What you don't know can kill you. Depression, I didn't know how deep I was - it almost killed me. Anxiety and agoraphobia (is that the one where you are afraid to leave your house?) they almost killed me. They certainly deconstructed my idyllic life. Left me there a huddled mass still clutching my knees to my chest or curled in the fetal position.
So the easy snip snap 30 minutes in and out procedure - it didn't go down like that. Yes, they did remove the andonema(sp)from my pituitary gland. Most of it is a haze. I know I was intubated(sp), I know a halo was screwed into my head. I know I spent several hours in the ICU (6 according to the medical bill) I know I was not taken to 8th floor neuro post surgery - I was taken to 6th floor cardiac. Had I been taken to the 8th floor I would have been next to Elizabeth Taylor. I know they were giving me 3 bags of IV. There is something about pituitary surgery - after you have it you should not receive IV bags. It drowns the brain. I don't know which endocrinologist ordered the IV fluids. No one fessed up. I do know my brain was drowning. I was slipping away.
Aldona, who flew from Dallas to LAX where Donald picked her up and brought her directly to Cedars. She stayed with me every day, every night. She sat there, watching me slip away. One night, as she sat there crying, a woman came to the room. (this told to me by Aldona) The woman asked if Aldona wanted to pray. I believe they prayed. Then the woman told Aldona she needed to have a "Terms of Endearment" moment. You remember the movie. Julia Roberts is Shirley McClain's daughter. Roberts is dying and McClain is watching with helpless grief. Then McClain, unable to bear witness to her daughter's death goes to the nurses station and begins to shout at everyone and anyone.
That is what Aldona Mae did. She went out to the nurse's station and shouted at anyone and everyone. It worked. Finally the "team" of Drs. huddled together. A med student realized it was the IV solution. He ordered it discontinued.
Just prior to that woman's visit I was on the bridge between here and the there. Some people believe in such experiences, others don't. I can only share with you my story, my experience, my memory. Was it real? I don't know. It is what I felt, experienced, remembered. I have had similar experiences before so I guess I am a believer.
Having left my body I was hovering over myself. To my right there was a white tubular shaped cloud looking thing. To my left there was Aldona. She was sleeping on a cot. Her legs hung off the end because it was so small. I think she was wearing the same clothes she arrived in. With the exception of getting food or taking a break at Jerry's Deli she had not left the hospital. I was looking at myself, lying (people lie, objects lay - that is the rule) in the hospital bed. I looked like shit.
I felt tired. Worn out - not just from this surgical procedure - from everything. Living with chronic pain, having lost my family, riddled with guilt because I was not able to work, frustrated because nothing medical was fixing me, scared of what I did not know, afraid of what was to come...The softness of that white tubular shaped cloud enticed me. I did not know where it led - it seemed a safe escape. The finger pointers, paper pushers, attorneys, Drs., excuse makers, policy enforcers - to get away from all of it. That white tube was my escape pod. I only need enter and I was free. There on that cot was Aldona Mae, my Poopy Sister - she would be devastated - but she would go on. She had Robert and Jessica Rose. She was strong. Her legs hanging off that cot; I could not have Aldona wake up and find me gone. I could not do that.
Glancing once again to my right the white tubular shaped cloud was gone. Opening my eyes, I was again lying in a bed. Since the operation to fix my leg, I was lying in a bed.
Like I said, you either believe in such experiences or you don't. Was it a memory I created? Was it my writer's imagination reaching for the dramatic? Was it real? I can't answer that.
Once the IV was discontinued I began to rally. I demanded to see the endocronological team. I wanted to know who ordered those IV bags. Instead, standing at the foot of my bed, there were assembled a group of med students. Their backs were against the wall. Their faces so young. When I asked who ordered the IV bags there was no response. A young man took credit for writing the order to discontinue the IV. Otherwise it was a wall of white coats. The Dr., head of endocrinology at Cedars - he was noticeably absent. I gave a speech. They examined the floor tile.
Dr. Solsky came in.
"Maybe I can sleep tonight." she said.
Dr. Solsky did not want me to have the surgery. She wanted me to see a psychiatrist. I was too proud. I was certain there was something physically wrong with me. There were many things physically wrong with me - that was not in dispute. There were also many things emotionally wrong with me - I was too proud to admit it.
Ironic isn't it. So determined to prove I was not having a nervous breakdown, to prove I was not depressed - so determined to show the paper pushers, policy makers, finger pointers, lawyers, and Drs. that my physical illness was real, I died. And even after that, I remained unable to help myself. So adept at separating my mind from my body I could not begin to see how deep the well of my depression and anxiety were. What I didn't know did matter.
It was during this time I started taking a new batch of medicines. Oxycontin and Oxycodone for pain, Neurontin and Savella for nerve pain, Acyclovir (sp) and some other anti-viral med for TB and shingles, Dexilant for my stomach, Synthroid for Hypothyroid disease,Valium for muscle spasms, xanax for anxiety, Zoloft for depression, (though I still would not admit I was depressed) Prednisone...
Finally, released from the hospital. Liz had arranged for my bed to be in the living room. I believe Tony and Nasi had disassembled it, brought the pieces downstairs, and reassembled it in the living room. I could not climb stairs. My head spun like a tilt a whirl. I drifted in and out. I remember very little.
Aldona had to return to Texas. She had been with me a month. Bad weather kept Eileen grounded in Burlington. After two failed attempts, third time was the charm. It is a two hour drive from Malone to Burlington. Not an easy drive - she kept at it. Shari was on the mainland for spring break, she came by. Zuko was happy I was home. That's it.
Many people did many things to help me. My river, the river I continued to stand in, the river which sustained me even though I was not able to reach down and scoop a handful of the clean, refreshing water. Ah, there is irony again - the IV solution nearly drowned my brain - anxiety and depression left my soul dehydrated.
Most of it is a blur - I don't remember what happened - months are missing. I could not taste, smell, standing was difficult, riding in a car made me sick. I tried returning to work. My shoulders, neck, back, hips, and leg still riddled me with pain. My head hurt - opening my eyes hurt, sound hurt - there was not a waking moment when I could not feel the burning pain in my leg or the ice pick in my head or the rock in my soul. I took a lot of medicine, anything to escape.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
Knee Deep In A River
It is a line from an old Kathy Matea Song - (Yes, I was Country when Country wasn't cool.) This is what I have done for the past 4 years. I have stood knee deep in a river, dying of thirst.
