Back at the hospital, I laid on my bed and decided to watch some TV. My phone rang; it was him.
I find it very hard to write about this time. Now, 3 years later, I know how cruel he is. I know how abusive he is, how much of an alcoholic he is. Looking back is just a struggle now...knowing too much reality about him.
I wish I could fast forward through this time, wipe it out of my memory. I wish I could wipe out the entire three years, like this never happened to me. I will never know the reason of why...I will never know how God allowed all of this to happen to me. There was a time that I was okay with it, thankful for how it transformed my life. And, in a way, I still am thankful. I wouldnt be a good mom, had this not happened. I wouldnt have learned from the mistakes I made. Hmmm, I would've probably died from those mistakes.
But, from time to time, I still find myself in a way, arguing with God. Why? Why did this happen? Had I been so wrong in life? Just...why?
And the siezures I have to this day...even though I'd had them before the fall, they are now stronger, more frequent...the deafness, the partial facial paralysis. I know I'll write more about this, I promise. I guess this blog is one of my ventings, I guess that's why the blog was named "Elicia Venting."
I know that God never allows us to go through more than He knows we can bear. But, sometimes, I find myself wanting to quit. To cry out, to even scream. Yes, I'm human...but I have days of wanting to break down, of telling God that He was wrong. But again, who am I to say that God is wrong? After all, wasn't He who pulled me out of this hell? Wasn't it Him who gave me a second chance to make things right again? Maybe my life is like a catch-22. Be thankful for what I have still, but take deep breaths over the hard days...
I know this much...I am thankful for this change in heart, hard as it is to say. I'm in a way, happier, more thankful for each day, thankful for my friends, thankful for my family, thankful just in general.
I see things in a different view now. I try my hardest not to hate or be negative, like I used to be. I now know that life is a gift, and I don't want to waste it like I'd done before. I know I hold onto each day, I thank God for that day, over and over again. I thank God for the people He's put in my life.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Second visit home
For whatever reason, I was given a second home pass. By this time, my head wound was nearly healed, but there were still bandages for who knows why. When I left the hospital, I ripped off the bandage. Let the wound have air, I thought to myself. Let it heal on its own, quit giving it unneeded medicines.
I was a tad more direct than last time I visited home. I had my mom buy me cigarettes, threw out the patch the hospital had me on, and attempted to hang out with my brother. Sad, almost funny part was, I had no muscle control on the right side of my face. So, with each inhale, I couldn't really hold the smoke in my mouth. So, it just came out when it wanted. And, I chain smoked. Again, without having a reason, I smoked nonstop.
Again, I got to see everyone. The guy they said was my oldest brother, Leslie, he called. Who was this guy? I asked myself.
Jade was there, playing outside with Robert. People came to visit, some stayed, some came and went. Rob and Brandy shared the latest from her doctor visit, she was about 6 weeks pregnant. 6 weeks pregnant? I thought they'd tried for years with no success? And now, she's pregnant?
When I had a moment alone, I called him again. This time, I gave him my hospital phone number, so that we could keep in touch while I was still there. This time, my mom (I don't think) didn't know.
I was a tad more direct than last time I visited home. I had my mom buy me cigarettes, threw out the patch the hospital had me on, and attempted to hang out with my brother. Sad, almost funny part was, I had no muscle control on the right side of my face. So, with each inhale, I couldn't really hold the smoke in my mouth. So, it just came out when it wanted. And, I chain smoked. Again, without having a reason, I smoked nonstop.
Again, I got to see everyone. The guy they said was my oldest brother, Leslie, he called. Who was this guy? I asked myself.
Jade was there, playing outside with Robert. People came to visit, some stayed, some came and went. Rob and Brandy shared the latest from her doctor visit, she was about 6 weeks pregnant. 6 weeks pregnant? I thought they'd tried for years with no success? And now, she's pregnant?
When I had a moment alone, I called him again. This time, I gave him my hospital phone number, so that we could keep in touch while I was still there. This time, my mom (I don't think) didn't know.
Monday, January 17, 2011
My first doctor visit
Countdown to going home!
I had just a few weeks to go. I was quickly progressing through all my therapies. I had another swallow test, which I passed. I was now allowed soft foods, with no thickeners. Cereals, eggs, mashed potatoes. I still had the protein shakes 3 times a day. I ordered coffee for every meal.
My parents would take turns coming to visit. One time my dad came to visit, I was laying on my bed, watching television. He is a quiet man, who loves to read. He came in, gave me hugs, asked how I was doing. And then, he comensed to reading a book he'd brought with him. So, I commensed to watching the television. After 30 minutes or so, he gave me hugs again, said that mom would be there tomorrow, and left. Such a quiet, peaceful man.
One day, my brother, my sister-in-law Brandy, Jade, and my son came to visit. Jade and Robert did their usual "brother/sister" stories, while the adults talked to me.
"Do you remember Brandy and I staying one night with you at Aultman?" my brother asked me.
"Vaguely. I remember bugging you for a cigarette, but thats it," I answered, kinda laughing at myself.
"Ok," he answered back laughing also. He looked at Brandy, who was also chuckling. "Do you remember anything else that happened that night?"
"No," I answered, kind of confused now. "Am I supposed to remember anything?"
"Oh my God!" Brandy laughed out loud! "You were such a wreck that night! You were a mean monster! And thats being nice about it!" She continued.
"You'd yell at me, you'd yell at your brother! And none of the nurses bothered to help us! We got ZERO sleep that night!"
We were all laughing at that point. The kids were off in their own la-la-lands.
"Okay," catching his breath "do you remember anything else from that night?"
"No I told you," I answered back. "Why? Should I? I have a brain injury for God sakes!"
"Okay," Rob said, trying to control himself. "Let me remind you and see if anything stands out. You asked me, quite directly, might I add, 'what'd you do and go get your wife pregnant?' "
"WHAT!?" I nearly yelled! "How on earth would I know that! Besides, I was drugged! Wasn't I just out of a coma?"
Everyone was quiet for a few minutes, looking at each other. The silence was starting to bother me, so I had to say something first.
"So??? What happened with all of that?" No answer. I was getting irritated with no answers."Hello? Is anyone going to answer me? Or, do I have to read minds?"
Everyone started to laugh out loud! "Oh my God! Will one of you guys tell me what is so funny?"
"I just found out that I'm pregnant! Here's the home pregnancy test." Brandy took it out of her purse and gave it to me.
Sure enough, the test proved she was pregnant. I jumped the best I could to give her great hugs, then hugs to my brother! What an awesome time when we had so little to start with!
After the hugs, I calmed down a bit and gave the test back to Brandy. Robert and Jade were still off in their own worlds, imaginations going to work. Brandy sat in her own happiness, but she had a questionable expression on her face. It was the same look that my brother Rob had.
"So..." Rob said matter-of-factly..."how did you know it was coming?"
"How did I know WHAT was coming?" God was I confused now!
"How did you know Brandy would get pregnant? Why did you yell the questions at me?"
"I honestly don't know what you mean Rob, but I'm very thrilled for the both of you. I mean, you both tried for years....and now here's the time." More hugs to them both, "I'm so proud of all of you."
Rob and Brandy came to share their news, and came to get answers as to how I already knew. But, I never really knew the answers they were looking for.
Days later, I was doing good with my walker. I still had to stay in my wheelchair most of the day. But, during physical therapy, I could use my walker. Speech therapy went good also. Laurie Ann had started Electric Stimulation on my face, in an effort to awaken the nerves that were asleep then.
On another day, my mom brought to me a CD player, and a CD book from John Grisham.
"We know how much you love reading your books," she said one day. "Until you can focus your eyes better, you can hear the stories. You may have read this book before." She handed me the cover to the book on CD package.
"I'll check it out later this evening, after therapy," I told her.
