Here’s a small list from a previous post to start this one:

I want to go to the bathroom, in the actual bathroom, with the door shut. Alone.
I still need help in and out but the actual “bathroom-ing” is taken care of by yours truly. Alone.

I want to take a shower, or at least a bath.
Accomplished thanks to the extra big showers in the therapy pool locker room; not ideal, but much better than the previous arrangement.

I want to stop sleeping in a crappy hospital bed in my makeshift bedroom that’s taken over the living room.
The equipment company took the trapeze off the bed and took it back when they picked up my rental wheelchair; and we’ve moved the bed so I don’t feel so in the way of everything. I still hate sleeping in it and I can’t wait to make the call to return it but I’m much happier with the new arrangement (until the day the living room goes back to being the living room)

I want to be able to decrease or tolerate my very much needed Valum doses so my hands stop shaking making my hand writing look like I’m just learning to write.
Valum- at wake up and bed time, and only occasionally during the day. My handwriting is the best it can be since I don’t have a desk to write from; although my spelling seems to be getting worse, who would’ve thought that was possible.

I want to turn myself over in bed when I want to turn over.
Depending on if I get myself stuck, my muscles spasm at the wrong moment, I can turn myself over. I’m waiting on a night brace before I try sleeping on my stomach again, which is something I’m dying to do.

I want my fracture blisters to be a memory.
Blisters are gone! (although other skin issues remain just that, an issue)

I want to sit in the front seat of the car.
That’s on hold for at least a few more weeks, but I am adjusting to life in the backseat, as long as I have my iPod to listen to.

I want to go back to work, because my mind is more than ready, and is in fact turning into mush with each passing day.
Plans are in progress, possibly going into action this week.

I want to sit in my wheelchair without worrying about leg swelling forcing me back to bed.
It’s hard to judge the actual progress on this one. I think I just have to wait it out. I’m told because I’m non weight bearing it’s just going to happen; but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t freak me out now and again. You wouldn’t believe how many colors skin can turn (Was that too much information?)

I want to think about moving part of my body and actually move it, even if I need a little help.
Doing it, and without help depending on the body part.

I’d like to not feel like a pity case, because I’m not one.
I still have days when I feel like one but I’ve accepted it as one of the stages in recovery.

Other Accomplishments:

I can get my socks off on my own*

I can get my shoes on*

I can tie my shoes

I can walk in the pool (and rather well if I say so myself), because it’s considered non weight bearing; and without a PT hovering over me.

I can transfer myself most places with minimal assistance

My eating habits are practically back to normal

I’m gaining weight

My night brace is coming in Monday (26th) fingers crossed. I’m REALLY excited about it for some reason.

New AFO casting, and AFO creation, is being put off for at least another month.

And finally……

A very special thank you is headed to a group of really awesome people

Enough patting myself on the back, but feel free to pat me on the back if you’d like to because I could always use the extra encouragement.

*Mostly left foot only but right foot too if it’s a lucky day.

Oh yeah, and I’m writing this post from home, not just home, but home alone. It’s the little things that make life worth it, people let me tell you……..

I wanted to do a fun post that was non recovery related. Of course I’ll post more about my recovery “fun” soon enough, just keep the prayers coming, things are going well but my ankle is still having issues with post-op swelling.

Feel free to join in on Friday Fill-Ins too!

1. So are we going to have a plan on Monday, or at least on the way to one, or not?

2. Everyday I’m constantly wondering if a full recovery, or better, is what’s up ahead.

3. I love to do things on my own I wasn’t able to the week before, like getting my socks off on my own.

4. I wish I had a better sense of mobility, and where I am in my recovery process, of some sort.

5. I walk a lot in my head since I’m “stuck” in a wheelchair for a while.

6. Blood (and faith) is the true elixir of life! (I did recently have a blood transfusion after all)

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to relaxing after my first week of PT, tomorrow my plans include maybe visiting work and Sunday, I want to go to the PBR!

O.K. so my non recovery post didn’t really work out so well, maybe in another week, or a few more weeks.

