Erin on the Mend

Double You Tee Eff

2009-04-15T14:32:00.002-05:00

Things had been going so well. I was able to get out on Sunday to spend a couple of hours with my family. I was feeling better and was quite hopeful that the external fixator will be coming out in a couple of weeks, meaning it will be much easier for me to continue back at work.

Until today.

I got a UPS letter from the office telling me that for "economic" reasons I was being laid off. My boss couldn't even be bothered to call and tell me. I got a letter. A LETTER. Something tells me it has less to do with the economy, seeing as how we were doing quite well at the time of my accident, and more to do with them not wanting to keep me around. They weren't even paying me during this time off, so I couldn't have been much of a financial burden at the moment. Thankfully I am also covered under my current insurance, otherwise I'd have to pay almost $600 out of pocket each month to maintain my own insurance.

I don't know what I am more upset about. The fact that they did this to me while I'm trying to recover from my injury or the fact that I didn't even get a more personal form of notice.

Fuck them. I filed for unemployment and I am looking into the legality of the lay off in my current disabled condition.

It's a Brand New Day.

2009-04-08T16:30:00.002-05:00

The sun is shining.

Today was the best day that I have had, by a long shot. It started out horribly. I was up most of the night. I hadn't gotten to sleep until after midnight to begin with and I had to be up at seven to get ready for my appointment with my surgeon. At about 3a.m. I woke up with a stomach ache and wound up awake for most of the rest of the night.

I got out of bed this morning and proceeded to dress myself. Today I put on my Sunday Best - one of my husband's t-shirts and a pair of scrub pants - which was a big upgrade from the moomoo that I had been wearing for days. (I wish I was kidding.) We made our way out of the house. I rocked the shit out of getting the walker to the car over the bumpy grass, a vast difference from the day I came home from the hospital. I am much more aware of my body and its limitations now, far more comfortable with my movements. Getting into the car was going to be a big deal because the difficulty of doing so would dictate whether or not I try getting out of the house more often. It was a breeze. It took only seconds longer than it would have in a healthy state. Success! I knew then that I would be able to start getting out of the house, even if it just means running errands with Brian, something that I was really starting to miss.

We got to the hospital and the appointment couldn't have gone better. The doctor was extremely pleased with my current state and said that he fully expects to have the external fixator off in three to five weeks (keeping my fingers crossed for three). He told me that all of the restrictions were off (except for the no more than 30lbs on my left leg one) as long as they were not causing pain. He told my husband - in front of my mother - that it was also okay for us to have sex. When my mom pretended to act embarrassed, he turned and said "What? You don't have sex?" Have I mentioned that I love my surgeon? The best news I could have received is that we were previously misinformed when someone else had told us that it would be a year before we could try having children. The doc said that as long as we waited three months - when he figures the final xrays will be taking place - we could start trying as soon as I felt I was feeling good about it. He also said that I should be walking, very likely without a limp even, in time for my brother's wedding in August and that I should be back to my old self almost completely within six months.

I was feeling so good about everything that we stopped at Caribou Coffee for a celebratory Campfire Mocha (chocolatey marshmallowy coffee Heaven) and then home. We wasted a little time until afternoon rolled around and then we headed OUT to lunch. For the first time in weeks I was actually going to a restaurant. It felt so amazing to finally be doing normal things again, even if it meant I was doing so with my tricked out walker (complete with pink Schwinn bicycle horn). My mom was so excited that she snapped a picture of Brian and I sitting in the booth and sent it to most of her cell contacts.

I am feeling great. More freedom. More normalcy. I'm sure I will still get down in the dumps sometimes, but today was huge and I am grateful for it. I decided today that I will be joining my family for brunch on Sunday. If they had asked a couple of days ago I would have turned them down. What a difference a day makes!

Opening Day.

2009-04-07T17:30:00.002-05:00

I got really emotional today for what I know is a stupid reason. I cried about watching the White Sox season opener. I cried because I was watching it in my robe while sitting in my bedroom. Those who know me know that my life revolves around baseball from this time of year until October. I typically try to make it to Opening Day, but I don't always get there. I cried because I started to wonder when I will be able to get to a game this year. I know it's a stupid reason, but it means a great deal to me.

