so, i’ve had a fairly busy three weeks.
i had knee surgery, a night at the Villa Casino hotel, a gall bladder attack of such excruciating pain i was drenched in sweat and visited by the paramedics, a sudden pain in my left leg which woke me up at 2am which turned out to be a blood clot that suddenly decided that my left leg wasn’t the cool place to hang out and rushed straight for my lungs which precipitated my first ambulance ride and a six-day hospital stay. then, just as i’m getting used to the idea that i’ll be taking rat poison for the next six months to keep my blood all thin and non-clotty, i get a cold.
really? did all that actually happen to me in the last three weeks? it certainly did and, you know what? i may still be a little gimpy and be weak as a new-born baby, but i survived it.
through all of it, my parents and Christopher have been so devoted and amazing. even when their own life threw wrenches in the works, they’ve been so awesome to me.
Christopher stayed with me in the ER for almost 24 hours, standing or trying desperately to sleep in the most uncomfortable chair ever made, not leaving my side for a second. my dad was on call to shop or visit or drive me or someone somewhere if it was needed and sitting with me, loving me in his solid, quiet way. my mom rushed over on the first available ferry from the island to swoop into the hospital and ask all the questions i didn’t know needed asking and to tend me once i got home, holding me tight when the tears finally broke through.
it’s also been a very scary three weeks.
i was afraid of the surgery, but that all went well. i was scared when i was suddenly doubled over in pain and sweating from head to toe. i was terrified i was going to die when my heart suddenly started bouncing around in my chest and i felt like i wouldn’t ever get another breath. i was scared when the doctor confirmed that i had a very large clot somewhere in my lungs and he wouldn’t tell us where, exactly, it was. even now, when i’m feeling better and i know my medication is working, i am petrified every time i exert myself that i’m going to have to call the ambulance again.
i’ve been afraid, every night, that i won’t wake up the next morning.
i keep thinking that nearly dying should somehow have made me want to do, to live, more. instead, it’s made me want to do nothing. to hide in my apartment, where it’s safe, where i’m alone and i don’t have do anything which will jeopardize my health.
it was a beautiful, sunny & windy day yesterday — the kind of blustery day i love — so i got dressed and went for a walk. i didn’t get a quarter of the way around the block before i got scared and had to come home. it was physically exhausting and the further i got from my apartment, the more frightened i might not make it back i became. i don’t know what part of that is that i’m still weak from surgery and Pulmonary Embolism or the cold i’m fighting off and which is the fear i’ve been living with for the past twenty-some-odd days.
there’s not much to like about being scared all the the damn time. about freaking out every time you breathe a little fast or feel any kind of twinge, flinch or gurgle inside your body. hell, i even have to be scared about eating too much broccoli, green beans or garlic while i’m taking this medication!
fear sucks.
but, i guess it’s better to be alive and scared than not.
Anesthesia causes panic attacks for up to two years after a major operation, often for at least a year. Just so you know. Any major operation (e.g. knee surgery) can cause panic attacks for at least a year.
Panic attacks are scary, but I found knowing that it was my body adjusting to, let’s be honest here, some pretty severe trauma, it helped me keep it in perspective.
I don’t know why doctors don’t tell their patients this. I found out initially when I went after my second son was born. The emergency doctor recommended that as I had ventolin, to take a couple of puffs and keep going, that it would ease the panic attack, and allow me to talk myself down. It did, so I did.
When I had my gall bladder removed (don’t ignore the gall bladder attacks, research how to adjust your diet to avoid the build up, really!) I had more panic attacks, but I knew what they were, and it was a lot less of a roller coaster healing, even though the trauma was far more intense (infection, blood was septic, fever wouldn’t break, days in the hospital without consciousness, that sort of fun).
Whatever you do, don’t stop talking about it. :) Just keep trying. Half a block today, half a block again and a little more tomorrow, just keep going, you’ll get there.
**BIG HUGS**
You, my dear, are so, so, so, so, so loved. I really wish that you had shared some of this with us sooner. I would have been there in a heartbeat. I know you don’t like to show your “weaknesses” (trust me, I get it!), but good golly, Miss Molly (I’m thinking MUCH stronger words than that), sometimes you just HAVE to let others help you.
I wish you nothing but postive thoughts, lots of hugs, speedy recovery, no more gallbladder attacks (I know how much those suck!), strength, love, and peace.
I love you! :-)
Hey Heather,
I’m sorry to hear about your crazy blood clot issue. I actually had a similar thing happen to me a couple years ago, and was on cumadin for six months, as well. If you need any advice, lemme know. It was scary as hell – I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better. *hug*
i’m glad you shared this with us! it’s okay to be scared, you went through a lot of stuff (and still are) but know that you’re on the road to recovery. you have tons of loved ones rooting you on. we all love you very much. xo.
Yikes! Count me among those who are glad you’re here, even if it is scary. And really, courage isn’t the absence of fear – it’s the fact that you keep going in spite of the fear. So hooray for courageous you!
Hang in there. *hugs*
I got a bit teary-eyed reading this. It would suck so much if you were gone! I want to go over and hug you, but it’s a bit far from the Okanagan. Hopefully soon!
I understand your fear. Now might be a good time to invite your favourite people around, because surely they’d make sure nothing bad happened to you while they distract you from your worries.
Warm fuzzies!
*hugs*
I was so sorry that I couldn’t make it over to see you in the hospital before I left on my trip. I was genuinely concerned that I might come back and find out that I’d lost you and the way those thoughts made me feel don’t bear considering.
Stay strong and you’ll get through this. I will come back and we can sit in your warm, safe apartment and make catty remarks at those girls who think they should be America’s Next Top Model.
And all will be right with the world again.