Love's theory of relativity

I've got this knee that's been giving me fits for the past few weeks. I think it's old, worn-out and tired of trudging up steep mountain sides or stomping on shovels in the garden. A week or so ago, Dr. Lawrence did renew my Celebrex but told me to get that knee in to his office where he could look at it. So, I'll be doing that one of these days. In the meantime, the Celebrex is dulling the aches and stiffness, and the family hasn't had to listen to me moan and groan.

I'm a pretty lucky person, healthwise. I've dealt with a rotten stomach for years, but since I retired, it's 100 times better. And, in 1981 I fractured my ankle while trying to earn a Bloomsday T-shirt. The accident happened when I fell and turned the ankle at the beginning of the race. My brother told me to stop at a medic station, but, like a fool, I told him "no" because I wanted that T-shirt. So, the poor ankle suffered and suffered for six more miles. I got my T-shirt all right, but along with it came a cast, some crutches and a doctor bill.

I've suffered a few other minor ailments over the years, but overall, I'm pretty lucky at age 58 to be complaining about an aching knee. This realization of my good fortune has hit me square in the face several times this last week while preparing my next column for The River Journal.

The process has helped me develop "Love's Theory of Relativity." Though my knee problems bug the heck out of me, they're small potatoes compared to the physical, emotional and mental challenges some of the folks I'm writing about in the next "Love Notes" have been facing----and with unbelievable courage.

The column will touch on the lives of three young women in this community who've been rebounding from severe brain injuries. In one case, Stephanie Martin's, it's been six years since she was injured in a horse accident not long after she had graduated from Sandpoint High School with honors. In the beginning, many doctors offered her no hope. Her parents, grandparents, family and friends were much more generous and determined.

I saw Stephanie last week at the fairgrounds craft sale where her mother Lori was selling gorgeous wreaths and Christmas yule logs. Stephanie came by for a visit, and she stopped at our booth to purchase a card from my mother. She is amazing. A sense of optimistic, loving peace radiates from her as she shares her gentle smile.

Her mother told me they're saving up for additional treatments to entice her neurons into performing at a higher level. In the meantime, they work with her every day, teaching her how to read and master the skills needed for independence. Their work has obviously paid off, I'd say, after seeing the remarkable progress this young woman, who was not supposed to live, has made.

Two years ago, Kate Fournier, a pint-sized dynamo who sat in my English class during my last year of teaching, suffered a brain injury after being hit by a car in Seattle. She now writes me emails. She uses a walker and is bound and determined to get rid of it. She attends classes at South Seattle Community College. Her mom, Lorraine, cringes when telling that Kate is determined to drive again, but her mom is also Kate's best cheerleader.

In August, my longtime teaching friend Karen Remmetter said good bye to her daughter Corie in Phoenix where Corie was going to start classes at the University of Arizona. The next day Karen received a call that Corie had been in a car accident. At the time, she didn't know if Corie would still be alive by the time she flew back to Phoenix. Corie has lived and has thrived, in spite of weeks in a coma and days where donation of body organs dominated family discussions.

Yesterday, I talked to Karen and Corie via telephone for my column. Karen was enjoying some rare quiet time while her "guardian angel" friend in Phoenix had taken Corie to visit the mall. I shall never forget our conversation. It dealt with the long road ahead. It dealt with love and faith in God and answered prayers of hundreds of family and friends. It dealt with daily miracles and how Corie is Karen's hero.

Then as we visited, Corie arrived home to their apartment, supplied by the Ronald McDonald House. Karen flipped on the speaker phone. There in the background was Corie---bubbly, vibrant, excited to say hello to me, even though she can't remember me.

Each day, she starts from scratch re-igniting her memory. She knows the five basics needed for showering but can't remember what they're called. She has double diagonal vision. Both eyes suffered neurological damage in the accident which causes her to see things double at a right angle.

To say I've been moved this week while dealing with these stories is a gross understatement. I promised Karen and Corie that I'd share with them a story written for the Appaloosa Journal six years ago.

And in the spirit of Love's theory of relativity, I'm sharing it with you today also. If I could muster up just one percent of the courage and optimism demonstrated by these people as they face each new day's challenges, I could deal with an achy knee any ol' day. Enjoy.

Youth Spotlight: Barrel Racer Brooke Riley
By Marianne Love
for the Appaloosa Journal