That's all for now.

Baby steps.

2009-04-06T14:03:00.002-05:00

Right now my life is filled with small victories. If I can get my left leg into the right position in bed at night I'm happy. If I can go a day without shuffling my way to the bathroom more than a handful of times I'm happy. If I can stay positive and, even for a moment, forget that this all happened, I'm thrilled. Sometimes I become so unaware of my condition that I almost jeopardize myself. There have been moment when I am up on my walker and I forget that I have a <30lb weight restriction on my leg. I start to put my weight down out of habit and I am quickly reminded that it's not quite time for that yet.

We had a lawyer over today. She's a friend of my aunt's (who also works in the field) and she got the details of the accident and talked us through what the process is going to be in the future. We signed the contract to make her our official representation and signed off on allowing her to access our medical records from the accident. Hopefully we can get this taken care of sooner than later. There is a good chance that we will not be able to move forward until I am back to my old self so that we know the extent of the medical costs, but I am hopeful that the whole thing won't take TOO long and that we can eventually put this behind us.

While I was in the hospital I started making a list of the ways in which this accident has changed our lives. Of the many items on the list including cancelled trips and lost wages the item that stuck out the most was that we now have to put our quest to start a family on hold. I am not sure exactly how long it is recommended that we wait until we start trying again, but I recall the surgeon saying something like nine to twelve months. That's the hardest pill to swallow. I get choked up sometimes when I think about it. I know I am still young, but it was something that we both had our hearts set on and were actively trying to accomplish.

I see my surgeon again on Wednesday morning. I have so many questions for him that hadn't come to mind while I was in the hospital. It will be the first time I have left the house since getting home from the hospital. I am kind of nervous about that part. I would go out and practice getting in and out of the car beforehand, but we've been blessed with April snow here in Chicago.

Some of the good news has been that the house remodel is coming along nicely. The timing of the accident seemed so horrible because we were in the middle of the remodel - not that there's ever a good time to get hit by a truck - but now I am kind of grateful for it. I was telling Brian that it's a little easier on me to not be able to live my normal life since the house itself is not in a state of normalcy. If everything was as it should be in the living room and kitchen, I think I would find it a little harder to deal with. I can't imagine having a fabulous new kitchen that I couldn't even use either.

I have also discovered the awesomeness of Redbox thanks to my friend Kristen. Movie watching has become a hugely important part of this recovery if only for the fact that it keeps me from going insane due to the lack of watchable television. Dirty Dancing is on TWO channels right now. TWO! Seriously? Is that necessary??? Is it too much to ask for one decent movie to be on during the day?

Lastly, when there is tragedy so, too, there is food. Our family members have been inundating us with home cooked meals since the accident. It is doubly appreciated as we do not have a working kitchen right now anyway. We have had more visitors to our house than ever before and all I had to do was get hit by a truck! Sometimes the visitors get to be a bit much because at times I just need to relax without having to run through the stories over and over again, but I do understand that these people come to see me because they care and I do appreciate that.

Now I have to go surf over to the Redbox site and see what will be on the playlist today. As always, thanks for reading. I really think this whole blog thing is helping.

Still here.

2009-04-05T14:47:00.002-05:00

It's been a long time since I blogged, mostly because it's been that long since I have been on a computer. I have spent my days antsy and bored, yet for some reason the thought of picking up my laptop was entirely unappealing.

For the most part, the days have been good. Things keep getting a little better each day. I have had a couple of bad days sprinkled in. Some crying here and there over the "woe is me" thoughts that seems to stay with me no matter how positive I try to be. There was one day that was particularly bad and, if not for the accident itself, would rank as possibly the worst day of my life thus far. It's a day that, in person, I would likely never share, but through the beauty internet balls bestowed by what is essentially a virtual cloak and mask, I don't mind sharing what is, undoubtedly the most mortifying and emotionally uncomfortable experience, shedding any and all dignity in the face of what had to be done.

