Part of the Story

So a very wise woman told me I should share my story.  I've been hesitant about the entire thing because I didn't want to seem whiny.  There is so much suffering in the world.  Above all, I believe things could always be worse and that I am very blessed.  So today I will tell the story of Spine Surgery number one.  Thirteen years ago I was involved in a car accident with an 18 wheeler.  I was a passenger in the back seat.  The truck first hit us with the trailer then the car became lodged in the wheel well of the truck.  We were then hit from the back and drug into 5 cars in front of us.  We were stopped at a red light when this happened and the truck was traveling in the lane next to us, approximately traveling at 45 miles per hour.  At the time of the accident my head hit the side window, the back headrest and then the headrest in front of me.  I did have my seat belt on, but I did take a beating in the back seat.  All I know is I had a terrible headache, but was not bleeding so I refused to go to the hospital with the ambulance.  Once I got back to the office my mother picked me up and took me to the hospital.  I herniated 5 discs.  Surgery was recommended but I decided to put it off as long as possible.  I kept it under control for 10 years then I woke up one day and couldn't walk.  Went to E.R thought it was a random muscle spasm until in happened again a week later.  It was time for surgery.  We found a neurosurgeon in Houston who is one of the best.  Never have surgery during a holiday.  My surgery was scheduled for July 2nd.  I have no memory of the drive up to Houston, checking into the hospital or getting dressed for surgery.  There are pictures.  My mom came up with us.  The plan was that I would be in the hospital about 8 days and then spend the next two weeks at my mother-in-laws until my check-up.  My first memory is of a dark room, a male nurse lifting me out of the bed and placing me on a toilet.  I remember begging him to leave the room because I wanted only female nurses for that.  I also remember horrible pain, begging my mom to hold me up, and lots of crying.  For those of you who know me, I'm not one to cry over physical pain.  This was the worst I have ever had.  My mother went back to Louisiana 2 days after the surgery.  My next memory is of my husband asking me whats wrong, I said I was cold.  I heard him press the call button and that was it.  My husband said I started shaking and then I started shaking so bad I was coming off of the bed.  The nurse came in and called a code blue.  Which is when you stop breathing.  Apparently I was convulsing and heart rate started going through the roof and then I just stopped.  At that time my husband said a security guard took him out of the room.  The next thing he saw was them rushing me down the hall.  Nurses all over me and it apparently looked like a scene out of a medical drama. This happened 2 days after surgery. The nurses would not let him back in the room.  Apparently some brutal stuff went down in there and they didn't want him to have to see it.  He was told to go down to ICU and wait.  A doctor told him that I had been overdosed and that it was medical error and they were terribly sorry for this mistake.  I went into Respiratory Failure and had to be intubated.  After that the rest of my organs started shutting down.  My iron level went down to a 9 and apparently you die at 7?  So one doctor ordered a blood transfusion.  They started to set it up when another doctor came in and said no, I was young enough to recover on my own, within and hour I was down to 7 and the blood transfusion was now and emergency.  We found out that I had coded while on the operating table as well.  My surgery was supposed to take about 2 hours and I was only going to have about a 2 inch incision.  It turned into an 8 hour surgery with about a 2 foot incision.  It was too much and I coded once on the table.  I think I started to hear things after the blood transfusion.  I knew I was in the hospital, but I didn't know why.  I knew I had something in my mouth and was aware that I couldn't move.  I could hear everyone talking about me but not to me.  My husband started talking to me and it was very comforting.  When you are intubated they tie you to the bed so you don't pull your tubes out.  Every time he came in he untied me and I could hear the nurses fussing at him for it.  But he always did and held my hand and talked to me.  Sometimes I could move my hands and sometimes I couldn't.  The nights were the worst.  I could hear other patients screaming and all the machines in my room beeping and the breathing machine.  I was so scared.  I had no idea what happened to me.  One time I felt the blankets come off of me and I heard 2 doctors talking about me.  They said, "What the Hell did they do to this poor girl"!  In my head I was yelling, "What, What, What"!  