This will be a triple post on all three of my blogs. It is a very long update so I wanted to save those that read all three of my blogs some time and frustration when you get spammed with a triple update.
It has been a very long time since I've written anything at all. And though I'm feeling the pull again I hope that it isn't as fleeting as it has been in the past. I love to write and have loved it for years. It is only in the past 8 years since my accident and all the health issues that have followed that I've really gotten away from it. Now, with life so fresh in my eyes, I want to spend some of my time doing something that I use to love.
Creativity is a part of all of us. Some more then most. I got lucky, I grew up in a very creative family. My mother use to cross stitch and make little angles and snowflakes out of thread. To this day she still makes quilts and knits. My sister is a writer like me but she loves to cross stitch as well. My brother writes and creates his own music and acts on occasion. I do alot of everything. I write, draw, paint, do all kinds of crafty stuff depending on what mood I'm in. Or I use to till my life went crazy on me. Now its just an occasional thing.
I don't want it to be like that anymore. I want to do what I use to love to do, and do well. Life is to short and you never know when you will lose it. I came so close this last time. I don't want to take the chance again.
In 2004 I had a young man and his girlfriend run a red light doing 85 mph and crash into the car that my boyfriend was driving. The seat belt that I was wearing jerked me to the side and I hit my head on the window. We where able to pull the car into the service station close by and someone called 911. I remember my head, back and stomach hurt. I couldn't stand very well but was mostly fuzzy headed.
A woman who was a nurse at one of the hospitals in El Paso stopped and helped us till the ambulance arrived. She tried to get me to drink some water, I couldn't. The loaded me up into the ambulance and rushed me to the hospital with my boyfriend right next to me strapped to a back board as well. He ended up with whiplash. My injuries where a bit more severe.
You know how in the movies and TV series' where they wheel a patient into the ER and they have to cut their clothing off of them to get to the wounds? Well I can honestly say that I know how that feels. They had to cut my clothes off of me. I can't tell you how uncomfortable that was.
I remember them poking and priding around on my stomach to try to find where it hurt and why. The doctor felt something weird and they pulled in an ultrasound machine and started running it over my stomach. The couldn't find my stomach and some of my other insides, which explained the terrible pain I was in. The seat belt had shoved them up threw my diaphragm and under my lungs. I was doped up on pain killers and relaxants and sent off to surgery.
Six hours later I woke in the most horrific pain I've been in, in my entire life. I saw my boyfriends mother and father. They had beaten my mother there, I think they grew wings and flew. It was a comfort to see familiar faces considering how I was feeling. I truly believe that I should of died that day. There are some things that I go through on the anniversary of that accident that I can't explain and make no sense that lead me to believe that I probably shouldn't of made it out of that one alive. I did though and I'm here now.
I spent two weeks in the hospital. They made me walk, I remember that. The agony was blinding and crippling. Though on the second day after the surgery I was able to sit in a chair and have something to eat. Thought it was a short sit then I wanted to be back in that bed. They gave me all kinds of meds and had me hooked up to more machines them I would of liked. Though the doctors and nurses have to do what they have to do.
The day they let me out was a weird one, it was overcast I remember that, but no rain fell. I felt like I wasn't really there, inside my body. Like my body moved on its own, I was just a passenger. I barely remember the drive back to Roswell. My mother was with me for several days before they let me out and I believe my sister was there to but I don't really remember clearly. The recovery was hard. Coming back from that was hard.
In 2006 I had to have surgery again. The stitches they had used in my '04 surgery to hold my dhiaphram closed came loose and my stomach went up, rolled over, and got stuck. If I didn't have the surgery quickly my stomach could die. I was rushed to Lubbock to have the surgery. It was a crazy ambulence ride that I barely remember. Though the two people in the back of the ambulence with me, the MT's where friends of mine that use to come into the convience store where I worked. They made the ride bareable.
My doctor was a nice man, and he got me in right away and they got me preped. The nurse told me they would prolly go in threw my side so I wouldn't have another scar running down my center. I was comforted by that, but when I woke up I couldn't figure out why my whole stomach hurt right down the center if they went threw the side. They had reopened my old encision for the surgery.
They had me on all kinds of morphine when the moved me to a room of my own. My boyfriend at the time, who became my second husband, was allowed to stay with me for a couple days. They put a cot in there for him to rest on.
Ive always been a Disney kid and always will be. Mike knew this so he left the TV on the Disney station for me most of the time for the first few days. Till I was conherent enough to change the channel myself I watched disney movies over and over again. Alice in Wonderland was on alot. For those that know anything about Narcotics' and morphine inperticular, they have a hallucinagenic effect. I spent several days watching the Chesher cat run around my room and chase Dina. And the Queen of hearts tried to chop off my head in my sleep. To this day I can't watch Alice in Wonderland without remembering that.
