Power On™

The moment that changed everything wasn’t the injury. It was the decision that followed.

On October 15, 2025, my life changed in an instant.

Meadow, my 120-pound rescued Neapolitan Mastiff, and I were doing something we had done countless times before—playing tag in the yard.

One split second.

One accidental collision.

One tibial plateau fracture.

I was home alone.

The pain was immediate and intense.

It took me nearly twenty minutes to crawl back into my house and up six stairs.

My phone was sitting on the kitchen counter, completely out of reach. I grabbed a broom hoping to pull myself up.

The broom snapped in half.

I called everyone I could think of.

No answer.

I could feel myself beginning to go into shock.

My husband finally called back while driving home. Moments later, my son called and told me not to wait—call 911.

The ambulance arrived.

The paramedics attempted to bring a stretcher, but there was no way I could tolerate lying flat. Instead, they carefully transported me in a chair.

What surprised everyone was that I never cried.

Not because I wasn’t in pain.

Because I was.

I was in so much pain that I knew I needed something bigger than pain itself.

So I did something I had taught for years.

I shifted my focus.

I closed my eyes and visualized standing in Antarctica.

So cold that my leg became completely numb.

And slowly, it did.

By the time I arrived at the emergency room, I wasn’t screaming.

I wasn’t crying.

I wasn’t asking for medication.

I was observing.

Learning.

Testing.

Because this had become my teaching story.