I suppose in all marriages there is a distinct moment in time when husband and wife know that they are truly bound, that there is nothing that can't be said and done in front of each other because they are truly, madly, deeply in love and that this love knows no boundaries. I would imagine that this moment typically comes farther along in a marriage than where Brian and I currently find ourselves. We have only been married since October and haven't even known each other for three full years yet. I imagined this moment would come in the midst of some life changing situation, but I did not expect that it would come during this one. Don't get me wrong. It's not that Brian hasn't been doing everything he can to love me and care for me. Even before the accident he was always taking care of me and I rarely had a problem with feeling embarrassed in front of him. Never did I imagine though what was going to happen this week. After "the incident" it is almost certain that I will never again have to worry about making a fool of myself in front of him. There is seemingly nothing I can do that is more mortifying. If our marriage doesn't last after this, it was truly never meant to be.

Earlier this week, I was having some serious complications with my insides. One of the side effects of the pain medications is constipation. Because of that, I have been prescribed stool softeners. I had been taking them twice daily, but due to my previously unruly stomach and a case of less than desirable fecal conditions, I had cut back to one a day. BIG MISTAKE. Cut to three days later. I was without a trip to the bathroom and sporting a really horrible feeling of having to, er, evacuate, but not being able to. At this point, I had already stopped taking the pain pills because the pains from the surgery are happily very minimal and can easily be tolerated without meds. I don't much like polluting my body with medicines if I can avoid it. Sadly however, ceasing the pain meds was too little too late, as was upping the stool softeners back to their two-a-day suggestion. My husband called his sister-in-law who is a pharmacist. She said it was okay to up the stool softeners to four that day, but that it would likely take at least a day for them to kick in and they probably wouldn't solve the problem of what had already amassed in my inner workings.

After hours of being uncomfortable - and HOURS of shuffling myself to the bathroom what had to have been dozens of times that day without any success - I finally gave in to the horrible thought of allowing my husband to administer a suppository. He was so worried about me and wanted to do anything to get me out of my tearful misery. I remembered that when my sister was a baby she had similar problems that had to be taken care of with the aid of suppositories and enemas. I figured if she could find relief that way, it was worth a shot, even if it meant shedding my dignity. Off to the store he went and a few minutes later he was back home putting on the hospital supplied latex gloves and there I was taking deep breaths and preparing to take my marital relationship to a whole new level. Part of me was embarrassed, but a bigger part of me was just craving relief and fearful that even this would not help me.

We tried one...no dice. A second? Tried it. No luck either. I started to break down. Now my pain was coupled with the frustration that this would not be happening if that driver had just been paying attention to what he was doing that Saturday night. My husband contacted his sister-in-law yet again and she ran through the typical hospital protocol for such situations. (Note: my husband was so worried about me that he was readying to take me to the ER yet again.) She said the steps would likely be stool softeners, then milk of magnesia, and finally an enema. Her suggestion was, at that point, to skip step two and jump straight to step three. Though she also offered the grim suggestion that this option would be "VERY uncomfortable". My husband petitioned me to please allow this so that I could hopefully, finally find relief. I couldn't. I was already so personally humiliated and beaten down. I figured that if nothing else was working, why put myself through this if it was potentially not going to work either. Then, I thought about how I was feeling. It was eleven o'clock and night and I knew that there was no way I was going to get a wink of sleep in feeling the way that I was. Finally, I gave in and off to the store he was yet again. While he was gone, my heart raced and I began researching Fleet enemas via the web browser on my cell phone. As each minute ticked by, the remaining bit of dignity that I may have had dissolved.

Brian's sister-in-law said it was okay to do two enemas if we had to, but no more. I started to worry that we would exhaust both with no success and then I would be, for lack of a better phrase, up Shit Creek. Even though I have been rather forthcoming with this story, I will leave the next events to your imagination. I will say that with one enema I finally found success on my journey for relief. I will also say, that there were many, many tears. Since then, I have been much better. As I stated, I don't think that I will ever again be mortified by anything in front of my husband because I will think back to this past week.

I hope that none of you ever need an enema. I now have much greater respect for what my sister went through as a child.

On a much lighter note, Saturday was three weeks since the accident and this Tuesday will be three weeks since my towel rack was installed. That means there will only been three more weeks until it's removed. Halfway there! Not to the end of my rehabilitation, but at least to the end of the towel rack!! I have an appointment with my surgeon on Wednesday which will be a nice little vacation from my house. I am getting serious cabin fever.