You don't know it. You can feel it, I think. I don't know. After the foot surgery and my failed attempt to return to work I spent more time alone. More time resting and elevating. More time separating my mind from my body and myself from everything. It was during this time the orthopedic surgeon first prescribed Vicodin. Plagued, every waking moment with pain - unable to sleep because of pain - cracking under the weight, dying from thirst. Piece by piece I moved farther away from anyone and everything. Sure I can see it now - but then...then I thought I was handling it all so well. Discouraged but not depressed. I don't get depressed. I kept telling myself that. Dr. appointments, letters to the lawyer, letters to worker's comp, letters to the school district, Dr. appointments - test after test. Then back to my isolation. It was self-imposed. It was my survival mode. When I most needed others, when so many people were reaching out to help me I stood there in a river of love, parched.
Even now I don't know how it all fell apart. It did - this is depression. The system was spinning me like a rag doll in a washing machine. How did I get there? As my life was unravelling I sat with my knees pulled to my chest. I prayed, I talked to Mommie. I wrote. Thinking I was doing the right things. I was doing nothing. The more I jumped, the more hoops the system placed in front of me.
So 2008-2009 school year pretty much came and went without me. Every day I sank deeper. Every day I moved farther within myself. I fortified my walls. It wasn't long before I dreaded leaving the house. Actually, it was more than dread. I was afraid. I was afraid to leave the house. I was afraid to leave my room. Afraid to leave my bed. I was afraid when the phone rang. I was afraid when the mail came.
As the 2009-2010 school year started, I don't know if I started with it. I don't think I did. I did go back to work until the week before thanksgiving. One morning I noticed an itch/pain over my left shoulder blade. I thought it was a bug bite. The pain intensified. It was horrendous. Liz looked at it. She applied some antibiotic ointment and a band aid. By Sunday the pain was intense. I could not move my left arm. My left shoulder, side, chest, stomach were covered in red coals, streaks - I drove myself to urgent care. Without even entering the examination room the Dr. said I had shingles. He told me to increase my steroids, gave me a prescription, and that was that.
Of course I called Dr. Solsky. As usual she said she would meet me in her office first thing Monday morning. Increasing steroids is not something I wanted to do. The intensity of pain was amazing. Now not only did I need to block out the nerve and back pain, the ice pick headache pain, the lupus pain, the firbromyalgia pain - now I had this brand new pain.
I will tell you something about pain. New pain is harder to deal with. In time your mind adjusts to consistent pain. New pain takes you to a different level - It kicks your consistent pain up a notch (not in a good way like "cooking with Emeril") Dr. Solsky sent me right to Cedars for direct admission.
Dr. McDreamy was the infectious disease specialist. A handsome man who spoke so quietly. In taking my history I told him I had tested positive for TB but the clinic said it was a false positive due to steroids. I never thought about it. After that positive test I had chest x-rays to pass a TB test.
Well apparently this was not good. I spent a few days getting IV anti-biotics and percocet.
More time away from work. More guilt, more shame, more weakness - more I sought the safety of my bed in my room, in my house.
Can you see how it just snow balled? I look at it now and it appears so clear. What should I have done differently? Why didn't I do something to stop it? What was the straw that broke my back? I was strong. I knew I was. Temporary set backs - put on my big girl boots, lace them up tight and start walking.
Honestly, it was too late. Having lost the love of my life - my family - I was lost. As much as I wanted to make everything right I could not. As much as I need to say I am sorry the words just ring hollow. I did not want any of this too happen. No I did not choose for this to happen. I am not a victim. Life just spun out of control. Maybe I wasn't standing in that river. Perhaps I was in a boat, taking on water way faster than I could bail it out. The only place I felt safe was in that house, in that room, in that bed - I could not stop the thoughts of guilt, shame, loss - I could do nothing.I should have - I wish I would have - When you are there, well when you are there you are just there.
In February Liz took me to the emergency room. I was sick. Suffering from so many ailments, racked with pain, consumed with guilt - every inch of my body hurt. Dr. Solsky could not be reached. After several hours they released me with the diagnosis of the flu. 10 minutes away from the hospital Dr. Solsky called me. "Go back to Cedars I will meet you there." Liz, ever patient and poor Em, so understanding - back to Cedars we went.
Dr. Solsky was not too happy. She had turned off her phone for the weekend in attempt to get some time off. When she arrived I almost screamed her name. I was so relieved to see her. For 20 years Dr. Solsky had been my Dr. We did not always agree. I was not always a willing patient. You don't know someone for 20 years without some type of bond. In my eyes she was like Dr. St.Mary - consistent, honest, and always there when you needed them.
Two days prior I had a series of MRI's of the brain. Suffering from debilitating headaches we began a search for their cause. The MRI revealed vasculitis of the brain. I don't know what that is. I spent 22 days in the hospital. My brain is well documented in the annals of Cedars Sinai. I saw endocrinologist, Dr. McDreamy came back on board, a sleuth of the best neurologist in the world, several GP specialist - King of Neurology said I had some cyst or something on my pituitary gland. Snip snap he could remove it. 30 minutes in and out. Do it. Do something. Someone do something.
I thought the beginning of the end - the worst of the worst had already happened...wrong again Lisa. Don't believe things can't get worse, they can. Listen to your own voice - even the scared child holding her knees to her chest voice - listen to that. Dance with who brought you and never doubt the power of prayer, love, friendship and hope!
You don't know it. You can feel it, I think. I don't know. After the foot surgery and my failed attempt to return to work I spent more time alone. More time resting and elevating. More time separating my mind from my body and myself from everything. It was during this time the orthopedic surgeon first prescribed Vicodin. Plagued, every waking moment with pain - unable to sleep because of pain - cracking under the weight, dying from thirst. Piece by piece I moved farther away from anyone and everything. Sure I can see it now - but then...then I thought I was handling it all so well. Discouraged but not depressed. I don't get depressed. I kept telling myself that. Dr. appointments, letters to the lawyer, letters to worker's comp, letters to the school district, Dr. appointments - test after test. Then back to my isolation. It was self-imposed. It was my survival mode. When I most needed others, when so many people were reaching out to help me I stood there in a river of love, parched.
Even now I don't know how it all fell apart. It did - this is depression. The system was spinning me like a rag doll in a washing machine. How did I get there? As my life was unravelling I sat with my knees pulled to my chest. I prayed, I talked to Mommie. I wrote. Thinking I was doing the right things. I was doing nothing. The more I jumped, the more hoops the system placed in front of me.
So 2008-2009 school year pretty much came and went without me. Every day I sank deeper. Every day I moved farther within myself. I fortified my walls. It wasn't long before I dreaded leaving the house. Actually, it was more than dread. I was afraid. I was afraid to leave the house. I was afraid to leave my room. Afraid to leave my bed. I was afraid when the phone rang. I was afraid when the mail came.