Found out later the hospital also forgot to take off my pressure stalkings which caused severe pressure burns on the inside of my thighs.  In three days I gained 20 pounds.  The organ failure cause lots of fluid build up.  The best way I can explain the feeling of laying there not being able to communicate is if you have ever seen the video for Metalaica "One", that's what it was like.  My husband said at one point they tried to take me off of the ventilator to see if I'd breathe on my own.  He said I choked and then stopped breathing again.  I don't remember that, but I do remember hearing the doctors tell him they didn't think I was going to make it and he should really call my family.  He was trying not to worry them, but the doctors didn't think my chances were all that great.  At that moment I thought "Oh Hell No, I'm Here"!  As you may know I use humor a lot in my life and thought "I ain't going out like no Punk Bitch"!  Yes, I'm a wannabe Gangster!  I knew I had to do something.  Somehow I remembered the sign language alphabet that they teach you in like 3rd grade.  My husband was with me and untied my hands.  I started doing the ABC's over and over again.  My husband knew I was trying to communicate somehow and kept dragging in the nurses who said it was just my nerves reconnecting and that I wasn't really there.  This just made me mad and I kept on and on and on and on.  Finally a nurse came in and said "Oh my God, she signing"!  My husband said my hands just fell to my sides.  He asked me if I wanted a pen and paper and I held up my hands.  I started asking what happened to me.  I then asked for my glasses.  I didn't understand why I couldn't see.  My eyes were shut.  Within the next couple of days they took me off of the ventilator.  That was by far the worst experience I have ever gone through in my life.  I was certain I was dying.  It's about a 4 hour process.  I never want to have to go through that again.  It felt like thorns were in my lungs.  They have to ween you off the medicine that keeps you from gagging before they can pull the tubes out.  My husband was next to me the entire time.  Willing me to breathe.  Every time I stopped I was so peaceful.  When I stopped breathing I would feel this warmth come over me.  I saw people everywhere, no one was talking, we were walking up a hill.  Once we reached the top we could see down to the ocean.  I could here the waves, feel the sunlight on my body and I felt nothing but love and comfort.  It seemed as if everyone was talking to each other, but there were no words, I could just feel it.  Love everywhere.  Then I would hear my husbands voice telling me to breathe and then I was back in the hospital room in pain, gagging, fighting to breathe.  Every time I stopped I felt wonderful.  But my husband was not giving up.  I thought well this is Heaven, it's beautiful here.  Then I heard my husband tell me that my friend Bryce was in the room.  That's Fr. Sibley, my friend who became a Priest.  I thought "Oh Crap", I really am dying.  They've called in a Priest!  He and my husband were on either side of me telling me to breathe.  I then remembered that he had been there before.  He came out to Houston while I was on life support and sat and talked with my husband.  I remembered how comforting it was to hear 2 familiar voices having a conversation in my room.  The process of coming off the vent went on for about 4 hours.  I started getting annoyed at the fact that I was vomiting all over myself and no one was cleaning me up.  I thought "Well, I can't die annoyed"!  The tube came out I cried, tried to speak to my husband and then he said I started hyperventilating again and he got kicked out while they got me back to normal breathing.  For the rest of the day and night, I just cried.  I was terrified.  I couldn't really communicate, it was more a whisper.  I saw people in my room, the nurse kept coming in telling me there was no one there.  The next morning a doctor came in, slapped my leg and told me the next time he came in he wanted to see me sitting up in a chair.  At this point I had no memory of anything.  I was scared and confused.  A nurse came in, I asked her if I was supposed to be there and she said, "Yes, you've been her for awhile".  She asked me if I knew my name, I told her, then she asked me if I knew the date.  I had no idea.  I started crying and she started asking me other questions like my social, address, phone number.  I knew all of those so she told me it was just short term memory loss.  I don't remember most of what happened in the 2 to 3 months leading up to my surgery.  But I certainly remember being on life support.  My hands are tired from typing and I'm sure you are all tired of this story, so I will continue at another time.  Stay tuned for the next installment of "The Days of Leigha's Nine Lives".  :)