Split Apart

By Martine Imon

On December 17, 1993, a freak accident split Waynes pelvis in half to create what is known as an open book fracture, a life threatening injury with a lifelong impact on the survivor. From the moment his wife Martine was told that he may not survive, to the ongoing pain and torment of being emasculated and impotent, this book details a brave journey to recovery while having to reconcile with a life, and a marriage, forever changed.

Love is the name of our pursuit for
wholeness, our desire to be complete.
~Plato, The Symposium

Marriage vows include through sickness and health, but what happens when the sickness is due to traumatic injury that left the victim not only with a walking disability, but also with sexual dysfunction? How does this play into the lives, and bedrooms, of the marriage partners?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Oct 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781504351218

Martine Imon

Martine Imon considers herself a lifelong learner. She returned to college in her forties to complete both her bachelor’s of arts in English and master’s of education. Prior to this, she learned how to adapt to a devastating accident her husband sustained and took on the role of caregiver as she helped Wayne overcome physical and sexual setbacks, while they raised their two children. This is her first memoir about this experience. In addition to teaching high school English, Martine has earned the title of Reiki Master and enjoys volunteering this service at a local hospital. Martine and her husband, Wayne, reside near Keene, New Hampshire, where they enjoy their rural lifestyle and occasional convertible rides on warm starry nights along the back roads of New England.

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Copyright © 2016 Martine imon.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5043-5120-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-5122-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-5121-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016902556

Balboa Press rev. date: 10/05/2016

CONTENTS

Part One

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1

Preface

Chapter 1 Beginnings and Endings

Chapter 2 My Life is an Open Book

Chapter 3 From darkness to light

Chapter 4 Expendable, yet redeemable

Part Two

Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Romans 12:12

Chapter 5 Almost Home

Chapter 6 Home, at last

Chapter 7 Wife’s Idea Goes Up In Flames

Chapter 8 I’m not half the man I used to be

Chapter 9 Fifteen Minutes of Fame

Chapter 10 You’ve Got to be Joking!

Part Three

And now these three remain: Faith, Hope, and Love; But the greatest of these is Love. I Corinthians 13:13

Chapter 11 The Seven Year Itch

Chapter 12 Put Away Your Childhood Toys

Chapter 13 Looking Ahead: Intimacy versus Intensity

Chapter 14 Retrospective

Afterword

Dedicated with love and admiration to my husband Wayne;

I rejoice in each day we share together. I love you.

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THANK YOU

A huge shout out goes to the medical community, every single person in it – custodians, dietary, all technicians, doctors, nurses, social workers, therapists, transpo teams, EMTs, and more – for all the positive work they do. Each one creates an environment of healing, and they provide support to family members. Your work is amazing, and the dedication is outstanding.

Next, a big thanks to our neighbors. We were supposed to meet all our neighbors at a Christmas party on December 18, 1993, which we never made since that was the day after Wayne’s accident. His accident became a huge ice breaker, and we quickly became friends. Through all the support we received from you all we were able to handle this situation with more grace than otherwise.

Also, we appreciate the child care our kids received, and the transportation Martine received to see Wayne when he was two hours away. The companionship and conversations provided Martine with a distraction she needed from her main concern of wondering what would happen with Wayne.

To our families: We are truly blessed in our connection. We are especially grateful for the love and support received from Keith and Janinne.

We gratefully want to acknowledge those who read our story, provided encouraging words to publish it, suggestions in revisions (special thanks to Kelly Budd whose keen editing led us to this title, and guided us towards other instrumental changes), and to those involved with the publishing. We changed many names due to publishing requirements. Please note that if you recognize yourself or another in the story the name change in no way diminished the gratitude we have for your role in our lives.

We share our story with the intention to inspire. Biblical passages separating different parts remain from our working title Faith, Hope, and Love. The passage on faith, hope, and love remains special to Martine, and it keeps her strong during difficult storms in our lives. However, the title evolved to Split Apart and has more significance to our story. We’re bound by our love. Nothing separates this, either physically or proximally.

Blessings,

Martine and Wayne Imon

Fall 2016

Part One

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1

~ Hebrews 11:1

Preface

Friday, December 17, 1993

There’s a good chance he won’t survive, were the words that echoed in my mind. The admitting nurse did not mince words. It was only three weeks ago that we moved seven hours away from our family and into our new home. So began the new chapter in our life. Ironically, it begins with literally being unhinged at the pelvis, what is medically known as an open book fracture, which has become a metaphor for our experience. An open book.

How does this happen? Only by accident. And this accident irrevocably changed our lives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was sometime before I could talk about it to anyone. I later found out that this particular forklift was larger than a normal lift. It was meant for moving pallets from tall areas. The aisle I was in was only wide enough for the lift with approximately four inches of space on each side. There were rails along the floor to help guide this large piece of equipment.