As the 2009-2010 school year started, I don't know if I started with it. I don't think I did. I did go back to work until the week before thanksgiving. One morning I noticed an itch/pain over my left shoulder blade. I thought it was a bug bite. The pain intensified. It was horrendous. Liz looked at it. She applied some antibiotic ointment and a band aid. By Sunday the pain was intense. I could not move my left arm. My left shoulder, side, chest, stomach were covered in red coals, streaks - I drove myself to urgent care. Without even entering the examination room the Dr. said I had shingles. He told me to increase my steroids, gave me a prescription, and that was that.
Of course I called Dr. Solsky. As usual she said she would meet me in her office first thing Monday morning. Increasing steroids is not something I wanted to do. The intensity of pain was amazing. Now not only did I need to block out the nerve and back pain, the ice pick headache pain, the lupus pain, the firbromyalgia pain - now I had this brand new pain.
I will tell you something about pain. New pain is harder to deal with. In time your mind adjusts to consistent pain. New pain takes you to a different level - It kicks your consistent pain up a notch (not in a good way like "cooking with Emeril") Dr. Solsky sent me right to Cedars for direct admission.
Dr. McDreamy was the infectious disease specialist. A handsome man who spoke so quietly. In taking my history I told him I had tested positive for TB but the clinic said it was a false positive due to steroids. I never thought about it. After that positive test I had chest x-rays to pass a TB test.
Well apparently this was not good. I spent a few days getting IV anti-biotics and percocet.
More time away from work. More guilt, more shame, more weakness - more I sought the safety of my bed in my room, in my house.
Can you see how it just snow balled? I look at it now and it appears so clear. What should I have done differently? Why didn't I do something to stop it? What was the straw that broke my back? I was strong. I knew I was. Temporary set backs - put on my big girl boots, lace them up tight and start walking.
Honestly, it was too late. Having lost the love of my life - my family - I was lost. As much as I wanted to make everything right I could not. As much as I need to say I am sorry the words just ring hollow. I did not want any of this too happen. No I did not choose for this to happen. I am not a victim. Life just spun out of control. Maybe I wasn't standing in that river. Perhaps I was in a boat, taking on water way faster than I could bail it out. The only place I felt safe was in that house, in that room, in that bed - I could not stop the thoughts of guilt, shame, loss - I could do nothing.I should have - I wish I would have - When you are there, well when you are there you are just there.
In February Liz took me to the emergency room. I was sick. Suffering from so many ailments, racked with pain, consumed with guilt - every inch of my body hurt. Dr. Solsky could not be reached. After several hours they released me with the diagnosis of the flu. 10 minutes away from the hospital Dr. Solsky called me. "Go back to Cedars I will meet you there." Liz, ever patient and poor Em, so understanding - back to Cedars we went.
Dr. Solsky was not too happy. She had turned off her phone for the weekend in attempt to get some time off. When she arrived I almost screamed her name. I was so relieved to see her. For 20 years Dr. Solsky had been my Dr. We did not always agree. I was not always a willing patient. You don't know someone for 20 years without some type of bond. In my eyes she was like Dr. St.Mary - consistent, honest, and always there when you needed them.
Two days prior I had a series of MRI's of the brain. Suffering from debilitating headaches we began a search for their cause. The MRI revealed vasculitis of the brain. I don't know what that is. I spent 22 days in the hospital. My brain is well documented in the annals of Cedars Sinai. I saw endocrinologist, Dr. McDreamy came back on board, a sleuth of the best neurologist in the world, several GP specialist - King of Neurology said I had some cyst or something on my pituitary gland. Snip snap he could remove it. 30 minutes in and out. Do it. Do something. Someone do something.
I thought the beginning of the end - the worst of the worst had already happened...wrong again Lisa. Don't believe things can't get worse, they can. Listen to your own voice - even the scared child holding her knees to her chest voice - listen to that. Dance with who brought you and never doubt the power of prayer, love, friendship and hope!
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Word Search
I like word searches. The answers are there. The words may be upside down, diagonal, backwards - but they are there. When you start a word search puzzle you know you can complete it. Letter by letter, line by line - if you stick with it you will find all the answers.
Would be nice if life were that easy. Sometimes I think it is. Sometimes I think if I just go letter by letter, line by line - I will find the answers.
Yesterday, as I was brushing my teeth, I was searching for words. Trying to think of a metaphor that accurately conveys the process I am now going through. The onion metaphor, you have to peel the layers even though you know you are going to cry - didn't work for me. At least not right now. Then I thought of the whole being naked thing.
With the exception of taking a shower I am not a be naked kind of gal. Right now, sharing this experience - I feel completely naked. It is uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable! Reckon exposure of the soul, admitting imperfection, seeking forgiveness, speaking my truth - all of this leaves me exposed. It is uncomfortable, though I am not afraid.
Then I thought of when you eat something that upsets your stomach. As your doubled over clutching your belly you debate making yourself throw up. Sometimes it is best just to get the "bad" out of your system. Sometimes you have to vomit to feel better. Not a pretty image, a truth none the less.
As I was showering the game Sorry came to mind. I am playing a game of Sorry. I am winning. Every number I roll moves my little green thimble unto someone else. Repeatedly I have to say; "Sorry." I don't know if it makes any sense I just can't say "Sorry" anymore - not right now. There are too many people I need to say it to. Too many regrets. Making amends it part of the process. To me, the best way I can show my regret is my getting better. The best way I can thank everyone, (how could you all stand me?) is to get better.
This is my focus. Living strong despite my mistakes. Living strong despite my failures. Where I am right now - I feel the best way I can begin is by stopping. No one ever asked me to place the world on my shoulders - for some reason I did. The weight of my own life crushed me and I still had the arrogance to think I could help others. (How could you stand me?)
Every day as I write, I become exhausted. When I am finished writing I have to lie (people lie, objects lay that is the rule) down. Purging, exposed, naked - looking at the movie - How could you stand by me?
The power of love, faith, hope - it sustained me. Each of you, in your own way, kept me alive. My gratitude is deep. And the best way I can think of to show that gratitude is by getting better.
Today I am better than I was yesterday. Tomorrow I will be better than I am today. By doing this, getting better - finding Lisa again - It is the best way I can say thank you and the best way I can say I am sorry.
Two weeks ago I thought I had arrived. Today I know I am just leaving. Moving out of the paralyzing depression and abuse of prescription pain meds. I need to feel the physical pain. Introduce my mind and body to one another. Reintegrate my whole self, scars, flaws, foibles, quirks, failures, and triumphs.
I am sorry, humbled, filled with gratitude - I am getting better inch by inch, moment by moment. I think this is how I can best show my sorrow and my thanks. I may be wrong - I know if I look letter by letter, line by line, the answers are here.
