Happy Birthday to Me!
It is sort of a birthday, in a way. A year since I was admitted to the hospital, septic, in shock, with necrotizing fasciitis already running ramped in my body and killing everything it touched. A year ago would begin a 2 month hospital stint, 7 surgeries, countless IVs, PICC lines, arterial lines, a ventilator.
I don't remember much from the week before I was admitted to the hospital, as I described in the last post. I can't tell you exactly what finally made me go in... my work friends had been calling and texting throughout the week to check on me, and when they talked to me Friday night, they said I didn't sound right. I was adamant about not going into the ER....I wanted to wait until my parents were in from Virginia on Sunday. Vanessa called again on Saturday and said she knew something was seriously wrong, and she was gonna go pick me up at home if she had to. She talked to me first, and I said I was waiting until the morning to go in....and then she told me to put Jon on the phone....and told him "Get her ass into the ER NOW." He listened. And I finally listened.
Jon said in the days leading up to that night, I told him that I was fine, and this was normal, and I was on oral antibiotics, and I would be fine. Since I'm a nurse, he believed me. He said I refused to give in, and no one, including the doctor I saw in the office mid-week, knew how bad things were. My systems were shutting down....liver, kidneys, heart, brain. I was delirious. I don't remember a thing. Scary.
When I finally came into the ER, some of my nurse friends who were working that night came over to the ER to see me. Vanessa told me... "Amy, you looked dead. It was horrible." The doctors and nurses told Jon that they didn't know if I'd make it through the night. It didn't look good.
Antibiotics were started, pain medicines given, and a surgeon was called in. Unfortunately the on-call surgeon that night was an ortho and didn't have a clue what we were dealing with. The woman who performed my first three surgeries had never worked with necrotizing fasciitis. After the first surgery they did to cut out a large chunk of my quad that was infected, I started hyperventilating... I was in pain and my lungs weren't working anymore. Watching my breathing get faster and faster and the doctors basically telling my family that they couldn't do anything more was the worst 24 hours for my family. When they told me how those first two days went, I get chills every time. What a freaking nightmare. Thank God Jon is a pillar of strength and thank God my family was there with him. My husband, my dad, and my brother formed a team and had meetings with the doctors constantly. They didn't take no for an answer. They made sure everything that could be done was being done. They asked the right questions, and didn't stop until they had answers. They (along with God) may be the very reason I lived through it.
If you want to read the rest of my story, you can start here and keep reading through the posts.
A year later, it seems I've come SO FAR, but still have SO FAR to go. I'm still not back to 100%. I'm still scarred everywhere. I still wear a wig or a ball cap everyday. I still go to physical therapy 3 times a week. I still have pain.
But I AM HERE. I have to keep telling myself that, every time I scowl at those scars in the mirror, or every time my leg hurts so much after a run that I cry the whole way home. And I have come so far. I can walk without a limp....most of the time. I'm not falling all the time anymore. I can run- although it's a limp/run....and my speed is just about down to what it was post-illness. My heart is bigger than my head, and I will never give up on this. I'll won't stop until I run my 18th marathon. And 19th. And 20th. I'm still working on my endurance.... without a muscle in my quad, it's difficult to be on my feet for extended periods of time, and I'm killing myself at the gym everyday to build up that endurance so I'll be able to return to work.
Thank you for supporting me this last year. Thank you for your prayers that started a year ago, and continue today. Those prayers have been my lifeline. Thank you for letting me vent about my BIG in this blog, my anger, my grief and sadness, my happy moments, my accomplishments. It's been a BIG part of my recovery, to be able to tell you what happened as I re-live it myself. As my prayer warriors, you deserved to know what happened and how God worked.
Today is a day of celebration. I'm going out with two of my closest girlfriends to celebrate our birthdays....her 30th and my 1st. Because it's been a year since life as I knew it died, and the life I have now was born. And it's a BIG life.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
A Year Ago Today.
A year ago today, my life changed forever.
A year ago today was the day I woke up feeling pain in my right leg. Thinking back to it now, it's crazy to me that what I thought was a muscle pull or soreness from running that morning was actually the start of necrotizing fasciitis.
Sunday will be the 1 year anniversary of my first surgery and two month hospitalization, and I have an emotional and reflective post I've been working on for that. But a year ago today marks the day that I realized I was sick, and something was terribly and irreversibly wrong.
That morning, I felt sore, but didn't think much of it. When I went to work that night, it had started to get worse, but I still thought I had just pulled something. I was limping when I started my shift. After day shift left, Laura Grabowski, Nancy Evett, and I were sitting at the nurses' station talking about how our weekends had gone and what our plans were for Thanksgiving, which was just a few weeks away. My leg had started swelling a little, so I pulled up my scrub pants leg and showed the girls.... "Look at my leg," I told them. "I think I pulled something running. It's really bothering me and now its starting to get swollen." At that point, we weren't very busy, so Laura (who was in charge) asked me if I wanted to go home. I refused, telling her that I thought it would be okay and as long as it stayed pretty slow and I didn't have to be running all over the place, I should be okay. I did feel a little strange, so I checked my temp. It was normal.