(Sorry if I grossed anyone out, but I am just trying to be honest.)

Blackout

2009-03-26T13:31:00.002-05:00

For the most part, I do not remember actually getting hit. According to my husband, I was fully conscious, but my body's reaction to the trauma apparently was to black it out. I hear stories from witnesses about how my body reacted like a ragdoll, folding up onto the hood of the truck and then getting tossed off to the side of the street like a piece of litter. I couldn't have told you it was a Honda Ridgeline that hit me without the eye-witness accounts that I have heard. I am glad that I don't remember the feeling of getting hit or the split-second anticipation of realizing that it was about to happen. I found comfort in the hope that I would possibly never remember it. I've been told that it is not unusual for a victim to block out a traumatic event, but that it is also not unusual for the memories to sometimes appear much later in life.

While I was talking about the details of what happened with one of my well wishes, as my husband and I have done over and over, for the first time my husband made mention of something that he had previously omitted from the story. He mentioned that moments before parking our car and getting out to walk across the street, the truck that was seconds later going to change my life, was sitting in the middle of the street, headlights on, as if waiting for a passenger to emerge from a house in the neighborhood. When he mentioned that tiny detail, without thinking much of it, I felt a bolt of lightning jolt through my spine. I suddenly made a connection with the truck that hit me. I remember it sitting idle on that side street. I still didn't remember the hit itself, but visualizing the truck from that memory was almost shocking to me. I don't remember what the driver looked like, but I remembered noticing the headlights and thinking nothing of the truck waiting there. I had no idea that moments later we would be crossing the street as that truck made it's left turn, failing to notice us in the middle of the crosswalk.

Even that tiny memory stirred up my emotions. I can't imagine what will happen to me if I start remembering the impact itself. On the way home from the hospital I couldn't sit in a car without tensing up whenever the driver in front of us would hit their brake lights. I cringe when I look out our picture window and see kids playing in the street. I want to hobble my way out there and show them the potential consequences of their behavior. On television (Maury to be exact - there's nothing much on the weekday mornings, so don't hold it against me) they were doing a "caught on camera" episode which included shots of people on foot getting hit by vehicles. My heart jumped into my throat. It's going to be a while before I am completely comfortable with those things again, but I know that some day I will be okay with it. Just like some day these bones will heal.

Home Sweet Home

2009-03-25T13:11:00.002-05:00

I didn't post yesterday because it was kind of hectic. I guess that's an understatement since every day since the accident has been hectic in its own way. I got released from the hospital yesterday. I thought I would be thrilled, and I was at first. The discharging process took a long time, but I had a feeling it would. Apparently my nurse was discharging two other patients before me, so it was a lot of sitting around and getting anxious. When they finally told me it was my time to go, I was already in a nervous/sour mood. It only got worse as I tried, for the first time, to get dressed. Even with the help of my mom and friend, Kristen, every little task seemed to take forever. It's hard to describe the frustration. I know that putting clothes on is not something to freak out about, but it was more a feeling of helplessness. Things that used to take seconds to do were taking several minutes at a time. I had to switch which pants I was wearing because even the loosely worn elastic band was causing my pin entry holes to ooze.

I lost it. I started crying. Not just crying, but chest heaving sobs. I couldn't keep it in. Typing this now even makes me a little choked up. Trying to get into my parents' car didn't help matters either. Between the pain (they had neglected to give me pain pills within the hours before discharging me) and the humiliation of not being able to get myself into the car on the first, second, or even third try, I choked my feelings back, pulled my hood over my head, and road most the way home in silence. My parents were trying to cheer me up, and I love them for their efforts. I am well aware that I should not take out my own frustrations on them, but sometimes it's just difficult to put on a smile or take part in casual conversation.