Would be nice if life were that easy. Sometimes I think it is. Sometimes I think if I just go letter by letter, line by line - I will find the answers.
Yesterday, as I was brushing my teeth, I was searching for words. Trying to think of a metaphor that accurately conveys the process I am now going through. The onion metaphor, you have to peel the layers even though you know you are going to cry - didn't work for me. At least not right now. Then I thought of the whole being naked thing.
With the exception of taking a shower I am not a be naked kind of gal. Right now, sharing this experience - I feel completely naked. It is uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable! Reckon exposure of the soul, admitting imperfection, seeking forgiveness, speaking my truth - all of this leaves me exposed. It is uncomfortable, though I am not afraid.
Then I thought of when you eat something that upsets your stomach. As your doubled over clutching your belly you debate making yourself throw up. Sometimes it is best just to get the "bad" out of your system. Sometimes you have to vomit to feel better. Not a pretty image, a truth none the less.
As I was showering the game Sorry came to mind. I am playing a game of Sorry. I am winning. Every number I roll moves my little green thimble unto someone else. Repeatedly I have to say; "Sorry." I don't know if it makes any sense I just can't say "Sorry" anymore - not right now. There are too many people I need to say it to. Too many regrets. Making amends it part of the process. To me, the best way I can show my regret is my getting better. The best way I can thank everyone, (how could you all stand me?) is to get better.
This is my focus. Living strong despite my mistakes. Living strong despite my failures. Where I am right now - I feel the best way I can begin is by stopping. No one ever asked me to place the world on my shoulders - for some reason I did. The weight of my own life crushed me and I still had the arrogance to think I could help others. (How could you stand me?)
Every day as I write, I become exhausted. When I am finished writing I have to lie (people lie, objects lay that is the rule) down. Purging, exposed, naked - looking at the movie - How could you stand by me?
The power of love, faith, hope - it sustained me. Each of you, in your own way, kept me alive. My gratitude is deep. And the best way I can think of to show that gratitude is by getting better.
Today I am better than I was yesterday. Tomorrow I will be better than I am today. By doing this, getting better - finding Lisa again - It is the best way I can say thank you and the best way I can say I am sorry.
Two weeks ago I thought I had arrived. Today I know I am just leaving. Moving out of the paralyzing depression and abuse of prescription pain meds. I need to feel the physical pain. Introduce my mind and body to one another. Reintegrate my whole self, scars, flaws, foibles, quirks, failures, and triumphs.
I am sorry, humbled, filled with gratitude - I am getting better inch by inch, moment by moment. I think this is how I can best show my sorrow and my thanks. I may be wrong - I know if I look letter by letter, line by line, the answers are here.
Friday, March 22, 2013
The Hokie Pokie...
Y'all have done the Hokie Pokie right? If you have been to a bridal shower, a baby shower, Friday night rollerskating - "You put your right foot in, you take your right foot out, you put your right foot in and you shake it all about. You do the Hokie Pokie, turn yourself and shout - that's what it's all about."
Much fun when trying to remain upright on roller skates. Not so much fun when its your life and you are not putting in the body parts.
I went to the Dr's. every Monday. Every Monday I saw a different 20 something PA. I said the same things. I rolled up my pant leg. (I was wearing running pants every day now. Jeans hurt, socks hurt) The PA didn't touch my leg. He/she made notes. "See you next week."
I worked. I used crutches. I used a cane. I drove. I tried to play softball. I kept doing what I was suppose to do. Week after week. It was the same. The pain increased. Other body parts started to ache. My arms and shoulders from crutches. My left leg ached from bearing so much weight. My back and neck ached, burned, sharp skewers of hot fire shot up and down my back and leg.
A coping skill learned long ago took over. Separating my mind from my body. Using mental focus to block out everything physical. It is a tool I have used before. Now I turned to it. It is effective. Big drawback - memory loss. I just go into auto-pilot. Stick with the routine. I remember very little.
Finally week 7 and 8 I saw the same PA. She was a young woman. I repeated the same story. Week 8 was the first time she actually took off my shoe. It was the first time someone touched my foot, my ankle, my leg. She looked at me and said; "I think we should get a referral for an orthopedic surgeon." I agreed.
December 8th, 3 months after I sustained the injury I went to an appointment with Dr. Bloze. A tall woman with long, curly blond hair, when she walked in a room she had a demanding presence. She took off my shoes. I rolled up my pant legs. She said; "You should have come to me 8 weeks ago."
Using a pen she pointed to the interior of my right foot. "This is atrophy. It is visible atrophy. It will spread up your leg." On the white table paper she wrote; acute tarsal tunnel syndrome. "You can Google it." OK, I guess - "What does that mean?" "Your foot muscles are dying. You need surgery like yesterday." I thought that odd, her saying - "like yesterday." She asked me if I was working. I said yes. She said you have to stop. Something about having to stay off my leg, elevation 24 hours, atrophy spreading - this is when the Hokie Pokie started. Put your right foot in...I can't shake it.
It was also on this day when I started to crack. It was like when you are a little kid and you don't feel good. You ask to see the nurse. She takes your temperature. Calls your mom. When Mommie walks in the nurses office you bust out in tears. You feel so sick and Mommie is here and you just lose it.
I had an EMG done. I thought it a bad sign when the nurse told me to remove my top and put on a paper shirt. It is my leg you know, and she is prepping my arm. Oh, yes. Put your shirt back on and remove your pants, put on a paper gown. The Dr. came in and started working. She didn't say much - except when her daughter called to ask permission to go over to a friend's house. She attached the electrodes, turned the dials - my leg jumped, my foot jumped, my back spasmed. She made marks on the white cash register receipt paper.
I returned to Dr. Bloze's for results. As the Dr. sat there looking at the results for the first time she became angry. The wrong tests had been done. After a flurry of back and forth between her and her assistant the Dr. was on the phone with WC asking for immediate authorization. She could complete the test in her office - today, right now. She told me I should get an attorney.
I waited for several hours while she cleared her scheduled patients. Then she did the tests. More shocks, more spasms - the Hokie Pokie - she spoke about numbers. 5 means complete loss of nerve function I was 4.8.
I didn't know what it meant. It is true you should have someone with you when you go to the Drs. It is difficult to comprehend, to hear, to process, to remember. I needed immediate surgery and I had to stop working. It was the last week of school before Christmas break. I wanted to finish the week. I agreed to use crutches and keep my leg elevated as much as possible.
When I returned to work I asked the union rep about an attorney.
The Holiday Show was a hit. My children did a wonderful job. We had a wonderful party. When it was over I sat at my desk and cried. Another crack. I was exhausted!
