I had a love/hate relationship with rehab. On one hand, rehab is where I first stood up on my own two feet without holding onto the walker. Rehab is where I took my first real shower (no more bed baths!). Rehab is where I finally got the IVs, art line, and PICC line out. Rehab is where, the day I went home, I got my NG tube out and could finally BREATHE THROUGH MY NOSE! Rehab is where I was able to let go of the walker, take five steps on my own, and hug my daddy. One thing I learned in Rehab that I hold in my heart ALWAYS is:
Here I am on Christmas day....ON MY FEET! (with my NG tube). With my brother, sisters, and husband (fiancé at the time).
My Christmas present to my family was surprising them by taking my first steps on my own!
Right into my daddy's arms! Looking at these pictures brings me right back. It was such an emotional moment. After being told that I was going to die, I lived. After being told my leg would be amputated, it was spared. And after being told I would likely not walk normal again, I did. Praise God. He is so good. He is so BIG.
The rehab staff at Loyola was beyond amazing. My physical therapists worked me HARD and most days, there would be blood (literally), sweat (literally), and tears (literally). Most days after the four hours of PT they put me through every day, I'd be shivering in pain, laying stiff and letting no one touch me, except the light hands of my family as they touched me and prayed over me, that God would take the pain way. You see, when you have 6 surgeries on your legs and abdomen, and a full-leg-size skin graft, the pain is constant. It never lessens, it only worsens. When I'd take the pain medication they gave me, it would slightly lessen for an hour or two, but then it would come back with a vengeance. It felt like I was being stabbed in both thighs and in the stomach, and it felt I was in a machine that was squeezing my leg and tummy so hard I thought they would burst. Most days I didn't want to get in that wheelchair and go down to the gym to get worked like I'd never been worked before...and I'm a marathon runner! But I knew that the harder I worked in therapy, the sooner I'd get to go home. The sooner I'd be able to walk on my own. The sooner I'd be able to run. The sooner I'd feel like myself again, instead of a ghost of myself.
That's what it feels like when you wake up after a month of being in a coma. It's the weirdest feeling ever. It's the definition of "out of body experience." It takes quite awhile to "defrost." Frankly, the whole time in the hospital, I felt like a different person. Maybe it was the meds. HA. Seriously though, it felt like a dream (or nightmare) that I never really woke up from. Each day, I thawed out a little more and became more myself. At first, I was quiet....for a long time. My parents kept asking me what was wrong, what was I thinking, was I okay? For some reason, I didn't have a whole lot to say. I didn't feel a whole lot either. Besides physical pain. There were a few emotional breakdowns, like the first day in PT in the hospital when the therapist tried to get me to ride a bike and I couldn't move my leg on the pedal. I freaked....and then sobbed on the floor of the hospital hallway with my mom. But honestly, it wasn't until a few weeks after I got home that I really began to FEEL again. I think death does that to you. That part of your brain gets shut off, and when you come out of the coma, it takes awhile for it to turn back on again. And I wanted it turned back on again, which is why I worked SO HARD in rehab.
One of my favorite days in rehab was the day they brought in a therapy dog for me. I got to learn how to walk her using my walker.... my therapists knew I had a dog and they wanted me to be able to learn how to care for her while barely being able to walk myself. Also, they wanted to bring some joy into my days. I was by far the youngest patient on the rehab floor, and the therapists loved me, because I actually did what they asked me to. Most of the other patients (patients in their 70s-90s) just flat out told them no when they told them to practice walking or lifting their arms or legs. And so, I was a dream. The therapy dog was special for me, and I was the only patient that got to work/play with her. Do you want to see a picture of my little love bug? Also, note that I have the BIGGEST smile EVER on my face.
Her name was Boo. She made me SOO happy! Best day in the hospital.
Another fun thing they had me do in rehab was play Nintendo Wii. Wii Bowling, Wii Soccer, Wii skiing....all helped me different parts of my mobility. It was hilarious to watch me, and I'm so damn competitive that my parents would DIE laughing at me when I did it. It was a good hour distraction from the pain.
I have to really commend my therapists at Loyola. They were absolutely unbelievable. They truly cared about me and getting me on my feet. On the day I went home, I won the "Patient of the Year" award....It was great. All of the nurses, therapists, and my doctors came to my room and presented me with the award and a gift certificate for Jon and I to go to Girl and the Goat when I was better. We all cried together when they handed me the award. It was as if we had won the battle.
Yeah. We felt that way, that day. The day before I left the hospital. Little did I realize, the battle was far from over. There were parts that were yet to come that would be much worse. Good thing God only gives us what we can handle at a given time. He will never give us more than we can handle. And He tells us never to worry about tomorrow. And it's a damn good thing I didn't.
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