It doesn't feel like it has been 365 days since I rode in an ambulance to Westpfalz Klinikum in Kaiserslautern after a week of sleepless nights in debilitating pain. Looking back at old messages between family members and I there are a few days of talking about symptoms, an ER trip and orthopedic appointments, and then silence. Bruce takes over my messages for a few days when I was unable to. He tries to keep my family informed and updated with whatever information the hospital is giving him during those first few hours of surgery before he realizes that things have gone wrong. He is juggling phone calls to get my family members into hotels or airbnbs, helping them maneuver through from Frankfurt to Kaiserslautern and to my bedside. And then, after about 9 days, I make an appearance back in the message flow. It's like looking through someone else's phone when I scroll back through messages and see that break.
It makes it all seem so calm, when in reality that was probably the most stressful and hectic week of my loved ones' lives. During that time my family became friends with some incredible people here, Bruce and my family definitely grew closer, and people around the world tried to stay up to date on everything via dad's detailed and frequent blogging.
I don't remember a lot from before the surgery. I remember being in a room for a while (I think I slept overnight there but honestly I'm not sure). I don't really remember being wheeled in, but I was probably freaking out. I remember those strange dreams. The red-tinted horror movie style dreams. I remember seeing dad in a mask and cap. The overwhelming sense of relief knowing that my family was there and I was safe from whatever was happening to me. I have a flash of memory waking up with a tube down my throat and coughing to get it out with Hannah, mum, and Beth there holding my hand through the tears. I remember crying. My throat being sore from the tubes and not knowing why I felt like I had been hit by a bus. I would go from being sweltering hot to freezing cold in seconds. Poor Alex staying with me the first night and me being inconsolably uncomfortable. Beth, mum, and Bruce doing their sleep-overs with me. Not being able to sleep, either due the pain, or just not being comfortable emotionally or physically. The nurses, so many of them, new ones every day, introducing themselves, telling me to press the button if I needed anything at all. I remember the Harry Potter readings, Bruce's impressions, the looks on my sisters faces as we listen to mum's perfect McGonagall. I remember one nurse taking her 45 minute break to come in and wash my hair for the first time since before being admitted. Her calm, soothing, brushing and braiding. Bruce shaving my legs (yep, won't forget that). Dad napping in one of the chairs in the room. Trying to force down two spoonfuls of a protein/yogurt concoction of Bruce's to keep everyone happy. Finishing my applesauce dinner as quickly as I could for Grandma so she didn't have to walk to her hotel in the dark. Getting the drainage tubes taken out, passing out, and scaring the doctors. Feeling hopeless. That I would be stuck in a bed, in pain, forever.
May 29th I had my first PT session. Dressed in what looked like hazmat suits, they had me stand up, something I hadn't done for over a week. I remember my feet feeling like giant balloons, pins and needles shooting up my legs. It didn't feel like my body. Walking a few feet was slow, unsteady, and nauseating. The simple task of walking had suddenly turned into a daunting task. They were understanding, yet firm. The next few days I asked to be helped up to move to a seated position and use my pedal bike as often as I could. I remember the daily exhaustion. Simply talking and socializing with my friends and family made me yearn for a nap, which I rarely did before all this. I can still remember the feeling of that room, looking back. The beeping, the orange walls, and just the atmosphere of it. When I went back to visit a few weeks after being out, I saw the room again and realized just how small it was. How had I been there for over a week?
The first week of June was a flurry of room changes, finally wearing real clothes as opposed to hospital gowns, getting outside (first in a wheelchair, then on my own two feet), real showers (thank god), and an antsy feeling of being stuck there once I was feeling better. That first brunch, the Sunday after being released on June 6th was strange. Mum was still with me, we met up with a group of friends at a restaurant named Julien, and I felt over-stimulated, like my world had just changed from black and white to color. After a while, I sat and observed, being unable, and just too tired to add to the conversation. If my memory serves me correctly, I definitely napped hard that day. Slowly, I worked towards a full recovery. I went from getting Bruce to drop me off and pick me up from physical therapy sessions, to walking there and back (slowly) on my own, barely making it up the hill to the house. To walking there and running errands around town before returning back home. Working out got better slowly as well. I was using a pair of 2kg weights from Tina, which were laughably light, but at the time were perfect for me. All signs of nerve damage in my left arm faded away, and breathing got easier. I no longer had sudden gasps for air that would send my hand to my left side bracing myself for the pain.
Looking back, it does kind of feel like it was all a dream. I have no lingering side effects, no ailments, only a few scars as reminders. And I WANT those reminders. I want to remember all the feelings from those few weeks. I want to count May 26th as a second birthday. Not everyone is going to have something that happens to them in their lives that reminds them just how fragile we are and how important family and friends (and good healthcare) is. While it was definitely terrifying, it brought my family, Bruce, and my friends closer than ever. It makes me appreciate the ability to do little things, like breathe, and walk up stairs, and shower. It makes me happy to be healthy and strong.
A lot has changed in this year. I got engaged (still pinching myself), got a dog (she pinches me), and Bruce got a job out in Cali! Time to get ready for all the things happening this summer.Yes. ALL THE THINGS! I'm finishing work next week to start focusing on the moving process. Bruce and I will be heading to good ol' California in August and we have a ton to do before then. Not to mention trying to get in a solid amount of friend-time before we all start floating our separate ways (we won't be "floating", more like "being-tied-by-the-ankle-to-the-back-of-a-speedboat"). I really am looking forward to this next adventure. I would feel more excited if I knew where I will be working...but that part of the "plan" hasn't come through yet. Not for lack of trying I assure you, as every private, charter, and Montessori school in the greater LA area received my resume via email the past few months. But that will all work itself out. I can't wait to see how life is on the west coast with Bruce and Callie!
xoxo Thank you to everyone who was and is there for me. <3
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Dad's blog
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