The stupid shit people say when they don't know what else to say....

When you've gone through hell, you're torn up, broken, bruised, entombed in weird medical devices, and barely holding it together, that's when you can count on the ones who love you the most to say the shit that hurts the most, sounds ridiculous, and comes off as horribly selfish or thoughtless.  It can cause tears, heartache, and long-term or even permanent "breakups."  In fact, when it comes to most of my "friends" before my accident, the last I saw of them was their backs as they walked away, most of them after their first time seeing me torn up, broken and entombed.  And I'm going on 10 years.
Most people are at a loss for words when their loved ones are suffering, especially if there is physical evidence.  When you see someone randomly in public who is obviously fucked up-- wheel chair, oxygen tank, sunglasses and stick, or in a weird medical device-- it's normal to think all kinds of crazy shit:  "Oh my god, that poor person," "I'm glad that's not me," "What the hell happened to you?"... When it's someone you know, or god forbid love, those phrases take on a whole new depth of HOLY SHIT!!!!!  We naturally think that we are supposed to say or do something to make them feel better, or normal, or like nothing has really changed.  I even got to the point where hearing, "You're so lucky!" pissed me off beyond belief. One day, my driver for the day asked me my story, I told him and was profoundly relieved when his response was, "I'm sorry that happened to you.  I bet people tell you you're lucky all the time. But you weren't. You weren't lucky!"  Relief!!!! We continued to speak about how unlucky I was, that it may have been better if I didn't survive.  Now, this was in the beginning, when I was totally fucked up and no one knew what the future held, if there was a future that could resemble normalcy, a future where the pain was bearable and emotions were manageable.
It's obvious to the afflicted that we make others uncomfortable... we're damaged, not stupid.  We're injured, not destroyed.  We're scared, not inspirational. And to be honest, we probably don't want to be talking about it -- it's the same questions, over and over, day after day.  And I realize how crazy it sounds for me to say we probably don't want to talk about it, as I'm writing for a blog about my injuries, but this is different, this isn't someone looking me in the eye asking what they consider appropriate questions. This is me telling you what I want you to hear, when I want you to hear it, and without having to see the pity in your eyes and "Holy shit!" on your face. Unlike what happened that day I ended up in a ditch, this is on my terms.