As the night went on, it became increasingly painful and increasingly swollen. I kept pulling up my pants leg to look at it. What the heck is going on? I wondered. "You need to go get it checked out tomorrow, Ames," said Nancy. I knew I did too, but there was the whole insurance thing. I just had to make it a month and a half and I'd have my insurance started back up again.
By around 3 or 4, I was sick..... really sick. And coincidentally, the board had filled up and there were patients coming in left and right. Around 5, Nancy's patient had a crash c-section and Laura had to run back with her to help her get going. I was manning the rest of the floor, and ducking into the bathroom to throw up every 10 minutes. The pain was awful. I felt like I had the flu. At 5:30, I rechecked my temp and it was now 101. In between Laura and I running in between all of the rooms and trying to get through the last hour and a half of work in one piece, I told her that I was really sick now and needed to get out of there asap. "I'll call someone in," she said. I looked at the clock--- 6 a.m. "No, just forget it, I think I can make it through this last hour, but as soon as someone gets here, I have to get out of here," I told her. "Like I can't wait for them to grab coffee and wait until 7... I need to get the heck out of here." Thank God for Laura-- as soon as the day shift started arriving- around 6:45 a.m... she grabbed the first nurse and told her to take my patients because I needed to leave NOW. I was REALLY sick.
I don't remember giving report or what I said, I just remember feeling the urgency to get the hell out of there and get home to my bathtub and bed. When I got home, my fever was up to 103. I took tylenol, took a hot bath, and then went to bed-- and didn't get up until 18 hours later. You can read how the rest of my week went here, what happened next, and how BIG my Big got. In 5 days, it will be my 1 year anniversary of the day I was hospitalized and had my first of 7 surgeries.
On that anniversary, I'll go into how much things have changed in the last year, what I've learned, and how I've grown.
Exactly one year ago today, necrotizing fasciitis decided to invade my body and change me forever. It has been the hardest, scariest, and worst year of my life. Little did I know what was ahead of me, and it's a blessing that I didn't know. More importantly, it's a blessing that I'm alive today. Thank you, God, for saving my life one year ago today. Thank you, friends and family, for your prayers and endless support and love. Thank you. Thank you. Thank YOU.
I'll meet you here on Sunday, friends. It will be an emotional day for me, re-living this last year and realizing how far I've come. Bring some kleenex, prayers, and lots of hugs.
A year ago today was the day I woke up feeling pain in my right leg. Thinking back to it now, it's crazy to me that what I thought was a muscle pull or soreness from running that morning was actually the start of necrotizing fasciitis.
Sunday will be the 1 year anniversary of my first surgery and two month hospitalization, and I have an emotional and reflective post I've been working on for that. But a year ago today marks the day that I realized I was sick, and something was terribly and irreversibly wrong.
That morning, I felt sore, but didn't think much of it. When I went to work that night, it had started to get worse, but I still thought I had just pulled something. I was limping when I started my shift. After day shift left, Laura Grabowski, Nancy Evett, and I were sitting at the nurses' station talking about how our weekends had gone and what our plans were for Thanksgiving, which was just a few weeks away. My leg had started swelling a little, so I pulled up my scrub pants leg and showed the girls.... "Look at my leg," I told them. "I think I pulled something running. It's really bothering me and now its starting to get swollen." At that point, we weren't very busy, so Laura (who was in charge) asked me if I wanted to go home. I refused, telling her that I thought it would be okay and as long as it stayed pretty slow and I didn't have to be running all over the place, I should be okay. I did feel a little strange, so I checked my temp. It was normal.
As the night went on, it became increasingly painful and increasingly swollen. I kept pulling up my pants leg to look at it. What the heck is going on? I wondered. "You need to go get it checked out tomorrow, Ames," said Nancy. I knew I did too, but there was the whole insurance thing. I just had to make it a month and a half and I'd have my insurance started back up again.
By around 3 or 4, I was sick..... really sick. And coincidentally, the board had filled up and there were patients coming in left and right. Around 5, Nancy's patient had a crash c-section and Laura had to run back with her to help her get going. I was manning the rest of the floor, and ducking into the bathroom to throw up every 10 minutes. The pain was awful. I felt like I had the flu. At 5:30, I rechecked my temp and it was now 101. In between Laura and I running in between all of the rooms and trying to get through the last hour and a half of work in one piece, I told her that I was really sick now and needed to get out of there asap. "I'll call someone in," she said. I looked at the clock--- 6 a.m. "No, just forget it, I think I can make it through this last hour, but as soon as someone gets here, I have to get out of here," I told her. "Like I can't wait for them to grab coffee and wait until 7... I need to get the heck out of here." Thank God for Laura-- as soon as the day shift started arriving- around 6:45 a.m... she grabbed the first nurse and told her to take my patients because I needed to leave NOW. I was REALLY sick.