(Disclaimer: I detest this question but it’s appropriate for today)

I start PT today (so this post is/was probably auto published for a variety of reasons)

My goal was to find a surgeon.

Then my goal was to get a surgery date.

Then my goal was to prepare for surgery.

Then my goal was to actually HAVE surgery.

Then my goal was to sail though my hospitalization. (I came close).

Then my goal was to come home and heal, and live to my first post op appointment.

Then my goal was to look awesome, not just good or great, during post op (That wasn’t nearly as easy, by a lot)

I told the nurse my goal was to start PT ASAP, or else she should increase my Valum. She laughed (in delight); Dr. S. was pleased with the statement, well not the Valum part.

October 7, 2009: In lightning speed I have an outpatient PT evaluation, because attempts for inpatient admission failed, miserably.

During the evaluation I get asked THE question.

What are your goals?

Is she kidding? I know this woman. She knows me. I’m not a patient that typically sits in a chair and actively looks for ways to avoid discomfort.

But now I am, at least for now.

What are my goals?

I want to go to the bathroom, in the actual bathroom, with the door shut. Alone.

I want to take a shower, or at least a bath.

I want to stop sleeping in a crappy hospital bed in my makeshift bedroom that’s taken over the living room.

I want to be able to decrease or tolerate my very much needed Valum doses so my hands stop shaking making my hand writing look like I’m just learning to write.

I want to turn myself over in bed when I want to turn over.

I want my fracture blisters to be a memory.

I want to sit in the front seat of the car.

I want to go back to work, because my mind is more than ready, and is in fact turning into mush with each passing day.

I want to sit in my wheelchair without worrying about leg swelling forcing me back to bed.

I want to think about moving part of my body and actually move it, even if I need a little help.

I’d like to not feel like a pity case, because I’m not one.

I want the life I planned for myself.

That’s my goal.

“I’d like the gap that has formed between my brain and my spinal cord to at least get a little smaller; of course I’d like full reattachment better”

Yes that’s what I actually said (don’t ask me if she actually wrote it down, I don’t know). I meant it. She knows I do. She knows under the oozing sarcasm I’m serious as all hell.

Enough of the laying around recovering.

Time for the moving part of recovery.

It’s not easy, but none of this was.

So here I go…….

Prayer Request: My Right foot/leg is swelling and I’m scheduled to get an AFO and/or possible night brace made next week (1 week from today). Pray that the swelling is no longer an issue by then so there won’t be any issues in the brace making process (because I enjoy it enough without the extra issues)

Today is sweet Tuesday’s Birthday.

It’s her sister Piper’s birthday too.

But they’re not celebrating together.

Piper’s here with us.

Tuesday’s with Jesus.

Tuesday’s having an awesome birthday I have no doubt,

but she should be celebrating with her sister.

It’s what twins do.

So today light a candle for Tuesday to say Happy Birthday to a very special girl taken from us too soon. (and of course think of Piper in a special way too)

Thank you for your joy Tuesday. I look forward to meeting you one day.

“Let us go rejoicing, to the house of the Lord…..”
-Psalm 122:1

Tuesday Fiona Whitt
October 11, 2006-January 30, 2009

Visit the Whitt’s Blog if you’re interested in donating to Tuesday’s Memorial Fund.

One month ago I was wheeled into an operating room where I stayed for 8 hours.

For the first time I have clear memories of being in an OR, and they aren’t attached to bad thoughts and/or irrational fears, and it feels good; in fact it only affirms that I made the right decision.

I woke up in the OR and looked for my doctor (well one of them at least).

“We’re done.”

I don’t think I said anything in response, but I had one pretty clear thought.

“Thank God.”

After that’s a little hazy, as are too many moments post op to list.

It was done.

Finally.

Done.

I still don’t know what to say about any of this, or to anyone about any of this. I try and nothing seems to do it justice.

“How are you doing?”

That’s the most common question I get asked now.

It’s hard to find an answer.