More lost time. Liz, Emily and I went to the attorney. I had to have pre-op stuff done but WC didn't arrange for that I had to do it myself. Dr. Solsky to the rescue. How many times that was the case. I had to do a rapid taper of preds. More phone calls, flurries - but your left foot in.
I did not return to work in January. Surgery was scheduled for the16th. Aldona was coming out to help me get around post op. I wasn't suppose to bear any pressure for 6 -8 weeks. I am a quick healer. Despite SLE that is a consistent. I heal pretty fast. Everything went well. I was having El Pollo Loco a few hours post surgery.
Settling into recovery. In a week see the DR. Aldona took me. I needed Liz, yet I didn't ask her. She had taken off a lot of work already. She drove me back and forth. I felt a burden. How stupid I was. She was my partner. She wanted to "take care" of me. Instead of embracing that love I turned it away. Another crack - 1/2 million and 29 pieces of glass.
The next several months become a blur of Drs., pain, my leg was not better. My foot yes, my leg no. My back no. Drs. lawyers, paychecks, forms I didn't fill out, forms that had not been filled out - mistakes here, mistakes there - fingers pointing - "You put your right arm in." Cracking and cracking - with each phone call, with each form, with each Dr. appt. I just cracked and cracked. When the announcer said; "Put your right arm in." I just followed. Control was lost. I did not know what anything was anymore. Everyone was scrambling, helping - I was cracking and falling. The beginnings of depression. I did not recognize it. Did not know it. Could not lift a finger unless the announcer said; "Put your left arm in." I complied.
1/2 million and 37 pieces of glass. I still didn't know our insides were made of glass.
Much fun when trying to remain upright on roller skates. Not so much fun when its your life and you are not putting in the body parts.
I went to the Dr's. every Monday. Every Monday I saw a different 20 something PA. I said the same things. I rolled up my pant leg. (I was wearing running pants every day now. Jeans hurt, socks hurt) The PA didn't touch my leg. He/she made notes. "See you next week."
I worked. I used crutches. I used a cane. I drove. I tried to play softball. I kept doing what I was suppose to do. Week after week. It was the same. The pain increased. Other body parts started to ache. My arms and shoulders from crutches. My left leg ached from bearing so much weight. My back and neck ached, burned, sharp skewers of hot fire shot up and down my back and leg.
A coping skill learned long ago took over. Separating my mind from my body. Using mental focus to block out everything physical. It is a tool I have used before. Now I turned to it. It is effective. Big drawback - memory loss. I just go into auto-pilot. Stick with the routine. I remember very little.
Finally week 7 and 8 I saw the same PA. She was a young woman. I repeated the same story. Week 8 was the first time she actually took off my shoe. It was the first time someone touched my foot, my ankle, my leg. She looked at me and said; "I think we should get a referral for an orthopedic surgeon." I agreed.
December 8th, 3 months after I sustained the injury I went to an appointment with Dr. Bloze. A tall woman with long, curly blond hair, when she walked in a room she had a demanding presence. She took off my shoes. I rolled up my pant legs. She said; "You should have come to me 8 weeks ago."
Using a pen she pointed to the interior of my right foot. "This is atrophy. It is visible atrophy. It will spread up your leg." On the white table paper she wrote; acute tarsal tunnel syndrome. "You can Google it." OK, I guess - "What does that mean?" "Your foot muscles are dying. You need surgery like yesterday." I thought that odd, her saying - "like yesterday." She asked me if I was working. I said yes. She said you have to stop. Something about having to stay off my leg, elevation 24 hours, atrophy spreading - this is when the Hokie Pokie started. Put your right foot in...I can't shake it.
It was also on this day when I started to crack. It was like when you are a little kid and you don't feel good. You ask to see the nurse. She takes your temperature. Calls your mom. When Mommie walks in the nurses office you bust out in tears. You feel so sick and Mommie is here and you just lose it.
I had an EMG done. I thought it a bad sign when the nurse told me to remove my top and put on a paper shirt. It is my leg you know, and she is prepping my arm. Oh, yes. Put your shirt back on and remove your pants, put on a paper gown. The Dr. came in and started working. She didn't say much - except when her daughter called to ask permission to go over to a friend's house. She attached the electrodes, turned the dials - my leg jumped, my foot jumped, my back spasmed. She made marks on the white cash register receipt paper.
I returned to Dr. Bloze's for results. As the Dr. sat there looking at the results for the first time she became angry. The wrong tests had been done. After a flurry of back and forth between her and her assistant the Dr. was on the phone with WC asking for immediate authorization. She could complete the test in her office - today, right now. She told me I should get an attorney.
I waited for several hours while she cleared her scheduled patients. Then she did the tests. More shocks, more spasms - the Hokie Pokie - she spoke about numbers. 5 means complete loss of nerve function I was 4.8.
I didn't know what it meant. It is true you should have someone with you when you go to the Drs. It is difficult to comprehend, to hear, to process, to remember. I needed immediate surgery and I had to stop working. It was the last week of school before Christmas break. I wanted to finish the week. I agreed to use crutches and keep my leg elevated as much as possible.
When I returned to work I asked the union rep about an attorney.
The Holiday Show was a hit. My children did a wonderful job. We had a wonderful party. When it was over I sat at my desk and cried. Another crack. I was exhausted!
More lost time. Liz, Emily and I went to the attorney. I had to have pre-op stuff done but WC didn't arrange for that I had to do it myself. Dr. Solsky to the rescue. How many times that was the case. I had to do a rapid taper of preds. More phone calls, flurries - but your left foot in.
I did not return to work in January. Surgery was scheduled for the16th. Aldona was coming out to help me get around post op. I wasn't suppose to bear any pressure for 6 -8 weeks. I am a quick healer. Despite SLE that is a consistent. I heal pretty fast. Everything went well. I was having El Pollo Loco a few hours post surgery.
Settling into recovery. In a week see the DR. Aldona took me. I needed Liz, yet I didn't ask her. She had taken off a lot of work already. She drove me back and forth. I felt a burden. How stupid I was. She was my partner. She wanted to "take care" of me. Instead of embracing that love I turned it away. Another crack - 1/2 million and 29 pieces of glass.
The next several months become a blur of Drs., pain, my leg was not better. My foot yes, my leg no. My back no. Drs. lawyers, paychecks, forms I didn't fill out, forms that had not been filled out - mistakes here, mistakes there - fingers pointing - "You put your right arm in." Cracking and cracking - with each phone call, with each form, with each Dr. appt. I just cracked and cracked. When the announcer said; "Put your right arm in." I just followed. Control was lost. I did not know what anything was anymore. Everyone was scrambling, helping - I was cracking and falling. The beginnings of depression. I did not recognize it. Did not know it. Could not lift a finger unless the announcer said; "Put your left arm in." I complied.
