strange thing was that during the same period I could sit in public and look perfectly normal on the outside. I could even have a conversation without anyone discovering that I was not ok and my biggest asset, namely objectively to see solutions to my own and others’ problems, was intact. I have always had a creative mind, and my ideas were still lining up. I could write a speech based on a few keywords and often saw through the plot of a movie and at the same time wondered how to boil an egg. The cognitive changes made no sense and the influence on my brain can best be described as half my brain being my old self while the other half was that of a confused child.

My two daughters became my daily footing, and I put their well-being first. I decided very early in my rehabilitation process that I would not have them grow up with a sick mum. They knew about the accident and my injury report and could ask all the questions they wanted, but it was important to me that they were raised as unworried children who did not feel they had to watch out for me. The cognitive symptoms were aggravated whenever I felt stressed, so I often said no to social events and made a point of sleeping when the girls were in kindergarten or school. Whenever I was in a lot of pain, I put a large mattress on the floor, so we could lie down together and talk or watch a movie, and these hours made us very close.

My husband and I kept our sense of humor and would sometimes laugh so much it made us cry. We watched stand-up shows and funny movies that made us cheerful, and he often reminded me that, of course, I would be well again. He never fussed, but he quickly understood my injury and symptoms. He helped me in practical matters, and when some people’s thoughtless remarks about whether I really was sick or not were frequent, he repeated, You and I know the truth about your injury. The doctors help us; we have their words for it all in writing, so you have to ignore these comments and instead focus on getting well. My friends, family, in-laws and colleagues were also very supportive and caring: I received flowers and encouraging messages, small gifts, and hand-written greetings. Even several years after the accident I would wake up in the morning to a phone call or a text message from someone who had thought about me. It meant the world to me and gave me renewed energy to keep fighting. On top of that, our health system in Denmark surprised me completely, because people had warned me that patients with invisible symptoms often felt patronized or unfairly treated, but this did not happen to me. Except for one neurologist, whose examination was paid for by the insurance company of the truck driver, all doctors, neurologists, social workers, and therapists were helpful and sympathetic. After a medical assessment that consisted of several years filled with tests, scans, and examinations, the conclusion was that my neck and back trauma was in the serious part of the injury severity score. One doctor said, you’ll probably hear many foolish comments from people who don’t comprehend your condition, but my best advice is to just shut it out and focus on your recovery.

The first year after the accident, optimistic as I was, I tried to convince everyone that I would overcome the injury. I even heard myself say, I’m better, on days when I was feeling awful. I read piles of books on positive thinking in an attempt to be optimistic, but as recovery did not materialize, it was hard to find any purpose in my situation. I tried out dandelion juice, fish oil, healing, craniosacral therapy, massage, acupuncture, physiotherapy, osteotherapy, magnet therapy, hot tubs and different kinds of pain killers, but when another couple of years had passed without real signs of recovery, I thought to myself that this was apparently my new life. The years following my accident can best be described as an attempt to climb a very slippery rock that was covered in soft soap. I climbed up and tried to cling, but slid down. I fell. Found new methods. Fell. Got up. Fell. Got up again and several years after the injury, I still fought in a way that only people who have suffered a long-term illness or injury will understand.

But I insisted on having a good life and I realized that I had become so focused on recovering that I had almost forgotten to live. My body had been over-treated, I was tired all the time, and my personality had become gray. After this realization, I grasped that I had to do things in the reverse order and seek out the good life first and let my body rest in order to recover slowly, but surely.

I began the slow change for the better. In the beginning, I moved things around arbitrarily in my cupboards and drawers, but I gradually threw out bits and pieces and made a few systems so that everything became more simple and easier to find. To start with, I put all the things I needed every day in places where I could reach them without hurting my back or neck. I had a new haircut and began to dress more colorfully. I cut back my garden shrubs that made me think of spring and smiled when the sprouts burst. My dad built a day bed on which I could rest during the day, which reminded me of Swedish wooden furniture, and it was placed in the sun. This was for me to be able to lie down and still look out into the garden. My mum made delicious meals that she put in our freezer for later use, and I began a ritual: I meditated 10 minutes every evening before going to sleep. Our financial situation was still in bad shape, and I began to read articles about how to attract wealth, a subject that might sound a bit strange and hippie-like, but which turned out to have a positive effect. The method is all about thinking up new possibilities to raise your income, pay your bills with a smile, and imagine the money pouring into your bank account. I decided to try out the method, and when I read the following sentence in the book, Imagine something materialistic which seems unattainable right now, but that you wish for in the future, I wrote in capital letters, A RED FERRARI. As I mentioned above, we had an ailing financial situation at the time because of my work inability, and it was hard to imagine that such a car would ever be mine. Nevertheless, the red Ferrari became a positive symbol that gave me renewed energy, and whenever I saw a picture of it, I thought to myself, One day you’ll be mine.

I also began to focus on what I was able to do instead of on what I was not able to do. I had a room in our house turned into a fitness room, and even though the rehabilitation and retraining consisted of slow walks on a treadmill and suppleness exercises, I gained more strength and stamina. I found photos that made me smile and hung them on my walls, and I began writing a novel. I improved my rusty English and was thrilled to find out that it all had a positive effect on my cognitive injuries. They were all minor changes that took me in a brighter and more cheerful direction. I realized that life had a lot to offer despite the fact that I was not well, and I continued my new way of living. One small step led to another, and even though I still had days full of symptoms, the changes paid off. I now experienced more bright hours. More pride. More chuckles and laughter. More days of inspiration or learning something new, and I continued to make small changes here and there, committed to the objective of obtaining the best possible life.

A WORTHY LIFE

If you decide to compete in an Ironman race, start your own business or give a speech for the first time, you may experience adrenalin or get sweaty hands. But these are all choices you decided to make. However, it is not a choice if you fall ill or become injured. And regardless, if the illness or injury is a condition that will worsen progressively, or has occurred out of the blue, your situation can feel just as anxiety-provoking as if you had been pushed out of a plane with a parachute with no clue where you will land.

This book is now your anchor. It is a place where you can relax for a while and become wiser about yourself.