The rest of the day went uneventful. Mom shared with me how Robert was doing with Brandy and Rob. She told me how Brandy's first doctor appointment went. Wow, I thought, Brandy's having a baby. It was just amazing to me. Mom said I'd be home to see this one grow up. I just was starting to be happy I survived the fall.
When it got later that evening, I washed up and got into bed. I got my CD player with me, along with my books, and my earphones. At first, I didnt notice anything wrong. I was happy to hears books, to hear different voices speaking. I slowly went to sleep that evening.
The next morning, I was informed by a nurse that I didnt have to get ready early, that my first therapy wasn't until 10:30. So, with my cup of coffee, I sat up in bed and grabbed my CD player, got the headphones on again, and turned on the sound.
I turned the book sounds up to hear them, but I struggled to hear. Maybe the headphones were on the wrong way? I switched them to the other ears. But still, I heard the same thing, nothing. Hmmm, I thought alone. Maybe I'll try another day.
My parents would take turns coming to visit. One time my dad came to visit, I was laying on my bed, watching television. He is a quiet man, who loves to read. He came in, gave me hugs, asked how I was doing. And then, he comensed to reading a book he'd brought with him. So, I commensed to watching the television. After 30 minutes or so, he gave me hugs again, said that mom would be there tomorrow, and left. Such a quiet, peaceful man.
One day, my brother, my sister-in-law Brandy, Jade, and my son came to visit. Jade and Robert did their usual "brother/sister" stories, while the adults talked to me.
"Do you remember Brandy and I staying one night with you at Aultman?" my brother asked me.
"Vaguely. I remember bugging you for a cigarette, but thats it," I answered, kinda laughing at myself.
"Ok," he answered back laughing also. He looked at Brandy, who was also chuckling. "Do you remember anything else that happened that night?"
"No," I answered, kind of confused now. "Am I supposed to remember anything?"
"Oh my God!" Brandy laughed out loud! "You were such a wreck that night! You were a mean monster! And thats being nice about it!" She continued.
"You'd yell at me, you'd yell at your brother! And none of the nurses bothered to help us! We got ZERO sleep that night!"
We were all laughing at that point. The kids were off in their own la-la-lands.
"Okay," catching his breath "do you remember anything else from that night?"
"No I told you," I answered back. "Why? Should I? I have a brain injury for God sakes!"
"Okay," Rob said, trying to control himself. "Let me remind you and see if anything stands out. You asked me, quite directly, might I add, 'what'd you do and go get your wife pregnant?' "
"WHAT!?" I nearly yelled! "How on earth would I know that! Besides, I was drugged! Wasn't I just out of a coma?"
Everyone was quiet for a few minutes, looking at each other. The silence was starting to bother me, so I had to say something first.
"So??? What happened with all of that?" No answer. I was getting irritated with no answers."Hello? Is anyone going to answer me? Or, do I have to read minds?"
Everyone started to laugh out loud! "Oh my God! Will one of you guys tell me what is so funny?"
"I just found out that I'm pregnant! Here's the home pregnancy test." Brandy took it out of her purse and gave it to me.
Sure enough, the test proved she was pregnant. I jumped the best I could to give her great hugs, then hugs to my brother! What an awesome time when we had so little to start with!
After the hugs, I calmed down a bit and gave the test back to Brandy. Robert and Jade were still off in their own worlds, imaginations going to work. Brandy sat in her own happiness, but she had a questionable expression on her face. It was the same look that my brother Rob had.
"So..." Rob said matter-of-factly..."how did you know it was coming?"
"How did I know WHAT was coming?" God was I confused now!
"How did you know Brandy would get pregnant? Why did you yell the questions at me?"
"I honestly don't know what you mean Rob, but I'm very thrilled for the both of you. I mean, you both tried for years....and now here's the time." More hugs to them both, "I'm so proud of all of you."
Rob and Brandy came to share their news, and came to get answers as to how I already knew. But, I never really knew the answers they were looking for.
Days later, I was doing good with my walker. I still had to stay in my wheelchair most of the day. But, during physical therapy, I could use my walker. Speech therapy went good also. Laurie Ann had started Electric Stimulation on my face, in an effort to awaken the nerves that were asleep then.
On another day, my mom brought to me a CD player, and a CD book from John Grisham.
"We know how much you love reading your books," she said one day. "Until you can focus your eyes better, you can hear the stories. You may have read this book before." She handed me the cover to the book on CD package.
"I'll check it out later this evening, after therapy," I told her.
The rest of the day went uneventful. Mom shared with me how Robert was doing with Brandy and Rob. She told me how Brandy's first doctor appointment went. Wow, I thought, Brandy's having a baby. It was just amazing to me. Mom said I'd be home to see this one grow up. I just was starting to be happy I survived the fall.
When it got later that evening, I washed up and got into bed. I got my CD player with me, along with my books, and my earphones. At first, I didnt notice anything wrong. I was happy to hears books, to hear different voices speaking. I slowly went to sleep that evening.
The next morning, I was informed by a nurse that I didnt have to get ready early, that my first therapy wasn't until 10:30. So, with my cup of coffee, I sat up in bed and grabbed my CD player, got the headphones on again, and turned on the sound.
I turned the book sounds up to hear them, but I struggled to hear. Maybe the headphones were on the wrong way? I switched them to the other ears. But still, I heard the same thing, nothing. Hmmm, I thought alone. Maybe I'll try another day.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
The Funnies from Inside the Hospital
Ok, promised I'd write just on the funny things I'd done. Just now, I thought I'd make 2 blogs, 1 from inside the hospital and 1 while at home. Both are just hilarious! If you don't find it funny, then you have no sense of humor!
#1
A few weeks into staying at the rehab hopsital, I still want allowed to eat. My mom was there, and I was just sitting in my wheelchair, having conversations over I don't really know what. My eyes were eyeing something else at the moment.
For whatever reason, I started to head to the bathroom, passing where my "room mate" slept. Quickly (or so I thought) I snagged her bag of potato chips she'd left on her eating tray. I quickly stuffed the chips down beside me, between me and the wheelchair. Then, I headed to the bathroom to, well, I don't know my next move. HA HA! But, my mom had caught me grabbing the chips!
"Elicia! Put those back! You know you can't eat those!" she yelled at me...
"Well she's not going to!" I yelled back...I put them back on her tray.
#2
Mom went with me on a usual day to all my therapies. By then, I'd gotten good at "driving" myself around with my feet on the wheelhair. So, I'd keep the leg rests to the sides. When we went to speech therapy, mom sat down. When I came to the same table, I smacked mom's leg with the leg rest.
"Due to my brain injury, I cannot be held responsible for anything I say or do, including that" I said, and then started laughing! She gave an odd look and smiled.
#3
Another time in speech therapy, Laurie Ann and I were talking about some of my tattoos. Mom was there. She's my witness! HAHA I told Laurie Ann when I got home, I was getting "sleeves" tattooed on my arms.
Ok, maybe there's not too many when I was in the hospital. But, the few are funny! I don't care who ya are, that there is funny!
#1
A few weeks into staying at the rehab hopsital, I still want allowed to eat. My mom was there, and I was just sitting in my wheelchair, having conversations over I don't really know what. My eyes were eyeing something else at the moment.
For whatever reason, I started to head to the bathroom, passing where my "room mate" slept. Quickly (or so I thought) I snagged her bag of potato chips she'd left on her eating tray. I quickly stuffed the chips down beside me, between me and the wheelchair. Then, I headed to the bathroom to, well, I don't know my next move. HA HA! But, my mom had caught me grabbing the chips!
"Elicia! Put those back! You know you can't eat those!" she yelled at me...
"Well she's not going to!" I yelled back...I put them back on her tray.
#2
Mom went with me on a usual day to all my therapies. By then, I'd gotten good at "driving" myself around with my feet on the wheelhair. So, I'd keep the leg rests to the sides. When we went to speech therapy, mom sat down. When I came to the same table, I smacked mom's leg with the leg rest.