1/2 million and 37 pieces of glass. I still didn't know our insides were made of glass.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
How Long is One Night
I don't know how long I sat on that bed. Knees curled to my chest. Reminding myself to breathe. No one came or left. Or maybe they did - I don't remember. I was only a child, afraid. I was only an adult, lost. Shift change someone did come in and write on the white board. I dozed on and off. My body hurt. Covered in open wounds. My muscles ached. Expelling glass is painful. I did not want to think. I had to think.
Light began to show through the window. OK,morning - now I could leave. I didn't. The obedient child sat there waiting...what was I waiting for? I had been waiting a long time. Waiting for doctors, lawyers, evaluators, decision makers...waiting for everything to fall back into place. Waiting for my life puzzle pieces to reassemble themselves. When would it happen? Reckon getting on with living was what I had to do. Shoot, how would I do that?
Aldona came. I wasn't so sure. She brought me a card, Mt. Dew, and my morning meds. Poopy loves me. We went home. So I thought that was that. I knew I had to take back my life. How I had let it slip so far away...ya know, once one thread is pulled it all unravels - in a heart beat, an instant.
Four years ago after spending the summer with Eileen I returned to CA wanting to devote myself to Liz and Emily. Fix my family. I was too late. Liz could not tread the turbulent waters any longer. She had to save Emily and herself. It did not sink in. I kept thinking she would change her mind. I believed in our love so much. I would change. I could fix this. I was wrong. Day after day, as I waited for doctors, lawyers, evaluators, crooks, and thieves, to decide my fate - my love was leaving me. Each time I heard the garage door open and close another thread tore. I saw it, felt it, knew it - yet was helpless to stop it. Wanting to, wishing to - believing I could - I couldn't. My love was no longer wanted. Liz held on as long as she could.
It is a movie I watched. Those years, sitting in my room - I watched a movie. That was all I could do. All the wanting in the world made no difference to me. It mattered so much. I cried a river of tears. I could not lift a finger to change it. That is depression isn't it? When life becomes a movie you watch even though you don't like it - you just keep on watching. Didn't know then. I couldn't see. My body ached with pain. Every waking moment was pain and more pain. My head, my legs, my feet, my hands...it took all my focus to block out the pain. I was taking percocet. Much more than prescribed. I was taking prednisone as prescribed. I took valium, xanax, synthroid - pill after pill - one pill to counter act the other pill. Wake up at 4:00 am to take this pill on an empty stomach. Take this pill before 6:00 pm because you can't drive for 12 hours after taking it. Trying to get back to work. Waiting for WC to approve Dr. appointments. Waiting for lawyers to write long documents. They could have been in Latin, I could not understand them.
One day your standing on the top of a mountain. The sun is surrounded by cotton clouds and blue satin sheets. You hum when you walk. You skip when you walk. The real life "Modern Family." Friends, a home, a bright, beautiful daughter, a generous, kind partner - a family of choice rich in diversity, intelligence, humor. Standing on top of life's mountain whispering, then waiting for the echo. The road ahead was paved in gold. It was this way. Deeply in love, learning and feeling the joys of being a mother. Developing new friendships; deepening long standing friendships. It was everything I dreamed. Our place of peace!
There is no excuse, no reason, no rationalization. We do the best we can with the cards we are dealt. God has a higher plan. He doesn't do the work for you. You have to tend your garden.
Even after my leg injury, things were OK. For a while I think, maybe not - I don't know when I fell into that depression. If asked I denied it. I think I said the right things. I thought I was making the right moves. The movie started without my knowledge. Once it started I stopped. That is not what I wanted. It was not my choice - yet it was. Does that make any sense? It was a Fellini picture. Everything over sized. Talk about dust in the wind - wow! That is depression. That is what it was. It left me powerless.
Pride is a bad boy. Being too proud to ask for help. Too proud to admit there was a problem. I take care of other people. No one asked me to. My goodness, Liz was strong - hanging on for so long. My friends;how could they even stand to talk to me? Jeez I was a jerk. A proud fool losing everything. Seeing the water circle the drain - not even able to reach an inch - push the stopper.
Overcoming a lifetime of challenges made me proud. It should have humbled me. Who the hell did I think I was? Oh my God! How awful I was. Walking around as if...as if indeed I was something special, remarkable - I rode a high steed. What a jerk!
Seeing it now, seeing that person who became a still life - there is no excuse. I am so sorry. Physical pain is nothing compared to mental illness. You can't see it. I didn't feel it. I didn't know. Oh God I am sorry. In a room I sat waiting for someone else to fix my life - that is not what I wanted. I did not know, I did not know.
One day atop a mountain I stood. The next day I am somewhere in Texas existing in a flea bag motel. I didn't need to die, I was dead,gone and buried.
1/2 million and 20 pieces of glass expelled from my body. I watched and did nothing. I am so sorry.
Those dreams you sometimes have, when you are screaming but no sound comes out - or falling somehow knowing you have to wake up before you hit the ground or just sitting on a bed clutching your knees to your chest looking around at 1/2 million and 20 pieces of blood soaked glass, numb, helpless...waiting for tears that won't fall. It is too late for tears.
How long was that night? That night in a room, in a place, in a state? How long had I been sleeping? How much more could I take? It was a movie, a run away train, crash and burn. So afraid, afraid like I didn't know I could be afraid. Physical pain I can feel. This, this that shrouds me now...man I don't know. Perhaps a sign of hope - that room they put me in on that night it was under construction - so was I.
The sign outside that motel - When you reach the end of your rope, Jesus is there. I believe in signs. I know hope.
Two things I did not know - our insides are made of glass and how long one night can be. 1/2 million and 22 pieces of glass. With all that glass on the floor, it was going to hurt getting off that bed - I had to, my life needs repair. Shit, I have to fix it. I am so sorry.
My mouth was open. I was screaming. No sound came out. Depression vs. pride, no winner there. God I am so sorry. 1/2 million and 23 pieces of glass. I am so sorry. Please forgive me.
Light began to show through the window. OK,morning - now I could leave. I didn't. The obedient child sat there waiting...what was I waiting for? I had been waiting a long time. Waiting for doctors, lawyers, evaluators, decision makers...waiting for everything to fall back into place. Waiting for my life puzzle pieces to reassemble themselves. When would it happen? Reckon getting on with living was what I had to do. Shoot, how would I do that?
Aldona came. I wasn't so sure. She brought me a card, Mt. Dew, and my morning meds. Poopy loves me. We went home. So I thought that was that. I knew I had to take back my life. How I had let it slip so far away...ya know, once one thread is pulled it all unravels - in a heart beat, an instant.
