Whew the deed is done!
Mood: Groggy and a little grumpy to boot.
Thinking about: progress and perspective.
As I have been in the hospital the past four days I thought it would be understandable that I didn't really post anything. Funny enough, Dr. S, on his second day of checking up on me, asked me how my blog was going. He is really into creating ways to help future patients figure out what goes on with the surgery, it's cool.
The Night Before:
I was pretty nervous, no shaking, just ants in my pants. I couldn't really even think about the surgery;I was just hyped up on adrenaline. I packed everything I thought I would need and a lot of things that were complete rubbish. I said my final goodbyes and went to bed. I didn't really have trouble falling asleep after I had everything done, because the idea of surgery had already sunken in and I was just anticipating the healing process.
The Morning of:
I woke up at 5:30, and my grandparents, parents, and sister escorted me to the hospital at a crisp and lively 6:15 in the morning. As with all family trips, we sang most of the way there. Once we got to the waiting room we played Korean Jacks, which is one of the most addicting games ever that my family happens to be horrible at. A nurse named Corynne called me to the back and labeled me, checked me for babies and then set me down to wait. Then my anesthesiologist, Dr. Johnson came in and talked to me about the procedure. They were all very nice and answered all of my questions. Dr. Johnson said that if I was scared of the gas mask that I didn't have to be sedated by gas before the IV. (MAJOR relief for me, because I am scared to death of masks) I didn't take the pre-surgery medicine to calm me down either, because I gag when I take liquid oral medicine. Dr. S came in to talk to me and my family, and he seemed really relaxed. That was the part that helped me out the most.
When it was time for me to be taken back, my family took some pictures, said goodbyes, and tried to laugh off their nerves. I was surprisingly not as nervous as I thought I would be. I talked a lot, which showed that clearly, I was nervous, but I wasn't shaking or crying. The trip to the OR was long and windy, but wasn't scary. The nurse pushing my bed talked to me about sports, which I have no knowledge about, so that was interesting. I tried to make things up, but I was wrong every time.
When we reached the OR the nurses talked to me and covered me with warm blankets. It was a chilly, very large, very bright white room. I saw pictures of my hip all over the walls, and there was a large, caring team of people there to take care of me. They moved me from my bed to the table and suddenly I was surrounded by huge lights that weren't illuminated yet. I kept talking about how this is how supermodels must feel, and then the nurses would all pity laugh at my jokes (which I thought were pretty good, but whatever. Laughter is laughter.) Dr. Johnson put my IV in, no problems at all. They gave me some oxygen, which smelled weird, but it wasn't medicine so that was good. I asked if one of the nurses would hold my hand and I got a back rub, a foot massage, and a hand holder. They really take care of you back there. Before I knew it, I was out.
Contrary to popular belief, when you go out, the world does not go black. You can't tell what color the world turns because its like falling asleep. Its not like your eyes stop working but the rest of you can still sense your surroundings. It's much easier than you are told.
After Waking up:
I woke up and was in my room, moved to my new bed, all propped up and very, very groggy. I don't remember this part very much, because I was really drugged. In fact, most of the stuff in the hospital is foggy because they kept me so high.
Day 2:
Dr. S visited me, and checked out my dressings and what-not. Everything was ship-shape and I drifted back off to woozyland. People came to visit me, but it was all uneventful because I really can't remember any of it. All I know is that I loooooved my morphine pump. It was exquisite.
Progress for that day: My PT Mark visited me twice, helping me sit the first time (with my legs hanging over the bed), and then stand the second (using my walker). I was surprised at how tired I got from such simple tasks, but hey, learning to walk again takes time and patience. And a whole lot of sleep.
Day 3:
I walked for the first time on day three, just a few steps, but it was magnificent. My parents starting singing the rocky theme song. Normally I would've asked them to stop, but this was seriously one of the biggest accomplishments of my life to date.
Day 4:
I walked down the hallway, all the way to the end and back. It was about 30 ft total, but in perspective, it was massive. Mark had to move my right leg for me since I was still unable to move anything but my ankle.
