Tag Archives: Boston Marathon

eclipse

29 Tuesday Aug 2017

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This week was the total solar eclipse. We were very near the line of totality, so we drove down south a bit to watch at a camp near Travelers Rest. (Yes, that is the name of the town.) It was such a cool experience. There was a wide open grassy space on top of a hill so we climbed to the top to wait for the sun and moon to get into position. We hung hammocks around the edge of the woods, laid out picnic blankets, and set up so many cameras and tripods. We had arrived early because we were afraid we would get stuck in traffic, so we spent the day lounging in our hammocks, reading, eating, and just hanging out. When it finally started, we moved to the middle of the open space to watch the slow transformation. To see the moon cover the sun and change the day to night for a few seconds. We had a view over the mountains and it went from sunny blue skies, to orange and purple sunset, to dusky dark and then back to bright blue again. When it was dark all the crickets started chirping in the woods and it felt like a hot summer night. Then the sun began to slowly peak out again and within a few minutes, we had sunny skies again. Amazing.

Did you get to see it??

I also sprained my foot this week. I fell down the steep hill in my backyard while I was mowing the lawn. When I got out of urgent care, I sat in my car and cried. I feel like in four years I have made so much progress. If you didn’t know me, you probably wouldn’t even notice that I had a messed up leg. It was strong and toned and I worked hard to get it that way. I bought a house. I mow my own lawn. (well not anymore!) It doesn’t hurt a LOT. Just hurts enough. But since the feeling in that foot isn’t normal, I guess I don’t know how much it really hurts and maybe its worse that what I can feel. The blessing (?) of not having properly working nerves. But guys this is hard. I feel like I’ve gone completely back to the beginning. Which I know isn’t true, but it seems like it was then. The orthopedic originally said he thought it was something else and would require immediate surgery, but he decided to take more x-rays to make sure. I sat on the bed in the x-ray room trying not to cry because I don’t know if I can handle surgery. I know I can. I’m just not ready for it. It was so many emotions. I was so scared.

As I sat in my car crying, I looked down at my booted foot and next to it, my left gas pedal. Which I haven’t used in…I don’t know two and a half years, but I had to put it back in to get myself to urgent care. So there it was. My left foot pedal. The only way I can drive when my idiot leg decides to be blown up in a bomb and then four years later to break while mowing the DANGEROUS lawn.

But you know what? I know how to drive with my left foot. And my car is equipped for that. And you know what else? I am so good at crutches. And I know how to get myself in and out of a boot in record time. I am Boston Strong and I know how to do all these things. And this time is not even near as bad as the last time. (hopefully) And yeah I’ll be out of work for a while probably. And I’ll have to sit around a lot. But I have a lot of reading and writing to do. So I guess I can catch up. And I think it’s time for my Starbucks career to wind down, so this might be a good time of searching and seeing what God has for me next.

I told my sister this was really bad timing because I have a lot of things coming up that I have to prepare for. And she asked me when would be a good time for me to break my foot? I guess never. There’s never a good time for bad things to happen. It’s a setback. It’s frustrating. But here’s to hoping that my pain and fear doesn’t eclipse what this time could mean for me.

“Eclipses of a spiritual nature help us see things differently too. When the life we thought we’d have is blotted out by something bigger and we find ourselves in the dark, we have a choice. We can either huddle in disillusionment, fear, and isolation, or we can smile in wide-eyed wonder, opening our hearts and hands and selves to each other and to something other. What feels like a totality of darkness can actually be a totality of grace if we have eyes to see it that way or if we at least have the right kind of glasses.”
Katherine Wolfe

a hero?

11 Tuesday Apr 2017

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I am writing my book proposal. I know. I always say that. But this time for real. It’s been written. And re written. And re written again. So yeah, I’m re writing it. I’m sure not for the last time. Something I just read said that your book proposal should present your topic, describe an urgent gap in the topic and then introduce the author as the hero who will be able to fill that gap. I feel ultimately deflated and not able to be that hero. Obviously I don’t think of myself as any expert on any subject, let alone the subject of suffering. But I have to write this proposal suggesting myself as the hero who can fill a gap in this subject area?

