love you all.
first and foremost: The doctors, mom, the surgeons, and me are all clueless as to why this happened. No understandable reasons for my respiratory failure.
all my life, i've prided myself on the fact that i'm the strong one. I'm the rock in a changing sea of sara's illnesses, heather's many states of mind, and even in life as a general. But this recent, i want to say accident but that's not right, this whatever it was scared me. I'm breakable.
I remember being nervous before the surgery but still joking around. I did my part bravely, and got those pesky toncils out. when we cam home i ate some jello and some pudding and i was going to watch a movie but i got tired. And when i say tired, i mean i blinked and fatigue was pressed in on me like a blanket. So i went to sleep.
when i woke up, my hands were tied to my sides. Something beeped and ticked over me and hands prodded me in every direction. I saw mom's face and i couldn't understand what was happening. i couldn't understand why i couldn't break free or speak or do anything but blink up at everyone blurrily. The room dipped and floated around me. It was painful and bright and it hurt to breathe and my wrists were tied down.
when they finally trusted me enough to give me control over my arms, i was too weak to do anything but cough and gag and try not to drown in my own mucus. i watched Tv constantly because the alternative was listening to the other rooms were other machines beeped and other respirators whirred out other dying people's air. If you have never felt mortal fear, then you can't understand anything i'm saying here. i truly thought that that was the end of my life. I thought i was dying.
but i didn't die. But after about two-three days, i started to wish i had. i have never been particularly active but lying in that bed, unable to even go to the bathroom or raise my bed, i thought that not dying would be almost a crueler fate. because not only were they not taking out the tubes already in me, but they kept adding more. Like a feeding tube that they pushed down my nose and through my throat, WHILE I WAS AWAKE. I got so scared that i told mom, or maybe wrote, that i didn't want to go to japan anymore. i had been shaken so much that i truly only wanted to stay with mom for the next 6 months like sara had. i wanted to curl up into a ball and have her protect me for the rest of my life.
she did something better. She helped me be brave enough to keep my decision to go. She believed that not only would i recover but that i would be strong like i was before, brave like i used to be. It was exactly what i needed.
After that my every thought was about getting the doctors to let me out. This part may not be admirable but i lied to those every chance i got. i told them that i could do anything they asked me to do. i pushed to get out of that respirator. by the time they started talking about the next step, i was already plotting to beat them there. But seeing as everything ended all right, it couldn't have been that bad of me to lie.
On Saturday, i got the respirator out but i still had to keep the feeding tube, in case i couldn't swallow, and they gave me an oxygen nose thing to replace my tube. And in case i didn't mention it, i had the one jello cup and the one pudding cup on wednesday but nothing from that point until saturday night. Not even ice chips, not even water. My stomach felt like it wanted to rip a hole through me. and on saturday night, after being off the tube for about 2-4 hours, i got broth and some jello. Mom had to watch me so i didn't shove them down my throat and rip something, or eat too fast and puke it all up.
on sunday, i was transferred to a private room. I had not slept in blocks greater than ten minutes at a time and all of them nightmares. But the quiet room with mom sitting beside my new bed, i finally got to sleep a little and actually rest. If mom wasn't near me, i didn't sleep. i didn't feel safe unless she was there.
on monday, i was released. so i went home but even with my mom by my side the whole time, i still felt like a little bird waiting to be caught. it's been almost four days of being at home and i still have fears that i'll wake up and never have left.
Now, all i have to remember the struggle (aside from meds and a cough), is one arm that is painful to even touch, more so to move, big thick bruises up and down my arms, a swollen hand -that is a little less swollen now, a non existant appitite, a newfound fear of the dark, and not enough stamina to even go to the store with mom without one of those riding carts.
The war is not won, my voice still sucks, but other than that i'm enjoying my time out of lockdown. there are some things that i've learned from this experience, things i think other people should think about too.
Things I now know
1. Loving mommies can make life in hell, seem like nothing worse than a long line at the DMV. They can also vanquish bad dreams and pain.
2. Always say i love you to your friends and family, and thank you to the people changing your IV's. If i really had died, at least i wouldn't have left anything unsaid.
3. One day can change your life, your sense of security, your voice, your dreams, and even the way you think. And not neccessarily for the better.
4. Always be grateful for the moments that you feel well, you never know when or how long they'll stay with you. Good Health is as much a gift as Love.
5. Experiences can break you, they can make you want a half-life of nothing more than being curled up into a ball. But if you're lucky someone will remind you, or you'll remember, that big dreams don't give you too many chances. and if you're going to get one of those opportunities you'll have no time to curl into a ball.
6. Lastly, TV has too many movies about death, dying, blood, gore, shooting, murder. and not enough stupid funny happy movies.
