Since the accident, I noticed the total absence of dreams. No nightmares over the accident, which is good. No dreaming laying in the sun on a beach somewhere or anything until a few days ago. I attributed this to the amount of meds I inhaled on the daily basis, and now for about 2 weeks now I have slowly cut back on how many or how often I take them. It has been working well, unless my missing hand decides to go crazy by having the muscle tissue grow back or my nerve ends finding no suitable spot to call home. Who knows.
But now I have crazy dreams, from being a international spy to chasing people around in elevators and even and dare I say it , about my ex-husband and his fiancee. Which really was so stupid, I woke up and could find no explanation why I would dream such nonsense and kept me up for hours after. But I remember them, and most of the time you are not supposed too.
I usually go and search on the internet what certain dreams mean, key items that stick out, when I have very vivid dreams and remember. But the nonsense that has been displayed to me lately I don’t dare look for an explanation. I am just hoping that eventually they will turn into more serene, relaxing, comforting dreams. Because I like those a lot more, then pushing elevator buttons and going up and down and through revolving doors looking for people.
When you loose a limp, be it a arm, leg or like me a hand, you experience what they call phantom pains. Meaning your brain still believes there is a hand present and it wants to move it. And those are the worst.
In the beginning they were bad. I could feel pain in my fingers or in the inside of a missing hand. You also get the sensation of how your hand is actually positioned, be it in a fist or open. Now 3 months later, I still have that sensation, but not like it was in the beginning. Right now my worst sensation is the healing of the nerve ends. My arm feels like it is falling asleep and tingles. But once they figure out where to go and heal, that sensation will become less and less and go away. Desensitizing is something else I have to work on, where you slowly touch the area with something soft and get it used to normal touch again. My nurse does that for me. I am still not able to clearly look at it nor touch it. I need more mental therapy for that part. I know it is not there and that it will never come back, but I can’t look at it. And then maybe I am still in denial and my worst nightmare will come through that I will have a mental breakdown when the time comes for me to finally see it. Acceptance I suppose is my struggle, and I hope when the day comes where I have no other choice then to finally look at it, I am strong enough for it.
4 surgeries, 2 additional ER visits and Hospital stays due to the side effects of some medications. Water in my feet, checking for blood clots in my legs, blood tests to see that my liver and kidneys have not been damaged because of the meds, the painful bandage changes for 2 months straight, all of those things made me just not want to be strong anymore and move forward. My visiting nurse who through all of this has been so supportive and become my biggest cheerleader for when good things happen. The surgeon that I was so lucky to have, that actually cares, usually you don’t find those anymore. Who actually felt bad when he had to perform another surgery, shortening my bone, but with the hope that my bandage changes would start being less painful and my nerves would get more cover and not be exposed and finally heal.
And within the last 3 weeks over sudden it seems we have made more process then in 2 months combined. I stopped taken the meds that gave me all the side effects that included me not being able to move and get out of bed or walk, and collected the water in my legs. Biggest fear was that they managed to damage my liver or kidneys and I would need dialysis on top of everything. But thankfully that did not happen. I always say when I hear a commercial for a medication, once you hear the side effects I rather go without.
Anyway 3 months into it and each day I get better, I see it as a small triumph of getting closer to a full recovery. Baby steps…..baby steps.
Yes that is what I call them. Those are the days when I wake up at 3 in the morning, pissed at the whole situation and the world, it makes me sick to my stomach. I ask myself over and over why me. What did I do so wrong in my Life, to have to go through this. My whole world turned upside down. Questioning everything. Wondering why the biggest douchebags, wrong doers, no good for nothing assholes go through Life care free, without anything bad ever happening to them, getting away with shit and here I am feeling punished for something I have no clue for what. I cry till I can’t cry no more and then just feel like giving up and say to hell with it. Why bother trying to get better and return to a somewhat normal Life, to return being a productive person. So something else can happen to take me back to hell? Try not to be happy, because as soon as you do, the next pile of crap will show up.
I hate those days, and that is when I have to call my mom. She is the one that puts me back together and talks some sense into me. And after she puts me back together again and I hang up, I feel so selfish, because I think of all the soldiers that are injured and come back with legs and arms missing, something they sure did not sign up for. And who are continuing to live and fight with every ounce of strength they have left. I am sure they have worse days than me, so my pissy days are small compared to theirs. My friends all try to remind me about the good and try to help with their own pieces of advice, which I truly appreciate. But it’s me that has to make sense of it all, and I don’t think I am nowhere near it.
I start mental therapy monday. My first session with a therapist. Thinking it will be an interesting one.
Leaving the safety net of the hospital was hard. My mind coming up with all these different things, as to what or how I will function on the outside. Things that you do on daily basis over sudden become a chore, a quest as to do them now with one hand. Forget dressing yourself in a pair of pants with a button and zipper, sweats it is. Opening jars, bags, bowls. Even trying to clean yourself or doing basic cleaning chores.
Thankfully my kids were able to come home and stay with me after I was released from the hospital to take care of things for 2 weeks and come up with some ideas on how to make it easier for me.
Friends and even ex-family members bringing meals and buying groceries and stocking my freezer so I only have to heat them up. Visiting to clean and help with simple things. Friends taking care of my dog while I am healing. So many people stepping up to coming to help me, that I will never know how to re-pay.
My first breakdown came the day coffee creamer spilled all on the floor and ran under the fridge as I was taking it out of the fridge and I could not mop it up, I was even trying to move the fridge with one hand to get to it. It was like my world just came to an end. And all I could do was lay down wet towels to soak it up as it came running out on the side. That was one of the worst days I had so far in realizing that things are not the same no more.
Relying on other people to take you places, no more driving, I know my friends don’t mind, but it drives me nuts.
Some days feeling good about yourself when you accomplish something on your own, and then there are the days where you feel helpless and curse like a sailor. More to come….
12/30/14 – started out just like any other day. Getting ready for another work day, walking the dog, thinking and feeling content of how much good the year brought me and looking forward to another good year. Even Ayla my dog looked at me with a content look on her face as we were making our way back to the house.
The morning was usual quiet, everyone looking forward to another long weekend, I helped out on the press floor with some jobs that needed to go out, setting them up for others to run, with no worries on my mind.
12:45 pm I was holding my right arm with my left hand and screaming, with my boss applying a tourniquet on my right arm to stop the blood loss, first responders arriving, an ambulance ride to another town with better hospitals and medical staff. ER staff waiting for me and assessing the injury. My boss who came along, assuring me that only the best are working on me and doing everything they can. Then the wheeling into the operating room and drifting off into darkness, only to awaken hours later in a room filled with friends and nurses and part of myself missing.
Yes, my right hand could not be saved and they had to amputate. The doctor that operated on me saved as much as he could of the bone, to make a difference later when it is time for a prosthetic.
That is the day my life changed once again. And yes 3 months later I am still nowhere near of understanding why…..to be continued.