My life as I knew it was forever changed on February 17, 2014. It was on that morning that I found myself being loaded into an ambulance and rushed to the nearest hospital. It wasn’t because of a car accident, or heart attack, but a medical emergency that for a person born with spina bifida could be life threatening had it gone undetected and untreated.  Unbeknownst to me or my mom who helps me with my care, I had developed a pressure sore, and a pretty nasty one at that. I was operated on nine days later, and discharged the following week to begin what would be a long recovery with home health care tending to my medical needs, dressing changes and vitals monitoring. My caregiver (who was in charge while my parents were away on a short pre-planned trip) and home care nurse noted that the staples that had been used to close the surgical incision had begun to pop open so it was decided that I should return to the hospital forthwith to close the incision, being operated on once again four days later.  March 26th I was discharged to resume my recovery with one addition, IV antibiotic therapy which ! endured for six long weeks.
Fast forward to September 2nd.  At my weekly appointment in the hospital’s wound care clinic, I told my doctor (not the surgeon)  that I continued to be quite ill with severe gastrointestinal distress long after the IV therapy was completed and that I needed his help to resolve the issue.  Yep, you guessed it, I was admitted again.  This time for twenty days diagnosed with severe ulcerative colitis.
Back home again by the end of September, resuming wound care treatment. Â A slow process indeed. Did I mention I’m not the most patient person in the world? Â How did I stay busy being bedridden all these months? I read, and I read, and I read some more. Fiction, nonfiction, magazines on writing and genealogy (more about that, so stay tuned), and I learned to appreciate my mom’s love for old movies.
Which brings me to my final thoughts on the past year. Â My unsung hero, my mom. Throughout my 53 years of life, she has always been my cheerleader, nurse, champion, and best friend. And along with me on this journey, we’ve cried; we’ve yelled; we’ve laughed; and at eighty years of age, she even learned how to do wound care and start and maintain my IV. She’s extraordinary, and I surely would have struggled and suffered far more without her by my side. “I love you, Mom, and I know I haven’t said it often enough over these past months, but, Thank you!”
Like this:
Like Loading...
