Recovery

Recovery is hard.

It takes what seems forever and can be overwhelming. As Elizabeth, my dialysis tech told me after she took my femoral catheter out, "Don't over do it. Take it one step at a time."

Last time I DKAed, I was in a coma for 5 days and awake for 3 days before I hightailed it out of there. I was walking a day after I woke up leaning on Mum for extra support. And 26 days ater I was discharged I was back at work massaging 1 client a day for two weeks, then two clients a day for a month, until I realized 3 was my max during my four hour shift 6 days a week. Two weeks after my discharge I was back in grad school trying to relearn all the psychology terms and theories I once understood perfectly. A week after going back to school, I was driving my car which was a major feat since it's standard. 4 months after discharge I started P90X and the month before that, I went back to dance class. I had something to prove and decided I was superwoman. To me, if I could give birth naturally without tearing in a coma, I could do anything. I was stronger than I looked and a fighter.

This time was different. This time I fought for my life. I was under sedation for a week. I nearly shot out my kidneys so I was on dialysis for nearly two weeks. They didn't take me out of ICU after I woke up for 3 days. Then I was in my private room for nearly another week.

I had to re-learn how to do everything. Pee. Poop. Walk. Use eating untensil. Write. Use my cell. Dial. Chew. Swallow liquid (straws are my best friend). Talking. I couldn't talk for two days and after that, it was labored. Things we naturally take for granted because we learned how to use these gross motor skills at such a young age, were all of a sudden difficult to accomplish. A one point in time I couldn't even voice my thoughts because I couldn't figure out how to say words that would used to come naturally. It took me half an hour to figure out how to tie a bow when I was decorating the jars of lemon curd.

I had physica therapy twice a day, every other day. One focused on building my strength in my arms and the ability to regain those fine tuned motor skills. The other taught me how to walk again. I had to learn how to sit up by myself. Then standing in place using my highly diminished balance. They gave me a walker to see how well I could walk with help and talked about how I might need one. I'm 28, perfectly autonomous, independent and healthy, and she's telling me I might need a walker when they discharge me. And that's when I realized how bad it really was. I managed to conquer the walker in two days, calling my nurse to help me and the walker get into the bathroom when I had to go. My nurse Kristen always said how remarkable my recover was as I zipped by her or when she brught the nighttime nurse Maria up to speed. A few days later, they strapped a belt around me and held on to it as I walked on my own. I felt like a dog on a leash.

When Bryan brought me home, he had to stay in the shower with me to hold me if I got tired standing and I would wrap my arm around his when we were walking somewhere. He would help me up and down stairs holding his hand out. He called me his, 'pretty dainty lady'. I also had to rely on his cooking which I put a end to after two weeks. I lovehim to death, but we both know I'm the better cook. Bryan was amazing though, he was at my beck and call for the first two weeks until it became appart that I could do things on my own. Luckily, he understands my need for independence and autonomy even when I'm stubborn and won't let him open a jar because I'm determined to do it myself.

The first two weeks are always the hardest. We're on week three and if Bryan isn't home, I still have Mum come get me. the slogan this round of recovery is, 'take my time.' Sometimes I feel stronger than I am, and as I learned December 26th, I will pay for it later. What I know now is, I can't walk for 3 hours straight without rest. My body is in pain for a whole week. Every muscle in my body hurts, it becomes impossible to sit or lay down. This causes sleep issues and stress causing my blood sugar to soar. I can't bend down; I can't squat to find something in the cabinets below countertops. My voice is still recovering with it's scracthy airiness. I still cough because my throat will ge a dry patch and require water to moisten it up due to the breathing tube. Part of me thinks my voice will never be anywhere close to what it used to be.

But I take it one day at a time.

The worst part is after a while, you get a little crazy and depressed.

I have to depend on someone to drive me places. I'm literally in thier hands so if I want to go somewhere and they don't, they have complete control. This is frustrating for many reasons: a) I hate depending on people, b) There are places I want to go for the hell of it and I can't lock the door and drive there, c) I really miss driving, and d) I have to go where ever they want to go and stay there until they are ready to leave. If Mum decided to visit someone, I have to wait for her to finish her visit and come pick me up.

The craziness and depression go hand in hand. Most days I feel like I'm a hastle. Damaged goods. Mum has to pick me up to take me to her place so she can cook us dinner and then I have to wake her up since she usually falls asleep on the couch to bring me back. Bryan doesn't get alone time because I'm always there. I can't look at him and say, "Hey sweetie, I'm going to _______ for a bit, I'll see you in a few hours." I essentially have nothing to do. No school work to work on. I won't be going back to work for another 15 days (hopefully). You naturally go daft because boredom sets in quickly. And the problem is, you're not even strong enough to do certain things without help. All you want is for everything to bo back to normal. It's like your life is on pause and you're waiting for someone to hit play. And the only person you can blame is yourself. You put yourself in this predicament, causing those who care about you to worry, and costing hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills.

I try hard not to think these thoughts. I often find myself crying in the shower over the brutal beating I've put my body through. But, I still take it one step at a time. Up next, exercising. Time to really start playing Just Dance 3 and Dance Central. Time to build my stamina, endurance, and strength. My goal is to look amazing by Kelly's wedding and not this frail little thing.