"Due to my brain injury, I cannot be held responsible for anything I say or do, including that" I said, and then started laughing! She gave an odd look and smiled.
#3
Another time in speech therapy, Laurie Ann and I were talking about some of my tattoos. Mom was there. She's my witness! HAHA I told Laurie Ann when I got home, I was getting "sleeves" tattooed on my arms.
Ok, maybe there's not too many when I was in the hospital. But, the few are funny! I don't care who ya are, that there is funny!
Slowly my brain progresses
It was such a joy to see everyone at one home together! My brother and his wife came, along with their little girl Jade. Mostly, my son and Jade ran around, acting like they were brother and sister. They'd finish each others sentences of how whatever game they were playing went. It was cute...
I got to spend time with Robert and Brandy. I got to hear from Brandy, when I had to have my head shaved for the surgeries, Robert cried, saying he was going to do the same thing. Before, I had hair almost to my behind. Now, it was stubbles.
I still had the bandage around my head where the wound was. For some reason, it still hadn't scabbed over.
Mom was there, my dad was there. The only other brother that was missing was my oldest brother Les, he lived in Iowa. But, he called while I was home. For some reason, I didnt recognize his voice, at all. Why didnt I recognize his voice? I started to quietly think back to us growing up, and I didnt remember a single memory that involved Les in it.
Overall, it was a good afternoon with my family. Mom took me back to the hospital, I think my son didnt come with us this time. I want to say that it would've been too hard on him. But, I can't remember all that well.
Back at the hospital, I checked in at the nurses' station and went to my room. I was confused, there was no more net bed! I worked hard on all of my therapies so the doctor had it removed!!! Mom and I were so happy over what I'd accomplished so far.
Mom stuck around for a bit as I enjoyed my "new" bed. I could get in and out of it freely, which I can't describe how nice that was! Mom sat there, just smiling, with an occasional tear, of happiness she called it.
I wanted to bring up the phone call I'd made, and why she told me to get off the phone so abruptedly. But, I didnt. There was that uneasy feeling again. I wondered to myself, why do I keep having this bad feeling?
Regardless, I was happy. Maybe it was a simple net to some people, but to me, it was a HUGE step forward in regaining some independence. A nurse came in and congradulated me on the net'bed being removed.
"You still need to let us know when you're getting out of bed," the nurse said to me. "I'm very proud of you, Elicia. You've come so far!" She put a hand on mom's shoulder and then left the room.
"Wow, this is so awesome!" I said cheerfully. I was trying to bounce a bit on the bed, but my balance wouldnt let me. Oh well, I thought. I can keep my legs off the bed whenever I want.
"You have come a long way my girl," mom said. She sat there smiling a huge grin, trying to hold back the tears of happiness. No way was I going to bring up what happened earlier with me on the phone. We'll deal with that another day.
I got to spend time with Robert and Brandy. I got to hear from Brandy, when I had to have my head shaved for the surgeries, Robert cried, saying he was going to do the same thing. Before, I had hair almost to my behind. Now, it was stubbles.
I still had the bandage around my head where the wound was. For some reason, it still hadn't scabbed over.
Mom was there, my dad was there. The only other brother that was missing was my oldest brother Les, he lived in Iowa. But, he called while I was home. For some reason, I didnt recognize his voice, at all. Why didnt I recognize his voice? I started to quietly think back to us growing up, and I didnt remember a single memory that involved Les in it.
Overall, it was a good afternoon with my family. Mom took me back to the hospital, I think my son didnt come with us this time. I want to say that it would've been too hard on him. But, I can't remember all that well.
Back at the hospital, I checked in at the nurses' station and went to my room. I was confused, there was no more net bed! I worked hard on all of my therapies so the doctor had it removed!!! Mom and I were so happy over what I'd accomplished so far.
Mom stuck around for a bit as I enjoyed my "new" bed. I could get in and out of it freely, which I can't describe how nice that was! Mom sat there, just smiling, with an occasional tear, of happiness she called it.
I wanted to bring up the phone call I'd made, and why she told me to get off the phone so abruptedly. But, I didnt. There was that uneasy feeling again. I wondered to myself, why do I keep having this bad feeling?
Regardless, I was happy. Maybe it was a simple net to some people, but to me, it was a HUGE step forward in regaining some independence. A nurse came in and congradulated me on the net'bed being removed.
"You still need to let us know when you're getting out of bed," the nurse said to me. "I'm very proud of you, Elicia. You've come so far!" She put a hand on mom's shoulder and then left the room.
"Wow, this is so awesome!" I said cheerfully. I was trying to bounce a bit on the bed, but my balance wouldnt let me. Oh well, I thought. I can keep my legs off the bed whenever I want.
"You have come a long way my girl," mom said. She sat there smiling a huge grin, trying to hold back the tears of happiness. No way was I going to bring up what happened earlier with me on the phone. We'll deal with that another day.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
As the days went on
So, after passing the first swallowing test, I was allowed simple, soft foods to eat. The nurses no longer gave me foods via the feeding tube. They simply flushed sterial water down, and then sucked in back up in a tube to keep it from closing on the inside.
Boy was I extatic to be able to eat again! And coffee! I got coffee in the mornings! Oh man, how I loved coffee (still do to this day)! They served thickened juices, grits (whatever that consisted of) and started me on protein shakes to help me gain weight. I drank 3 of those a day. I didnt realize what they were at first, but man did they taste good!! I think anything I could get down my throat tasted good at that point! Main point was, I COULD SWALLOW AGAIN!
Physical therapy progressed, to help better my led coordination. My right leg tended to drag, because of the damage done to my brain. So, we focused on walking with the walker and doing more exercises with a focus on the right side.
I remember one morning when I got up to get ready for the day, a male OT came in to do ADLs with me (activites of daily living). He wanted to see and note how I did with taking care of myself in the mornings, WHICH INCLUDED SHOWERING!!!! I can't explain how abruptedly I told him to wait behind to shower curtain, that I refused for him to see me undressed. (Here's where my brain started working) Why in God's name did whatever OTR assign A MALE to work with me on my ADLs!!
So I showered, ALONE. They provided a shower chair for me, so (obviously) I wouldnt fall (sure as heck didnt want that). They even provided a razor, for me to shave! Ha ha! To shave! Swear my hairs were growing forests! And for the record, on another blog, I intend to write strictly on the goof ups I did while in and out of the hospital! Oh my God! How funny they are, even to this day!
Sometime, around the first week of July, I got a home pass, meaning that I could go home for the day, to see how I managed there. I was so extremely excited! I can't remember the last time I was so excited to go home, even for only a day!!! And, this is when I started to notice things, for the first time. I started to question, in my mind, what really happened that dreadful night.
My mom was late in picking me up, which drove me crazy! She had my little boy with her, who apparently was getting car sick the entire way up there. Thats what took them so long. Robert could barely hold in his excitement of me getting to visit! Mom checked me out at the nurses' station, and I happily said my goodbyes, with goofy promises to be back that evening.
When I got home, I strolled around in my wheelchair. I figured out how to get around there, into the bathroom, the living room, and so forth. Being the OT mom was, she had all of the rooms made just for a person in a wheelchair. Who knew I'd actually be the first person to try out her design?
I went outside with the cordless phone. Alone, I dialed HIS phone number. At first, our conversation was wonderful. I hadn't heard his voice in such a long time. We talked about how I was home for a visit, how my therapy was going there, my eating test, so on. In the back of my mind, something was wrong. I couldnt put my finger on it at that point, but I just had a sick feeling about things.
When we talked about his recovery, things started to bother me even more. Alone in my thoughts, I started slowly to remember some of the abuse he dished out. I started to remember the break in my hand, the broken nose. And, I vaguely remembered, did he break my cheekbone?
At some point in the conversation, my mom came outside. She figured out who I was talking with, and a big look of concern came across her face. I learned throughout the years, my mom's facial expressions usually told us what was on her mind. The look she continued to give me furthered my curiousity of what really happened.
