The Work I Loved to Live

My career was a dream. It has been a year since I have looked back at my life as a photographer. Losing the ability to work has been more difficult than the loss of my leg's mobility, the debilitation of my shooting arm, or the pain. I have only fond memories of my travels around the world. I was the luckiest girl to have a career built as a wife and mother who ached to contribute to our family's support. To be an example to our children that being financially independent as a woman can be empowering, and an honor.

Photography will always be a part of me. I still see life through a lens - even without a camera in my hands. Life is still about capturing imagery. But now I do so with my mind.
It took one second for life to change. When the electric hatch on my car's tailgate came down into my skull. Blood rushed from my scalp as the corner of the tailgate dug down into the bone. In football you would call it a stinger. My head throbbed from being stung like a linebacker. The one that didn't want to leave the game for fear of missing something important. Who didn't want to admit he was hurt as bad as he was. But the blood confessed for me. The towels my daughter wrapped around my head were soaked. The skin split beneath the touch of my fingertips as they searched for the valley of the slaughtered lamb.

Emergency room, CT scan, and staple in my head.

I never imagined I would one day be the girl in a chair. With a stair lift, and scooter my kids think are cool. Surgeries and endless procedures are my job now. But just because I can no longer work my dream job, it doesn't mean I cannot love the dream I lived.