For a while it was “Good,” because even when it was “Bad,” I just didn’t say it, it didn’t seem right, and I didn’t want anybody to try and cheer me up.

Now when I’m asked, “How are you doing?”

I say, “Different.”

Each day is different.

I can go 7 hours between med doses or I’m just waiting until I can have another.

I can stay up all day or need a 3 hour nap.

I can stay in bed all day or want nothing to do with it.

I can bend my own knees, or not.

I can text and email like crazy or my hands are shaking too hard.

You name it I’ve dealt with it, or probably will.

I was never much of a planner. Now I just can’t. People start talking about next Saturday and I just have to tell them I need to get though today first.

Thirty days out I don’t feel like a whole new woman, at least not in a good way, but I’ll get there. I’ll get there because I have no choice. Each day is different because I’m working my way to becoming a new person. At first I thought it was just physical. Now I know that it’s just as much of an emotional journey too.

Here’s to 30 more days……

Jesus turned and saw her. “Take heart, daughter,” He said, “your faith has healed you.” And the woman was healed from that moment.
Matthew 9:22

Thirteen Ways You Know You’ve Recently Been Hospitalized

1.You wonder where your PCA went to.

2. You need a pillow to hug to go to sleep

3. You say things like “He/She did this way better than you do.”

4. You miss your nurses

5. You search for the TV remote under your pillow

6. You wish your house had a call light somewhere in your reach

7. You actually miss hearing statements like, “Staff huddle in 5 minutes” and/or “______, your patient is here from the PACU”

8. You miss rounds, and it has nothing to do with treatments or pain meds

9. At 6pm you think you have to order dinner

10. When you get home you realize how many medications you actually have to keep track of on your own (and that’s after weaning off some medications before discharge)

11. You’ve caught yourself wishing you were back in the hospital, at least once

12. You know your nurses are telling the same lame jokes and stories to their new patients and that makes you laugh

13. You can’t wait to go back and visit your unit to show off how much you’ve improved

Yes, it is a weird list. I blame my meds, still. (How long can I use that as an excuse?)

Still on the road to recovery. Putting the petal to the metal starting Monday!

Last Make A Difference Monday I had a simple request donate blood. It was projected that I’d need 3 units of blood during my visit to the OR.

Taking a page from my “Jesuit handbook” I’m going to tell you my experience with blood transfusions were, “Good luck, bad luck, who’s to say?”

Surgery went better than expected in a few ways. I was in the OR for 8 hours instead of the projected 10 (for reasons that may or may not be discussed later).

I also didn’t need a transfusion. They were able to recycle (Is that the right word?) much of my own blood to counteract the blood loss.

Although thank you all who donated blood on my behalf. It does mean a lot that people would do such a thing, although indirectly, for me.
However this is not the end of the story.

From the minute I got out of the OR I struggled with motion sickness. A few of my family members have issues with it but I NEVER have, at least not until September 10-17.

Nearly every movement I had was followed by, “Can I have a bucket, just in case…”

And I had to be turned every 2-4 hours, so you can do the math as to how many times I asked for a bucket, although I’m happy to report I never actually had to use a bucket.

By the end of my hospital stay I was given every anti nausea medication available, within less than 12 hours. (and none of it worked)

Because on this particular day I decided that I felt bad because I needed air. Actual air, not hospital room, could pass as air. So I went downstairs for air. And for those of you wondering the WORST place for you to be with low blood levels is in an elevator. I’m getting nauseous just remembering the experience.

By the time I got back to my bed I couldn’t even get back into bed so I had to get my awesome nurse to help my mom get me back into bed, because I couldn’t even hold my head up at this point.

I later found out that the nurses kept talking about never seeing a person even come close to passing out in a wheelchair (and possibly falling out), so I guess I looked pretty bad!

When they checked by blood levels they were pretty much rock bottom so we went ahead with a transfusion. I have to say this about getting a transfusion, it was the best decision I made during hospitalization, other than going ahead with surgery.

It took much longer than I expected and there was minor discomfort (from IV issues) but within a matter of hours I went from making peace with God, just in case, to feeling pretty close to my normal self.

