I’m in hell, the pain is hell, it’s radiating, it’s moving through every nerve in my body but why isn’t the time moving. Seriously, the pain is bone crumbling, knife stabbing, radiating through my shoulders, down deep into my back, down both of my arms, and intensively worsening by the second. The ice cold feeling of the fentanyl and morphine simply wasn’t enough. Tears, so many tears, they were never ending, it hurt so bad. Begging, repeatedly for relief, crying profusely as the tears rolled down my face to the corners of my lips to where I could taste the bitterness of salt water. Whimpering in pain, begging for it to finally end. How is it that this scar, this device is what’s killing me inside…
Not even 5 days ago all 4 of us were in Gatlinburg, TN. Hell, Just 12 hours ago my kids and I were sitting around outside, catching some rays, & laughing our day away. “Where’s my phone”? I felt it vibrating but the pain left me incapable of moving to grasp it. Answering any call was like lifting 500 pounds with how fragile my hands were. Word was spreading rapidly throughout my friend circle, my childrens cheerleading gym, acquaintances, etc. Grasping for air with every sound I attempted to make resulted in me trying to save everything in me for when my children would call. Life’s changing, but how bad is life about to become. Struck with fear and desperation just to be alright.
One, two, three the medflight team counted in a hurry to move my lifeless body from the hospital bed to their stretcher. 1 strap, 2 straps, 3 straps it is. In my head I was chanting head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes. Okay, okay, I know it’s not really a joking time, but fuck it. If I can’t see 20/20 now, will I ever be able to? Anyway, back to the reality of fighting for my life, knowing that if I didn’t find the courage deep inside of me to keep fighting, I’d be giving up on the girls. I could never, not even in my weakest, most vulnerable state.
“Try to relax, sweetheart”, if it wasn’t a nurse or doctor saying those words, it was myself. The calmer I allowed myself to feel, the more fear struck that I wasn’t going to make it. I’m unsure if it was the anxiety creeping in, the feeling of my body going limp that caused, or if it was the fact that I wasn’t understanding what was happening to me other than my body was filling with fluid & blood everywhere within my chest, but I kept trying to avoid the fear. I wasn’t going to let this be how my story ended.
“She’s lost a significant amount of blood, she needs a blood transfusion and needs it now!” The sense of urgency in their voice was unmatched. Numerous questions were asked amongst themselves & to me while prepping for a blood transfusion. I was beginning to feel like a failure, I simply couldn’t keep up with it all. My head started spinning, fugitively and literally. Within a minute a receiving the transfusion my temperature spiked to 102. Fear took over, again. Whispering amongst themselves to help ease the fear I was feeling until they came to an agreement on how to proceed. “We can’t proceed,” I hear the physician say. Tears started streaming down my cheeks, why couldn’t I control them. They were automatic at this point. Why are there so many fucking words being said and so many unknown people in my room is all I kept thinking. My eyes wandered trying to count them because I knew it wasn’t a normal amount people for an emergency, it was flooded with surgeons, doctors, nurses, different specialists, imagining, etc. “How serious is this? What is happening to me?” I asked myself. I wasn’t understanding how my girls and I just came home from Gatlinburg and now I’m in a critical care unit with a physician whose shift is up in 36 minutes, but wrote in his notes “pt end stage”
The thoughts continued creeping up and it was unimaginably difficult to keep them at bay. My life was continuing to worsen right in front of me and I wasn’t in a state of having control. No control vocally, no control physically, & emotionally I was sitting on empty. Relinquishing control of your body and giving it to professionals hoping they’re the best of the best is an uneasy, queasy type of feeling. Especially when I’ve lived through being misdiagnosed over and over again by different physicians for years. If I could profit off from the saying, “you don’t look like anything could be wrong with you” I would be a happy multimillionaire sitting on the beach every morning listening to the beautiful sounds of the waves and watching the sun glisten over the ocean. Instead I’m writing this book in hopes to recreate hope, drive, change, or any emotional feelings that one might need to hear. Even if it’s only one person then that’s success in my eyes. Without hope, drive, and desire to get better an individual is going to get stuck in a mental hardship and my number rule that I’m known for saying to follow is and will always be “Mind over Matter”. Now, don’t get it fucking twisted I spiraled right in front of Vinnie (my ex-husband—which was for the best, he was a horrible support person), friends and people who’ve known me for awhile without it being noticed (& if it did), nobody said anything.
Sitting in numerous hospital rooms, from ER trips, to surgeries I knew enough to know from the doctor’s body language we were in danger zone & I was there alone….well, not technically two people were there, just weren’t allowed to be there.
Fucking Covid.
Precious Heart 