Mom told me to get off of the phone. With a look of why, she said again to just get off the phone. I shrugged, and then complied. With a quick I love you, I hung up.
"Why are you being so upset with me talking to him?" I asked with an attitude. "I don't understand why you're so mad at him."
"Elicia," she said. "Just don't go there."
With the attitude I still had, I just said whatever.
Boy was I extatic to be able to eat again! And coffee! I got coffee in the mornings! Oh man, how I loved coffee (still do to this day)! They served thickened juices, grits (whatever that consisted of) and started me on protein shakes to help me gain weight. I drank 3 of those a day. I didnt realize what they were at first, but man did they taste good!! I think anything I could get down my throat tasted good at that point! Main point was, I COULD SWALLOW AGAIN!
Physical therapy progressed, to help better my led coordination. My right leg tended to drag, because of the damage done to my brain. So, we focused on walking with the walker and doing more exercises with a focus on the right side.
I remember one morning when I got up to get ready for the day, a male OT came in to do ADLs with me (activites of daily living). He wanted to see and note how I did with taking care of myself in the mornings, WHICH INCLUDED SHOWERING!!!! I can't explain how abruptedly I told him to wait behind to shower curtain, that I refused for him to see me undressed. (Here's where my brain started working) Why in God's name did whatever OTR assign A MALE to work with me on my ADLs!!
So I showered, ALONE. They provided a shower chair for me, so (obviously) I wouldnt fall (sure as heck didnt want that). They even provided a razor, for me to shave! Ha ha! To shave! Swear my hairs were growing forests! And for the record, on another blog, I intend to write strictly on the goof ups I did while in and out of the hospital! Oh my God! How funny they are, even to this day!
Sometime, around the first week of July, I got a home pass, meaning that I could go home for the day, to see how I managed there. I was so extremely excited! I can't remember the last time I was so excited to go home, even for only a day!!! And, this is when I started to notice things, for the first time. I started to question, in my mind, what really happened that dreadful night.
My mom was late in picking me up, which drove me crazy! She had my little boy with her, who apparently was getting car sick the entire way up there. Thats what took them so long. Robert could barely hold in his excitement of me getting to visit! Mom checked me out at the nurses' station, and I happily said my goodbyes, with goofy promises to be back that evening.
When I got home, I strolled around in my wheelchair. I figured out how to get around there, into the bathroom, the living room, and so forth. Being the OT mom was, she had all of the rooms made just for a person in a wheelchair. Who knew I'd actually be the first person to try out her design?
I went outside with the cordless phone. Alone, I dialed HIS phone number. At first, our conversation was wonderful. I hadn't heard his voice in such a long time. We talked about how I was home for a visit, how my therapy was going there, my eating test, so on. In the back of my mind, something was wrong. I couldnt put my finger on it at that point, but I just had a sick feeling about things.
When we talked about his recovery, things started to bother me even more. Alone in my thoughts, I started slowly to remember some of the abuse he dished out. I started to remember the break in my hand, the broken nose. And, I vaguely remembered, did he break my cheekbone?
At some point in the conversation, my mom came outside. She figured out who I was talking with, and a big look of concern came across her face. I learned throughout the years, my mom's facial expressions usually told us what was on her mind. The look she continued to give me furthered my curiousity of what really happened.
Mom told me to get off of the phone. With a look of why, she said again to just get off the phone. I shrugged, and then complied. With a quick I love you, I hung up.
"Why are you being so upset with me talking to him?" I asked with an attitude. "I don't understand why you're so mad at him."
"Elicia," she said. "Just don't go there."
With the attitude I still had, I just said whatever.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
The moment it hits....
Mom talked me into going to OT, despite my not wanting to go.
"It'll distract you," she said.
Yea, I thought to myself. Everything you guys told me, and you expect OT to distract me? I thought again. Highly doubt it, but okay.
So I went, my mind on anything but OT. Cant remember what the OT had me doing, but I mindlessly tried to do it. My mom was there with me, just watching what mood I was showing.
Within minutes, in tears, I told the OT I couldnt do anymore. He looked at me clueless, until my mom explained what I'd found out. He went to hug me, but I scooted away with my wheelchair. I didnt want hugs, from anyone, not even my mom. I didnt feel worthy of anything. He offered for us to go outside, as I remember, "to take a walk." I remember thinking, how the fuck can I walk when I'm in a damn wheelchair! But, whatever...we all went outside.
I remember him asking if I wanted to talk about it. I bluntly said "no." Even with a nicotine patch on, I told mom that I needed a cigarette. There wasnt a word that OT could say that could calm my heart. I was obsolutely angered with myself.
After awhile, mom and I went back to my room, and I got myself into bed, and zipped up my net bed. I can never explain how furious I was at myself. My mom tried to talk to me, and I attempted to calmly tell her I didnt want to talk. Notice ATTEMPTED. Fortunately, my mom understood my anger at myself. Quietly, she unzipped the net bed, and gave me simple hugs, and a kiss on the forehead.
"I'll call you later," she said as she rezipped the bed. "I love you Elicia. It'll be okay."
"Yea," I said, not convinced of anything. "Love you too." I rolled over to not face her, and went off into my own depressing thoughts of what I'd done to hurt myself this horribly.
Later, when the nurse came in to fill my feeding tube, she asked how I was.
"Your mom stopped by the nurses' station, and told us that you know why you're here." she compassionately said. "If there's anything we can do, we can call the doctor, and get an order for an anxiety pill if you want."
"I don't want anything, but thank you." I said. Again, I rolled over when she was finished.
"Do you want your TV on?" she asked.
"No thanks."
"Well, you holler if you need anything, ok hun?"
"Yep."
For maybe a week, I felt as if a zombie. My mom came to visit me everyday, going with me through all of my therapies, getting food at the hospital cafeteria. She made a habit of not eating around me, because the smell of food made me miss it more.
Slowly, mom or I would tell my therapists what I had learned. Laurie Ann, my speech therapist, was very understanding. She herself has a walking disability, but is still able to work because her mind is so sharp. She encouraged me to get better, so that I could go home. She suggested that I get into counseling as soon as I could.
My physical therapist, I forget her name, thought that by pushing me a little harder, that it'd be a positive step into going home. Between her and Laurie Ann, I slowly found the determination to fight to get on my feet, literally. I went from the wheelchair, slowly to a walker at PT. My therapy consisted of walking with the walker, and doing leg exercises. We tried out different types of walking equipment to see what worked best. The walker prevailed.
A week or so later, Pastor Tom and my mom came to visit. Before Pastor Tom entered the room, I asked mom to have him wait. I unzipped the net bed and slowly got out of bed. Slowly, I found my balance, and asked him to come into the room. And very slowly, I waddled over to him. It was the first time since before the accident that he'd seen me walk. And how the tears came rolling down his face!! I nearly fell into him, but I'd done it! My mom cried, Pastor Tom cried, and I stood there proud as ever!!!
My speech therapist decided that I should start simple eating trials one day. I'd take a small bite of lemon ice, and she'd time me to see how long it took to swallow it. The first day was a struggle. But, I quickly got better at it. I was determined with every therapy, I was going to get better. I wanted to go home. I wanted to continue the therapy from the outpatient aspect of it.
I finally got to take my first eating test. Laurie Ann stayed next to me, starting off with soft, simple foods, and working her way up as I could tolerate. We did this by means of the XRay department. I could actually see my throat as I swallowed. It was neat to me because I didnt remember the first time the test was done. With the simple instructions of Laurie Ann, I learned how to swallow without choking. And, I PASSED!!!!
"It'll distract you," she said.
Yea, I thought to myself. Everything you guys told me, and you expect OT to distract me? I thought again. Highly doubt it, but okay.
So I went, my mind on anything but OT. Cant remember what the OT had me doing, but I mindlessly tried to do it. My mom was there with me, just watching what mood I was showing.