My book is the heroic document that will solve the worlds suffering problem and bring healing to the masses.

Yeah right.

Surely that is not what is expected of me.

The real reason I started writing was selfishly only for myself. For my healing. I think it was very profitable. I explored my story. My feelings. I wrote them down and I was able to look at all the events and explore them all to see how those things were affecting my life. This four-year journey has been weird. And has had lots of ups and downs. I know that I have learned a lot of things. Most of them I still can’t even put into words. But I don’t think I am the hero.

I don’t know how to sell myself or sell my book to a publisher as someone who is filling a gap. Let alone the only one who is able to fill that gap. I know that there are gaps. I know that there are people suffering. Who feel like they are alone. And I think that is my main objective. To just put it out there and say hey I went through this, and I went through suffering and its maybe not the same as yours, but I felt it and I know kinda what you are feeling and there are lots of other people feeling it too and you aren’t alone! You are not alone!

But is that heroic?

I went to get special orthotics the other day. Like an old person. I know. LAME. The man fitting me for the orthotics was a double amputee. He lost his legs in a car accident. He asked for my story to get a better idea of what was going on with my foot and as I shared with him he was amazed. He walked me around the place introducing me to other workers exclaiming loudly that I was in a bomb and that I was a hero. I don’t know how being in a bomb makes me a hero. It’s not like I did it intentionally. Or saved anyone else’s life. I was in a bomb and I lived. But to me that isn’t heroic. It’s just stupid. Wrong place, wrong time. I survived. Which is good I guess. But where do heroics come into that?

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about that. How he kept telling me I was a hero. And I talk to my boss, a retired marine, who was in bombs but in defending and protecting our country. And I think he is a hero. But not me. He put himself in harm’s way to protect us. That is heroic.

A hero is defined as: “a person noted for courageous acts or nobility of character;
a person who, in the opinion of others, has special achievements, abilities, or personal qualities and is regarded as a role model or ideal; or the principal character in a story, play, film, etc. (dictionary.com) I certainly don’t feel like I had any courageous acts or nobility. But I would love to be distinguished as a role model and in the story of my life, that I am writing, I am the principal character.

So in this day, in this weird space, I am trying to figure out if I am a hero. And how to best present myself in that light even thought I don’t believe it about myself. Because I want this publisher to see me that way. I want him to be desperate to publish my book. But am I asking him to believe something about me that I don’t believe about myself. And do I need to believe it in order for it to indeed be true or is it a “fake it till you make it” situation? Am I the only one who can fill this gap? Am I the only one who can talk about suffering and how to get through it and how to learn from it and how to put God in the middle of it as the only means of actually making sense of it? No. Other people can do that. But I am the only one who can tell this story. And so, I am going to be this hero. And I am going back to writing my proposal. To convince the publisher that I am the hero worth having.

Three Years

15 Friday Apr 2016

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Three years ago I wrote these posts. Can you believe its been three years? So many ups and downs. Such a journey. The bonds we have formed with other survivors, people like Steve. Dara. Sam. Nicole. Liza. Linda… These can never be replaced. No one knows my feelings like they do. No one understands my emotions as much as they do. What a BLESSING it has been to have such a wonderful, tight knit group come out of something so tragic. I love that three years after the bomb we are even closer and I imagine thirty years down the road we will still be the best of friends. We share a bond that can never be taken away. To my survivor family, I love you guys. I couldn’t get through the hard days without you.

Today is a lot of mixed emotions. Mostly I am fine. This is the first year I haven’t gone back for the marathon so it does feel a bit like something is missing. I know it seems strange to want to go back to that place, but its more going back to my people, my city. Those who were so strong for me when I had no strength of my own. The community of survivors is what I miss on days like this. And on marathon monday I know I will be missing them even more. Knowing they are all gathered together, cheering on the next set of Boston Marathoners.

