Blog > Thoughts > Other's Thoughts > Chloe's Thoughts > A Chance Encounter
A Chance Encounter
Written by Chloe on Friday, October 2, 2009
When I went to get my afternoon latte today, one of the cafeteria employees was sitting next to the Starbucks. He’s about twenty years old, and we always enjoy conversing. We gave each other a big grin as I rolled up. He said "It looks like you’re having more and more fun with that". I said "Yes, it IS fun". We chatted about fun things to do in a wheelchair, as I waited for my coffee. I probably would not have given this any more thought had it not been for a chance encounter as I left work this evening.
As we passed each other in the corridor she looked vaguely familiar to me. I stopped and turned around at the same time as she did. I said "Do I know you?" She hesitated and said "Yes… Chloe, isn’t it?" I said "Yes, good memory!" I was remembering too. She looked very different. Her hair was short. Memories of being in her office five years ago washed through my mind. Back then she had long dreadlocks. I expect I look different too, but she made no comment on my accessories.
We didn’t talk for very long, but somehow a locked filing cabinet in a dusty corner of my brain had been flung open. There were the memories of the interesting artifacts hanging on her office wall; the books in her waiting room; the pain of telling her about not wanting to live; the pain of waking up every morning with the first thought being to wish I was dead… month after endless month.
It was a shock to see my former psychotherapist. It got me thinking. I started crying on the way home; not because I was sad but because I was grateful. I’m grateful that I don’t feel the way I did five years ago. I thought about my cheerful conversation earlier in the day as I’d been getting coffee. I’m grateful for the way my wheelchair makes me feel.
I’m not saying that my depression is cured. It isn’t. A month or so ago I tried cutting back my Prozac from 60 mg to 40 mg. I was fine for the first few days, but on the sixth day I crashed hard. Back up to 60 mg. I am grateful for Prozac.
Alicia and I had a quiet evening in front of the television, her legs draped across mine on the couch. She seems to like the feel of my leg brace. I am grateful for all the ways she provides emotional support.
We watched "So you think you can dance" on the telly. One of the contestants was missing her left hand. I was jealous. She went back to her dancing two weeks after the amputation. That’s it, isn’t it:
When life knocks you down (which it will), you get back up.
A lot of us deal with depression, as well as BIID. I think what I wanted to say was this: If you wake up in the morning and your first thought is that you wish you were dead; know that you are not alone. Know that such things can change. Know that they do change. Know that I am grateful to all of you reading this; because you help me get back up.
Tags: Amputation, BIID, Depression, Leg Brace, Prozac, Wheelchair
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