Four years ago after spending the summer with Eileen I returned to CA wanting to devote myself to Liz and Emily. Fix my family. I was too late. Liz could not tread the turbulent waters any longer. She had to save Emily and herself. It did not sink in. I kept thinking she would change her mind. I believed in our love so much. I would change. I could fix this. I was wrong. Day after day, as I waited for doctors, lawyers, evaluators, crooks, and thieves, to decide my fate - my love was leaving me. Each time I heard the garage door open and close another thread tore. I saw it, felt it, knew it - yet was helpless to stop it. Wanting to, wishing to - believing I could - I couldn't. My love was no longer wanted. Liz held on as long as she could.
It is a movie I watched. Those years, sitting in my room - I watched a movie. That was all I could do. All the wanting in the world made no difference to me. It mattered so much. I cried a river of tears. I could not lift a finger to change it. That is depression isn't it? When life becomes a movie you watch even though you don't like it - you just keep on watching. Didn't know then. I couldn't see. My body ached with pain. Every waking moment was pain and more pain. My head, my legs, my feet, my hands...it took all my focus to block out the pain. I was taking percocet. Much more than prescribed. I was taking prednisone as prescribed. I took valium, xanax, synthroid - pill after pill - one pill to counter act the other pill. Wake up at 4:00 am to take this pill on an empty stomach. Take this pill before 6:00 pm because you can't drive for 12 hours after taking it. Trying to get back to work. Waiting for WC to approve Dr. appointments. Waiting for lawyers to write long documents. They could have been in Latin, I could not understand them.
One day your standing on the top of a mountain. The sun is surrounded by cotton clouds and blue satin sheets. You hum when you walk. You skip when you walk. The real life "Modern Family." Friends, a home, a bright, beautiful daughter, a generous, kind partner - a family of choice rich in diversity, intelligence, humor. Standing on top of life's mountain whispering, then waiting for the echo. The road ahead was paved in gold. It was this way. Deeply in love, learning and feeling the joys of being a mother. Developing new friendships; deepening long standing friendships. It was everything I dreamed. Our place of peace!
There is no excuse, no reason, no rationalization. We do the best we can with the cards we are dealt. God has a higher plan. He doesn't do the work for you. You have to tend your garden.
Even after my leg injury, things were OK. For a while I think, maybe not - I don't know when I fell into that depression. If asked I denied it. I think I said the right things. I thought I was making the right moves. The movie started without my knowledge. Once it started I stopped. That is not what I wanted. It was not my choice - yet it was. Does that make any sense? It was a Fellini picture. Everything over sized. Talk about dust in the wind - wow! That is depression. That is what it was. It left me powerless.
Pride is a bad boy. Being too proud to ask for help. Too proud to admit there was a problem. I take care of other people. No one asked me to. My goodness, Liz was strong - hanging on for so long. My friends;how could they even stand to talk to me? Jeez I was a jerk. A proud fool losing everything. Seeing the water circle the drain - not even able to reach an inch - push the stopper.
Overcoming a lifetime of challenges made me proud. It should have humbled me. Who the hell did I think I was? Oh my God! How awful I was. Walking around as if...as if indeed I was something special, remarkable - I rode a high steed. What a jerk!
Seeing it now, seeing that person who became a still life - there is no excuse. I am so sorry. Physical pain is nothing compared to mental illness. You can't see it. I didn't feel it. I didn't know. Oh God I am sorry. In a room I sat waiting for someone else to fix my life - that is not what I wanted. I did not know, I did not know.
One day atop a mountain I stood. The next day I am somewhere in Texas existing in a flea bag motel. I didn't need to die, I was dead,gone and buried.
1/2 million and 20 pieces of glass expelled from my body. I watched and did nothing. I am so sorry.
Those dreams you sometimes have, when you are screaming but no sound comes out - or falling somehow knowing you have to wake up before you hit the ground or just sitting on a bed clutching your knees to your chest looking around at 1/2 million and 20 pieces of blood soaked glass, numb, helpless...waiting for tears that won't fall. It is too late for tears.
How long was that night? That night in a room, in a place, in a state? How long had I been sleeping? How much more could I take? It was a movie, a run away train, crash and burn. So afraid, afraid like I didn't know I could be afraid. Physical pain I can feel. This, this that shrouds me now...man I don't know. Perhaps a sign of hope - that room they put me in on that night it was under construction - so was I.
The sign outside that motel - When you reach the end of your rope, Jesus is there. I believe in signs. I know hope.
Two things I did not know - our insides are made of glass and how long one night can be. 1/2 million and 22 pieces of glass. With all that glass on the floor, it was going to hurt getting off that bed - I had to, my life needs repair. Shit, I have to fix it. I am so sorry.
My mouth was open. I was screaming. No sound came out. Depression vs. pride, no winner there. God I am so sorry. 1/2 million and 23 pieces of glass. I am so sorry. Please forgive me.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
That Dude Had it Wrong...
I don't remember the details. The guy wrote a book about a million pieces of glass. Oprah loved it. Turned out he made it up. I think the cover had shattered glass on the beach or something. I don't remember the details - this is my story.
The last thing I saw was green formica. The last thing I thought was; "This is going to hurt."
I am in the emergency room. Someone is asking me to lift my left leg. My leg won't move.
"Why won't it move?" I am screaming. I am scared.
They ask me to squeeze their fingers. My left hand won't squeeze. What is happening? I don't know what is happening. I am scared. Seriously afraid.
Huddled outside the room I hear them talking about me. Illnesses, pain medication - overdose. Nucynta, coma sleeping, setting my hair on fire, burning my clothing, falling asleep under the television.
Head scan is fine. No stroke. Blood work is fine. Urine sample is all narcotics. More huddled talking.
Nurse comes in with a saline bag. "What is that for?" I ask.
"You are dehydrated." She is kind. Another women is talking. I don't know what she is saying. I want to go home. I beg.
The nurse injects something into the IV. "What is that?"
"Norcaine. It will clean the narcotics out of your system."
Everyone leaves, except Aldona Mae.
Shit! Wait! Something is wrong. I sit bolt upright. My hair is everywhere. Aldona runs into hallway. The nurse comes back.
"It is the narcotics leaving your body." she calmly says.
This is no time for calm southern drawls. I am going to die. Everyone leaves, except Aldona Mae.
I did not know our insides even had glass. In the next 30 minutes 1/2 million pieces of glass exited my body. (that is not an exact count) I can feel every piece. Out of my eyes, my hands, my face, my toes - no pore is left uncut. I am writhing in agony.
"Why are you doing this?" I scream at Aldona.
She is texting.
There is no sound. There is no blood. You can't see them. Tiny, sharp, shredding - My entire body spasms. Every muscle pulled in a different direction. I am going to die. I wish I were dead.