Most people now don’t know. I live in a new place. With new friends. A new job. It is weird to have people who know so little about the biggest event in my life. Some know absolutely nothing. But it isn’t something I tell people anymore. It seems so strange to bring it up. Oh yeah, I was in a bomb. My leg is a mess and yeah you know… I don’t want pity. And no one understands. So sometimes its better to just keep that part of my life in the unknown. But it’s still a part of me. It’s part of who I am. I will always bear the scars. I don’t usually think about it. But today is a day to remember… So here’s some old stuff from those first few days.

4-23-13

Today I met Steve. Steve was in the ambulance with me when we rode to the hospital. He was watching the marathon with his 4 year old son. He was hurt far worse than I. But all I remember from the ambulance is him holding my hand and alternating a between telling me it was going to be ok, and yelling at the medics to find his son who was now all alone. He held my hand the whole way. i have been wondering about him. How he was doing. Did they ever find his son? So today, then the nurse told me the man who rode in the ambulance with me was hoping to see me before he left for rehab, I was of course eager to see him. He came in on a stretcher, on his way out of the hospital. when he saw me tears formed in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. I of course started crying as well. his son had been missing when we were together in the ambulance so I inquired after him first. They foun him and he only had a small scratch on his head an was fine. Thank God. And Steve? He said he was fine. But I pushed. Really fine? No. His leg was missing from the knee down. I cried even more. My leg is useless and probably will be for a very long time, but at least I have it. Steve is going to the same rehab center that I am so as he was pulled out of my room we promised to find each other. I don’t know Steve. But I know he held my hand during some off the scariest moments of my life. And for that I will be eternally grateful.

4-24-13

Rehab has three hours of physical therapy a day. That scares me. But then I remember that Meggie and I were spending almost 3 hours a day at the Y before I came here, so I got this! We were swimming almost an hour a day and I know that is the only reason I have the upper body strength to pull myself around on the walker. God was preparing me for this long before I even knew I would need the strength.  Amazing right?

Please continue to pray for pain management for all of us. It can be extremely frustrating to be in so much pain. Also continue to pray for God’s healing in each of our lives. Lastly pray for my family members who although they were not hospitalized, still experienced as much trauma as we did and who are getting very worn traveling from hospital, to hospital, surgery, to surgery. There is no way we could make it through each day without all of your prayers. Thank you so much for your faithfulness.

4-26-13

I am moved to rehab. Kim and Colton and my Aunt Shari have gone. Slowly the visitors are dwindling down and people are returning to their normal lives. But what does that mean? Many of us will not be returning to normal life. Maybe ever. Our injuries will be with us. We may never walk normally again. We may never be the same as we were before. Even if we get to “normal” physically, these events will always be with us. And I can’t even process that yet. I don’t know what that will look like one month from now, one year from now, ten years from now. But I read these verses and I am comforted. My Father knows what the future looks like, and He tells me “do not be worried about your life.” I hope that comforts you. I hope that you can read these verses and find some peace. The road ahead is long. And will be very painful. But we can do it one day at a time.

25“For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?26“Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?27“And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?28“And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin,29yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.30“But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith!31“Do not worry then, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear for clothing?’32“For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.33“But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. 34“So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

4-29-13

Anyway, there have been several comments that whenever we show up in a picture, there is utter chaos surrounding us, but we all look so peaceful. We are either laying patiently on the ground, or sitting calmly. In the midst of chaos, peace. And I never would have had a second thought about it, but several people have brought it up today. And I’m not ready to write about all that happened in those moments. The explosion etc, but I would like to address this one subject.