Day 5:
I WALKED 100 FEET BY MYSELF!!! (using my walker of course) BUT STILL! I was so elated, it was the most incredible feeling in the world. Afterwards I hurt like hell, but who cares, because I walked. :) Once I woke up from my nap, my nurse Liz taught me how to give myself Lovenox injections in my tummy. I don't like those very much. It took a lot out of me, because I had never done anything like that before.
After that I went home, and crashed.
Day 6:
Here I am in bed, typing. I still feel a bit groggy, and my only pain comes from sleeping, because sleeping on my back is a pain in the butt. I always slept on my stomach before, and this arrangement hurts my back and my knee. I tried sleeping on my side yesterday, but my muscles started screaming at me so I stopped.
I don't know what the agenda for today is. I might get in my wheelchair and roll around outside of my parents room, I might just lay in bed and watch movies all day. All I know is that I need to eat more and drink more. I haven't been going to the bathroom enough lately. Going to the bathroom tells me two things: that I am healthy, and that I can still walk the same as I walked before and am progressing.
Drink up, me harties, yo ho!
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
One Week
Mood: Scared. (Shitless)
Thinking about: Musicals
Today was pretty good hip wise, I got some news from my teachers about things they are getting to make the transition easier. It's nice to know they are looking out for me. Everything is coming on pretty fast, and I don't feel ready at all. I don't know how I can change it either. It's going to be rough.
And so it goes.
Thinking about: Musicals
Today was pretty good hip wise, I got some news from my teachers about things they are getting to make the transition easier. It's nice to know they are looking out for me. Everything is coming on pretty fast, and I don't feel ready at all. I don't know how I can change it either. It's going to be rough.
And so it goes.
Monday, December 10, 2007
8 Days
Mood: frantic... ish
Thinking about: the concept of fear, and what justifies the emotion
Is fear ever reasonable? I mean, think about it. Most psychiatrists or psychologists tell people to conquer fear, to free themselves from it, so is it ever alright to be afraid? Isn't just a basic human emotion? Why then should we try to overcome it? I know fear is considered normal, but constant fear is considered weak, or thin-skinned. When is it alright to be afraid?
I was hit with a wave of emotion today, it sort of knocked me off balance, and set me into the speed-talking, nervous Danielle trying not to show the confusion taking place in her head. (It never really works very well, I am pretty transparent.) I was fine for most of the day, but then I just started thinking about taking shots in my stomach everynight for a month, and having tubes come out of me, and not being able to touch my toes, and no more dancing around, and a wheelchair... It scared me. All the little things added up and got in my head, making me scared.
When I was talking to Virginia, my friend, today, I almost started crying. That would've been the first time I have cried in front of my friends about the surgery. I held it back, because I wanted to be strong, but then, what is strength in this situation? Is strength knowing when to let your fear be known and be weak for a moment? Is strength bearing the weight of the situation all on your own? Or is that just stupid? Yes, it's stupid, and it's not the case at all. I feel like I have too much put on my plate at the moment, or, as my Pappap would say "Ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag."
"Sometimes you have to be strong for yourself... Always fight until you can't anymore, and then be fought for."-Sex and the City
Oh, pop culture.
Thinking about: the concept of fear, and what justifies the emotion
Is fear ever reasonable? I mean, think about it. Most psychiatrists or psychologists tell people to conquer fear, to free themselves from it, so is it ever alright to be afraid? Isn't just a basic human emotion? Why then should we try to overcome it? I know fear is considered normal, but constant fear is considered weak, or thin-skinned. When is it alright to be afraid?
I was hit with a wave of emotion today, it sort of knocked me off balance, and set me into the speed-talking, nervous Danielle trying not to show the confusion taking place in her head. (It never really works very well, I am pretty transparent.) I was fine for most of the day, but then I just started thinking about taking shots in my stomach everynight for a month, and having tubes come out of me, and not being able to touch my toes, and no more dancing around, and a wheelchair... It scared me. All the little things added up and got in my head, making me scared.
When I was talking to Virginia, my friend, today, I almost started crying. That would've been the first time I have cried in front of my friends about the surgery. I held it back, because I wanted to be strong, but then, what is strength in this situation? Is strength knowing when to let your fear be known and be weak for a moment? Is strength bearing the weight of the situation all on your own? Or is that just stupid? Yes, it's stupid, and it's not the case at all. I feel like I have too much put on my plate at the moment, or, as my Pappap would say "Ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag."