When I got home, I had trouble making my way through bumpy front lawn (our neighborhood doesn't have sidewalks), but my husband was helping support my walker so that I would feel more comfortable. It's a bit of a process getting up and down stairs. Because of my external fixator (towel rack), I can't use crutches to walk around regularly. The fixator is a little too wide and bulky to use the crutches, so I use a walker instead. When it comes to stairs, I have to ditch the walker, use a crutch on one arm and the handrail on the other and then switch back to the walker once I reach the top/bottom of the stairs. It's the things like this or my inability to use a regularly situated toilet that made me realize that, even after progression, I will probably no be able to do things like go the zoo on a nice day or take a trip to the movie theater - even with a wheelchair. It sucks, but I have to keep telling myself that it's not forever.

After getting home I just made my way to bed and stayed there the rest of the night. I had a terrible headache, possibly due to the giant lump still healing on my forehead, so I didn't do much more than lay in bed with my eyes closed until I eventually fell asleep. At various points in the evening my husband woke me up to feed me my medications. By the time his bedtime rolled around, my headache was gone and I cannot express enough how wonderful it was just to fall asleep next to him again. He was there to hold my hand, tell me to be strong, and kiss me goodnight. It's amazing what wonderful medicine it can be just to fall asleep in your own bed.

Today has been a much more positive day than yesterday. As I type this I am sitting a chair in our living room. I've definitely had my little frustrations here and there throughout the day - getting antsy is one of the hardest things to deal with when I'm not busy dealing with pain related issues - but it's been a good day so far. Our house is still in a state of disrepair from the remodel, but Brian definitely busted his butt to get it in better shape for me. The home care nurse came to do my paperwork and blood draw and my physical therapist will be here in an hour and a half. Brian ran out to get me something to eat and my dad is on his way here. I am trying to stay in good spirits today. It's hard. Sometimes all I can think about is how long this road to recovery is going to be and how limiting it is, but then I have to take a breath and think that maybe this is just a minor setback that will cause me to lose weight and have awesomely ripped arms. :)

I want to thank all of you who read this for your support. It really helps to get me through my days. Thank you.

Phys Ed

2009-03-23T11:32:00.002-05:00

I just got back from my first REAL physical therapy/occupational therapy session and it went so well that I may be out of the hospital tomorrow or the next day. One big step on a long road to recovery. From what I was told, I will have a phhysical therapist and a nurse visiting me at home several times a week. I will be a lot more comfortable with my physical shortcomings when I am in the comfort of my own home. I was also very happy to learn that the commode can be set up with a regular toilet so as not to burden my husband or family members with the disposal of my...er...leavings. It may sound stupid and shallow, but that was one of the biggest mental blocks I have been having. The idea of having to be cleaned up after by the people I love felt dehumanizing and mortifying. Now that I know that won't have to be the case, I feel a bit better about the recovery process.

I have physical therapy again at 3pm today, but the occupational therapist said she doesn't even need to see me anymore. She showed me how I will have to get into a car, use a bathtub bench, and get dressed. The "sock aid" device used to help me get my socks on actually amazed me with its ease. It's one of those amazing devices that is so simple but such a massive help when you find yourself unable to do such a simple task that had always just been taken for granted.

I still have a good egg on my forehead. It's apparently turning green and blue (I haven't really looked at my face much since the accident). It hurts a little, but I mostly just poke and prod it because it is gushy with what I can only imagine is some type of fluid while it heals. The road rash that covered my left cheek is almost entirely gone. My mom worried that I was going to have major scarring, but the scabs gradually just sloughed off without leaving more than just a temporary pinkish hue. My hand it still scabbed up pretty good and doing its very best job and driving me nuts with its itching. Don't pick. Don't pick. Don't pick. I just keep telling myself that, unless of course I WANT a freaky reptilian hand the rest of my life.

I'm sitting up in a chair as I type this. Being able to sit up for longer periods of time gives me great hope for a more emotionally stable recovery.

I can't wait to take a real shower. Even if it's sitting on a bench. Anything is better than a quick wipe down with a washcloth. I feel filthy and, though I am not entirely sure, I think if I did not have my hair in braids, the matting would have given me a nice set of dreads at this point. I am typically a daily shower gal, so not having been able to take a real shower since the 14th is really making me crazy.

