A couple of months ago I woke up with shortness of breath and chest pain, I asked my husband to take me to the emergency room. They were amazing, they rushed me back and started tests, soon realized I wasn’t having a heart attack but I was in AFib (irregular heartbeat) with an asthma attack. For several days while doctors did different tests, tried various drugs and then ended up having to shock my heart back into rhythm. I was okay for a couple of weeks then it happened again. More meds, more test, only ending up getting shocked again. A couple more hospital and doctor visits then I was given a med to prevent blood clots and it worked a little too well. I ended up coughing up blood. I went to my pulmonologist and he took an x-ray and admitted me to the hospital again.
Less that 24 hours later I was in Intensive Care and on a ventilator, both lungs filled with blood. The next few days were spent fighting for my life, the room filled with worried friends, family, doctors and nurses fighting to save me. I remember bits and pieces, I remember wanting to bite through the tube, wanting to pull it out. How I felt like I was drowning and wanting to make it stop. Flashes of people talking to me and about me. Not what they said just that it was about me, and that they all looked or sounded so frightened.
I remember thinking about my kids, about my mom, my husband, and friends. Thinking about how much we have all been through, and fighting harder. I wondered who would care for Zach, would he regress? How in the world would he cope without me? I remember thoughts of Kreed and his amazing moms and how they felt about losing him and how very hard he fought for so long. So I fought harder. I recall parts of when they trying to pull me off the vent too; I remember the respiratory tech saying not yet and getting ready to leave the room and I remember flipping him the bird and everyone in the room erupting into laughter. I told him I was sorry later, in case you are curious. Mostly I remember the need to fight.
Four days later I made it off the vent, now two weeks later I am in rehabilitation, fighting one last fight. The one to be strong enough to go home. Who knows maybe I can make it home in time for football season to start.
Thank you all for standing behind me through this. I am so lucky to have you in my life!
This week’s Comic-