I found out the hard way back in 2001 that I have a genetic blood disorder.
I had a simple surgery to remove some cysts from my ovary. Weird thing is this was not my first surgery so this to me was SOP but, well….you know. It turned out to be different.
I got a bad pain in my leg that felt like the world’s worse charley horse. My leg didn’t swell. My leg didn’t turn red. It just hurt so bad that I could not put weight on it.
Not knowing what it was, I used one of those thumper massage thingys that you but at Brookstone…you know what I am talking about. While I am massaging my leg to ease my “charley horse” I could feel stabbing pains in my lower back. Dammit…I pinched a nerve….so I thought. WTF.
The pain got worse over the next few days…a LOT worse. I went to the doctor and they did an X-ray of my lungs because I was having so much trouble breathing. I had pneumonia. They put me on antibiotics. Sent me home.
I didn’t have pneumonia.
Fast forward another 2 weeks of not getting better. I can’t lay down because it hurts so much and I have now been sleeping on the chair for like 3 weeks now. My breaths are shallow. My heart rate is around 120. Another doctor’s visit, this time to a lung specialist…oh, “You still have pneumonia”…here are stronger antibiotics. Go home.
Fast forward another 2 weeks…mind you, this is roughly 5 weeks-is from when I first massaged my leg. My lips are turning blue. I cannot breathe. My heart rate is through the roof. My pain level was continually unbearable. No one could understand what was going on with me. I didn’t have any understandable or textbook symptoms. No one took the time to further find out why the F I wasn’t getting better. I could not function. I could hardly move.
The pain is a pain that I will never forget. It was such a deep hurt…like stabbing pains and the worst pinched nerves ever that stabbed me every shallow breath I would take. No pain pill in the world could take it away. I tried. As I am wiring this, I still remember that pain vividly. Woah. Holy crap.
On a Sunday morning, I was “talking” to my dad (he was in Buffalo and I was in Dallas) and he yelled at me (it’s ok…I don’t blame him) to get my ass to another doctor first thing. I decided to see who was open in one of those “doc in a box” clinics near me. My husband and I packed me up and somehow got into the car and drove to this dude in Rockwall, TX that was open on a Sunday.
I got there. He is checking my vitals…
Heart rate 140. Oxygen 80%. He examines me. He walks out the door and says, “I’ll be right back”…
Now, I my life, I have since learned that when a doctor examines me and says, “Ill be right back”, no good shit is going to go down. it is NOT going to be good news.
He comes back and says, “I have called you an ambulance and they are waiting for you at the Presbyterian Hospital because you have Pulmonary Emboli…and oddly enough, I only know this because I just got back from a seminar yesterday where they re-taught us all of the signs and symptoms.” Divine intervention.
Not knowing what the hell that was, I asked, “Is this serious? Should I be worried?”
He said, “I am not sure how you are alive right now. This is VERY serious. Life threatening.”
Fuck.
I would like to say that I got better from there, but I did not. It ended up that I had MULTIPLE, like freakin’ HUNDREDS of blood clots in my lungs. My right lung had collapsed. I had a blood clot in my left leg from my ankle to my groin. I was in very serious condition. The docs at the hospital didn’t know what to do with me. They talked about putting me on a ventilator. All I know is that I hurt so badly that tears would run down my face. I still remember it so vividly even almost 18 years ago.
They made me stay in bed and I was not allowed to move. For anything.
My family was called in….everyone flew in and was in my room. It was serious. Not a good sign.
I was in the hospital for what seemed like forever. I try to think back to how long it was, but I just can’t remember….but it was a long ass time.
There was one particular night that things got bad…really bad. I wasn’t getting better. I could hear the doctors talking about the ventilator and a filter for my leg. I was barely functioning. Tears were running down my cheeks. My mom and dad were there. I hurt so bad that they kept giving me morphine and it did not even remotely dull my pain. They called the doctor in at 2 am (yes, they called her out of bed and got her butt there to try and help me). More morphone. Still zero relief. I thought that this would be the end for me. I couldn’t take the pain anymore and I didn’t think my body could either.
A whisper came into me…”Go to sleep…when you wake up, you are going to feel better…just go to sleep.” Now, back then, I did not have a great relationship with God like I do now…I did not realize that this was Him. But it totally was.
So, somehow I did…I am sure it was with the help of morphine LOL…but I slept…and I remember thinking, “If only I could sleep, when I wake up I will be ok tomorrow…” Thanks God!
When I woke up the next day, I did the old open one eye…”Am I dead??”….I was still in my bed. BUT…guess what? I felt better. My pain had gone from like a level trillion to a level 5. Holy shit!! I am going to get better! I knew it.
A week or so later, I was home. The recovery from being in a hospital bed for so long was tough. I remember that my occupational therapy included me lifting weights with a freakin’ soup can because that was all that I could do. I refused to give up and worked at regaining my strength every day.
Right now, I am smiling cause I have come a long was, baby!
I truly believe that there was divine intervention in my life. I believe that I was also taught that our minds have powers that we don’t tap into, but we absolutely should. Being positive about a situation truly enhances recovery and makes it happen…and happen quicker. I knew that I would be ok.
Yeah, so I should totally be dead right now…but I am not! Thank you, Lord.
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| True Story Right There! |