How long was it? How long does it take your body to push out 1/2 million pieces of sharp, cutting, shredding glass? I don't know. It was 3 years, 4 years - it was one moment.
Now they want me to stay in the hospital. NO WAY! AMA - whatever. Crying glass - just take me home please. I am begging as I have never begged before. I am thinking about my hair, it is everywhere. Aldona is on the phone.
I am on the phone. It is Eileen. Thank goodness. Eileen will explain it all and then I can go home.
When I hear her voice I am scared. Were she in the room she may have knocked me into next week. "NO MORE BULLSHIT! THAT IS BULLSHIT! LIES AND MORE LIES."
I understand. "You stay in the hospital. Give your sister one night of peace."
Ok. That is it. I will stay. More talking. Someone asks me;
"Are you accepting admittance?"
I nod. Aldona says; "You have to say it."
I am angry; "Yes, I said yes. Is everyone happy?"
I am angry. I am in pain. I did not know our insides were made of glass. I did not know the glass had to come out. I did not know my muscles could hurt so much. I can feel them. I can move my left leg - I don't want to. Reality is the beating I just put on myself. What the "F" have I done? I don't know anything.
They tell Aldona to leave. They will get me in a room. She says I love you. Bullshit!
People are moving. I don't know. Curled in a fetal position. At least I have my hat on. My hair is under the hat. Where are my clothes? I know nothing. I feel such excruciating pain. I wonder how many band aides it will take to cover all the cuts. 1/2 million pieces of glass - that is a lot of band aides. Then I laugh because in my head I am wondering if they will give me something to stop the pain? Reckon not.
That was some baseball bat. Full body spasms - I don't recommend them. Holy cow - Phil Rizutto, Yankees - I like the Mets. I have my Mets tuke on. Good thing, my hair is out of control. Really crazy cat lady hair.
No, nothing is funny. I don't know what hospital I am in. I don't know what they are doing. Lying (pe0ple lie, objects lay - that is the rule) Lying, curled like a baby, rocking - touching my hat, wanting my clothes. I am not crying. I think I am past tears. So much glass came out of my eyes, tears would sting.
In a room, I put on my clothes. TV doesn't work. Looks like this room is under construction. It is dark. I clutch my knees to my chest. The silence is deafening. I could leave. Just walk out. No one is here. No one has come in. I could walk away. I don't remember - or I remember too much. I don't know anything.
Then I hear it. I hear her - "Aunt Lee Lee."
I didn't know our insides were made of glass.
The last thing I saw was green formica. The last thing I thought was; "This is going to hurt."
I am in the emergency room. Someone is asking me to lift my left leg. My leg won't move.
"Why won't it move?" I am screaming. I am scared.
They ask me to squeeze their fingers. My left hand won't squeeze. What is happening? I don't know what is happening. I am scared. Seriously afraid.
Huddled outside the room I hear them talking about me. Illnesses, pain medication - overdose. Nucynta, coma sleeping, setting my hair on fire, burning my clothing, falling asleep under the television.
Head scan is fine. No stroke. Blood work is fine. Urine sample is all narcotics. More huddled talking.
Nurse comes in with a saline bag. "What is that for?" I ask.
"You are dehydrated." She is kind. Another women is talking. I don't know what she is saying. I want to go home. I beg.
The nurse injects something into the IV. "What is that?"
"Norcaine. It will clean the narcotics out of your system."
Everyone leaves, except Aldona Mae.
Shit! Wait! Something is wrong. I sit bolt upright. My hair is everywhere. Aldona runs into hallway. The nurse comes back.
"It is the narcotics leaving your body." she calmly says.
This is no time for calm southern drawls. I am going to die. Everyone leaves, except Aldona Mae.
I did not know our insides even had glass. In the next 30 minutes 1/2 million pieces of glass exited my body. (that is not an exact count) I can feel every piece. Out of my eyes, my hands, my face, my toes - no pore is left uncut. I am writhing in agony.
"Why are you doing this?" I scream at Aldona.
She is texting.
There is no sound. There is no blood. You can't see them. Tiny, sharp, shredding - My entire body spasms. Every muscle pulled in a different direction. I am going to die. I wish I were dead.
How long was it? How long does it take your body to push out 1/2 million pieces of sharp, cutting, shredding glass? I don't know. It was 3 years, 4 years - it was one moment.
Now they want me to stay in the hospital. NO WAY! AMA - whatever. Crying glass - just take me home please. I am begging as I have never begged before. I am thinking about my hair, it is everywhere. Aldona is on the phone.
I am on the phone. It is Eileen. Thank goodness. Eileen will explain it all and then I can go home.
When I hear her voice I am scared. Were she in the room she may have knocked me into next week. "NO MORE BULLSHIT! THAT IS BULLSHIT! LIES AND MORE LIES."
I understand. "You stay in the hospital. Give your sister one night of peace."
Ok. That is it. I will stay. More talking. Someone asks me;
"Are you accepting admittance?"
I nod. Aldona says; "You have to say it."
I am angry; "Yes, I said yes. Is everyone happy?"
I am angry. I am in pain. I did not know our insides were made of glass. I did not know the glass had to come out. I did not know my muscles could hurt so much. I can feel them. I can move my left leg - I don't want to. Reality is the beating I just put on myself. What the "F" have I done? I don't know anything.
They tell Aldona to leave. They will get me in a room. She says I love you. Bullshit!
People are moving. I don't know. Curled in a fetal position. At least I have my hat on. My hair is under the hat. Where are my clothes? I know nothing. I feel such excruciating pain. I wonder how many band aides it will take to cover all the cuts. 1/2 million pieces of glass - that is a lot of band aides. Then I laugh because in my head I am wondering if they will give me something to stop the pain? Reckon not.
That was some baseball bat. Full body spasms - I don't recommend them. Holy cow - Phil Rizutto, Yankees - I like the Mets. I have my Mets tuke on. Good thing, my hair is out of control. Really crazy cat lady hair.
No, nothing is funny. I don't know what hospital I am in. I don't know what they are doing. Lying (pe0ple lie, objects lay - that is the rule) Lying, curled like a baby, rocking - touching my hat, wanting my clothes. I am not crying. I think I am past tears. So much glass came out of my eyes, tears would sting.
In a room, I put on my clothes. TV doesn't work. Looks like this room is under construction. It is dark. I clutch my knees to my chest. The silence is deafening. I could leave. Just walk out. No one is here. No one has come in. I could walk away. I don't remember - or I remember too much. I don't know anything.
Then I hear it. I hear her - "Aunt Lee Lee."
I didn't know our insides were made of glass.
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