First of all, there must have been hundreds of angels all around us. The new Chris Tomlin song Whom Shall I Fear kept running through my head. “The God of Angel armies is always by my side”. So yes, I believe there were angels all around us. We were so close to the bomb, we should be hurt much worse, or even dead. Although our injuries are extensive, they should have been much worse. Second, Colton brought this up to me today. People keep asking “where was God in all of this?” Just look at the pictures. Look at the chaos and then look at me or Rebekah, or Peter or Kim or Colton. That’s where God was. We are His children, filled with His Spirit. In the midst of chaos, He WAS there. Third, I believe that God gave us so so much grace. Grace to think clearly. To know how to respond in trauma. To know to tie tourniquets. Or to coach people to breathe. Or to know how to communicate with the first responders. Not one of us lost control or freaked out.

Someday I’m sure I will look at the pictures. But I just want you to know today, that God was there. He was with us. We would not be where we are today if it weren’t for Him. And as we are experiencing more and more of His grace everyday, we are amazed and speechless and we just keep clinging to Him.

I know who goes before me
I know who stands behind
The God of angel armies is always by my side
The One who reigns forever
He is a friend of mine
The God of angel armies is always by my side

400 days

20 Tuesday May 2014

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May 20th

400 days

The doctors said it would take 400 days to know if the surgeries worked. If my leg would work again. If I would walk. If I would ever feel anything. If I would be able to move my ankle and toes.

400 days.

Well time is up. Its been 400 days. It seems like it should be a huge milestone, but I’m sitting in a coffee shop and life is going on around me as normal. I don’t feel different today than I did yesterday. I don’t know what I expected of my 400 days. I think I expected that it would arrive and I would be back to normal. But that isn’t the case. I’m not normal. I don’t think my leg feels more than it did yesterday. I can feel things all the way down to my toes: if I rub it really hard or spray water from the shower on it. But it is by no means normal. I can go some days without wearing my brace, which is awesome, but it gives me a more defined limp and I walk much slower. My ankle is getting stronger, but my calf is still non-existent. I don’t think it will ever come back to what it was before. I still have a lot of pain there.

Today should be the ending of my book. TODAY IS THE END! I mean it’s not really the end of anything. It’s just the end of my 400 days. But that’s what I wanted my book to be about. This blog post should be a summary. It is my final chapter. The conclusion of my book. What do I want my conclusion to be. What is the takeaway? What have I learned in these 400 days? I don’t know. I just don’t. I don’t know how to put it into words. But I need to. That’s the point right? The point of writing a book. Is that I can put into words what I am learning. What I have learned.

I have learned that I am still telling an old story about who I am. After reading Shauna’s blog: Getting Out of a Life Rut, I realized I read the whole thing completely agreeing. Yes, that’s who I am. The chubby, funny girl. The sidekick. I am telling an old story about myself. That’s not who I want to be anymore. In The Holiday, Kate Winslet’s character, Iris, comes to the same realization when talking to her neighbor, Arthur.

Arthur: Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend.

Iris: You’re so right. You’re supposed to be the leading lady of your own life! Arthur, I’ve been going to a therapist for three years, and she’s never explained anything to me that well. That was brilliant. Brutal, but brilliant.

This bomb should change my life. I should be changed. I should stop telling that old story. It isn’t who I am anymore. I think that’s a lot of what these 400 days were about. I should have used them more wisely. I should have figured this out before day 400. Have I essentially wasted 400 days of my life? Or have all these days been the culmination of this learning curve?

I need to start living the life I want to have. I can’t keep moping around waiting for something to happen to me. I need to stop acting like the best friend and start being a leading lady.

Allison Vesterfelt wrote a great blog post called Don’t Wait to be Invited to Your Life. She tells a story about how as a child she was always left out and was always waiting to be invited to things, while other children always seemed to be invited and included. But she realized it was because they were constantly putting themselves out there.

“They didn’t need someone to tell them they were good at wall ball, or that they were a great writer, or that they deserved a happy marriage. They already believed those things were true. And because they believed that, they put themselves in the game. They played with a sort of abandon. They got better and better.