I don't remember giving report or what I said, I just remember feeling the urgency to get the hell out of there and get home to my bathtub and bed. When I got home, my fever was up to 103. I took tylenol, took a hot bath, and then went to bed-- and didn't get up until 18 hours later. You can read how the rest of my week went here, what happened next, and how BIG my Big got. In 5 days, it will be my 1 year anniversary of the day I was hospitalized and had my first of 7 surgeries.
On that anniversary, I'll go into how much things have changed in the last year, what I've learned, and how I've grown.
Exactly one year ago today, necrotizing fasciitis decided to invade my body and change me forever. It has been the hardest, scariest, and worst year of my life. Little did I know what was ahead of me, and it's a blessing that I didn't know. More importantly, it's a blessing that I'm alive today. Thank you, God, for saving my life one year ago today. Thank you, friends and family, for your prayers and endless support and love. Thank you. Thank you. Thank YOU.
I'll meet you here on Sunday, friends. It will be an emotional day for me, re-living this last year and realizing how far I've come. Bring some kleenex, prayers, and lots of hugs.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
BIG. #19
Surgery #7.
I still couldn't believe I was going back to the hospital, back to the IV, back to the labs and the anesthesia, and the stitches, and pain and recovery.
The tears in my knee needed to be fixed, regardless of whether they were 100% from the car accident, from the falls, from the past surgeries, or from the massive toll my knee had taken over the last decade as a marathoner. There was a large amount of arthritis in the knee, torn and fraying meniscus and cartilage, loose bodies of tissue, and stiff scar tissue. Also, I still was unable to bend my knee to a normal range, which would be 130-140 degrees. The farthest I could bend was around 108, and that was with painful force from the PT.
The morning of surgery was pretty darn emotional for Jon and me. It didn't feel good going back to that hospital, signing consents, meeting with anesthesia, talking about risks of surgery. I just couldn't get it out of my head that something could go wrong.
I had gotten through septic shock, multi-system organ failure, breathing by a respirator for a month, six surgeries, months and months of painful recovery, losing my hair, losing my body to horrible scarring.....
But what if it was all for nothing? What if I had some sort of freak reaction to the anesthesia and I coded on the table?
It helped to pray with my parents that morning. Eventually I started to realize that God's plan was etched out long before that day. It was etched out long before I had necrotizing fasciitis. All I could do at that point was pray for comfort and trust that He has the best laid plans.
Surgery went well. I did have an issue with pain in the recovery room- the first anesthesiologist hadn't wanted to do a nerve block on my leg, and instead just put me under general. She was afraid to put the epidural needle through the scar that covers my right hip. So basically, my pain was about a million times worse post-op than a normal knee surgery patient whose leg is blocked for the first 24 hours, blocking the pain completely. I felt everything. It was an absolute nightmare. It took me back to the skin graft surgery (The Closer), and I laid there still, tears running down my face and wishing my mom was there to put her hands over me and pray again, like she'd done during the Closer surgery.
Finally, another anesthesiologist came on shift and it happened to be one of the ones I work closely with in L&D. He's an awesome doctor, and was so happy to see me, after being worried about me for almost a year since I'd gotten sick. "We're doing the damn nerve block," he said. "And give her whatever else she needs for pain. This is one of our own here." He did the nerve block right there in recovery, right through the scar, and it worked perfectly. It was like having an epidural or spinal block in your leg....my leg was numb and I couldn't feel anything, namely, pain. It was the first time in 10 months that I didn't feel pain.... 10 whole months of being in pain ALL THE TIME--- and it was finally relieved. Thank you, God, I prayed.
Shortly after we got me more comfortable and my vitals stabilized, I got to go home. That night, I felt great-- because of the block, I couldn't feel pain at all. I was exhausted from all the drugs and anesthesia, and fell asleep immediately at home.
However, as nerve blocks do, the block started to wear off after about 18 hours--- and the pain was back....with a vengeance.
So there I was....in bed, leg sutured and wrapped, elevated. Pain medication and gatorade at my bedside. Wheelchair back in full use. it felt too familiar and like we had taken 10 steps back. I was depressed and hurting. I laid there feeling bad for myself for a few days until I'd had enough. I didn't make it this far to stop now. I work harder than anyone I know.... it was time to continue my comeback.
And that's where I'm at today.
Comeback.
It's been 4 weeks since the last surgery. I'm killing myself in physical therapy and killing myself at the gym. My leg is doing better than ever. My ortho and PT are monitoring my workouts and every move I make is planned out strategically by them, to recover this knee, to maximize what little muscle is left in my leg, and to strengthen my body, back to normal....or as normal as we're gonna get it. I'm limp/running faster and longer each day. I'm still feeling a lot of pain and have a lot of swelling in my knee, but I'm pushing. And it's hard. It's really freaking hard. The pain I feel when I run and when I'm in therapy is strangely freeing. Every run that I get through, as my runs get longer and my speed becomes quicker and quicker, is healing to my heart. It makes my soul strong. I can do BIG things. BIG freaking things.
