Heidi Cave - Fancy Feet: Turning My Tragedy Into Hope

Behler Publications

Fancy Feet

A Behler Publications Book

Copyright 2013 by Heidi Cave

Cover design by Yvonne Parks - www.pearcreative.ca.

Photography by Anastasia Chomlack - www.anastasiaphotography.ca

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Cave, Heidi.

Fancy feet : turning my tragedy into hope / by Heidi Cave.

pages cm

ISBN 978-1-933016-67-2 (pbk.) -- ISBN 1-933016-67-1 (pbk.) -- ISBN 978-1-933016-66-5 (eISBN) 1.Cave, Heidi--Health. 2.Burns and scalds--Patients--United States--Biography.I. Title.

RD96.4.C387 2013

617.1'10092--dc23

[B]

2012044358

FIRST PRINTING

ISBN 13: 978-1-933016-67-2

e-book ISBN 978-1-933016-66-5

Published by Behler Publications, LLC

North Fayette, PA

www.behlerpublications.com

Manufactured in the United States of America

For Scott
for always, always believing in me

and

For Betty

Table of Contents

Prologue

The Red Shoe Box

I picked up a red shoe box at the bottom of an old suitcase. My nose wrinkled as I blew the thin layer of dust off the lid, the dust motes dancing in the afternoon light streaming through my bedroom window. I lifted the lid enjoying the anticipation of discovery. I was nine again, searching for buried treasure.

Scott and I were moving. I was going through boxes of my things, sifting through memories, deeming what was to be in the keep or throw-away pile. I had no trouble throwing things out, not being one for clutter. This time was different. I dont know if it was that I was thirty-four and feeling considerably more grown up, or that I had just not looked through these boxes in years and needed to remember. But I found myself placing my hands on the past, wrapping myself around a long time ago.

For weeks, I unearthed old journals, cards, words I had forgotten, and pored over it all, caught up in my eight-year-old, fifteen-year-old, and twenty-year-old selves. Moving from journal to journal, cringing at some of what I wrote, I was reminded of who I was back then, and that I wasnt entirely different at nineteen as I was today. Seeing in my small pinched handwriting, Im tired, Im bored, I want more, over and over again had me shaking my head, wondering if I should feel bothered or relieved that I continued to feel this way. Books of poetry, letters that I had written but never sent proved I had always been a lover of words. I indulged in them.

In the red shoe box, among cards with get-well wishes and aged brittle roses, was an envelope with Heidi written across it in my moms handwriting. I opened it eagerly like I was unlocking a secret.

There were a few cards from stores I had been to, a business card I didnt recognize, and a coffee card with a few cups punched out on my way to a free cup of coffee. Resting between the cards was a five dollar bill. I noticed the edges were brown, framed by fire, perfectly preserved. My hands shook as I held it by its burnt edges, marveling that it had come this far.

My mom handed me that five dollar bill as I flew down the stairs and out the door eleven years ago. These things were tucked in my wallet, in my purse, in my car as I headed toward a destination I didnt think possible, something childhood dreams are not made of.

I placed the red shoe box beside me on the floor, against my leg, careful not to disturb its contents, as if somehow I could jiggle and disrupt my past by doing so. I noticed a familiar book in the box. It was Scotts favorite childhood book, The Magical Drawings of Moonie B Finch. I flipped through the pages and noticed that between pages five and six were folded pieces of paper. I smoothed out the pages, ran my fingertips along the creases, and saw they were letters addressed to me, written by Scott.

I kept still, my breathing shallow, as I remembered.

June 26, 1998

I know were going to have some tough times adjusting to all of this, but I know were going to get through it all. I love you, Heidi, and I dont care what you can or cant do. I dont care what you used to be like, or how you are now. I just love you, and I want to be with you. I need you. I need to hear that you love me, too.

Today you opened your eyes and, for the first time, you were in them. Your spirit was in your eyes. It was like hearing from a friend that had gone away for a long time and for a long time you hear nothing. Then one night you get a phone call and they just say, Hi, but its the best Hi youve ever heard. You were more beautiful in this moment than any other.

He began writing the letters the night after the car crash. Scott and I had been dating a very short time, only six weeks, when time was divided into Before and After. It felt as though a hush fell over the house, over me, as I read the final two paragraphs of the last letter he wrote, the day I came out of my coma.

Do You Want To Live?

I blinked, my eyes blurred by tears and bright light.

Mom and dad were near, soothing me, but I couldnt understand what they were saying. I knew something had happened. Something bad. But I couldnt remember. I didnt know. My face hot and stretched tight, the tears kept coming. I heard a door open and close.

Heidi.

My cries turned to sobs.

Heidi.

I cant stop.

You were in a car accident. Its bad, Heidi.

Its Scott.

Youve got to fight. Do you want to live?

Live or die, live or die. I knew it would be easy to die. I was close to it. My parents, Scott, the sterile room, my tears told me death wasnt far.

I answered, Yes.

I slipped into unconsciousness.

~~~

Pain bled into my dreams, having its way with me. Held captive in cages, I traveled great distances over mountains and through valleys. Hitched to wagons, in truck beds, I bumped over rough terrain and climbed steep hillsides. I was always on my back, unable to curl up or turn to my side; my body stretched out, palms up, and tied down. No time to stop. I slept, but never rested. Sometimes forgotten outside in the cold, I saw my breath and wished someone would take pity on me and bring me inside. There were people everywhere, but I couldnt reach them and they couldnt see me.

Reality crept in once in a while, life and dream crossing lines, blurring together.

A young girl kneeling down, touching my hand, whispering, Were praying for you. Please be okay. Radio stations being switched and the sound of static. A song Id recognize, a gentle warning, Heidi, were going to pull this out now, as a tube was pulled out of my throat, my body arching and then sighing. Desperate prayers uttered, familiar voices singing to me. These moments formed lullabies breaking through my medicated terror.

Unable to move, my dreams held me under. Throughout my childhood, I was plagued by nightmares, and I learned the art of escaping when I found myself in one. I opened my eyes and shook off the night. But this time, I was trapped in whatever hell my body was in, and my mind refused to let me go.

~~~

Scott returned. Heidi. Youve been in a car accident. Do you know where you are? Youre in the hospital. Your right leg is gone. Theyre trying to save the left one, but it doesnt look good. Heidi? Youve been badly burnt. Bettys gone. Heidi?