I Went from a Daughter to a Burden After Losing My Ability to Walk

When I was 19, I was in a terrible accident. A car ran over me while I was on my way to work. It felt like the end of the world—screeching tires, then darkness and pain. When I woke up, the doctors told me I might never walk again.

I kept asking for my father, but he didn’t show up until three days later, looking like a mess. I could tell he had been drinking the whole time I was fighting for my life.

My mother had passed away when I was 12, a victim of breast cancer. I remember her as a sweet, tired woman who worked hard to put food on the table while my father drank away his paycheck and said cruel things to her.

By the time I turned 14, my father made me get a part-time job to help pay the bills. When I was 16, I had to drop out of school and work full-time to support myself—and him.

When my father finally visited me in the hospital, there was no compassion in his eyes. The doctor told him that while my spine wasn’t severed, there was severe damage. I might recover a little, but most likely, I would be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. My father just turned to the doctor and said, “She’s an adult now. She’s not my responsibility anymore. You take her.” He walked away, saying, “Useless! Just like your mother!”

Those were the last words I heard from him for six years. I was then sent to a recovery center, where I met Carol Hanson, my therapist. She was an older, caring woman who took me in and pushed me to recover. Over the next year, she helped me make progress I never thought was possible. When I finally stood on my own and took my first step, we both cried. It wasn’t the end of my recovery, but it was a huge milestone.

It was a bittersweet moment. I was healing and walking again, but I had no family, no place to go. One day, I was sitting on my bed, crying, when Carol came in. She sat next to me and put her arms around me. “It’s okay to be scared,” she said. “You’re starting your life again.” I whispered, “But I have no one. I’m alone.”

Carol then offered me a place to stay. She said, “Would you like to move in with me? Just until you get back on your feet.” I agreed, and it was wonderful. Carol gave me a beautiful room, the nicest one I’d ever had. She explained that it was her daughter’s room, and she had lost her, just like I had lost my mother.

The next day, I started searching for jobs online, but when I came downstairs, I found flyers for night classes at a local high school. Carol said, “I think you should go back to school so you can go to college.”

“College? I can’t afford college!” I said. “I don’t even have enough money to support myself right now.”

Carol shook her head. “You can’t afford not to go to college. I’ll lend you the money, and when you graduate, you can pay me back like a student loan.”

With her encouragement, I completed my high school certification and applied to the local college. Inspired by Carol’s example, I decided to become a nurse. Four years later, I graduated with honors.

I started working at a hospital and eventually specialized in neonatal care. One day, a TV crew came to interview me about a set of identical triplets. The attention I got made me feel like a local celebrity, but it also brought an unexpected visitor. My father showed up at my door, looking terrible, smelling of alcohol and sweat.

“Jenny, my sweet girl,” he cried, reaching for me. “I’ve finally found you again.”

“Found me again?” I said sharply. “You abandoned me when I was hurt, remember? You said I was useless.”

He tried to shed some tears. “Oh, baby, I was scared and in shock. You won’t turn your dad away, will you? I haven’t been well…”

I looked at him coldly. “You look fine to me, but you have some kind of liver problem, don’t you? From drinking.”

He asked me for help, saying he was sick and had no money for food. “Like you left me helpless in a wheelchair?” I said. “Get out.” I slammed the door in his face and walked away.

Carol was sitting in the living room when I returned. She asked, “Who was that, Jenny?”

I sat down beside her and said, “Oh, just someone selling something.” I hugged Carol tightly, feeling safe with her.

Carol looked at me with a serious expression. “Jenny, I’ve been thinking. Would you let me adopt you? Would you let me be your mom?”

Tears streamed down my face as I hugged her tightly. I had been through so much in my childhood, but now I had found a loving home with someone who truly cared for me.