Split Second of Terror


Saturday started off very well. Surgeons moved me to normal food, which I tolerated perfectly. My doctors took away the iv drugs and fluids and we had the midline pulled. I felt great.

I got up to run to the bathroom, sat down to do my business and my head exploded. It took everything I had to finish cleaning myself up and get myself to the call button.

I had never experienced pain like that before and after a few minutes the doctors had gathered around since my heart rate shot up to 190. They were concerned about a blood clot in my brain. Hearing them ask for a crash cart just in case.. I could barely hold it together. I thought about the kids, about my parents and Ryan. Was this dying?

I cried all the way down to cat scan and then though MRI and an EKG. I got back to my bed. Was given more drugs and slept. Both scans appear clean.

Made it all night without pain medication, I was so excited! Maybe it was a fluke, I’m okay! Woke up for vitals and bam! Headache! It’s not as bad as the last one, so maybe we can figure it out.

It’s just so disheartening. After all these years, I finally get surgery for my Crohns Disease. It goes well, so I start looking at the things I wanted to do this summer but usually don’t because my health. So close. So close to normalcy.. and something else has to happen.

Let me tell you something though, when you’re laying on a bed, listening to doctors freak out about blood clots, sending you too another hospital, etc, your mind turns off and thinks. You think about if “this is it”, you’ll think of your family, of the things you had been promising yourself you’d change for the better. You block all of them out as the aide hands you your teddy bear and you think about all the stuff you have taken for granted.

Obviously I’m still here, still kicking, but that little scare put everything into a new perspective. It’s a scary new perspective, but it’s essentially a clean slate that I get to start as soon as I get out of here.

Living is not the same as living life.


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