I don’t need an invitation. Neither do you. What we need is a little more moxie, a little more guts. We we need is a willingness to know what we want. What we need is to practice, practice, practice—and to make a little room for ourselves on the court. “

I can’t keep waiting to be invited. I can’t keep waiting for something to HAPPEN in my life. I need to start living the life I want and I need to start being the person I want to be. I need to stop telling that old story about myself. I’ve had 400 days. As this concluding chapter closes, how am I going to change my story for the next 400?

How will you?

I don’t feel stronger

18 Friday Apr 2014

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“The world breaks everyone and afterward
many are strong at the broken places.”
Hemingway

How do you feel alone in a city where there are millions of people. Surrounded by other survivors and people who support and love me, I still feel very isolated and alone. Everyone has grief this week. Everyone deals with it in their own way.

News people came over to interview me. I should have said no. I hate doing interviews. Mostly because they are more concerned with their “story” than they are concerned for me. They want a good scoop and they don’t care what they have to do to get it. So why did I say yes this time? I don’t know. I usually avoid the media. With the one year anniversary upon us, I know what she wanted to talk about. How far I’ve come this year. What I am still struggling with. What I’ve learned…

I have come a long way. I started off in the ICU. With a walker. Then with crutches and a full leg cast. Now I calk around barefoot in my house and with a small brace outdoors. I can go 2.7mph on the treadmill. I can pick up marbles with my toes. I didn’t know if they would ever move again. I have a great group of people who support me, love me, and pray for me. I wouldn’t have been able to get through this year without them. I learned so much about God’s strength. I learned so much about finding beauty in pain

But there are still tough days. For sure. I never feel great. I have a lot of back/shoulder/hip pain because of whats going on with my leg. There are days when I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t really know how I feel about going to the marathon. I don’t really know how to process it. Kim and I were talking about it last night. We are going to go watch from a restaurant that is providing a place for survivors to watch away from the crowds. I don’t know how that will feel. Sometimes I think I will be fine walking through those same crowds again. Sometimes I don’t think I will be able to do it.

The Tribute event on Tuesday was so good. It was great to see people from the France trip, catch up with other survivors and meet some new ones. These people truly are strong. They are the definition of courage. It is so uplifting to be around them. We have all overcome unsurmountable odds. We have survived a terrorist attack. We are still standing. The Vice President’s speech was so eloquent. He said that the survivors, all of us, are defined by our courage.  “You have become the face of America’s resolve. You are the true definition of courage…” Mayor Menino spoke. With great difficulty in his failing health. He is such an inspiration of hope and a true example of a leader amidst chaos. He spoke from his heart. He spoke of our courage and of Boston’s support for us. “When lights dim and cameras go away, know that our support and love for you will never waiver.” He quoted Hemmingway: “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places,” He scanned the two sections in the audience that were full of survivors: “You are strong at this broken place.” Hope in this dark place. Hope for the future. Hope that this event one year ago is not what defines us. 

I usually feel pretty good. I usually feel like I can handle it. Like the bombing is my past, but not always on my mind. Most days it seems like a dream, far, far away. But this week. It is here. We are survivors. We remember. We find courage to walk in those places, retrace our steps, stand in the crowds. We are Boston Strong. But I don’t feel stronger.

WORLD Magazine article: Rochester Strong

29 Tuesday Oct 2013

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 We recently had a great article in the WORLD magazine and I forgot to share it with you! Here it is! Jamie Dean did a great job sharing our story from a Christian perspective.

Rochester strong: Jamie Dean

BOSTON BOMBINGS | The DiMartino family is one among many beginning a life forever altered by the Boston bombing

HEALING: Gina, Peter, and his girlfriend (from right to left) recovering at the Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital.Enlarge Image

Photo courtesy of the DiMartino family
HEALING: Gina, Peter, and his girlfriend (from right to left) recovering at the Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital.