Twice, Brooke Riley dreamt she was sitting Indian-style in the kitchen of their house-turned-barn near Nettleton, Miss. Dressed in blue athletic shorts and pink tank top, the 16-year-old horse lover was clutching her puffy, bloody face and asking her father, Mem Riley, “Daddy, why can’t I see?”
The dreams occurred a week apart during the early summer in 1998. A week after the second dream while standing in a barn doorway, Brooke was kicked in the face by a frolicking 2-year-old Quarter Horse gelding. The blow knocked her unconscious.
When she awoke a few minutes later, she was sitting Indian-style in blue athletic shorts and tank top, clutching her puffy, bloody face and asking, “Daddy, why can’t I see?” Her dad was dialing the phone for help after the colt--oblivious that its playful nature had permanently blinded Brooke--ran off into the field.
The last sight Brooke Riley ever saw before being kicked was bright blue sky on that July day in 1998. A devout Baptist, she believes the vivid image signifies the next time she will see again---when she encounters a Heavenly sky.
Now, 18, and a freshman education major at Blue Mountain College, Brooke continues to amaze family, friends and strangers with her independent spirit and willingness to accept the accident as part of God’s plan for her.
“I want to teach the multi-handicapped,” she says. “This past year I got to work with them, and it made me realize how fortunate I was to have the abilities I have.
“I was always pretty independent, but since my accident, I’ve realized I can do anything with God’s help,” she adds.
And that she has. Two weeks after her accident, she was back on her Appaloosa gelding, Top’s Roman Only (grandson of Roman Only). She’s continued to ride nearly every week since. A year after the accident, Brooke and Roman completed a barrel-racing pattern in 16 seconds at a local rodeo. Brooke shoots baskets at her college gym by listening to the sound of the ball hitting its target. When she sings the national anthem at local rodeos, most folks in the audience are amazed to learn she’s blind. Some day, she wants to sing at the openings of rodeos and compete in barrel racing during the main shows.
Brooke grew up loving horses on the farm near Tupelo where her folks have raised Appaloosas since the early 1970s. After several years of trail riding with mom Melinda, dad Mem and older brother Blaine, Brooke decided she wanted to learn barrel racing. She was 15 and she had watched the sport at a rodeo.
“I liked it because it was fast,” she recalls. “I chose Roman because he was the fastest horse we had.” With guidance from barrel competitor Michelle Porch, she trained the bay, blanketed gelding in a pasture on the Riley farm. The next year she participated in a local rodeo on July 4 as an exhibition rider where Roman made a 17-second run. Two days later, she was helping her dad in the barn.
“At the time, we had two horses and a colt,” she explained. “I went to run one of them out of the barn and he kicked up his heels. I never saw his hooves---just the clear blue sky.”
Although close by, Mem Riley did not see the incident. Seconds later, he was carrying his unconscious daughter to the barn kitchen and calling for an ambulance.
“I’ll always remember how calm and self-controlled she was,” Brooke’s father said. “When I told her that the horse had kicked her, she didn’t panic or anything. I guess it helped me to remain calm because she was calm.” Rather than horror, Brooke remembers a calm peacefulness as she and her dad waited for the ambulance.
“I could definitely feel God’s presence with me,” she said. “My physical father and my Heavenly father told me everything was going to be fine, both now and in the future.”
Meanwhile, Melinda Riley, a nurse, couldn’t be reached immediately because she was having her tires rotated and repaired.
“God knew I was going to need good tires as we made numerous trips to Memphis over the next week,” she said. When Melinda arrived at the hospital, Brooke told her she was okay but didn’t feel like talking a lot.
“Blood was oozing from her eyes, and there was only blood where her nose should have been,” Melinda recalled. After a CAT scan ruled out any cranial bleeding, Brooke went immediately to Memphis where specialists from the Vitro-Retinal foundation evaluated her eye damage and performed emergency surgery to stop the bleeding.
The six-hour operation was the first of seven to rebuild her nose from skull bone, titanium and rib cartilege and to enable her to wear acrylic shells with blue eyes painted on them.
“They look so real,” Melinda says. “We take them out and wash them when necessary but mostly she has them in. One highlight of the last two years has been taking senior pictures. The outside pictures were so much fun because the sun doesn’t make her squint.”
Brooke’s sense of humor shined in her classes during her final two years of high school.
“Her Algebra 2 teacher asked the class if the overhead was focused and Brooke said ‘It looks kinda fuzzy to me.’” Melinda explained. “Without thinking, the teacher began adjusting it until one of the other students told her that Brooke had said it.”
Early on, having shed a few tears upon learning she’d never see again, Brooke chose to accept her situation and make the most of it.
“She told me she intended to use this as a stepping stone,” her mother recalled. “ We haven’t been able to slow her down since.” With continued support from friends, family and community, she has stretched herself academically, religiously and emotionally. Starting school that fall just a week late, she improved her usual grades of B-C’s to straight A’s. Since discovering a new talent for public speaking, she has inspired hundreds of listeners through her story and her singing at churches and youth gatherings by telling how God had a plan for her.
“The hardest thing I’ve had to do is accept the fact that I couldn’t saddle up my horse on my own,” Brooke said. “That bugged me more than being blind.” Since the accident, Brooke and Mem have established a routine.
“My dad will catch and cross-tie him. I saddle and brush him,” she explained. “We’ll do a short trail ride first and then barrel race or vice versa. He’s gotten used to the pattern, and we’ve gotten used to each other.
“My dad stands with us at the starting gate. He starts counting, and if I veer off, he’ll tell me ‘left’ or ‘right,’” she continued. When I get to the barrel, he’ll tell me ‘ready’ so I can begin to set off. Then he’ll tell me ‘turn’ so I can turn him.” Father, daughter and Roman continue to practice the same routine at a walk, trot and lope through the patterns.
At first, Mem Riley was reluctant to have Brooke ride Roman, but she refused to use any other horse.
“He’s got plenty of spunk,” he says. “We spent several months leading him so she could get her balance and know how to ride without her sight. It was like he knew it was time to act different. He just calmed down.”
Besides her first instructor, barrel racers Mary Ford and Kathy Eades have worked with Brooke.
“I’ve gotten to know her well since the accident and we’ve become close,” Eades explains. “I felt like my role was to encourage her. It’s definitely two-sided; she’s encouraged me far more than I have her.” Eades has listened to Brooke give testimony about her belief in God and has observed her demonstrate that belief while riding her horse.
“When you see her get on a spirited horse, totally blind, and actually go out there and make a barrel pattern, she has to have faith and trust,” she adds. “She’s not just waving this big flag of God around. You see she’s really living what she’s saying. She believes.”