My mom came and sat with me for a day. She had to drive all the way to Lubbock and then drive home. I remember falling asleep a couple times and waking up, she was sitting in the chair next to me knitting. I think she did that with the first surgery too. Going home was hard, the three hour drive hurt like hell, even though I was pretty well drugged up.
In 2009, I had to have another surgery. They had placed a mesh net over the hole in my diaphragm and it had come loose and was tangled in my intestines. I spent from November to February sick as a dog and in a whole lot of pain before they agreed to do the surgery. They had me in the hospital for 4 days before I went under the knife. I stayed in Carlsbad for this surgery which was nice, because my mom was close. She came to see me everyday of the two weeks that I was in there. She is my rock.
My current husband, Peter, and my previous husband, Mike, called me everyday. I really don't remember what I said to either of them or if I got them mixed up. It was a very long recovery. There where several blood transfusions with this one. I just wasn't recovering well. I was in for two weeks this time as well and they almost didn't let me go after the two weeks. I was so itching to go home. They had taken out alot of the scar tissue from the previous two surgeries so I had one scar instead of three. Though the scar runs from my breast bone to well past my belly button.
Recently, within the past 2 months, Ive had to have yet another surgery. This one for a perforated bowl that was leaking toxins into my system for a week or so. My health deteriorated for the week that this was happening to the point where I couldn't get out of bed at all. I was so sick, I couldn't hold anything down and couldn't move I hurt so much. Pete took me to the ER, and they kept me over night while they ran tests.
Sometime in the am a man came in and told me that they found that I have a perforated bowl on the CT and that I will have to have surgery. He also told me that I'm lucky that they caught it now, any longer and I might not survive. Talk about scare me stupid right then and there. I called Pete and left a message telling him what was going on, and the quest to save my life began.
I believe I was under the knife for over eight hours. My mother was in a panic because she was so far away and because Pete didn't give her alot of information on my condition. I remember my first conversation with her. She was using one of our friends Skype to call to Australia to see how I was doing and I got to talk to both of them. They where able to get a good feel for ow I was doing and where my health was at after that. Mother was in a panic, and understandable so. She wants me to come home to the states and live with her when I'm well again.
The nurses where nice and the doctors where caring, so the experience wasn't a bad one for being in out country. They didn't treat me any different then they would an Australian. In some ways their care is better then ours. They are more likely to stay on top of pain relief then I've noticed in the states and their care extends to the home as well. I've had nurses coming in and out of my home since I was released. I never had that in the states.
I'm so tired of going under the knife. This last one has been the worse one yet. The healing is taking forever it seems and I feel like I will never be well again. I'm down and out most of the time and very uncomfortable in my own skin. I have a colostomy bag for now, and that is an experience I wouldn't wish on another living being. I got lucky and its not permanent, as I'm only 36 and living like this for the rest of my life will definitely bring down my quality of life.
I went to see my surgeon two weeks ago and she refreshed in my mind how hard she had to fight to save my life. She was thrilled to see that I was doing so well, and coming out on top of all of this pain and healing.
After I saw her I started having severe abdominal pain again and went to my GP. He believes that I have an ulcer in my stomach that is giving me a hard time. So I'm going under again to have a scope stuck down my throat and check. We will go from there after we find out what is happening and I will have more news on that front at a later date.
I have several appointments coming up, including one tomorrow with the Stoma nurses. We will be ordering new supplies and they want to check my bag and my wound. We will see what they think of how its healing. It seems to be taking forever and its still 8 centimeters deep. I have another apt with the surgeon January 23, and we will see what she has to say. I have an appointment with a dietitian on Feburary 17th at 10am to help manage my Derfaticulitus. There is no medication but it can be managed with special diet so we will see how that goes. I also have an apt on May 2 with a Urologist to do an exploratory and see how my intestines are healing. This one will dictate when I have my surgery to fix the stoma. I hope it will be shortly after the appointment so that I can get back to some semblance of a normal life.
All of this has made me realise how short life can be, and how quickly it can me taken from you. It has made me realise how important it is to live. To really live and to care about life and myself. I no longer take my health for granted, nor do I let the world around me just pass me by. I intend to get out there and experience life before I die, and to live each day to its fullest because you never know when you won't have a tomorrow. I say what I want to say, do what I want to do. I no longer let those moments pass me bye, because you may never get another chance. I don't hold a grudge and forgive because its in my nature. There is a freedom that comes with forgiveness. It not only helps those who are asking for it to move on but it is also freeing. I choose to let people into my heart and I choose to care. If I'm hurt because of it then its partly my fault for choosing to care. I love everyone in my life.
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