So once again I’m asking you to give blood.

You’ll never know when you, or someone else will need it.

I did need air, I needed oxygen!

Musician Paul Cardall received a new heart the day of my surgery. Once I heard about Paul I wondered which one of us would make it to the OR first. He needed a new heart. I needed a new alignment of my body. Two completely different things but in many ways it has the same end goal: new life. I lay in my hospital bed (the one in the hospital) more than once thinking about Paul. Did he get his new heart? Would he have one by the time I got discharged? Would he have a new heart by the time I started rehab? By the time I was walking?

Never once did I consider the two events would occur on the same day!

Now I’ll have someone to celebrate with, or at least think about, next September 10!

God is Good!

I had every intention of coming back today and writing a full post about my post op appointment yesterday. But I have to be honest, I’m burnt out. No. I’m pretty much not eatable Cajun style brain.

The journey to get to this point has finally caught up with me, I think, I hope so.

I’m healing well, my incisions are clean and remain uncovered (to my massive shock) my cast is off, I feel “good,” I even made everyone at the clinic laugh with my typical sense of humor.

I’m still not weight bearing for another 6 weeks, but I knew that and expected that so I’m calling that normal, because I need to call something normal right now.

On the outside I’m working my way back to myself.

On the inside?

Who knows?

Maybe they ran some weird tests on my brain while I was out for those 8 hours and it changed my personality.

I feel disjointed.

Not just physically, but emotionally as well.

I probably need to eat and sleep more (both have been difficult since discharge) but this probably goes deeper than discharge.

Have you ever felt like God was calling you to something but you’ve gone spiritually deaf and all you know is that God is trying to get your attention?

That’s how I feel today.

On top of all of this (and needing lunch and a nap).

So the post-op report will have to wait, but I will say that “things look good, now that hard part starts.”

(Like all of this WASN’T the hard part?)

But the most important thing to report……..

I have NO regrets.

None.

I’m feeling better today, and plan to post again after my first post op appointment on Wednesday (so expect a post Thursday, or later). I thought I’d be ready to talk about the “aftermath” of this experience but it’s much much harder than I anticipated. Things are hazy, thanks to copious amounts of medications and low blood levels on unit. Thoughts are being formulated, deeper ones than I thought my brain would come up with at this point.

I have a story(ies) to tell. I guess I’m just not ready to tell them yet.

Recovery is a journey, and I’m still rolling along.

I have a part two to a Make A Difference Monday but lying in bed last night Katey (and a song) inspired a Music Monday so Make A Difference Monday will have to wait another week.

Before I went into the hospital (and while I was waiting) I made a play list on my iPod; inspirational songs, relatable songs, and ones that just made me feel good.

I never listened to my iPod in the hospital, one reason being I became way too attached to my PCA and epidural to care about music, or much else. But since discharge I can listen to my play list of 30+ songs close to 3 times a day. Some songs hit me more than others. Some, even though sad, make me smile. It gives me a sense of hope. I won’t be here forever.

I’m what songs are made of. Too bad I can’t write (songs).

Sweet Silver Lining
Kate Voegele

I’m going home,
down-hearted and hoping I’m close,
to some new beginning.
I know,
there’s a reason for everything that comes and goes.

So many people are looking to me to be strong and to fight
but I’m just surviving.
And I may be weak but I’m never defeated
and Ill keep believing
in clouds with that sweet silver lining.

Most days I try
my best to put on a brave face
but inside my bones are cold and my heart breaks
but all the while, something’s keeping me safe and alive

So many people are looking to me to be strong and to fight
but I’m just surviving.
And I may be weak but I’m never defeated
and Ill keep believing
in clouds with that sweet silver lining.

I wont give up like this,
I will be given strength,
Now that I’ve found it,
Oh nothing can take that away

So many people are looking to me to be strong and to fight
but I’m just surviving.
And I may be weak but I’m never defeated
and Ill keep believing
in clouds with that sweet silver lining.

Please keep praying. They’re helping me so much.