Over the past few days, I've been having some memories come to me from my "three weeks of hell" back in June and July. I feel the need to get them down here in my blog for posterity's sake. For anyone besides myself who may be reading this, you can go to my post from July 12, 2013, called "An Unexpected Hiatus" if you want to know (or need a reminder of) what I reference by "three weeks of hell." Here are a few memories I now have...
I remember dreading night time. I had trouble communicating and knew I needed to sleep. Unfortunately, sleep is hard to come by when you have limited ability to move your own body or readjust your own position in bed. I remember wanting to have my feet raised or lowered, or being too hot or too cold, or needing to have my position in bed changed, and only being able to groan or grunt at my aide or nurse. Inside my head, I was screaming complete sentences at them, but grunts and groans were all that would come out. They had to play a guessing game with me and they got so frustrated that I couldn't communicate exactly what I needed. Other times, I knew I was uncomfortable, but couldn't even figure out for myself what I needed changed. My brain just wasn't working well enough.
My brain functioning at only about 1/2-power caused countless other issues. I had little to no warning for when I needed to use the bathroom, so I had to have a Foley catheter "placed." =0S After a few days with it in, it was taken out, and I didn't want it back in. I still had trouble knowing when I had to go, but refused to have one put back in. Any time Noelle and a nurse would discuss it, I'd become lucid enough to cry out in protest, "Foleys suck!" Noelle says it was funny because there would be days when that was all I could say that was intelligible. I guess if something was important enough, I could break through the fog of incoherence just enough...
I remember trying to communicate with my nurses and aides and having them try to spell what I wanted or needed. Unfortunately, they would start with, "What does it start with?" and they'd have to guess. It was so weird to me that a) I could spell the word in my mind without a problem, but I couldn't speak it, and b) that my nurses and aides couldn't read my mind. I also got really mad when part-way through a word, it would change in my mind because the process took so long. Then the nurses would get REALLY confused! Someone told Noelle once that I had them spell something that wasn't even a real word.
I remember calling one of my CNA's (sorry, Kara) a moron. Why, I do not recall. She didn't deserve it, and I'll owe her forever for putting up with me and not holding it against me, except in jest. She knows I wasn't "with it," so she never got angry about it. Also, there was a time when my nurse, Ashley, and Noelle were helping me walk to the nurses' station to request a certain nurse for the next day, and I got a cramp in my calf. Ashley asked if I wanted her to massage it and I said I did. She began, and then I asked her to massage a little higher, then higher still. After 3 or 4 requests to massage higher up my leg, I shouted out, "Are you trying to get FRESH with me?!?" Noelle tells me that was a good moment because some of "the real John" came out. I was just joking with her after baiting her for the punchline, and it's one of the few truly happy memories from those three weeks.
As I mentioned in my post back in July, I had lots of tests run on my over the first two weeks to try to determine what could be done to fix the fact that the toxins weren't filtering out, or to determine what possible long-term effects they were causing or could cause. I don't remember many of the tests, but I remember being taken to various floors of the hospital in my bed or in a wheelchair. Noelle tells me that the vast majority of the tests were done with me in my bed, and only a couple were with me being transported in my wheelchair. I remember two MRIs. One was a regular one, but the other was one where they locked my head in place for close to an hour. That was THE WORST!!! Noelle sat outside the machine for that one, just touching and stroking my lower leg to let me know that she was there. I remember having a feeding tube put down my throat into my stomach and needing Noelle there because the techs that were trying to place it couldn't understand me. I gagged and gagged on the tube as it went through my nasal passages and down my throat. It was a pretty awful experience.
I remember Noelle leaving me one night and me crying because I felt so much better with her around. I didn't want to be babysat overnight by some orderly. I felt like Noelle was the only one who understood what I needed.
I remember when one of my doctors, Dr. Ashe, was playing the "squeeze my hand if..." communication game with me, and somehow she was doing it wrong. I don't remember what was "wrong" about the questions she was asking me, but there was a definite difference between how she was doing it and how Noelle did it. I got so frustrated that I looked at Noelle and shouted something like, "She's doing it wrong! Help her do it right!" And then I went back to not speaking. It was sort of like the issue with the Foley.
Another really good memory is when I started doing better with my physical therapists and started walking. The first time I made it to the nurses' station, Kim (one of my favorite nurses) was there. I said in my high, squeaky voice (from lack of use), "Hi, Kim." and then I started to cry. I was so happy to be out of my room and beginning to be mobile again. I remember Dr. Ashe walking a lap around the floor with me and giving me a big hug and telling me she was proud of me. I also remember the smiles on the nurses faces when I would pass the nurses' station. They were SO happy to see me up and about, and I felt so proud that I cried.
I remember playing Five Crowns with Noelle once, and being so confused and unable to think strategically. I finally gave up, showed my cards to Noelle, and asked, "would you tell me what to do?" I just couldn't figure it out.
I remember some visits from family and friends. On my birthday, my family members came to say hello. I remember hugging Christy (Linda) and telling her, "When I hug you, I see a purple frog." Then after hugging Gwen, I said, "When I hug you, I see a purple frog in dreadlocks." I vaguely remember George and Uraisa coming into the room, but I don't remember speaking with them or hugging them. I remember Noelle bringing the kids (against my protests), and having a hard time hugging them or talking with them. On other days, I remember the visits of others. For example, my home teacher, Jeff Kendall, came with Jeff (my brother) to give me a priesthood blessing by the laying on of hands. I remember Matt Moore and Joseph Scott each coming for a night. I vaguely remember Larry Hiller coming, as well. I also remember a day when Jeff brought his boys and talked with me for a little while. I remember having some trouble putting together sentences or staying focused on what I was trying to say from the beginning of a sentence to the end of it. But I remember telling him that I knew I was starting to get better and that I felt the Holy Ghost with me, comforting me. After a few minutes, I just couldn't focus on our conversation anymore. It was too hard for my brain. Jeff told me it was OK as I just sat there crying. Yes, I did a lot of crying.
Well, that's about as much as I can remember for now. Merry Christmas, and whether you're in the hospital or not, be sure to count your blessings.
No comments:
Post a Comment