Next up, besides my continued healing and recovery-- reconstructive surgeries. Time to fix what's broken... my scarring and my heart. Looking at these scars everyday breaks my heart a little, to be totally honest. Pray that we'll know when the time is right.... pray that we'll figure out the best way to finance it. Pray that my doctors are able to fix enough scarring so that I feel beautiful again, and free from the hurt.
I still couldn't believe I was going back to the hospital, back to the IV, back to the labs and the anesthesia, and the stitches, and pain and recovery.
The tears in my knee needed to be fixed, regardless of whether they were 100% from the car accident, from the falls, from the past surgeries, or from the massive toll my knee had taken over the last decade as a marathoner. There was a large amount of arthritis in the knee, torn and fraying meniscus and cartilage, loose bodies of tissue, and stiff scar tissue. Also, I still was unable to bend my knee to a normal range, which would be 130-140 degrees. The farthest I could bend was around 108, and that was with painful force from the PT.
The morning of surgery was pretty darn emotional for Jon and me. It didn't feel good going back to that hospital, signing consents, meeting with anesthesia, talking about risks of surgery. I just couldn't get it out of my head that something could go wrong.
I had gotten through septic shock, multi-system organ failure, breathing by a respirator for a month, six surgeries, months and months of painful recovery, losing my hair, losing my body to horrible scarring.....
But what if it was all for nothing? What if I had some sort of freak reaction to the anesthesia and I coded on the table?
It helped to pray with my parents that morning. Eventually I started to realize that God's plan was etched out long before that day. It was etched out long before I had necrotizing fasciitis. All I could do at that point was pray for comfort and trust that He has the best laid plans.
Surgery went well. I did have an issue with pain in the recovery room- the first anesthesiologist hadn't wanted to do a nerve block on my leg, and instead just put me under general. She was afraid to put the epidural needle through the scar that covers my right hip. So basically, my pain was about a million times worse post-op than a normal knee surgery patient whose leg is blocked for the first 24 hours, blocking the pain completely. I felt everything. It was an absolute nightmare. It took me back to the skin graft surgery (The Closer), and I laid there still, tears running down my face and wishing my mom was there to put her hands over me and pray again, like she'd done during the Closer surgery.
Finally, another anesthesiologist came on shift and it happened to be one of the ones I work closely with in L&D. He's an awesome doctor, and was so happy to see me, after being worried about me for almost a year since I'd gotten sick. "We're doing the damn nerve block," he said. "And give her whatever else she needs for pain. This is one of our own here." He did the nerve block right there in recovery, right through the scar, and it worked perfectly. It was like having an epidural or spinal block in your leg....my leg was numb and I couldn't feel anything, namely, pain. It was the first time in 10 months that I didn't feel pain.... 10 whole months of being in pain ALL THE TIME--- and it was finally relieved. Thank you, God, I prayed.
Shortly after we got me more comfortable and my vitals stabilized, I got to go home. That night, I felt great-- because of the block, I couldn't feel pain at all. I was exhausted from all the drugs and anesthesia, and fell asleep immediately at home.
However, as nerve blocks do, the block started to wear off after about 18 hours--- and the pain was back....with a vengeance.
So there I was....in bed, leg sutured and wrapped, elevated. Pain medication and gatorade at my bedside. Wheelchair back in full use. it felt too familiar and like we had taken 10 steps back. I was depressed and hurting. I laid there feeling bad for myself for a few days until I'd had enough. I didn't make it this far to stop now. I work harder than anyone I know.... it was time to continue my comeback.
And that's where I'm at today.
Comeback.
It's been 4 weeks since the last surgery. I'm killing myself in physical therapy and killing myself at the gym. My leg is doing better than ever. My ortho and PT are monitoring my workouts and every move I make is planned out strategically by them, to recover this knee, to maximize what little muscle is left in my leg, and to strengthen my body, back to normal....or as normal as we're gonna get it. I'm limp/running faster and longer each day. I'm still feeling a lot of pain and have a lot of swelling in my knee, but I'm pushing. And it's hard. It's really freaking hard. The pain I feel when I run and when I'm in therapy is strangely freeing. Every run that I get through, as my runs get longer and my speed becomes quicker and quicker, is healing to my heart. It makes my soul strong. I can do BIG things. BIG freaking things.