Gina DiMartino’s summer plans in Rochester, N.Y., include reading, sketching, visiting a local pool, and waiting for the severely damaged nerves in her right leg to regrow from her knee to her toes.

It’s not how she imagined the summer.

DiMartino, 31, also didn’t envision sharing a room in her parents’ home with her 28-year-old brother, Peter, while he waits for his nearly severed Achilles tendon to mend. Like hundreds of others injured in the Boston bombing in April, a spring trip brought a summer season of coping with the aftermath of terrorism.

Nearly three months after two bombs at the Boston Marathon killed three people and injured at least 265, the long recovery continues. At least 15 survivors are coping with missing limbs. Others are healing from nerve damage, broken bones, and burns. Families are learning to care for them. Many—including uninjured bystanders—are confronting the trauma of a day seared into their memories.

For DiMartino, some days bring pain and frustration as she learns to manage an injured leg and a foot she may not feel for at least a year. But the Christian and worship team member at a local church says the experience has also brought an unexpected sense of clarity. “I know I’m right where God wants me to be,” she says. “And that’s a good feeling.”

The journey from terror on a Boston sidewalk to comfort in a Rochester living room hasn’t been easy. But DiMartino’s story is one example that offers Christ-centered hope for others facing a summer they didn’t expect.

For DiMartino, confronting life changes began before the Boston bombings. In March, the Liberty University graduate (MBA) had just moved back to her parents’ home in Rochester, N.Y., after living and working in Kansas for several months. (DiMartino has worked for Starbucks for nine years.)

She wrestled with uncertainty about her future, and contemplated the next phase of her life. The time in Kansas didn’t bring answers. DiMartino returned to Rochester, played keyboards at Northridge Church, and prayed for guidance.

She also prepared for a road trip: Her family planned to travel to Boston to watch her mother, Mona, run in the Boston Marathon.

The group included DiMartino, her parents, her brother, Peter, and her sister and brother-in-law from Asheville, N.C. Peter’s girlfriend flew up from Houston with her young son. The group enjoyed a weekend of visiting relatives and watching a Red Sox game in seats atop the Green Monster—the 37-foot, left field wall at Fenway Park.

On Monday morning, DiMartino tracked her mother on an app that showed her location on the marathon route. By Monday afternoon, the family gathered at the finish line. The mood was festive. DiMartino’s father crossed the street to get a better angle for a photo.

The next thing DiMartino remembers is a loud sound: “Everybody was kind of lifted up and floating backwards.” The blast muffled DiMartino’s hearing, but she could see blood pouring from her leg. A piece of shrapnel had sliced a 9-inch gash near the bend of her knee, severing a main artery and two main nerves.

The blast also hit Peter, nearly severing his Achilles tendon and causing serious burns on his arms and back. Peter’s girlfriend suffered a severe leg injury, but her son escaped with a cut.

With DiMartino’s father forced by police to stay across the street, and her mother nearly three-quarters of a mile away, her uninjured sister, Kim, took charge. “She took off her coat and shoved it in my leg,” says DiMartino. While Kim and her (also uninjured) husband tended the family, DiMartino remained lucid: She tied a tourniquet around her knee, and tied her bag (containing her wallet, ID, and phone) to the tourniquet. “Then I laid down on the sidewalk,” she says. “And I thought: ‘Okay, I might die now.’”

Emergency workers quickly loaded DiMartino onto an ambulance with another victim. The man pleaded with workers to find his 4-year-old son, and he held DiMartino’s hand during the transport. One of the last things DiMartino remembers is a paramedic calling ahead to the hospital to tell doctors: “We have amputees here.”

Nearly 24 hours later, DiMartino awoke in the Intensive Care Unit of Boston Medical Center. She was thankful to discover she didn’t lose her leg, but she also learned her injury was serious.