"Sometimes you have to be strong for yourself... Always fight until you can't anymore, and then be fought for."-Sex and the City
Oh, pop culture.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
9 Days
Mood: nervous
Thinking about: prayer and single digits
Last night I went to a party for a bit, which was really fun. I havn't gone to a party in so long, I was a bit overwhelmed with the amount of everything. Oh well, twas enjoyable. P.S. Vicki is, in fact, very good at pool. She is also an excellent liar about her abilities. P.S.S. I have never met a more ruthless cheerleader than Tyler. Beware.
Today I went to the 8:00 service at Mt. Pisgah, which I will now say was a mistake. The pastor has lost contact with me but doesn't realize it, so when my parents briliantly decided to fill him in on my surgery, he made an instant prayer bubble around me. (InstaPrayer! also available at your local WalMart, side effects may include halo shaped rashes and increased guilt.) I really didn't enjoy the impromptu prayer session. I had just walked up to him, to say "Hello!" and had about 7 people touch my shoulder or head to pray. First of all, too much contact. I didn't even know some of the people. Secondly, he had just found out about the surgery, and didn't even ask if he could initiate a prayer bubble. He should've talked to me about my sentiments first.
But I can't really be upset with him, because it was my parents who wisely decided to let him know about it. I don't like this surgery being paraded around to people. And if it has to be mentioned, you don't go into serious detail, unless the person is highly trusted, or a blood relative. My parents were mentioning every single detail. Of course, now when he looks at me, he has a look of fear like I am going to die. UGH stupid stupid stupid decision to tell him without me being there to make sure he didn't take it too seriously. x.x
I fell down again today after church, I had lost my balance in my right leg while climbing the stairs. Probably more from clutziness than leg though.
Hmmm I can't find a quote I like tonight...
Thinking about: prayer and single digits
Last night I went to a party for a bit, which was really fun. I havn't gone to a party in so long, I was a bit overwhelmed with the amount of everything. Oh well, twas enjoyable. P.S. Vicki is, in fact, very good at pool. She is also an excellent liar about her abilities. P.S.S. I have never met a more ruthless cheerleader than Tyler. Beware.
Today I went to the 8:00 service at Mt. Pisgah, which I will now say was a mistake. The pastor has lost contact with me but doesn't realize it, so when my parents briliantly decided to fill him in on my surgery, he made an instant prayer bubble around me. (InstaPrayer! also available at your local WalMart, side effects may include halo shaped rashes and increased guilt.) I really didn't enjoy the impromptu prayer session. I had just walked up to him, to say "Hello!" and had about 7 people touch my shoulder or head to pray. First of all, too much contact. I didn't even know some of the people. Secondly, he had just found out about the surgery, and didn't even ask if he could initiate a prayer bubble. He should've talked to me about my sentiments first.
But I can't really be upset with him, because it was my parents who wisely decided to let him know about it. I don't like this surgery being paraded around to people. And if it has to be mentioned, you don't go into serious detail, unless the person is highly trusted, or a blood relative. My parents were mentioning every single detail. Of course, now when he looks at me, he has a look of fear like I am going to die. UGH stupid stupid stupid decision to tell him without me being there to make sure he didn't take it too seriously. x.x
I fell down again today after church, I had lost my balance in my right leg while climbing the stairs. Probably more from clutziness than leg though.
Hmmm I can't find a quote I like tonight...
Saturday, December 8, 2007
10 Days
Mood: Thoughtful.
Thinking about: A lot of random things.
Today was the first day I actually did everything the Physical Therapist told me to do. It felt pretty good to work out, I turned on my angry music and cranked out around 60 sit-ups, did a lot of arm stuff, and then did more sit-ups. I like that sore feeling you get after you work out. It's proof that muscles are actually doing something. Plus, it's awesome to see a muscle bulge when you flex. Gah, I was geeking out at how massive my arms have gotten. I usually only do arm stuff, and it's toned me up pretty well. I hope its enough to make the transition to a wheelchair an easy one.