Next up, besides my continued healing and recovery-- reconstructive surgeries. Time to fix what's broken... my scarring and my heart. Looking at these scars everyday breaks my heart a little, to be totally honest. Pray that we'll know when the time is right.... pray that we'll figure out the best way to finance it. Pray that my doctors are able to fix enough scarring so that I feel beautiful again, and free from the hurt.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
BIG. #18
I may or may not have had a major panic attack when the medics extracted me from my wrecked car and strapped me into the ambulance. I had been rear-ended while I was sitting at a red light by a car going full speed. He hit me with such force that I hit my head and had a concussion, had whiplash, and worst, my bad leg was crushed between the dashboard and seat, causing excruciating pain in my right leg and knee. The pain was just as bad as my skin graft surgeries in December. Being in the ambulance alone was giving me a big old case of PTSD. I shook and cried all the way to the hospital.
Freaked by all of my scars and history, the staff immediately x-rayed my entire body and CT scanned my head and neck. No bones were broken, but after an MRI, they found several issues in my knee, including several meniscal tears that would require surgery. The pain was intense, and the hospital kept me overnight to help manage it. It was my first hospitalization since being sent home from Loyola in January, and I was scared and shaky the entire time.
Later in the afternoon, the PT came in to see if we could get me up walking on my crushed (operated on) leg. I tried to stand up, and immediately collapsed. Angrily, I tried again. Mind over matter, Amy, Mind over matter. Tried to stand up again.......nope. Knee gave out immediately and I fell. At that point, I completely lost it. I started sobbing. I felt like everything I've worked so hard for in the last 9 months was completely ruined. I couldn't fathom being at the point of using the walker everywhere, using a wheelchair, and constant, grueling pain. Jon grabbed me, put me in his lap and just held me and let me cry. It was what I needed at that moment, and my wonderful hubby knows how to calm me down. (After all, he was able to keep me sane after I lost my hair....let's not forget THAT horror).
The hospital kept me over night for pain control and to regain some of my ADLs, and I was discharged in the morning. The next surgery-- surgery #7 was scheduled for the next week.
The moral of the story today? Don't freakin text and drive. You might hit a girl with nec fasc and total her car and smash her bad leg and cause her to have a 7th surgery on her tiny right leg. Boom.
Freaked by all of my scars and history, the staff immediately x-rayed my entire body and CT scanned my head and neck. No bones were broken, but after an MRI, they found several issues in my knee, including several meniscal tears that would require surgery. The pain was intense, and the hospital kept me overnight to help manage it. It was my first hospitalization since being sent home from Loyola in January, and I was scared and shaky the entire time.
Later in the afternoon, the PT came in to see if we could get me up walking on my crushed (operated on) leg. I tried to stand up, and immediately collapsed. Angrily, I tried again. Mind over matter, Amy, Mind over matter. Tried to stand up again.......nope. Knee gave out immediately and I fell. At that point, I completely lost it. I started sobbing. I felt like everything I've worked so hard for in the last 9 months was completely ruined. I couldn't fathom being at the point of using the walker everywhere, using a wheelchair, and constant, grueling pain. Jon grabbed me, put me in his lap and just held me and let me cry. It was what I needed at that moment, and my wonderful hubby knows how to calm me down. (After all, he was able to keep me sane after I lost my hair....let's not forget THAT horror).
The hospital kept me over night for pain control and to regain some of my ADLs, and I was discharged in the morning. The next surgery-- surgery #7 was scheduled for the next week.
The moral of the story today? Don't freakin text and drive. You might hit a girl with nec fasc and total her car and smash her bad leg and cause her to have a 7th surgery on her tiny right leg. Boom.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
BIG. #17
God never gives you more than you can handle.
That's something I have to keep telling myself every single day.
Last post, I was telling you how I lost my hair, and then how I handled it. At that time, that was the highest and most painful hurtle I had to jump over. Looking back, it still is.
But it isn't over.
Since that time, I've continued physical therapy (3x a week) plus I spent the other four days a week in the gym, doing my own exercises, walking on the treadmill, and doing everything I can to get back. My heart hurts not being able to run. I've gotten stronger, but I still feel pain daily, some days worse than others. I still have a lot of weakness in the leg, as most of the muscle in my right quad has been removed along with all of the fascia. I haven't regained full range of motion in my knee. It only bends partially, which is a big reason I'm not able to walk normally or be on my feet for long periods of time.
Right after my wedding, a new problem arose in my recovery. I started falling.
It started on our honeymoon. We were in the Kauai Airport in Hawaii and I was walking across the street where the buses and taxis pass for arrivals and departures. In front of probably 1000 people, all of a sudden, I completely licked it and fell HARD in the middle of the street. My purse and carry-on went flying, I scraped up my arm and leg, and I was in PAIN. Tears poured down my face in pain, humiliation, and fear. I was afraid I had broken something. Jon, who was dragging all of our other suitcases, came running over and picked me up off the ground. I hobbled over to the sidewalk, dusted myself off, and fought back tears. I was scraped up pretty bad, but nothing was broken. It was a strange fall. I couldn't tell if my leg had given out, or if I slipped, or just took a bad step. It was painful, but not the worst thing in the world.