Within minutes, in tears, I told the OT I couldnt do anymore. He looked at me clueless, until my mom explained what I'd found out. He went to hug me, but I scooted away with my wheelchair. I didnt want hugs, from anyone, not even my mom. I didnt feel worthy of anything. He offered for us to go outside, as I remember, "to take a walk." I remember thinking, how the fuck can I walk when I'm in a damn wheelchair! But, whatever...we all went outside.
I remember him asking if I wanted to talk about it. I bluntly said "no." Even with a nicotine patch on, I told mom that I needed a cigarette. There wasnt a word that OT could say that could calm my heart. I was obsolutely angered with myself.
After awhile, mom and I went back to my room, and I got myself into bed, and zipped up my net bed. I can never explain how furious I was at myself. My mom tried to talk to me, and I attempted to calmly tell her I didnt want to talk. Notice ATTEMPTED. Fortunately, my mom understood my anger at myself. Quietly, she unzipped the net bed, and gave me simple hugs, and a kiss on the forehead.
"I'll call you later," she said as she rezipped the bed. "I love you Elicia. It'll be okay."
"Yea," I said, not convinced of anything. "Love you too." I rolled over to not face her, and went off into my own depressing thoughts of what I'd done to hurt myself this horribly.
Later, when the nurse came in to fill my feeding tube, she asked how I was.
"Your mom stopped by the nurses' station, and told us that you know why you're here." she compassionately said. "If there's anything we can do, we can call the doctor, and get an order for an anxiety pill if you want."
"I don't want anything, but thank you." I said. Again, I rolled over when she was finished.
"Do you want your TV on?" she asked.
"No thanks."
"Well, you holler if you need anything, ok hun?"
"Yep."
For maybe a week, I felt as if a zombie. My mom came to visit me everyday, going with me through all of my therapies, getting food at the hospital cafeteria. She made a habit of not eating around me, because the smell of food made me miss it more.
Slowly, mom or I would tell my therapists what I had learned. Laurie Ann, my speech therapist, was very understanding. She herself has a walking disability, but is still able to work because her mind is so sharp. She encouraged me to get better, so that I could go home. She suggested that I get into counseling as soon as I could.
My physical therapist, I forget her name, thought that by pushing me a little harder, that it'd be a positive step into going home. Between her and Laurie Ann, I slowly found the determination to fight to get on my feet, literally. I went from the wheelchair, slowly to a walker at PT. My therapy consisted of walking with the walker, and doing leg exercises. We tried out different types of walking equipment to see what worked best. The walker prevailed.
A week or so later, Pastor Tom and my mom came to visit. Before Pastor Tom entered the room, I asked mom to have him wait. I unzipped the net bed and slowly got out of bed. Slowly, I found my balance, and asked him to come into the room. And very slowly, I waddled over to him. It was the first time since before the accident that he'd seen me walk. And how the tears came rolling down his face!! I nearly fell into him, but I'd done it! My mom cried, Pastor Tom cried, and I stood there proud as ever!!!
My speech therapist decided that I should start simple eating trials one day. I'd take a small bite of lemon ice, and she'd time me to see how long it took to swallow it. The first day was a struggle. But, I quickly got better at it. I was determined with every therapy, I was going to get better. I wanted to go home. I wanted to continue the therapy from the outpatient aspect of it.
I finally got to take my first eating test. Laurie Ann stayed next to me, starting off with soft, simple foods, and working her way up as I could tolerate. We did this by means of the XRay department. I could actually see my throat as I swallowed. It was neat to me because I didnt remember the first time the test was done. With the simple instructions of Laurie Ann, I learned how to swallow without choking. And, I PASSED!!!!
Thursday, January 6, 2011
The day I knew...
I continued to stare into the mirror. Then I looked down to those two legs, that, it seemed, once upon a time that they worked. I recognized that I had trouble with my right hand. I looked into the mirror again, and noticed that it was my right eye that didnt close. It was the right side of my mouth that didnt work. Did I have a stroke? I asked myself. Everything was affected on the right side. But, I couldnt understand any of it. Maybe I'd finally smoked too much and caused this? Maybe, I drank myself into this. I did something to cause this, I thought to myself.
Half the day, I felt as if I were in a daze. I went to speech therapy and physical therapy, without many words for anyone. When I went back to my room to rest, I went into the bathroom again. I was aware now that something was wrong. Something was really wrong. But what was it? Why was I here? Why was I in this hospital? I asked myself. Why could I not eat food? Why could I not walk? Why could I not handle a toothbrush? Why was I so stinking confused about everything? I started to cry. Alone in the room, I sat in the wheelchair and bawled.
After a few minutes, my mom came to visit for the day. I came out of the bathroom and stared at my mom. I looked at her blankly as she asked me how my day had been going. After a moment, she changed expressions on her face, from typical to concerned.
"Whats the matter baby?" she asked me. I just stared into space, my head filled with a hundred questions. But those questions, I couldnt form into words. I just stared blankly.
"Elicia?" Mom said. "Whats wrong? Why do you look so sad?"
"I cant sleep" I started to say fighting back tears. "All I can do is think. Why am I here? Why can I not walk? Why can I not brush my teeth right?" The tears started to flow. "Mom. Did I have a stroke? What did I do to myself that got me here? I don't understand."
My mom hugged me ever so tightly, now crying herself. She was finally noticing things, she must of thought. Her tears from her own pain throughout this whole time must of been flowing out now.
"I'm going to get one of the soial workers." She said with tissues in her hand. "When I get back, we'll sit you down and explain this all." She hugged me again, and left the room.
I sat there fightened. Of all of the things I could've have done to harm myself, had it all led to this? Was this the point, where God was punishing me? Was this a wake up call? I was still so lost, so confused. All I could think of, was, what had I done to cause this? Never once had I suspected ANYONE else doing this. Every other time, I blamed myself for those bad things. I mean, come on, every other time I CAUSED those bad things.
While I waited for my mom to come back, I thought back to the stupid things I'd done with my life. The car accidents that could've killed me. The suicidal attempts, the carelessness of my own actions. The drinking, DAILY, the smoking, EXCESSIVELY...not once had I given thought to the abuse my ex-boyfriend had done. All my own fingers pointed at myself.
My mom returned a few minutes later, this time with a woman from social services. They led me to a smaller, family meeting-type room, where they could sit and answer any questions I was sure to have. The lady, seemed to be a compassionate, kind woman with a gentle look upon her face. They sat directly across from me, this time with tissues balled up in her hand. For the first time, I saw the pain in my mom's eyes. I saw the stress weighing down on her. I saw the weakness she showed.
"So what did I do this time?" I asked them. Always, I was to take the first blame when things went wrong in my life. I guess it was habit. Besides, 9 times out of 10, it was me.
"Elicia" the social worker started to speak first. "You had an accident june 8th. You fell off a balcony while drinking and took a nasty fall." Mom was in tears by then. The reality of hearing it from another person's mouth was a reality check for her also. She went to hand me the box of tissues, which I kindly denied. There was no room for crying. I wanted answers, my first sign of real determination in months, maybe years.
"I fell." I said out loud, more thinking than saying. So there was an answer. I was drinking and this happened. In a way, I felt I was right. My drinking had finally caught up with me. God was punishing me. To me, things were finally making sense. All my years of hiding the alcohol, in drinks to school, in various containers, coming home drunk almost nightly...God was punishing me.
"Where is Robert?" I asked my mom.
"He is staying with your brother and Brandy for the time being." mom answered.
"Does he know what happened?"
"In a way, but he's being protected from alot of it." still wiping tears from her face. I noticed how much older my mom looked than I remembered last. Your drinking caused this on your mother, I thought to myself. Shame on you Elicia. Look what you did. Your mother, who would do anything to protect you, you hurt her beyond this time.