As far as the accident itself goes, I am not really sure what to say. Part of this is due to potential legal actions and part of this is due to still grasping what exactly happened to me. Long story short, it was Erin versus Honda Ridgeline and Honda Ridgeline won. One of the scarier residual effects of the accident is the nightmares that wake me on a near nightly basis. I keep having the "falling" dream. I will be walking or doing normal everyday behaviors when I suddenly realize that I don't have the ability to stand/walk on my own. I start to fall and just before hitting the ground I suddenly wake in my hospital bed. Last night I had a dream that I was BFFs with President Obama though, so maybe my falling dreams are starting to come to an end.

Well, it's probably time to try to clean myself up for the day. And my awesome (and by "awesome" I mean "typically inedible") lunch just arrived. So far, today is a positive day. I these kinds much better than the negative ones.

Thanks to everyone and anyone who reads this and has offered their support. It really does help, more than you probably imagine.

Opening shot...

2009-03-22T14:32:00.001-05:00

I suppose if this were a true diary of my recovery I would have started blogging before my surgery. Though, the pain was so intense, I doubt the idea of blogging would have been anything less than unfathomable. I did update my Facebook status from time to time just to feel like I still retained a shread of my previous life. Some contact with the world outside of my hospital room was better than none at all, even if it was updating a social networking status via my cell phone.

I don't recall the accident at all. I am grateful for that. I am already dealing with horrible dreams where I find myself suddenly unable to walk and falling, suddenly waking before I hit the ground. The last thing I remember before the accident was standing on the yellow lines between lanes. That would have been around 11. The next thing I recall was talk about cutting my clothes off and mentioning to me that I had a broken pelvis. I asked what time it was and was told that it was around 2:30. I didn't know where I was or how I got there. All I knew was that I was experiencing the most excruciating paing of my life and that I had never been so scared before.

Every time they had to turn me for an xray or to move me from one bed to another I could feel my bones crunch against each other. Feeling them popping in and out of place was something I hope to never deal with again. Thinking about it now pushes my stomach up into my throat.

The surgery went well, so they tell me. I have a towel rack sticking out of my abdomen. Apparently it will be there for 6 weeks or so. The rack is quite honestly the most normal thing I have to adjust to. I am not used to depending on other people. And that is all that I can do right now. Brian and I were trying to have kids as soon as possible. That has to be put on hold for at least a year. I don't even know the next time we can have sex. We're newlyweds and I can't even really cuddle with him for who knows how long.

Brian is busting his ass putting the house remodel into high gear now so I have the ability to at least maneuver around the living room. It will be twelve weeks before I can walk like an adult again. It breaks my heart to think about it.

Everyone keeps telling me how great I am doing. I got up and out of the bed for the first time yesterday. I sat in a chair. Today I got my foley catheter out. I asked if it was going to hurt. The nurse said no. In hindsight perhaps I should have asked if it was going to especially uncomfortable. I think that may have produced a slightly more accurate response. It took three nurses to get me up to go pee on the commode. I cried for fifteen minutes. I'm twenty-six years old and I have people clapping and congratulating me on "making urine". This is not supposed to be my life. It hurts to think this is going to be who I am for the next several weeks. It's not fair. It's not fair that the guy who hit me is walking around, pissing like normal, going wherever he wants whenever he wants. I need to hit a call button if I have to pee, and even then, that's only the first step in a twenty minute process that ends in me feeling worthless. I can't even wipe myself without feeling the residual urine trickle down my useless leg. The leg I would give just about anything to be able to shave. Or put a shoe on.

Nine days ago my biggest complaint was that we were eating too much fast food during our remodel. And that my coworker was annoying me on a near daily basis. What I would give to be back to those complaints. I can't go out and drive my car with the windows down on a nice day. I can't even take the dog for a walk. If I stick to the schedule I will be walking just in time for my brother and Maricel's wedding shower.

I hate someone I have never even met. He changed my life in so many ways that blogging doesn't seeem to do them justice. His impatience has taken months from my life. Those months I would have been laughing and enjoying life I will instead spend unfairly projecting my frustrations and irriatabilites on people who don't deserve it.

My 2-year-old cousin is potty training right now. So am I. For some reason I don't feel quite the same when people clap for me as I am sure she does when they clap for her. I feel like less of a human being and I just want to be whole again. I just want to stop crying.