Over the next month or so, the falls became more frequent and more severe. They happened so fast that I couldn't tell what exactly was happening and why I was falling. Each fall was a setback...I'd be in severe pain for a day or two and then be unable to go to PT and have to increase my pain medication. Then, I'd get better, do fine for a few days, have a fall, and the process would revert back to the beginning. My doctors were starting to get really concerned. I have such a tiny amount of muscle left in my right quad and virtually no fascia to support and protect it, so any of these falls could easily result in a broken femur, which would be almost impossible to ever heal without muscle. We tried a brace, we tried decreasing my physical therapy, we tried just having me walk slower and more aware. Nothing helped. Slowly, the walker was introduced back into my life, which sucked, as I thought I had rid myself of it forever before the wedding. But my doctors insisted that I needed some mechanical support to grab onto when I started going down.
About a month and a half ago, Dr. G was maneuvering my knee in the office and having me do some exercises and realized just how little progress my knee has made in terms of range of motion. "Well Ames," he said, "I'm convinced now there is something going on with this knee. I think this is why you're falling, why you're not walking right, why you're still in pain, and why we've plateaued." He referred me to a Sports Orthopedic doctor to look at my knee, the muscle in my quad, and what the heck was going on in there.
A week later, I was at the appointment, and they xray'ed my hip, quad, and knee. Besides there being almost no muscle in my right quad, there was nothing broken at the time. There was quite a bit of scar tissue and arthritic changes in the knee and the little muscle left in the quad had adhered itself to the bones in the knee. He ordered an MRI.
After the appointment, I headed over to physical therapy. They started using an electroshock machine to stimulate the muscle in the leg which hurt like hell. Other than that, it was a normal day in PT. On my drive home, I was sitting at a red light when all of a sudden, a car going full speed slammed into the back of my car, smushing the back end of my car into the front like an accordion and crushing my bad leg into the dashboard. I also hit my head and had whiplash. Before I knew it, I was in the back of an ambulance on the way to the ER. Another hospitalization. I was terrified.
That's something I have to keep telling myself every single day.
Last post, I was telling you how I lost my hair, and then how I handled it. At that time, that was the highest and most painful hurtle I had to jump over. Looking back, it still is.
But it isn't over.
Since that time, I've continued physical therapy (3x a week) plus I spent the other four days a week in the gym, doing my own exercises, walking on the treadmill, and doing everything I can to get back. My heart hurts not being able to run. I've gotten stronger, but I still feel pain daily, some days worse than others. I still have a lot of weakness in the leg, as most of the muscle in my right quad has been removed along with all of the fascia. I haven't regained full range of motion in my knee. It only bends partially, which is a big reason I'm not able to walk normally or be on my feet for long periods of time.
Right after my wedding, a new problem arose in my recovery. I started falling.
It started on our honeymoon. We were in the Kauai Airport in Hawaii and I was walking across the street where the buses and taxis pass for arrivals and departures. In front of probably 1000 people, all of a sudden, I completely licked it and fell HARD in the middle of the street. My purse and carry-on went flying, I scraped up my arm and leg, and I was in PAIN. Tears poured down my face in pain, humiliation, and fear. I was afraid I had broken something. Jon, who was dragging all of our other suitcases, came running over and picked me up off the ground. I hobbled over to the sidewalk, dusted myself off, and fought back tears. I was scraped up pretty bad, but nothing was broken. It was a strange fall. I couldn't tell if my leg had given out, or if I slipped, or just took a bad step. It was painful, but not the worst thing in the world.
Over the next month or so, the falls became more frequent and more severe. They happened so fast that I couldn't tell what exactly was happening and why I was falling. Each fall was a setback...I'd be in severe pain for a day or two and then be unable to go to PT and have to increase my pain medication. Then, I'd get better, do fine for a few days, have a fall, and the process would revert back to the beginning. My doctors were starting to get really concerned. I have such a tiny amount of muscle left in my right quad and virtually no fascia to support and protect it, so any of these falls could easily result in a broken femur, which would be almost impossible to ever heal without muscle. We tried a brace, we tried decreasing my physical therapy, we tried just having me walk slower and more aware. Nothing helped. Slowly, the walker was introduced back into my life, which sucked, as I thought I had rid myself of it forever before the wedding. But my doctors insisted that I needed some mechanical support to grab onto when I started going down.
About a month and a half ago, Dr. G was maneuvering my knee in the office and having me do some exercises and realized just how little progress my knee has made in terms of range of motion. "Well Ames," he said, "I'm convinced now there is something going on with this knee. I think this is why you're falling, why you're not walking right, why you're still in pain, and why we've plateaued." He referred me to a Sports Orthopedic doctor to look at my knee, the muscle in my quad, and what the heck was going on in there.