I went to an orchestra rehearsal today where I sat down for around 3 hours. That started to bother my hip and lower back because I couldn't really shift around to a comfortable position, so I awkwardly had to pop some tylenol in front of the other violinists and then Mr. Geary (the director) just looks down at me like "wtf mates, whatchu doin?" Aaaaawkward. After that I talked to Eva for a bit, which is refreshing. We have similar goofy brains, so she is a must have for hospital visits. :)
Eva and I talked my surgery and I confided in her that I always feel like I am whining when I tell people about my surgery. She told me that I have a right to whine about it. Even though people are dying of AIDS and cancers, this is new to my life and something unlike anything I have done before. It's a big deal and I shouldn't feel like telling my fears is whining. It was nice to hear that, but I still find it a little hard to notice the difference between fear and whining.
It's scarey to think about ten days time. I was dancing around my room (I'll admit it, I think it's the cats meow) and I realized in two weeks I would be lucky to sit up on my own, nevermind dancing around to Thriller. Just little things like that are eating away at my hope, and are making it hard to focus on the positives. It's going to be okay though. I know it will be.
"Each time we face our fear we gain strength, courage and confidence."
Thinking about: A lot of random things.
Today was the first day I actually did everything the Physical Therapist told me to do. It felt pretty good to work out, I turned on my angry music and cranked out around 60 sit-ups, did a lot of arm stuff, and then did more sit-ups. I like that sore feeling you get after you work out. It's proof that muscles are actually doing something. Plus, it's awesome to see a muscle bulge when you flex. Gah, I was geeking out at how massive my arms have gotten. I usually only do arm stuff, and it's toned me up pretty well. I hope its enough to make the transition to a wheelchair an easy one.
I went to an orchestra rehearsal today where I sat down for around 3 hours. That started to bother my hip and lower back because I couldn't really shift around to a comfortable position, so I awkwardly had to pop some tylenol in front of the other violinists and then Mr. Geary (the director) just looks down at me like "wtf mates, whatchu doin?" Aaaaawkward. After that I talked to Eva for a bit, which is refreshing. We have similar goofy brains, so she is a must have for hospital visits. :)
Eva and I talked my surgery and I confided in her that I always feel like I am whining when I tell people about my surgery. She told me that I have a right to whine about it. Even though people are dying of AIDS and cancers, this is new to my life and something unlike anything I have done before. It's a big deal and I shouldn't feel like telling my fears is whining. It was nice to hear that, but I still find it a little hard to notice the difference between fear and whining.
It's scarey to think about ten days time. I was dancing around my room (I'll admit it, I think it's the cats meow) and I realized in two weeks I would be lucky to sit up on my own, nevermind dancing around to Thriller. Just little things like that are eating away at my hope, and are making it hard to focus on the positives. It's going to be okay though. I know it will be.
"Each time we face our fear we gain strength, courage and confidence."
Friday, December 7, 2007
11 Days
Mood: excited (not about surgery, about tonight :))
Thinking about: doughnuts.. mmmm....
Today Mr. Kim, the orchestra conductor at my high school, blew a major fuse. He is upset with the orchestra because we are being less of an ensemble than we have been in previous years. Honestly, I agree with his long term goals. The only part of his theory (haha music pun) that I have a problem with is how he is handling it short term. The last thing I need to do right now is write two two page papers (single spaced... eww) about composers. I understand the importance, but I don't see how it will make the orchestra play together. And I don't see how it is going to decrease end of year stress levels. It's just not the smartest plan.
I went to the hospital today after school to get a blood workup done. I got another sweet wristband and walked around the area that I would be staying in. I didn't get warm fuzzies, it was rather the opposite emotion. I felt truly scared for the first time. I mean, I didn't shake or start to cry, but the whole ordeal started to sink in. It felt like my stomach was forced into a cold metal box. It could still work, but I felt an internal discomfort. Maybe it was just an inconvenient bout of indigestion. Here's hoping!
The nurses were so great, I love them all. I never learn their names though, which is a shame because they are always wonderful to me. The receptionists on the other hand, they are buttheads. I have no bad feelings when I say that. The lady at the front desk gave me the wrong papers. And by wrong papers, I mean some other womans, which had her social security number and other personal information on it. Thats a huge mistake and irked me. That woman in no way reflects the performance of the hospital, but it was still a noticable error. Then when I got to the phlebology section, the lady there was a butthead too! I was shocked. Did she not see that I was nervous enough? I needed at least a kind smile or a please. She barked directions at me, and then gave a short laugh when I dropped the pen. Ugh, some people.