On Friday, doctors operated for a third time. As police and FBI agents in nearby Watertown, Mass., combed the streets looking for accused bomber Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, surgeons leaned over DiMartino’s leg, meticulously reconnecting her nerves.

The surgery was successful, but doctors told DiMartino her nerves would have to regrow from her knee to her toes before she could feel her foot again. The estimated time: 400 days.

The next two weeks brought a steady stream of visitors, as her parents alternated visits between DiMartino and her brother. (Peter was recovering from surgery and skin grafts.) Friends and leaders from her church in Rochester drove six hours to visit. And the day before DiMartino left for rehab, another visitor arrived: Steve, the injured man who rode with her in the ambulance.

From their stretchers, Steve and DiMartino greeted each other with tears. DiMartino inquired after his son. He was unharmed. She asked Steve about his own condition. He said he was fine. She pressed, and she learned the truth: The paramedics had been right about his injury. He lost his leg from the knee down.

CHANGE OF PLANS: The DiMartinos along the marathon route with signs for mom.
DiMartino family

CHANGE OF PLANS: The DiMartinos along the marathon route with signs for mom.

CHANGE OF PLANS: Peter working with his therapist in Boston.
Associated Press/Photo by Charles Krupa

CHANGE OF PLANS: Peter working with his therapist in Boston.

CHANGE OF PLANS: Gina recovering at home with a young friend.
DiMartino family

CHANGE OF PLANS: Gina recovering at home with a young friend.In the months since the Boston bombing, dozens of survivors have learned to cope with injury and trauma. Like the DiMartinos, some families had multiple victims. For example, brothers J.P. and Paul Norden, ages 33 and 31, both lost their right leg above the knee.

Major injuries mean lost income and mounting medical bills for many. Weeks-long hospital stays cost tens of thousands of dollars. Depending on the level of technology, a single prosthetic limb can cost between $5,000 and $50,000, according to the advocacy group Amputee Coalition. Patients must replace the limbs every few years.

Depending on caps in patients’ insurance plans, some could face a lifetime of medical bills. And though donors contributed more than $30 million to The One Fund Boston to help cover expenses for survivors, the fund’s administrator acknowledged it wouldn’t be enough to cover all the needs.

For now, many survivors are focusing on moment-by-moment recovery. Some are finding encouragement in their churches and communities. An overflow crowd packed St. Ann Catholic Church in Neponset, Mass., for a memorial service for Martin Richard, one of three killed in the bombing. The family scheduled the service for June 9—Martin’s 9th birthday.

The many children at the service included Martin’s 7-year-old sister, Jane, who lost her left leg below the knee. Priest Sean Connor talked with the children about hope, and remembered Jane’s first words to him after she awoke in the hospital: “Where have you been? You have to pray.”

For those coping with post-traumatic stress, Alasdair Groves—a counselor with the Christian Counseling & Education Foundation (CCEF)—says it’s important to remind survivors: “This is a normal response to an abnormal situation.” (Indeed, some military officials are beginning to drop the “D” from “PTSD,” recognizing that stress after a traumatic situation like combat is less a disorder and more a normal reaction to something terrible.)

For Christians coping with trauma, Groves says it’s important to learn to embrace both God’s sovereignty and His goodness: “It’s like the story of the redemption of the world: It started great, it went bad, but it’s going to get better. That’s how God works.”

Groves emphasizes that’s not a trite saying, but a process that takes time. Those helping survivors of trauma must give room to grieve and suffer. But Christians who embrace God’s sovereignty can believe God will use evil for good, he says: “You will be useful for having gone through this.”

Back in Rochester, that’s DiMartino’s hope. These days, she balances doctor appointments and rehab with sketching, reading, welcoming visitors, and slowly returning to cooking. Her blog features recipes, music, and pictures of smiling visits with friends.

She’s thankful she and her brother are safe, and says she doesn’t mind sharing a room. (Peter moved back to his parents’ home to recover, and DiMartino can’t climb the stairs to her upstairs bedroom.)