A week later, I was at the appointment, and they xray'ed my hip, quad, and knee. Besides there being almost no muscle in my right quad, there was nothing broken at the time. There was quite a bit of scar tissue and arthritic changes in the knee and the little muscle left in the quad had adhered itself to the bones in the knee. He ordered an MRI.
After the appointment, I headed over to physical therapy. They started using an electroshock machine to stimulate the muscle in the leg which hurt like hell. Other than that, it was a normal day in PT. On my drive home, I was sitting at a red light when all of a sudden, a car going full speed slammed into the back of my car, smushing the back end of my car into the front like an accordion and crushing my bad leg into the dashboard. I also hit my head and had whiplash. Before I knew it, I was in the back of an ambulance on the way to the ER. Another hospitalization. I was terrified.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
BIG. Part 16.
After I had a wig on my head, it was time to fast track to the wedding. There was only a few months until the Big Day, and I had a ton of stuff left to do, after being sick and hospitalized and then handicapped at home for 4 months. Although I had a ton of doctors appointments and physical therapy all the time, the time away from work allowed me to get a lot of the little details done. I don't know how I would've ever planned that wedding without that time off of work. Before I got sick, between working full-time, extra shifts, and being on night shift, I was constantly either working, sleeping, or trying to sleep. That was one blessing of being on medical leave.
During those few months before the wedding, things were rough financially. Jon was doing amazing at work, THANK GOD, and was able to help me a lot, as well as pay for a lot of things we needed for the wedding. Jon got a HUGE promotion at work during the first few months of my recovery, which was, I believe, a gift from God. He giveth and he taketh away. Although I felt like so many things had been taken away, God was also giving me everything I needed to get through this tragedy. Although I had several million dollars in medical bills and a wedding to plan, I tried not to worry about money and how we would pay for things. I prayed that God would provide....and He did. He provided me with a fiancé who was now making good money and had been frugal for his whole life....so he had money saved to pay for wedding things, the honeymoon, and a lot of my bills. He paid for everything in cash, so that we wouldn't add any more financial stress to ourselves after we got married. God also provided me with parents that were able to support me financially with basically anything I needed, including my bills, rent, and paying for most of the wedding. He provided me with a dad, who as an attorney, was able to find us the one of the best worker's compensation lawyers in Chicago. He provided me with a mom who through the help of her sister, my Aunt Sue, was able to get my disability set-up, new insurance, and financial assistance from the hospital. Things I would've never been able to do on my own. God set it up so perfectly. Because if He brings you to it.....HE WILL BRING YOU THROUGH IT. He really will. Like I've said before, you have to do your part. You have to work hard, do what is right and what you need to do (for me, it was working hard in physical therapy, keeping on top of all paperwork and phone calls for doctors and disability, and planning the wedding). But in hard times, in tragedies, if you do your part, and then pray for God to provide you with the means to get through it, He will GET YOU THROUGH IT.
I have found that the only way to get through a BIG, is to place your life in the hands of our BIG God.
I was working my butt off in physical therapy so that I could ditch the walker for the wedding. If you read my post about walking down the aisle in my wedding, you'll remember that for two weeks before the wedding, I refused to use the walker. I was falling all over the place and in a lot of pain, but my goal from the beginning was to be able to walk down the aisle on my wedding day. You'll read about my wedding next....
During those few months before the wedding, things were rough financially. Jon was doing amazing at work, THANK GOD, and was able to help me a lot, as well as pay for a lot of things we needed for the wedding. Jon got a HUGE promotion at work during the first few months of my recovery, which was, I believe, a gift from God. He giveth and he taketh away. Although I felt like so many things had been taken away, God was also giving me everything I needed to get through this tragedy. Although I had several million dollars in medical bills and a wedding to plan, I tried not to worry about money and how we would pay for things. I prayed that God would provide....and He did. He provided me with a fiancé who was now making good money and had been frugal for his whole life....so he had money saved to pay for wedding things, the honeymoon, and a lot of my bills. He paid for everything in cash, so that we wouldn't add any more financial stress to ourselves after we got married. God also provided me with parents that were able to support me financially with basically anything I needed, including my bills, rent, and paying for most of the wedding. He provided me with a dad, who as an attorney, was able to find us the one of the best worker's compensation lawyers in Chicago. He provided me with a mom who through the help of her sister, my Aunt Sue, was able to get my disability set-up, new insurance, and financial assistance from the hospital. Things I would've never been able to do on my own. God set it up so perfectly. Because if He brings you to it.....HE WILL BRING YOU THROUGH IT. He really will. Like I've said before, you have to do your part. You have to work hard, do what is right and what you need to do (for me, it was working hard in physical therapy, keeping on top of all paperwork and phone calls for doctors and disability, and planning the wedding). But in hard times, in tragedies, if you do your part, and then pray for God to provide you with the means to get through it, He will GET YOU THROUGH IT.
I have found that the only way to get through a BIG, is to place your life in the hands of our BIG God.
