Independence

as told by Jim Rimac

I became a quadriplegic on a Thanksgiving holiday in a car accident. I was twenty-three.

It was rehab for six months and then I moved into my parents’ home in Chicago. It would take a decade for me to feel I was going to be okay and start my road to independence, the end goal being to move out on my own.

I started by cathing myself and taking care of my toileting, all of which was quite difficult. Then I asked my parents to go out for an evening. They would go to the movies, and I would tinker around the house and microwave some food. Just getting something out of the freezer, microwaving it, and onto the table was a big accomplishment.

Then my parents would go away overnight, so that I had to feed myself, do my toileting, get myself to bed, and then get up and ready in the morning. I could get very frustrated, but bit by bit I was getting better at things.

After a few years of that, my parents agreed to go away for a week if I had home health care come in for a couple of hours. I was looking forward to that week.

All went fine until the third day, when the home health care person arrived late. She was late the next day and the next. Each time we’d have to rush things because she had to go to her next job. By the seventh day I was so angry. I had words through the door and wouldn't let her in.

Her lateness was the best thing that could have happened. Thank you. It made me problem-solve and figure things out. I wasn't as dependent as I had thought. Within a couple of years, I was looking for a place of my own and in a short time I was moving into my condo.

Epilogue

as told by Kat Rimac

Five months after Jim had moved to his condo, I came to work in the condo’s sales office. I caught Jim’s eye. He would be outside his condo when I came to work so he could wave to me. In one conversation, he mentioned he had eaten at a nearby Mexican restaurant. I said, “I eat there all the time.” And so Jim had an opening and he asked to take me to dinner there. Turns out, I had taken a one-year sabbatical from dating, and my time was expiring in four days.

Then Jim invited me to his place for a meal. It was when I saw him stirring the sauce that sparks flew. Jim cannot make fists, so he was holding stirring spoon between the palms of his hands. When I saw the effort he was putting out for me, I knew that no one would take as good care of me as Jim would.

We have now been married thirty years.