"Well, can I see him?" I asked. But, what would I say to that little boy that I loved so much. How would I explain to a 6-yr old that I was sorry? What was I sorry for? Alot, I answered my own question. Sorry for drinking, sorry for smoking around him, sorry for the nasty language, sorry he witnessed the abuse.
The more I looked at the situation, the more I beat myself up over it. Robert should have never seen those things. Or had gone through that mess. He should've never lived there. Wait, should I have never lived there?
"Of course you can see your son Elicia" my mom answered back. "Your brother has been keeping him busy this summer, but they've all been wanting to come see you. And Robert's been asking about you alot."
I'm not sure why my mom had a social worker come with her talk with me. Perhaps for her own support. Perhaps to keep me calm? Perhaps to answer any questions I might've had?
I didnt want to go to occupational therapy. Too much on my mind now.
More for another day....
Half the day, I felt as if I were in a daze. I went to speech therapy and physical therapy, without many words for anyone. When I went back to my room to rest, I went into the bathroom again. I was aware now that something was wrong. Something was really wrong. But what was it? Why was I here? Why was I in this hospital? I asked myself. Why could I not eat food? Why could I not walk? Why could I not handle a toothbrush? Why was I so stinking confused about everything? I started to cry. Alone in the room, I sat in the wheelchair and bawled.
After a few minutes, my mom came to visit for the day. I came out of the bathroom and stared at my mom. I looked at her blankly as she asked me how my day had been going. After a moment, she changed expressions on her face, from typical to concerned.
"Whats the matter baby?" she asked me. I just stared into space, my head filled with a hundred questions. But those questions, I couldnt form into words. I just stared blankly.
"Elicia?" Mom said. "Whats wrong? Why do you look so sad?"
"I cant sleep" I started to say fighting back tears. "All I can do is think. Why am I here? Why can I not walk? Why can I not brush my teeth right?" The tears started to flow. "Mom. Did I have a stroke? What did I do to myself that got me here? I don't understand."
My mom hugged me ever so tightly, now crying herself. She was finally noticing things, she must of thought. Her tears from her own pain throughout this whole time must of been flowing out now.
"I'm going to get one of the soial workers." She said with tissues in her hand. "When I get back, we'll sit you down and explain this all." She hugged me again, and left the room.
I sat there fightened. Of all of the things I could've have done to harm myself, had it all led to this? Was this the point, where God was punishing me? Was this a wake up call? I was still so lost, so confused. All I could think of, was, what had I done to cause this? Never once had I suspected ANYONE else doing this. Every other time, I blamed myself for those bad things. I mean, come on, every other time I CAUSED those bad things.
While I waited for my mom to come back, I thought back to the stupid things I'd done with my life. The car accidents that could've killed me. The suicidal attempts, the carelessness of my own actions. The drinking, DAILY, the smoking, EXCESSIVELY...not once had I given thought to the abuse my ex-boyfriend had done. All my own fingers pointed at myself.
My mom returned a few minutes later, this time with a woman from social services. They led me to a smaller, family meeting-type room, where they could sit and answer any questions I was sure to have. The lady, seemed to be a compassionate, kind woman with a gentle look upon her face. They sat directly across from me, this time with tissues balled up in her hand. For the first time, I saw the pain in my mom's eyes. I saw the stress weighing down on her. I saw the weakness she showed.
"So what did I do this time?" I asked them. Always, I was to take the first blame when things went wrong in my life. I guess it was habit. Besides, 9 times out of 10, it was me.
"Elicia" the social worker started to speak first. "You had an accident june 8th. You fell off a balcony while drinking and took a nasty fall." Mom was in tears by then. The reality of hearing it from another person's mouth was a reality check for her also. She went to hand me the box of tissues, which I kindly denied. There was no room for crying. I wanted answers, my first sign of real determination in months, maybe years.
"I fell." I said out loud, more thinking than saying. So there was an answer. I was drinking and this happened. In a way, I felt I was right. My drinking had finally caught up with me. God was punishing me. To me, things were finally making sense. All my years of hiding the alcohol, in drinks to school, in various containers, coming home drunk almost nightly...God was punishing me.
"Where is Robert?" I asked my mom.
"He is staying with your brother and Brandy for the time being." mom answered.
"Does he know what happened?"
"In a way, but he's being protected from alot of it." still wiping tears from her face. I noticed how much older my mom looked than I remembered last. Your drinking caused this on your mother, I thought to myself. Shame on you Elicia. Look what you did. Your mother, who would do anything to protect you, you hurt her beyond this time.
"Well, can I see him?" I asked. But, what would I say to that little boy that I loved so much. How would I explain to a 6-yr old that I was sorry? What was I sorry for? Alot, I answered my own question. Sorry for drinking, sorry for smoking around him, sorry for the nasty language, sorry he witnessed the abuse.
The more I looked at the situation, the more I beat myself up over it. Robert should have never seen those things. Or had gone through that mess. He should've never lived there. Wait, should I have never lived there?
"Of course you can see your son Elicia" my mom answered back. "Your brother has been keeping him busy this summer, but they've all been wanting to come see you. And Robert's been asking about you alot."
I'm not sure why my mom had a social worker come with her talk with me. Perhaps for her own support. Perhaps to keep me calm? Perhaps to answer any questions I might've had?
I didnt want to go to occupational therapy. Too much on my mind now.
More for another day....
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Edwin Shaw Rehabilitation Hospital, Akron Ohio
On June 21, 2008, I was finally transferred to Edwin Shaw Rehab Hospital by ambulance. My mom followed, already burnt out from the entire ordeal. She'd given my life to God, praying for things to work in His path. She had no more answers. She was at a loss, and still feared losing her only daughter.
I was given a room across from the nurses' station, and a net bed, to make sure I would not get up on my own. The goal to removing the net bed was that I had to make progress in all of my therapies and to show significant signs of improvement, according to my doctor.
There I had two doctors; a regular physician who took care of my wounds, mainly the one where I'd hit the concrete. The other doctor, Dr. Hayek, was my rehab doctor. He read the notes from what the therapists documented, and made judgements based on those notes.
For the first week or two, I remember little. I remember sleeping. Nurses would come in, fill my feeding tube, give me my medicines, and gave me a stop smoking patch on my shoulder, so I wouldnt remove it. My mom came to visit everyday. Pastor Tom came to visit, as often as he could. Because my mom was out of work from a recent surgery, the church had graciously given her gas money, to drive back and forth. Edwin Shaw was easily an hour away from our house.
And still, I slept. I would wake up when visitors would come, and then I'd sleep again. People brought flowers, get well cards and gifts of encouragement. I had a roommate; an elderly lady on her way home in a few weeks. She gave me a few silly cards that I still have to this day.
And, I slept. All I remember for the first few weeks was sleeping. I barely remember any of my therapies. Eating wasnt an option, so obviously I didnt have anything to remember. I still couldnt walk, so I used a wheelchair.
I do remember one morning, after the nurses opened one side of the net bed, I sat at the edge of the bed, my legs hanging down. I remember telling myself, I used these legs. I used to run with these legs, I was in cheerleading years ago; I was in track...I used these legs. I asked myself, why arent they moving now? I got into my wheelchair, and went to the bathroom to wash up. I noticed a motorized toothbrush my mom had gotten for me. I looked into the mirror at the stubbles on my head. I saw the massive scar, healing from the surgery. I tried to smile, I couldnt. I tried to close my right eye; I couldnt. For the first time since the accident, I got a good look at myself. I doubt any words could describe what I saw that morning. I doubt any words could describe how I felt, besides maybe confused.
Now, up to this point, I still hadnt known what had happened to me.
I was given a room across from the nurses' station, and a net bed, to make sure I would not get up on my own. The goal to removing the net bed was that I had to make progress in all of my therapies and to show significant signs of improvement, according to my doctor.
There I had two doctors; a regular physician who took care of my wounds, mainly the one where I'd hit the concrete. The other doctor, Dr. Hayek, was my rehab doctor. He read the notes from what the therapists documented, and made judgements based on those notes.
