Little steps

After one week in in the ICU I was finally moved to the trauma floor. On this floor they focused on the recovery process instead of just doing everything they could to keep me alive. I had turned a corner and so began the physical therapy.  I got to sit up for the first time, and I started to move around a bit more.

Doing this caused tremendous dizziness and nausea. It was not very pleasant for a long time. The nurses would wheel me in my bed down to the x ray rooms to do tests and each time I felt like I was on a roller coaster.

I remember this one time then my nurse and I were heading back up to the room after a series of tests and as we got in the elevator it was all I could do to control myself and try not to throw up. I felt I was losing the battle so I said to my nurse,  “I think I might throw up,” and he asked if I could wait till I got to the room because we were almost there. I couldn’t even reply, I just vomited everywhere.  Now let me explain something, throwing up is bad enough by itself. I try my best to avoid it whenever possible, as I am sure we all do, but just imagine throwing up while laying down, with a feeding tube down your nose and throat, 20 broken ribs, and a neck brace. Its the farthest thing from pleasant you can imagine. I have never experienced something so thoroughly humiliating, disgusting, suffocating and panic inducing in my whole life. The poor nurse tried to do everything he could to help me, but of course there is not much you really can do in a situation like that.

We finally made it to the room but now I had to endure the humiliation of someone else cleaning not only my mess up, but cleaning me up as well.  Of course it had gone everywhere and they had to remove my back and neck brace and clean them and replace the padding. This involved me turning over on my side so they could slide the brace out from under me. They had done this once or twice before and it was incredibly painful. Usually they would have me grab onto the side of the bed and try to pull while they pushed me onto my left side which we had already established was the least painful side to lay on. This time however the nurses were new and so they didn’t realize I had to be moved only to the left side and they proceeded to move me to the opposite side and my full weight was shifted to my broken femur and my plated ribs.  By this time my mother couldn’t handle me hollering and she left the room crying. As I lay there on my side my whole attention was focused on the pain in my leg, the incredible burning, searing, and throbbing pain. It was all I could feel or think about and it wouldn’t stop, I lay there and screamed ow, ow, ow, over and over again. It was incredibly miserable. I felt bad for the nurse having to clean it up and I kept saying I was sorry. The nurses were really nice, and kept telling me it was ok, and trying to be as gentle as they could.  And then finally it stopped. They had finished and the relief I felt as the pain was diminished was so amazing. After that I was entirely exhausted and went to sleep only to wake up choking on the tube in my throat. I was once again throwing up and was doing it so violently I had thrown up my feeding tube and I tried to pull it out because I couldn’t breathe and the nurse came and tried to put it back in before she saw that I was choking and throwing up.  The next morning I had to get it put back in because I still wasn’t allowed to eat yet. That was quite painful as well. They stick the tube in through your nose and then slowly work it down into your stomach. Over the next couple days that pattern repeated itself. Me throwing up the tube, and the nurses replacing it.

Up to this point I had wanted people to sit by me and hold my hand because it was comforting and somewhat grounding to feel someone there. But now my skin had become way to sensitive to touch and bruises began to blossom all over my body. The doctors said it was because I had suffered so much shock and trauma that the body couldn’t deal with anything else and once I began to heal then the minor injuries would manifest themselves and so everyday bruises appeared until I was practically one giant bruise.

I was still hooked up to the catheter and I developed a urinary tract infection and because my intestines had been shoved up through my diaphragm I was having a hard time with my bowels.  So they began giving me enemas and suppositories to help, and I wont go into the details of that particular experience but suffice it to say it was humiliating and embarrassing. I was also much more aware of everything going on around me then I had been before and so I had to suffer through my sponge baths, and my hair washing, and my dressing and undressing. I felt so degraded and helpless.

My therapist on this floor was really nice and for the life of me I cant remember her name but she began to help me to sit up, and she showed me how to brush my teeth, and I was able to get my hair combed and finally out of the way. One day she even let me sit on the bed and try to eat some chocolate pudding! I began to do little things like that, and each “little thing” was a small step towards healing and my family turned it into a huge event. I am so grateful for that. It would have been so easy to dismiss all my small steps and just say, “anyone can do that.” but instead they all gathered around as I held my tooth brush somewhat self consciously and they all took pictures as I picked up my spoon and tried to eat my   pudding.

 

After that, doctors decided it was time to do a swallowing test to see if I was ready to eat solid food again. I cant remember what they called the procedure but it was downright unpleasent. They have this miniature camera and they stick it right into your nose and down your throat and then you are suppose to eat while they watch you. Now it doesn’t sound like it, but this was pretty much awful. It was extremely uncomfortable and painful. I don’t think the nose was meant to have such large things forced down upon it. I wasn’t swallowing quite right and so began the therapy of learning how to eat again.

I was only allowed thick substances like jello, applesauce, or pudding. I wanted Jamba Juice so badly, but I couldn’t eat it yet till I had mastered the jello. That became my goal. Working towards the day when I could finally have my Jamba Juice.