Still, some days are hard: She can’t leave the house without help. She still hasn’t gone into a crowd of people. Everything takes longer. She knows her recovery will be a long process. Not long after returning home, she blogged: “I did sit down on the couch and cry tonight. … But my sweet parents sat with me. Cried with me. And prayed for me. And I know God’s mercies are new every morning. …”

DiMartino says reflecting on her experience helps: She thinks about how her sister—with no medical training—knew exactly what to do in the critical first moments after the bombing.

She thinks about how her spring swimming regimen gave her the upper body strength she would need to use crutches. She thinks about how God is taking care of her family through practical help from her church and friends: “That gives us hope.”

DiMartino began that kind of reflection in the hospital, blogging on April 26 about Matthew 6: “We may never be the same as we were before,” she wrote. “Even if we get to ‘normal’ physically, these events will always be with us.” She continued: “I don’t know what that will look like one month from now, one year from now, ten years from now. But I read these verses and I am comforted. My Father knows what the future looks like, and He tells me: ‘Do not be worried about your life.’”

DiMartino says that’s been a surprising comfort: “I had no idea what to do with my life in March. … And I know it’s not a great answer, but now I know where God wants me to be because I can’t be anywhere else. And I know what he wants me to do because I can’t do anything else. … I’m excited to see what He does with this time, and I just hope I use it wisely.”

In the meantime, she’s happy to return to church. After her second Sunday back, she blogged about a worship song with the line: “You were singing in the dark and whispering Your promise even when I could not hear. …”

She wrote: “Sometimes we don’t know what God is doing or why He is sending trials our way. We can’t see, we can’t hear. But He is reaching for us. … He can see. He can hear. He knows what’s up ahead. He will never forsake us. Not even for a moment.”

drive

25 Thursday Jul 2013

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I can drive. I can drive. I can drive! Whoop! It is so freeing. Here are a few pictures. People have been so interested in the foot pedal situation so I figured I would share with everyone exactly how driving with my left foot works.

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The left pedal has a bar that goes over to the regular gas pedal. So when I push the pedal on the left, it in turn pushes the regular gas. There is a plate over the regular gas so I can not push it on mistake with my right foot. This is also nice because I have somewhere to rest my boot without worrying about it getting in the way.

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It took some getting used to. I have to go to a driving class two different days. I practiced indoors with fake pedals at first. And then drove the school’s car for about 45 minutes each day. The instructor took me through all different types of area so I would get used to driving in stop and go traffic, on the highway, on small side roads etc. I then had to get an amended drivers license that says I am allowed to drive with special equipment.

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It also pops right out so that if someone else needs to drive my car they can.

meant to be

14 Friday Jun 2013

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A girl who checked me out at the store tonight asked me what happened to my foot. I’m always so reluctant to say “I was in the boston bombing” It just sounds weird to say. Also, then people feel really terrible for asking you. But she didn’t skip a beat. Her eyes opened wide and she said “Well, there must be a really important reason you are still here. I’m glad you’re still here”

WHAT!?

What an amazing response!

NO ONE has said that to me since the bombing. There must be an important reason I am still here. I admit I have thought about this. I could have died that day. But I didn’t. God spared my life. God spared OUR lives. How humbling to think about that. So much more pressure! Whatever he has for me to do, I need to be able to do that with excellence. I can’t wait to see what God has in store for me.

So humbling, but so, so exciting!

o happy day!

10 Monday Jun 2013

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Just a quick update to let you all know how amazing this day has been!

1. I can now wiggle my ankle. SO tiny. But I couldn’t do it before. That means stuff is working and healing and getting better and its super encouraging!

2. Peter walked across the living room without crutches! He can only do a weird hobble/shuffle, but he did it!

3. Rebekah is going home today! She has been in the hospital 9 weeks! SO thankful to God that she is getting out of there! Let the healing begin!!

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