For the first week or two, I remember little. I remember sleeping. Nurses would come in, fill my feeding tube, give me my medicines, and gave me a stop smoking patch on my shoulder, so I wouldnt remove it. My mom came to visit everyday. Pastor Tom came to visit, as often as he could. Because my mom was out of work from a recent surgery, the church had graciously given her gas money, to drive back and forth. Edwin Shaw was easily an hour away from our house.
And still, I slept. I would wake up when visitors would come, and then I'd sleep again. People brought flowers, get well cards and gifts of encouragement. I had a roommate; an elderly lady on her way home in a few weeks. She gave me a few silly cards that I still have to this day.
And, I slept. All I remember for the first few weeks was sleeping. I barely remember any of my therapies. Eating wasnt an option, so obviously I didnt have anything to remember. I still couldnt walk, so I used a wheelchair.
I do remember one morning, after the nurses opened one side of the net bed, I sat at the edge of the bed, my legs hanging down. I remember telling myself, I used these legs. I used to run with these legs, I was in cheerleading years ago; I was in track...I used these legs. I asked myself, why arent they moving now? I got into my wheelchair, and went to the bathroom to wash up. I noticed a motorized toothbrush my mom had gotten for me. I looked into the mirror at the stubbles on my head. I saw the massive scar, healing from the surgery. I tried to smile, I couldnt. I tried to close my right eye; I couldnt. For the first time since the accident, I got a good look at myself. I doubt any words could describe what I saw that morning. I doubt any words could describe how I felt, besides maybe confused.
Now, up to this point, I still hadnt known what had happened to me.
...it continues...
Instead of going into a surgical room to donate my organs, I went to have the first of eventually 2 craniotomies done. Dr. Weiner carefully went in, cutting through bone to get the bleed. Within a few hours, the bleeding had stopped. Another CT was done of my head. Dr. Weiner decided to make a second opening in my skull on the upper right side. He inserted what's called an ICP, an IntraCranial Pressure device, designed to measure the pressure inside my brain.
So, for a few hours, I laid in bed, in a coma, with a "stick" hanging out of my head. Within a few hours, as Dr. Weiner suspected, I had a seond bleed on my brain. The permission from my mom happened all over again. Again, prayers were said. Again, my sister in law and her mom said that things werent right. They had believed fully now that I had to stay alive. And again, my mom had to make that life changing decision, to let me live or let me die.
Dr. Weiner performed the second surgery. This time, the incision was larger. He had to open a larger portion of my skull to get to the bleed. Several hours later, with more plates and screws put into my skull, Dr. Weiner closed it all up and sent me back to recovery. All of this done in the wee hours of the night.
I want to post the only picture taken of me that night. I hope, as a means to show everyone how far I'd come. I pray this is a reality to everyone/anyone who reads this....
Now, one question lay on my mind to this day. How did such a skilled doctor perform not only 1 delicate surgery, but 2 in the middle of the night? Besides his own skill, I truly believe God had a major role in all of this. I truly believe God took advantage of this horrible situation for His own good. What happens in the next few days scares even me, but obviously I have to believe it.
The following morning, Dr. Weiner went into my room, along with my mother and father. After doing some routine examinations, doing some routine tests, he looked at my mom and said "She'll be back to normal in no time!" That statement right there left my mom thinking "Oh God, please tell me I did the right thing!"
I stayed in a coma for several days, to let the incisions heal a bit, to eventually have the staples removed. (Remember, so far, all was told to me by my parents, and my brother and his wife)
My mom, being an occupational therapist, has 20 years of working with stroke patients, as well as people with brain injuries. When I could speak, she started asking me questions, checking my memory. One of the first things she had me do was to show me pictures of family members, checking if I'd remember anyone. The first picture was of my son. She told me I said his name, and immediately asked if he was okay. Deep inside, I still cared deeply for my son. She gave me a pen, and I attempted to write his name of the back of the picture. But, per her words, my writing was tragic, she feared I'd lost my entire right side of my body.
A few nights later, my brother and his wife wanted to give my mom a break, so they offered to stay the night with me, allowing her time to go home and recuporate.
My brother and his wife barely slept that night. There I was, constantly trying to get out of bed, begging for Robert to give me a cigarette. I even went as far as to watch him until I thought he was sleeping. My memory tells me I tried to get up, to sneak a cigarette from him. But...if I succeeded in that part, how on earth was I going outside to smoke it?? With IVs hooked everywhere, bed alarms to monitor if I got up, and heart monitors to check my heart rate, let alone the pathetic walking I attempted, I had no chance.
Eventually, I'd sat up and shocked my brother and Brandy. I was angry at him, and demanded to know "how did you get your wife pregnant??" (That night I was told to by my brother and Brandy) Brandy and Robert simply laughed together! Brandy told me that that night, she asked Robert "wouldnt that be insane?" Afterwards, I simply went to sleep. My night of horror was done.
Going forward a few days, I had therapy to get my right side moving again. My mom was there constantly thru it all. Most of the time, she did more therapy on me than the hospital therapists could think of doing. A day or so later, I had an appointment for a swallow test. A nurse had come in, who said she knew me from my dad's work. All I remember of that day was her telling me she wouldnt leave my side, and that I miserably failed the test. Everything they gave me, I choked on. Once again, doctors had my mom sign permission forms to insert a feeding tube into my stomach, to keep me norished.
So, for a few hours, I laid in bed, in a coma, with a "stick" hanging out of my head. Within a few hours, as Dr. Weiner suspected, I had a seond bleed on my brain. The permission from my mom happened all over again. Again, prayers were said. Again, my sister in law and her mom said that things werent right. They had believed fully now that I had to stay alive. And again, my mom had to make that life changing decision, to let me live or let me die.
Dr. Weiner performed the second surgery. This time, the incision was larger. He had to open a larger portion of my skull to get to the bleed. Several hours later, with more plates and screws put into my skull, Dr. Weiner closed it all up and sent me back to recovery. All of this done in the wee hours of the night.
I want to post the only picture taken of me that night. I hope, as a means to show everyone how far I'd come. I pray this is a reality to everyone/anyone who reads this....
The following morning, Dr. Weiner went into my room, along with my mother and father. After doing some routine examinations, doing some routine tests, he looked at my mom and said "She'll be back to normal in no time!" That statement right there left my mom thinking "Oh God, please tell me I did the right thing!"
I stayed in a coma for several days, to let the incisions heal a bit, to eventually have the staples removed. (Remember, so far, all was told to me by my parents, and my brother and his wife)
My mom, being an occupational therapist, has 20 years of working with stroke patients, as well as people with brain injuries. When I could speak, she started asking me questions, checking my memory. One of the first things she had me do was to show me pictures of family members, checking if I'd remember anyone. The first picture was of my son. She told me I said his name, and immediately asked if he was okay. Deep inside, I still cared deeply for my son. She gave me a pen, and I attempted to write his name of the back of the picture. But, per her words, my writing was tragic, she feared I'd lost my entire right side of my body.
A few nights later, my brother and his wife wanted to give my mom a break, so they offered to stay the night with me, allowing her time to go home and recuporate.
My brother and his wife barely slept that night. There I was, constantly trying to get out of bed, begging for Robert to give me a cigarette. I even went as far as to watch him until I thought he was sleeping. My memory tells me I tried to get up, to sneak a cigarette from him. But...if I succeeded in that part, how on earth was I going outside to smoke it?? With IVs hooked everywhere, bed alarms to monitor if I got up, and heart monitors to check my heart rate, let alone the pathetic walking I attempted, I had no chance.
Eventually, I'd sat up and shocked my brother and Brandy. I was angry at him, and demanded to know "how did you get your wife pregnant??" (That night I was told to by my brother and Brandy) Brandy and Robert simply laughed together! Brandy told me that that night, she asked Robert "wouldnt that be insane?" Afterwards, I simply went to sleep. My night of horror was done.