You know what? I think the receptionists and Mr. Kim should go on a date.
"Once we accept our limits we go beyond them." -Albert Einstein
Thinking about: doughnuts.. mmmm....
Today Mr. Kim, the orchestra conductor at my high school, blew a major fuse. He is upset with the orchestra because we are being less of an ensemble than we have been in previous years. Honestly, I agree with his long term goals. The only part of his theory (haha music pun) that I have a problem with is how he is handling it short term. The last thing I need to do right now is write two two page papers (single spaced... eww) about composers. I understand the importance, but I don't see how it will make the orchestra play together. And I don't see how it is going to decrease end of year stress levels. It's just not the smartest plan.
I went to the hospital today after school to get a blood workup done. I got another sweet wristband and walked around the area that I would be staying in. I didn't get warm fuzzies, it was rather the opposite emotion. I felt truly scared for the first time. I mean, I didn't shake or start to cry, but the whole ordeal started to sink in. It felt like my stomach was forced into a cold metal box. It could still work, but I felt an internal discomfort. Maybe it was just an inconvenient bout of indigestion. Here's hoping!
The nurses were so great, I love them all. I never learn their names though, which is a shame because they are always wonderful to me. The receptionists on the other hand, they are buttheads. I have no bad feelings when I say that. The lady at the front desk gave me the wrong papers. And by wrong papers, I mean some other womans, which had her social security number and other personal information on it. Thats a huge mistake and irked me. That woman in no way reflects the performance of the hospital, but it was still a noticable error. Then when I got to the phlebology section, the lady there was a butthead too! I was shocked. Did she not see that I was nervous enough? I needed at least a kind smile or a please. She barked directions at me, and then gave a short laugh when I dropped the pen. Ugh, some people.
You know what? I think the receptionists and Mr. Kim should go on a date.
"Once we accept our limits we go beyond them." -Albert Einstein
Thursday, December 6, 2007
1 Week, 5 Days
Mood: Irritated.
Thinking about: Tylenol.
Today was rather uneventful, I didn't own my anatomy quiz like I thought I would because I confused lacunae with canaliculi in a moment of weakness, and forgot my song to remember the parts of an osteon. Frustration consumed my tired brain. I managed to get a stellar 2/14 on Wordmasters, which is always a day-maker. At the end of the school day I went to Moes with Virginia, which was glorious as usual. We get silly conversations and talk about breaking my sweet tea addiction (psh, whatever...)
I came home and my grandma responded to my letter, which always brightens my day. We discuss books and talk about the day-to-day happenings of our lives. She lives in Detroit, so I hardly ever see her, which makes her letters extra special.
On another note, my hip felt sore and achey today, which was no fun because I had to walk around a school all day. That, plus a headache made me quite sad. I guess I should learn how to stop complaining about the little things. After all, something much bigger is coming on fast and I need to learn how to forget the little things. I can't believe my surgery is already tapping at my chamber door. Damn raven, just let me be.
"Strength does not come from physical capacity, it comes from an indomitable will." - Gandhi
Thinking about: Tylenol.
Today was rather uneventful, I didn't own my anatomy quiz like I thought I would because I confused lacunae with canaliculi in a moment of weakness, and forgot my song to remember the parts of an osteon. Frustration consumed my tired brain. I managed to get a stellar 2/14 on Wordmasters, which is always a day-maker. At the end of the school day I went to Moes with Virginia, which was glorious as usual. We get silly conversations and talk about breaking my sweet tea addiction (psh, whatever...)
I came home and my grandma responded to my letter, which always brightens my day. We discuss books and talk about the day-to-day happenings of our lives. She lives in Detroit, so I hardly ever see her, which makes her letters extra special.
On another note, my hip felt sore and achey today, which was no fun because I had to walk around a school all day. That, plus a headache made me quite sad. I guess I should learn how to stop complaining about the little things. After all, something much bigger is coming on fast and I need to learn how to forget the little things. I can't believe my surgery is already tapping at my chamber door. Damn raven, just let me be.
"Strength does not come from physical capacity, it comes from an indomitable will." - Gandhi
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