I was working my butt off in physical therapy so that I could ditch the walker for the wedding. If you read my post about walking down the aisle in my wedding, you'll remember that for two weeks before the wedding, I refused to use the walker. I was falling all over the place and in a lot of pain, but my goal from the beginning was to be able to walk down the aisle on my wedding day. You'll read about my wedding next....
Saturday, August 10, 2013
BIG. Part 15.
It took me two weeks to finally get off the bathroom floor and start living again. I wouldn't talk to anyone, except Jon and my parents, and those phone calls were a mix of sobbing and praying together. My parents cried out to Jesus to help their little girl who hurt so bad she'd lost herself. My parents were extremely worried about me. My mom would send me pictures of different wigs and nothing looked right. I started getting angry and frustrated. I didn't freakin deserve this!! Why would God let ANOTHER bad thing happen to me? What did I do to deserve this?? Knowing that my wedding was four months away was sending me into a tailspin. I considered postponing it many times.
Each time I took a shower and lost more hair, I lost my mind. It was a tragic time in my life that I'll never forget. But if God leads you to it, He'll lead you through it.
There came a time when I couldn't leave the house, because I was too bald to go anywhere. That was the day I decided it was time to accept this defeat and do something about it.
My dad is the most amazing person I know. He takes my pain and makes it his....Just like Jesus does with all of us. My dad wouldn't rest until we had a solution that would make me feel better. He was willing to do whatever it took to help remedy this situation and heal my broken heart. After extensive research, he found a place in Chicago that does hair restoration. It was expensive, but it sounded like the best solution for what I had going on. I would be able to get a wig made from real hair, and they'd be able to match it exactly to what my hair color normally was. He told them, spare no expense, make her feel beautiful again.
The next day, I put my bravest face on and went to the appointment. They immediately found that the best solution would be a wig that could clip into the little amount of hair I still had left. They were wonderful with me.
When I finally got the wig, I could breathe again. I literally felt a hundred times stronger. I had a SOLUTION. It wasn't my own hair.... and I still shuttered knowing that I'd be wearing a wig on my wedding day....but I felt like myself again.
Looking back on it now, it still hurts. My hair is growing back, but I still have to wear the wig, and probably will for awhile. But now I can see the blessings that surrounded that dark time. God gave me parents who love me so much that they would do anything to help me. He blessed them so that they would be able to financially help me by paying for the wigs, which I would've never been able to afford on my own. He gave me a dad who would do anything to help me, and who did. Who loved me enough to spend his time researching hair restoration places until he found the perfect one. I am so unbelievably blessed.
Sometimes we have to go through these trials in life so that we are able to open our eyes BIGGER. To stop focusing on trivial things and to stop feeling sorry for ourselves. God wants us to see our blessings. And through this trial, I was able to see my blessings in a much BIGGER way. Hair or not, I lived. I have a family and husband who'd do anything for me and who'd love me anyway. And that, is a BIG deal.
Each time I took a shower and lost more hair, I lost my mind. It was a tragic time in my life that I'll never forget. But if God leads you to it, He'll lead you through it.
There came a time when I couldn't leave the house, because I was too bald to go anywhere. That was the day I decided it was time to accept this defeat and do something about it.
My dad is the most amazing person I know. He takes my pain and makes it his....Just like Jesus does with all of us. My dad wouldn't rest until we had a solution that would make me feel better. He was willing to do whatever it took to help remedy this situation and heal my broken heart. After extensive research, he found a place in Chicago that does hair restoration. It was expensive, but it sounded like the best solution for what I had going on. I would be able to get a wig made from real hair, and they'd be able to match it exactly to what my hair color normally was. He told them, spare no expense, make her feel beautiful again.
The next day, I put my bravest face on and went to the appointment. They immediately found that the best solution would be a wig that could clip into the little amount of hair I still had left. They were wonderful with me.
When I finally got the wig, I could breathe again. I literally felt a hundred times stronger. I had a SOLUTION. It wasn't my own hair.... and I still shuttered knowing that I'd be wearing a wig on my wedding day....but I felt like myself again.
me with my new 'do!
Looking back on it now, it still hurts. My hair is growing back, but I still have to wear the wig, and probably will for awhile. But now I can see the blessings that surrounded that dark time. God gave me parents who love me so much that they would do anything to help me. He blessed them so that they would be able to financially help me by paying for the wigs, which I would've never been able to afford on my own. He gave me a dad who would do anything to help me, and who did. Who loved me enough to spend his time researching hair restoration places until he found the perfect one. I am so unbelievably blessed.
Sometimes we have to go through these trials in life so that we are able to open our eyes BIGGER. To stop focusing on trivial things and to stop feeling sorry for ourselves. God wants us to see our blessings. And through this trial, I was able to see my blessings in a much BIGGER way. Hair or not, I lived. I have a family and husband who'd do anything for me and who'd love me anyway. And that, is a BIG deal.
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