Going forward a few days, I had therapy to get my right side moving again. My mom was there constantly thru it all. Most of the time, she did more therapy on me than the hospital therapists could think of doing. A day or so later, I had an appointment for a swallow test. A nurse had come in, who said she knew me from my dad's work. All I remember of that day was her telling me she wouldnt leave my side, and that I miserably failed the test. Everything they gave me, I choked on. Once again, doctors had my mom sign permission forms to insert a feeding tube into my stomach, to keep me norished.
The start
Is there really a start? A start to what? To my drinking? To my abuse? To my failed attempts at happiness...well, up until last March anyway. March is when I started dating Dave. March is when I watched a frightened 8yr old transform into a happy boy. March is the first time I took a relationship sober, from alcohol, from pot, from alot of things. Its the first relationship EVER that I've been 100% honest, and proud of myself for that honesty. Its the first time I voiced when I wasnt happy about something, instead of cowering down afraid. Its the first time I could be who I wanted to be, act how I wanted to act, without fear of being insulted. Neat thing is, Dave's just as wierd as I am, but most of the time he's just better at it.
See, June 7, 2008, I was in a vicious accident, that nearly killed me. I was in a very abusive relationship, and I wanted out. But, the alcohol made me stay. Why? I don't know. It just did. In the course of 10 months, I'd gotten a broken nose, a broken cheekbone, and broke my right hand 3 times, all from fights with him. My son watched it all happen. I tore his heart out, and because I was drunk 99% of the time, I simply didnt care.
I'd broken alot of my family's hearts, including my brother Rob's. I'd call drunk, scream and cuss at him, telling his wife some of the most horridence lies I could come up with. I'd call my best friend in AL; I'd cuss her out (for God knows what) and nearly shattered that friendship. It seemed the only relationship I could have was the one with him.
So, the night I wanted out. I had all my clothes and things in trash bags, ready to leave. I'd called my mom, told her to come and get Robert. When she came, I told her I'd be home tonight, at their house. I told her to keep Robert until I got there. That was the night, I told myself. I was going to leave him and all of his abuse.
Thing was, my plan was not the same as his plan. Seems he wasnt going to let me go, and apparently, at no cost. It seemed to be, it was him...or no one. Now, alot of what happens next is after nearly 3 years of thinking over the scenerio again and again; getting my own medical records, talking to my son, talking to my mom, to my brothers, my best friend. I even went as far as getting the police report from that night. The only reason I didnt read it was I realized it would only raise more questions about what really happened that night.
Some time after midnight, I was pushed, or as he says, I "fell" from the second story balcony. He ended up falling too. Or jumping to make it look like an accident, who knows. Anyway, I went 25 feet down, landed straight on my head, on a concrete sidewalk. FYI, concrete does NOT give in to bone. I figured that part out.
My neighbor happened to be on her balcony, just coming outside to light up a smoke. All she saw was him and I falling. It was her that called 9-1-1. The fire department came, the EMTs came, the police came. From what was told to me, the police broke down the door, expecting to find my son in his room. They didnt find anyone.
The EMTs had a harder job. Some had to get him stable; others had to get me stable. But, now according to some medical records, I was found with blood coming out of my ears, curled up in a fetal position, and not breathing. I don't remember what happened to him. I do know, he didnt hit his head in any way. Abusive asshole.
One of the EMTs made the decision to have me flown to Aultman, a larger and more advanced hospital. So, they drove me via ambulance to the local Alliance Hospital, where I awaited a helicopter. Later, my mom told me there was a male nurse working in the ER that night. Apparently, he'd went home to his wife, also a nurse, and was saddened that they had to fly a "teenage girl" to have her heart removed.
That statement was actually true, in a sense. Yes, I had to fly there. No, I was not a teenage girl. Yes, they expected to remove my heart. At some point of time, a call was made to LifeBank to harvest my organs. And you know a worker for LifeBank was at Aultman in a minute, ready for someone to sign my organs over.
They intubated me in the ambulance; they flew me over to Aultman. The ER nurses ran blood work and had a CT Scan done of my entire body. They found a hematoma around my brain and called the on-call neuro-surgeon. While LifeBank was getting the forms ready for my mom to sign, Dr. Weiner asked her for one chance. He told her he believed that with a little work, he could save my life.
Prayers were said at my bedside. Pastor Tom was there, praying to God for some sign that I'd make it through this ordeal. He said just a split second later, my leg twitched. My sister in law Brandy and her mom Lori said that my breaths were too many for a person dying. They all agreed, something just wasnt right.
See, June 7, 2008, I was in a vicious accident, that nearly killed me. I was in a very abusive relationship, and I wanted out. But, the alcohol made me stay. Why? I don't know. It just did. In the course of 10 months, I'd gotten a broken nose, a broken cheekbone, and broke my right hand 3 times, all from fights with him. My son watched it all happen. I tore his heart out, and because I was drunk 99% of the time, I simply didnt care.
I'd broken alot of my family's hearts, including my brother Rob's. I'd call drunk, scream and cuss at him, telling his wife some of the most horridence lies I could come up with. I'd call my best friend in AL; I'd cuss her out (for God knows what) and nearly shattered that friendship. It seemed the only relationship I could have was the one with him.
So, the night I wanted out. I had all my clothes and things in trash bags, ready to leave. I'd called my mom, told her to come and get Robert. When she came, I told her I'd be home tonight, at their house. I told her to keep Robert until I got there. That was the night, I told myself. I was going to leave him and all of his abuse.
Thing was, my plan was not the same as his plan. Seems he wasnt going to let me go, and apparently, at no cost. It seemed to be, it was him...or no one. Now, alot of what happens next is after nearly 3 years of thinking over the scenerio again and again; getting my own medical records, talking to my son, talking to my mom, to my brothers, my best friend. I even went as far as getting the police report from that night. The only reason I didnt read it was I realized it would only raise more questions about what really happened that night.
Some time after midnight, I was pushed, or as he says, I "fell" from the second story balcony. He ended up falling too. Or jumping to make it look like an accident, who knows. Anyway, I went 25 feet down, landed straight on my head, on a concrete sidewalk. FYI, concrete does NOT give in to bone. I figured that part out.
My neighbor happened to be on her balcony, just coming outside to light up a smoke. All she saw was him and I falling. It was her that called 9-1-1. The fire department came, the EMTs came, the police came. From what was told to me, the police broke down the door, expecting to find my son in his room. They didnt find anyone.
The EMTs had a harder job. Some had to get him stable; others had to get me stable. But, now according to some medical records, I was found with blood coming out of my ears, curled up in a fetal position, and not breathing. I don't remember what happened to him. I do know, he didnt hit his head in any way. Abusive asshole.
One of the EMTs made the decision to have me flown to Aultman, a larger and more advanced hospital. So, they drove me via ambulance to the local Alliance Hospital, where I awaited a helicopter. Later, my mom told me there was a male nurse working in the ER that night. Apparently, he'd went home to his wife, also a nurse, and was saddened that they had to fly a "teenage girl" to have her heart removed.
That statement was actually true, in a sense. Yes, I had to fly there. No, I was not a teenage girl. Yes, they expected to remove my heart. At some point of time, a call was made to LifeBank to harvest my organs. And you know a worker for LifeBank was at Aultman in a minute, ready for someone to sign my organs over.
They intubated me in the ambulance; they flew me over to Aultman. The ER nurses ran blood work and had a CT Scan done of my entire body. They found a hematoma around my brain and called the on-call neuro-surgeon. While LifeBank was getting the forms ready for my mom to sign, Dr. Weiner asked her for one chance. He told her he believed that with a little work, he could save my life.
Prayers were said at my bedside. Pastor Tom was there, praying to God for some sign that I'd make it through this ordeal. He said just a split second later, my leg twitched. My sister in law Brandy and her mom Lori said that my breaths were too many for a person dying. They all agreed, something just wasnt right.
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