I was facing the steel racking and happened to straddle one of the upright beams; one leg was positioned to the left, and the other to the right so when the forklift caught me it pinned me up against the vertical steel beam, but the forward movement of the lift meant that it was both crushing me and splitting me open at the same time. Due to the limited space I was literally twisted apart because part of me was stuck in that small space between the beam and the lift. With the forklift in motion my body was no match for all that steel. l could feel all of this happening to me and that’s when I yelled out, Stop you’re killing me. I really thought that I was going to die right then and there.

If you’ve been to a warehouse store like Costco then you’ve seen this racking system. There are horizontal beams supported by tall vertical beams. I was facing and straddling one of these tall vertical steel supports. For whatever reason, I didn’t hear the electric lift, and I’m sure it was hard to see me; I was wearing a green freezer coat, and I was very close to the beam, bending down. The accident happened soon after I stood up.

Chapter 1

Beginnings and Endings

Friday, November 19, 1993, one week before Thanksgiving

Mom, how much longer till we see Daddy?

I wished I knew the truth to that question myself. Not wanting to expose my own uncertainty I estimated a reasonable number, Maybe two hours or so. Wayne had given me explicit directions: Take Interstate 90 East from Buffalo to Albany. Follow the sign that says Montreal; it will take you toward Troy, NY. This seemed illogical to me – it seemed as if I would be heading north, when I wanted to go east. Of course, I have lost count of all the times I’ve discovered longer ways to get someplace. Trust me, I remembered Wayne responding to my doubtful remark: Are you sure that is the right direction? I didn’t want to make any mistakes this late in the day. The daylight hours were almost gone. I didn’t want to be stranded in the dark with two kids and two pets in this unrelenting rain on some rural route in Vermont.

How long is two hours? our nearly five-year old asked.

"That’s about four Scooby-Doo shows long," I answered. Apparently that satisfied him.

This trip became more of a white-knuckle drive as I continued. My wipers streaked the glass as I leaned forward, trying to focus through a small, clear patch. God, could this road get any more narrow and winding? I can’t see more than ten yards in front of me because of the turns. Later I felt terror as I passed a driveway that extended up the side of the hill perhaps 500 feet. The sign near the driveway read, Runaway truck lane. What in the world is this? Ohmigod, I hope I don’t pass any truckers. I don’t want them to lose control and careen into us. I wasn’t familiar with any of the sights on the way, so I had no idea how much longer it would take us. Three white-tailed deer darted across the road, causing the cars heading the other direction to stop abruptly and swerve into our lane. I had to swing as far right as possible, even though there was no shoulder. My heart was pounding through my chest. How are the kids? I looked in the backseat; to my amazement they were both asleep. Figures they would be sleeping during the excitement. Finally a road sign: Brattleboro 18 miles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I saw our nine-year old sedan enter at the security gate. I grabbed my jacket and hurried down to greet my family. At last, no more commuting on the weekends. I waved to Martine. After she parked the car the kids jumped out yelling, Daddy, Daddy! We embraced in a three-person hug. Martine placed a leash on BJ and joined us.

It feels so good to be here finally, she said as she looked into my eyes. The first thing we need to do is find another way between here and your parents’ home in Buffalo. That’s some ride.

What do you mean? I asked.

Don’t worry, I’ll fill you in later, she said. For now, can we find a place to eat, we’re starving!

While we ate our late dinner I listened as my family recalled the events prior to the move. My friends had a farewell party for me at school, Dad, said Marisa, as she shared the fun memories and how sad it was to say good-bye.

We’ll make trips to Buffalo to see family and we’ll see your friends when we return, I said, hoping to alleviate her concerns of not seeing her second-grade class again. We’ll probably visit during your Christmas break…that isn’t too far away, I added.

It was hard to say good-bye, Martine said. I remember all the dreams we had when we moved four years ago. It’s so odd. Life doesn’t always go the way you plan.

We’re fortunate how things came together, I responded. It could be worse.

Later we all slept together on a pallet that we spread out on the master bedroom floor. Our furniture would arrive the next day. The heater wasn’t working properly, so we snuggled close together to try to stay warm. Sleep came easily for us all. At last, no more nights apart!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, on a crisp New England fall morning, Wayne went to the back door. He paused, motioning, as he waved one hand to approach him while he kept his other hand near his lips to tell us not to make any noise. Quick. Martine, bring the kids. Come quietly.

We tiptoed, wondering what was in our backyard. BJ had been a great watchdog when we lived in New York; his senses were more alert in his younger days. Once we thought that he was barking for no reason at all. After carefully peering through the windows, we discovered what had caused him to sound out. In our suburban yard were a couple of rabbits crossing through. I figured Wayne wanted to show us similar garden guests at our new home.

The kids and I looked out. Wow…how many do you think there are? I asked.

Dad, what are those things?

Those are wild turkeys. They look different from the ones you drew for Thanksgiving, don’t they?

They are funny looking, said our newly turned five-year old.

"There must be a flock of 50